The Gift That Keeps on Giving

I got a package in the mail yesterday.  A package filled with happiness.  For Mother's Day, son #3 enrolled me in a "coffee of the month" club ("the gift that keeps on giving," as Cousin Eddie would say), and the first shipment has now arrived.

I am extremely fond of coffee, as my family well knows.  I'm a coffee lover--a "coffee achiever," if you will (does anyone out there remember those commercials from years back?).

I make a small pot of Maxwell House Lite (1/2 the caffeine) first thing every morning.  I would share it with my husband, but he is one of those alien creatures who not only doesn't drink coffee, but feels ill if he tries (which he did a couple of times, in an effort to become my "coffee buddy."  Isn't that sweet?).  Then I occasionally have a cup or two in the afternoon.  And I usually brew some just before we pop the DVD in on "movie nights," hoping it will keep me from dozing off during the...zzzzzzzzz.  What happened?  What was I saying?

You know how people say that if they drink coffee too close to bedtime, it'll keep them up all night?  That never happens to me.  I usually drink half-caf at home, but I don't know why I bother.  I think my body can handle all the caf I want to put into it.

If you've read this blog much, you might already know that I'm a real Dunkin' Donuts fan, and that I also fell in love with European-style coffees when I went on some trips with my husband--especially the cafe au lait served in France.  But now I have two new types of coffee on my ever-growing list of BEST COFFEE EVER!

One is called "Mocha Matari," which I tried last night (drinking two fully caffeinated cups and then going to bed and sleeping like a baby!).  This one is naturally organic and comes from Yemen.  The bean is left in the husk for a longer period of time, which results in hints of citrus and chocolate and creates a medium brew that is perfect for breakfast or after dinner.  I LOVE this one.  It is so smooth and delicious that I may never go back to Maxwell House Lite again.

The other is called "Guatemala Coban," which I'm sipping now, as we speak.  It comes from the Antigua region of Guatemala, a country which is often referred to as the "jewel of Central American coffee production."  The bean is roasted on the darker side, which gives Coban a lively flavor--clean, mildly sweet and citrusy, with a smooth, cocoa finish.  I LOVE this one, too.

I don't know which of these two gourmet coffees is my favorite, but I think both of them have my pedestrian go-to brand beaten by a country mile.  They both have a slight hint of chocolate flavor, and it just doesn't get any better than that.  And there is none of that acidy taste that coffee often has--just pure deliciousness.

My son ordered my gift from a company called Amazing Clubs.  I don't know how good their other products are, but their coffee is definitely amazing.  I look forward to shipment #2!


(To give adequate descriptions of the two coffees, I did some paraphrasing and some direct quoting from the Amazing Clubs brochure.  Just wanted to give credit where credit is due.)

Kicking and Screaming

There are some things I used to say that simply don't apply anymore--now that I've been dragged kicking and screaming into the 21st century world of technology.  (Actually, I'm not kicking and screaming these days; I have officially jumped into the fray with gusto, littering the pages of all of my Facebook friends with enthusiastic thumbs-up's and smiley faces, and...oh, no...turning into one of "those people"--the ones I swore I'd never resemble--who's way too attached to her iPhone.)

Here's one of the things I used to say: "I don't need to have my own Facebook page."  It's cute how naive I was back then, isn't it?

A couple of years ago, my sister-in-law (already a Facebook veteran) convinced my husband and me that we should hop on the FB bandwagon, and she showed us how to set up an account.  We put it in my husband's name and used it jointly; we really didn't go on Facebook that much anyway, and when we did it was mostly to do a quick check of our grown kids' pages, to see any new pictures they might have posted or whatever.  I would sometimes leave a comment, and usually would add "XO Mom," just so that my boys would know which of their parents had sent it.  Once, however, I saw a hilarious comment that one of son #4's college buddies had posted, so I told him how funny I thought he was (and that he'd made me LOL, of course), ending with my traditional smiley face.  His reply to my comment began, "Mr. Pearl..."  Oh no, I thought.  If everyone thinks it's my husband who's sending out these comments, they don't make him sound very manly.  (My husband, for the record, does not attach smiley faces or hearts to his comments.)

