"... and a story-book" ~ Jane Eyre

The breeze is warmer and my hands feel like the ice around them has melted, and so I am here typing on one of the most special days in my heart.

Today is the anniversary of my first kiss with the Prince.

I always think about our first kiss and remember the lines from The Princess Bride: “Since the invention of the kiss, there have only been five kisses that were rated the most passionate, the most pure. This one left them all behind.” I believe in my heart that the kiss we shared one year ago on this very day is one that left them all behind.

I placed my glass of chardonnay down on the side area of the bar, next to his glass of Scotch. We had been there a few hours, all the while my heart pounding every second of every minute of being around him. I grew warm under my woolen Free People dress, trying to control my breathing as much as possible. I had to focus carefully on my words, but the closer we got to that moment, the harder it became for me. I remember being mid-sentence and then noticing a spark in his bedroom eyes that made me stammer. Moving upwards towards my cheek was his hand; his fingers touching my skin rendered me speechless. I closed my eyes and within the dark amber light behind my eyelids I remember the emotion I felt as our lips touched for the first time. It was better than any storybook fairy tale kiss, because this was real and the stories are fiction. First and foremost was a pure feeling of joy. And although at that time we did not know where our story would take us, it felt more perfect and right than any other action in my life.

We kissed for hours that night, and I don't really think that the kiss will ever end. The beauty is that there have been so many unique kisses within our one, big, great kiss. But it is still always that one great kiss even today, even last night, even later on this evening when we go back to the bar to order drinks at celebrate our kiss.

I was thinking about all of the places we have kissed in the year this morning when I woke up. The galleries in the MET. The breezey and cool Jersey shore. The mountains in the Catskills. In front of Jack at IHOP when he told us "no kissing!" During football games on Sundays. His bed. My bed. The wineries on the North Fork. My car. His car. Movie theatres. The New York City Subway. The kitchen. My doorstep. The bookstore. His backyard. The fabric office. On a dance floor. The aisle of Patel Brothers. 7-11. Barefoot Peddler. The swimming pool. A moonlit street corner of New York City. After eating falafel at Naomi's Kosher Pizza Kitchen. The bathtub. Through his driver side window when he comes to pick me up from the train station.

Each time as wonderful as the last, and no doubt as special as the next.

Wesley and Buttercup have nothing on us.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JF6DGe2wUco

"The pattering rain on the forest leaves was the only sound audible..." Jane Eyre

He texts me to ask what train I am on, and I tell him the time. He then asks if he can pick me up at his station, the one right before mine. His explanation is "so you do not have to walk in the rain."

So there I am, on a commuter train sitting in a window seat with the book I am currently reading, The Life of Pi, open, and I read this text message. All of a sudden I instinctively turn to the window and repress my tears. The rain drops falling slowly down the window pane of the train reflect my inner thoughts. The urge to cry tears of joy is also mixed in with a pleasurable frustration at the situation.

I want to text him: Baby, since the day we became one, I never walk in the rain anymore.

But I don't.

He knows that already...so I wipe the few tears away from my eyes and smile a smile that grows wider and wider until I reach the passenger seat of the car. At that moment, the smile folds my lips into the shape I most love - the shape of my lips on his.

"Got the start of you..." ~ Jane Eyre

All birthdays of my family and loved ones are special, but my Prince's birthday means so much more to me. He celebrated twenty-nine years two days ago. We celebrated together privately that evening, and we are also celebrating this evening with friends.

Dear readers, would you believe that last year I was invited to his birthday celebration...and declined? More on that in a moment. This post is the story of the birth of our relationship. I say relationship and not love, because I believe deep down I was born in love with this amazing man.

In the summer of 2005, my twin sister, Robin, had a housewarming party to celebrate. By this time in her life, she had befriended a new group of friends via her friend Jay, and she decided to invite them to the party. The new home was the former house of my father's parents, and I arrived early to help in the preparations. The sun was shining brightly as I began assembling a cheese plate on the counter, slicing strips of Manchego cheese (reader, believe me, I remember every detail of this meeting). The back door was open and I recall him walking in...it is as clear as day in my mind. He was wearing a black Jack Daniels tee-shirt as he walked in, and I recall his dark features and bedroom eyes. Robin introduced us, and within five minutes I observed his charm, wit, intellect, and warmth. There is something about his aura that draws people in, not just me; he is captivating. I recall him making me laugh, and I recall immediately how handsome he was...not just his face...but his entire body had my interest piqued.