It was time to set up my own Facebook page...and a monster was created.

When I used to hear about people who were so addicted to Facebook that they gave it up for Lent, I thought, Wow, those people have a problem.  Now, I have that problem.  But I do have a lot more "friends" than I used to, which is nice.

Here's another thing I used to say: "I don't want or need an iPhone."  Ha ha, it is to laugh!

Until this past Christmas, I was perfectly happy with my little pink flip phone--even though it took me about 3 hours to compose the simplest text to one of my sons.  My husband had an iPad and an iPhone already, and he was a true believer by that point.  But it would be a waste of money to get an iPhone for me, I assured him.  He didn't listen and got me one for Christmas anyway.  Let me just say it again: that guy is my hero.  And come to find out, I did need an iPhone.

The great thing about the iPhone is that no matter where I am, I can do a quick e-mail check or look up some important factoid on the Internet.  And guess what else I can do?  I can log onto Facebook--way more often than is probably healthy--to see all the funny comments being posted by my sons, my nieces and nephews, and all of their various friends.  (I hope that doesn't make me a Facebook stalker.)  With an ever-present mini-computer at my fingertips, I've connected with high school friends with whom I've only had a Christmas card correspondence for the past couple of decades, and that has been a really fun off-shoot of joining the FB crowd.  Texting is a breeze with my new iPhone, too (it only takes me 2 hours to compose one now, instead of 3), and so is sending photos, whether via text or e-mail.

And the picture quality I get with my phone--it's unbelievable!  I used to carry a small photo album filled with hard copy pictures of my granddaughters in my purse; but now all of those precious photos are stored digitally on my magical little Apple device.  When I want to show someone my "brag book," I just have to whip out my trusty iPhone.

Oh yeah, and I can also make actual phone calls with my iPhone.  There's that, too.  I used to pride myself on being the only dinosaur left who insisted on dialing phone numbers from memory, but now I'm speed-dialing from my "contacts" list like everyone else.

I don't even know who I am anymore.  But I've definitely stopped kicking and screaming.


(Most of you are probably iPhone aficionados already and wonder why I've bothered to tell you all that it can do.  Forgive me; it's just that I'm still such a n00b about all of this stuff.  And btw: This ad was not paid for by Apple...but it should have been, don't you think?  If you don't have an iPhone yet, I'm sure you want one now.)

The Boys (and Girls) Are Back in Town!

I'm happy to report that things have been hopping here at the old nest!

We've been thrilled to have our #4 son (who lives in VA) with us for a couple of days--along with his new girlfriend, whom we hadn't met before yesterday.  She is a real sweetie pie.  Last night, we had not only those two kids, but also son #2 (the one who lives relatively close by) and his lovely new girlfriend--whom we'd had the pleasure of meeting already--sitting around our dining room table with us.  We enjoyed some steaks, some caramel brownies, and a lot of laughs.  It was fantastic!  (Unfortunately, though, son #5--the one who's home from Notre Dame for the summer--had to work at the movie theater and missed dinner.  But he was able to join us later at the fire pit out back.)

There's nothing like having our boys come home.  And when you've raised five boys and no girls, there's nothing cooler than having those boys bring young ladies with them--and watching the girls holding their own, matching wits with the guys.

Two and a half years ago when our firstborn got married, we added a wonderful daughter-in-law to our family, and then a year ago, the most adorable twin granddaughters.  Now, girlfriends appear to be coming fast and furious.  Son #3, another VA boy, also recently began seeing someone; and though she and I have "talked" on Facebook (we are the best of FB friends!), my husband and I have yet to meet her. We can hardly wait.

Things get a little silly when the boys are back in town (see the picture below if you don't believe me)...but we wouldn't have it any other way!

Can you feel the love?  (Girls, good luck with these two goofballs.)