In his true form, he came early to help as well. His consideration and benevolence were evident then, as they are now. I remember the small talk with him, and how social he was, and as more people arrived I was unable to chat with him as frequently as I did when we were the only ones there. Hours later, I pulled Robin to the side and asked her more about him. And that, dear friends, is the moment...is the day...that I met the man I am going to marry.

Of course, the course of true love never did run smooth.

Firstly, he and Robin were good friends...and those who are smart know that risking friendships for romance is not always wise. Still, despite repression of any kind of curiosity or desire, there were bigger forces moving us along down a path. I was dating other men in between the time I would see him at gatherings, and the one time he asked me to see Shakespeare in the Park, I declined despite my interest in him. Months later, I couldn't take it anymore and asked Robin to please set us up. I recall right after that talking with him for an hour in her dining room about Edgar Allan Poe as I graded papers. Robin was wonderful, and I knew she was procrastinating for my sake (they were going out to coffee), and she asked a few days later about a possible set up. He resisted, saying to her that "its your sister" and did not want to jeopardize their good friendship for the unknown.

So, I was heartbroken.

A few months after that, Robin told me that he was moving to Austin, Texas to work in a law firm there. My heart sank. I couldn't explain why. I was dating someone else, but I remember the devastation: the remote possibility of us ever together suddenly become the impossible. He would be gone. And that was that in my mind.

But not in my heart. For after that Robin said he was coming home. I will never forget the inward feeling of euphoria...to this day I cannot explain my emotions when she told me. She didn't even know what I felt - I just replied simply and monotone. What I do remember is asking her for his email a few days later, wanting to write to welcome him home. Reader, to this day, I have the email he sent me back. I had forgotten I had saved it, and you can imagine the nice surprise I had when I found out that I had it in my possession. Of course, I saved it for a reason...I just did not know the true reason at the time.

Still, his arrival home was not the time for us. I remember being out with him among friends once again, growing more frustrated because I was attracted to him and desired a date. I confess I became resentful and hostile that he said he did not think it was a good idea to me, so last summer I was curt and stand-offish with him at Robin's annual barbecue (we do laugh about this now). Though he came to a party I had in the summer, and my true feelings came through as I flirted with him, for I was exceptionally drunk and a drunk woman never lies. But by the time his birthday came around, I refused to go and subject myself to, what I felt, was rejection at the time (of course it was not, but I couldn't help what I felt). He was at my 30th Birthday celebration last year, and I don't even think we spoke more than a few words. I had dismissed him from my mind because it stung.

And then...Fortune decided that it was time to finally bring the lovers together. I needed to consult a lawyer about financial advice, and he was good enough to help after Robin asked him. We met at Starbucks for coffee one night to talk business, and I recall being nervous. I was getting ready as if it were a date - I was trying on different outfits and perfecting makeup - all the while telling myself I was being ridiculous. I recall him walking through the door at Starbucks, again very clearly, looking quite handsome in his black woolen coat as he carried his briefcase along side him. We sat down at 7:30pm...talked business for a half hour an hour later into the conversation...and, reader, left after Starbucks closed at 10pm and then talked in the car for over an hour after that. We spoke about everything and everything. It felt like being on a first date...that is the way the conversation naturally progressed.

The next morning I was speechless when I woke up. I was severely depressed, much to the point of silence. I woke up staring at the ceiling and recalling all that he said, confirming how much I was attracted to him and confirming that he was a Prince. It was the worst morning of my life...that I assure you, dear readers. I believed that we would not be.

That morning was a Tuesday, and Friday my colleagues were doing our usual happy hour at a bar around the corner from his home. I decided to take a chance...to call to invite him...with the reason being I wanted to buy him a beer as a thank you for his help. That was only partially true; I needed to see him again. He answered the phone and he said to call him Friday. I called him around eleven Friday morning, and later on he told me he almost didn't pick up the phone, because he knew what the true intent was. But he did pick up the phone. And he was coming. I remember racing home during lunch to get a change of clothes, my stomach gathering more and more butterflies as five o'clock approached, and my hands shaking as I reapplied makeup intermittently with emailing my friend, Laura, who was the only one who knew what was going on at the time, to try and calm me down.

I picked him up a little after five, and we arrived at the bar. For the most part, no one else existed around me, and only here and there did we mingle with my colleagues. We were there for a few hours, and all it took was one moment...one amazing moment...to make this love go down the course it was always meant to.

I was mid-sentence (probably something about Hemingway, I know he came up that night) when I felt the Prince's right palm touch my right cheek, his left hand grabbing my waist and pulling me in, and silenced by the most wonderful kiss in the history of all kisses. According to William Golding, the author of The Princess Bride, Wesley and Buttercup had one of the most amazing of five kisses in history. I think the Prince and I take one of the other four.

And so, that kiss continues and shall always continue, and that is the story of how our relationship was born. Our love...well...I think that was born somewhere far off, in a different time, orchestrated by forces that we cannot see or touch or ever know in our lifetimes.

Fast foward to a few weeks ago when I needed a t-shirt, and he handed me the Jack Daniels one. I was hesitant. There is something about that shirt that is symbolic with me, and I cant explain it rationally. In fact, I am sure its irrational...but that shirt I most associate with him. I told him, "but that is THE shirt...your signature shirt!" Alas, I slept in it that night...and have yet to return it...and even if I do...its become my shirt anyway.

What is also mine is he, and I am his. I know he is reading this, and I am so thankful for the day he was born. I love you, baby. I always have, and I always will.

"Not unlike a picture I remembered to have seen of the castle..." ~ Jane Eyre

Royal Dining - A short play in three scenes based on actual events.

Scene I - Lady Jane's chamber at 5 o' clock in the evening on a Saturday: She is dressed inside and out in a new outfit after some early afternoon shopping, including a cranberry colored short sleeve sweater. To match the cranberry hue, her toenails were just done in a green tea pedicure in the Essie color of a deep purple called Sole Mate. She has new makeup in plum tones, including a pump and juicy lip gloss that shimmers. She is excited about date night with her Prince, and its her turn to pick the restaurant. She is thinking somewhere funky - like Rock-n-Sake in Port, where the lights are dim, the decor is hip, the sushi is extra raw, and the 'tinis are delish. She looks forward to her romantic evening of dining by low light and candles...

Scene II - The Lady's white Mercedes at 7:45pm:
The Prince: Honey, where did you choose to go to dinner tonight?
Lady Jane: Its a surprise.
The Prince: Oh come on - just tell me.
Lady Jane: No, I wanted it to be a surprise.
The Prince: You have to tell me!
Lady Jane (joking, but delivers line with straight face): Ok fine, we are going to White Castle.
The Prince (with eyes lit up, speaks excitedly): REALLY?
Lady Jane (snorting): No not really!
Silence ensues. Amy looks at the Prince...he is dejected.
The Prince: Oh.
Lady Jane: Oh my god - are you serious? NO!

Scene III - White Castle on Northern Blvd in Bayside at 8:15pm that same evening, with fluorescent lighting in abundance and the air wafting of sizzling Spam and wet, diced onions:
The Prince (to counter worker): We will have the number four - ten cheeseburgers and ten plain burgers.
Lady Jane: Wait! I want onion rings!
Worker: I can give you two fries and two onion rings
Lady Jane and the Prince in unison: Perfect!
The Prince: Oh, and two jalapeno sliders.
Lady Jane: Can we also try the chicken sliders as well?
The Prince: And two chicken sliders.

Scene IV: A half hour later in White Castle. There are over a dozen sliders still left over on the table. The Prince and his Lady are stuffed and can eat no more, but they are happy ever after.

Note: This lady had never had White Castle up until a month ago when her coworkers intervened. I was skeptical and scared, but it was so good...in a really bad caloric way.

http://www.essie.com/products/search.php?action=search&name=sole+mate%3Cbr%3E&maxhits=1

http://www.rocknsakeny.com/

http://whitecastle.ctprostore.com/

"But it must be ready the moment we return..." ~ Jane Eyre

I smiled when I looked at the cover of my New Yorker yesterday evening when I returned home. The date of the issue is September 15th - the day I start my new job in the city - and the title of the cover is "New York Moment."