Memorial Day Tribute

On Memorial Day, I thought I'd post a tribute to the Statue of Liberty--a symbol that would not even exist if not for the bravery and valor of America's military forces throughout her history.

This photo was not taken in NYC; it was taken by my husband a couple of days ago when he was on a trip to Paris.

In 1876 (the centennial of the signing of the Declaration of Independence), French sculptor Frederic Auguste Bartholdi was commissioned to make the Statue of Liberty as a gift to the United States from France, in recognition of the friendship between the two countries during the American Revolution.  The larger version, of course, is the one millions of immigrants to this country passed in NY Harbor on their way to Ellis Island, when they came here in search of the American dream: life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness.  But a second, smaller version of the statue is located in Paris, near the Grenelle Bridge on the Ile aux Cynges, and this is it.

There would be no Statue of Liberty, no Declaration of Independence, no liberty and justice for all within the borders of this great country, if not for our heroic veterans and our selfless fighting men and women.  Today, we thank them for all they have done, and all they continue to do, so that we can enjoy the freedoms we so often take for granted.

May Crownings

I loved the May Crownings we had at school when I was growing up.

At my Catholic grade school, we always showed our love and devotion to the Blessed Mother during the month of May--Her month--in many different ways: students would bring flowers in daily to place in a vase near the small statue of Mary that was located in each classroom; on sunny days, we would assemble outside, near the large statue of Mary that looked out over the schoolyard, to recite the Rosary together; and always, there would be a big ceremony where a crown of flowers was placed upon the head of that statue, while all the schoolchildren sang "O Mary we crown Thee with blossoms today; Queen of the Angels, Queen of the May..."  Do you remember that sweet song?  And of course, we would sing "Ave, Ave, Ave Maria; Salve, Salve, Regina..."

When I was in 8th grade, the scheduled May Crowning, which was usually held in the schoolyard, had to be moved inside due to rain.  That year, I'd been the lucky one chosen to crown the statue of Our Lady.  I was honored to be given this important duty.  Way back in 2nd grade (at a different school, in a different state), I'd been the one chosen to carry the flower crown on a pillow, as part of a long procession of participants.  Having recently made my First Holy Communion, I proudly wore my white dress and veil as I carried that pillow to the statue of Our Lady; but an older girl got to place the crown on Mary's head.  Now I was that older girl.

It may have been a slow news day in our small town, but our school's May Crowning was actually covered in the newspaper.

I didn't get my picture in the paper very often; aside from my engagement and wedding photos, I believe this was the only time.

I can't think of a more wonderful reason to find myself in the paper than this: as part of a ceremony the sole purpose of which is to show love and reverence for the Blessed Virgin Mary.

Landmarks

Yesterday, my husband was in Paris.  I know that sounds very glamorous, but he was only there because that's his job.  He's the captain who flew the plane filled with passengers over there, and he'll be flying it back today.  My jet-setting hubby with the very glamorous job told me that he went to a grocery store last night--I'm sorry, he went to une epicerie--to get himself a banana and some yogurt for dinner (he had already packed a protein bar to go with these items).  Mmmm mmmm!  French cuisine at its finest!

I understand that it's very expensive to eat out in Europe these days, and my husband is a commendably frugal guy.  But let me just say for the record that if I ever get a chance to accompany him on a trip to Paris, we will not be eating epicerie food for dinner!  (Just kidding, mon cheri.  If I ever get a chance to go to Paris with you, I promise I won't be too picky about what we eat.)

Yesterday, my guy took this lovely picture of a landmark everyone will recognize, the Eiffel Tower (which he could see from his hotel), and it was sent from his iPhone to mine via magic (or as they call it, "the cloud").

I was not in the "City of Love" yesterday, gazing at the Eiffel Tower.  No, I was here tending the home fires, spending part of the afternoon mowing the backyard lawn.  I am not usually responsible for yard upkeep, but my husband has been working so much lately that I hate to make him do it when he finally gets some time at home.  I could have made our youngest son, who's back from college for the summer, do it (how great it is to have a member of our work crew here!), but I wanted the exercise and it was a gorgeous day to be outside.  (And don't worry, my baby boy is going to be out there mowing the front lawn today.)