As a young woman, I always daydreamed about a New York City romance, and in a few short months it becomes a reality when the Prince returns for his final year in an LLM program. As hectic and busy as our schedules will be both professionally and socially, I am looking forward to the moments where we get to steal some time and meet after class and work in Greenwich Village - whether it is for naninis at the Indian Bread Company (oh how I crave those again) or chocolate martinis at the Fat Black Pussycat (something the Prince introduced me to a few months ago there). I want us to also have drinks at one of my favorite bars that will now be a few minutes away from my building, Meade's Gastropub, and I want to do a power dinner with my Esquire at Delmonico's one evening. I know we are going to make this it an Isle of joy as much as we possibly can, just as Ella sings it: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cCxkUPZ4ZhI

Though for now, dear readers, we are off to the country. The Prince, in all of his goodness that I am thankful for, is taking me away tomorrow to a country Inn in Connecticut as a getaway for us to relax before I begin my new professional life on Wall Street. Our plans for the next three days include nothing more than ordering room service, wearing big, fluffy bathrobes, drinking lots of Prosecco, and venturing to a local museum or two.

Until then, dear readers, have a lovely few days and remember to live each moment passionately and make it a charmed life...

"Eat when excited..." ~ Jane Eyre

One of the more poignant scenes in Sex and the City is when Charlotte breaks down in front of Carrie, hysterical crying after Carrie calls her out on a fear she has. She can hardly speak through her sobs, but she manages to say that life is too good, too perfect, and too wonderful right now and something has to go wrong...how can one be so blessed with such happiness? Carrie reminds her that she has been through enough pain in her life, and its time to enjoy the joy. And in the end, Charlotte does.

I think the movie addressed the issue that it is possible to have your cake and eat it, too. The etymology of that statement is an interesting one. It dates back to 1596 as a metaphorical idiom for what is impossible - you cant eat cake and then have it because you already had it! Still, what we think is impossible in our daily lives may be possible. Its a simple kind of hope that is as plain as a vanilla cupcake, but also as sweet as one.

I feel like Charlotte in this moment - I am so thankful for all of my blessings, but at the same time I fear having it all because life is seemingly perfect right now. I expressed that to my cousin, Steph, the other evening. The eve of my thirtieth birthday was one of the darkest moments of my life, and everything seemed impossible to obtain and turn around and fix both personally and professionally. And then, as if it were the exact moment I made my wish on that piece of birthday cake, the impossible became possible and my dreams were sliced like a cake because they soon became the best reality.

And so, readers, there is a moment in Jane Eyre where Jane leaves her career in education for good and comes into her own wealth as she looks towards her future with Rochester. This is the moment where I leave education and move on to making real money in a new job. I have a new career, I have my Prince, I have the best family and friends, and I have been given the ingredients to make a cake that I am going to have and eat, too. As tempted as I am to cry like Charlotte and worry that this will all be lost, I remember that this was not given to me. I worked for this, just like I will work to make this cake and sweat over it until its ready for the taking, and will enjoy the sweets of my labor...

"He went to India..." ~ Jane Eyre

This past spring I was on Wall Street and walked into the Hermes store there to browse when I saw the most beautiful scarf in the world. Hermes introduced a line called "Indian Fantasies" this past year, and for those who know me well, that is where my fantasies now lay.

The silk scarf in reference is detailed here, though it comes in two colors, and the color pattern I loved is muted shades of lavender and melon that remind me of the colors of the sunsets in Goa that the Prince set me pictures of. There are others in the Indian series, filled with gorgeous images of elephants and henna patterns, but the pattern of this particular caught my eye. Of course it is not a pattern for the pocket squares- it is only available as a large, $300.00 scarf that shall never grace my body as an accessory. Even if I could afford such a luxury, I would perhaps not even wear it - I would frame it as a work of art because I love looking at it so much.

A couple of weeks ago the Prince and I were in the bookstore and I grabbed books on Goa from the travel section. We have talked of going there, and I have been doing daydreaming anytime I click on this website for a hotel there that looks nothing short of spectacular: http://www.tajhotels.com/Leisure/Fort%20Aguada%20Beac
h%20Resort,GOA/default.htm. Aside from Goa, I would love to see the rest of India with him - his India - and look forward to going one day. Though I admit that Goa is first on the list, for staying in an old Portuguese rampart and watching those sunsets with the Prince would be fantasy coming to life.

Dating an Indian man has been a blessing, for I have loved learning more about the culture and learning about the similarities between our Indian and Armenian backgrounds, whether its musical instruments or ceremonial practice rites or even types of food. Even Armenian researchers and cultural anthropologists have commented on the influences. http://www.tacentral.com/mythology.asp?story_no=3 The irony is that his kitchen smells like the smell I remember in the kitchen of my father's parents house, mainly with the faint scent of cumin lingering so deliciously below my nose.

Of course I grew up with Indian friends who introduced me to aspects of the culture even so early as elementary school. I remember two girls in particular showing of their amazing dancing skills and performing Bharatanatyam dance at cultural events hosted by my third grade teacher. Images of shiva and temples in the house were at that time foreign to me in a fascinating way. My first introduction to Indian food was late - high school - when J.Sarah and her parents invited me to her birthday dinner in the city and I tasted the goodness of samosas, nan, mango lassi, and tandoori chicken for the first time. Of course now I joke that those foods are for the lightweights, for there is nothing better I love than saag paneer and any kind of spicy vindaloo.

Life has gotten in the way of me undertaking the Indian cooking I have set out to do as a project, though soon I am confident that I will have more time for that. The main Indian supermarket in the metro New York area is called Patel Brothers: http://nymag.com/listings/
stores/patel_brothers01/. J.Sarah has one by her house, and the Prince and I have one by hours. Going in there for the first time was exciting. It was crowded and abuzz with families shopping, with huge barrels of Indian snacks being dug into and freezers filled with all different kinds of kulfi. J.Sarah helped me find the dal and garam masala that I needed. The Prince took me to the one closer to us in order to get ingredients for chat papri (www.epicureanescapdes.blogspot.com) and I was unable to keep my kulfi in its package before reaching the register; I felt like a young child snacking greedily while the parent was food shopping! I have been back there on my own since for the main purpose of stockpiling kulfi in my freezer. I tried fried lentil snacks the other day at the Prince's and need to head there next week to buy some bags of it for myself.

Next door to Patel Brothers is an Indian clothing store that has gorgeous saris in the window. As much as I would love that Hermes scarf, it is not as important to me as one day wearing a ceremonial sari. And donning that one day is not a fantasy at all. Rather, it is quite the absolute opposite in my heart and soul...

"Seasons of that region..." ~ Jane Eyre

The prince is a man for all seasons

Oh, yes he is comparable to Moore in that he is an amazing scholar, philosopher, and intellect, but I mean in the literal sense that he is a man for all seasons.

For the first time in my life I don’t mind that summer is ending, or that cold winds shall come, or that darkness will be abound in hours that were once light. So far in the six months we have been together, three seasons have passed, and the experiences became as unique and special as he is. Its not the activities in the seasons that make them meaningful with him, it is just being with him that is most significant.

Although it could be winter forever and if I was with him it wouldnt matter, I must admit that I am most excited about autumn with him - the only season we haven't shared yet. We cheer for the same football team, and I look forward to breezy, cool Sundays in front of the television, wrapped in a blanket and eating bowls of hot chili topped with cheddar cheese and crispy tortilla strips as the Giants work to clench another kind of bowl in their particular season. We decided to read all the Harry Potter books before the next film comes out this fall, and I am looking forward to our discussions about how Hermione and Ron are perfectly imperfect for each other before bundling up in pea coats and hats to go see The Half Blood Prince. The Prince's birthday lies in November, and I cannot wait to shower him with all the gifts he deserves and make him the cake of his choosing. He was a football player in high school, so I hope to rouse him and get him to play touch football or at least throw a football around as our feet make crunching noises on the fallen leaves. I want to go apple picking with him and search for the perfect pumpkin together.
I want to make him all kinds of pies - sweet potato pies and shepherd's pie from my oven that serves as another means to heat my apartment when the weather turns cool. I can't wait for weekend getaways and nights we just stay in watching movies and sipping spiced cider. Hopefully he will celebrate Halloween with us as we indulge Jack in all of the excitement of the holiday and I cook for the family that night. Annually, its been individual meat loaves with mashed potatoes and green beans with tons of candy for dessert. I requested we do a Star Wars marathon together - watching the original three films in one day...though truthfully it is always about Empire. I look forward to wearing thick, plaid skirts again with tights and rubbing his leg underneath the table inconspicuously as we dine out and drink red wines instead of summery whites.