As I was pushing the mower back and forth across the grass, I kept looking at a familiar landmark right here in my own backyard.  It's a maple tree that has grown to a towering height near the back of our detached garage (the one we had built when we turned our old garage into our "new room").

We have been living in this house for over 21 years, and we hadn't been here long when my father-in-law brought us a maple sapling from his own yard to plant out back.  Dad used to like to bring little home improvement items when he and Mom would drive down from Upstate NY to visit us.  He might bring some weather stripping and apply it to a drafty door.  Or perhaps some plumbing supplies for a project my husband was working on.  Once, he brought me a dust pan from the dollar store, because I'd been admiring his when we'd been up visiting (it had a long handle, so you didn't need to bend down when you were sweeping dirt into it).  And he brought us this tree, which started out its life in our yard looking like the maple version of a Charlie Brown tree.  For a number of years, we didn't even believe it was going to make it to adulthood.

But look at it today!  It's huge and healthy--a living reminder of my wonderful father-in-law, who died in 2003.

I wouldn't mind having the opportunity to see the Eiffel Tower someday.  But given the choice between that landmark and this one, I'd take Dad's maple tree every time...and I know my husband would, too.

Family Photographs

Pretty much every available inch of wall space in my house is filled.  I need more walls!  Underneath the countless pictures, there are so many nail holes that the sheet rock is like Swiss cheese. It's only Spackle that's holding everything together.  But I can't help it: I like to hang things up.  And my favorite things to hang are family photos.

In my dining room, I have a wall of antique and vintage photographs that are especially dear to me.

These precious pictures include relatives from both my husband's side and mine.  Our parents are there, as children with their own siblings and again as young, movie star-gorgeous adults.  Their parents are there, too, and their grandparents as well.  I have one of my father-in-law as a little tyke in a sailor suit and one of my mother-in-law as the Rose Queen at her college in the fifties.  I have one of my mother's father and his younger siblings, when Grandpa was a little boy in short pants, and one of my mother posing in her princess-style wedding dress in 1956.

My father's father died when my dad was only six, so I prize the group photograph of him--the grandfather I never met--with my grandma, my dad and his sister, and the rest of Grandma's family.  My mother-in-law's father died when she was only ten, so I am thrilled to have two pictures of him--the grandfather my husband never met, the handsome Irishman who came to this country from County Cork at the age of 19--on my wall as well.

There's so much history on this dining room wall!  And when I look at these pictures--like the one of my maternal grandparents, young and all dressed up for a night on the town--I remember all of these loved ones, most of whom are not with us anymore.  Looking at their faces, captured for eternity on film, reminds me that even after they're gone we're forever connected.

One of my oldest son's high school friends, who has a very dry sense of humor, made a comment once about my wall of family history.  He said that as you go left on the wall, you go really far back on the family tree.  But just for the record, the two people in the picture on the far left are not relatives of ours (at least that I know of!).  That's a piece of artwork on papyrus that my brother-in-law brought back from a trip he took to the Holy Land back in his Navy days.

I used to watch a TLC show called "Trading Spaces," where two couples switch houses for a couple of days and totally re-decorate one room as a surprise for the owners.  (I don't know why I enjoyed this show; almost without exception, I thought the new rooms were far uglier after the designers were through with them than they were to begin with!  I wouldn't have let those people in my house for a million dollars!)  My youngest son used to wander in from time-to-time while I was watching, and whenever they did the big "reveal" of a newly decorated room, his most frequent comment was, "Where are all the family pictures?"  Everywhere he looks in this house, the walls are plastered with them.  It was inconceivable to him that anyone would want a room without them.

I, for one, wouldn't!  And I think we're going to have to build on an addition or something, so I'll have more wall space; because now that we have grandchildren, the number of new family photographs I'll need to hang is going to increase exponentially!  As far as I'm concerned, though, too much is never enough.