Of course summer isnt over just yet, but it is no matter because I feel like each day is a beach day when we are together...carefree, blissful, and perfect.

"To glory..." ~ Jane Eyre

The small footprints next to mine in the sand belong to Jack as we go by the shore and I write his name with my toes in the sand and we giggle together as the water washes it back into its vastness and I hold the little King high above the waves because he is too royal to be beneath them even swimming...out children should lead us, we shouldnt be leading them...they know what is best, even if that includes eating tons of snacks in a beach chair at age three years old, rotating mini bags of popcorn and goldfish crackers. We build castles together in the sand and I hope that I have enough power one day to build him better castles and protect him always...always. My sisters in the sand appear as an oasis to me as their images are intertwined with my parents - just as mine is - as we pass on all the glory of a day at the beach to the child. Robin's patience as Jack tries to play frisbee with her and her boyfriend and my sister's reassurance to him when he shows doubt echo as loud as the ocean breeze in my ear of past family excursions to Jones Beach. The moment where Robin and I hold him at the shoreline as the waves crash is one of bliss, because our love for him as his aunts is stronger than all the oceans ever washing across all of the lands of this earth. We spend hours here and I never want to leave...he doesnt want to leave, either. If I could send a message in a bottle on this day to someone I would say in my note that life is glorious...live the life...viva la vida. No money, stocks, gas, oil, war, athletic competitions, elections, or celebrities have anything to do with the purity of this moment on this day, and we forget this too often. I see other families smiling and laughing with their children around us and I have faith and hope that the earth will heal itself with the love we have for our future children. Their potential is as vast as the sea and we need to let them rule our hearts... and not let them be ruled by the tyrants that have turned this world into a tempest...

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dvgZkm1xWPE

"While such honey-dew fell..." ~ Jane Eyre

Its Saturday night and I am listening to "Honey, Honey" from the Mamma Mia soundtrack, keeping up with my latest ABBA kick since Wednesday night when I saw the film with sis Missy. I am totally thinking of the Prince as I sip a cocktail made with vodka and valencia/mango juice in a blue martini glass and am singing along to lyrics such as "Honey honey, how you thrill me, ah-hah, honey honey..." He is on his way here soon, and as the song goes, I feel like I wanna sing when you do your thing.

Life is as sweet as honey lately and as thickly rich. I was cruising in the car earlier with the sunroof open, blasting ABBA, looking at the blue skies, sipping the bottom caramel layer of an iced caramel macchiato, and totally enjoying the moment of bliss because I feel the most relaxed and the most secure than I have in a great while.

So far, thirty has been the best year in my entire life, and I am so excited for the rest of the year to unfold. I wouldnt trade this moment for anything, and I wouldnt go back to my twenties if I had the chance. I was a dancing queen at seventeen and loved that time until college ended, and then I feel like I wasted a lot of emotions in my early twenties. I love that I am able to take a chance on me once again and change my lifestyle these days. Indeed, lately I give myself credit for being a super trooper and forging ahead despite some hard obstacles. I can spend more time doing things I love, like reading historical fiction that recounts the moments in the battle of Waterloo. In the end, I think I have figured out the name of the game, and I have never been happier because I am the winner taking it all.

So, what's your favorite ABBA song and why? :)

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2P3SWl0EAAs

Its garden, too, glowed with flowers: hollyhocks had sprung up tall as trees..." ~ Jane Eyre


Last Sunday was the most perfect of days with the Prince, thanks to his thoughtfulness and talent for making any day or night whimsical so long as we are together.

Ironically, I have been to the lovely Cloisters at Westminster Abbey in England, but never to the Cloisters of the Metropolitan Museum of Art at Fort Tryon Park here in New York. Though he and I discussed going together this summer, the original plan for last Sunday was to go to the MET itself on Fifth Avenue to see the Superhero Exhibit at the costume institute.

When he got into the car, he had a plan for the entire day of times and transportation routes: plans had changed. We were going to take the train to Penn and then take the A train to the Cloisters, take the M4 bus back to the Met on Fifth, see the Superhero exhibit, and then take the W down to East 8th street and walk to the Indian Bread Company for a dinner of "naninis."

And we did just that. If you know anything about New York City's layout, you know that we were literally all over the city that day!

The Prince's laugh is one of my favorite laughs - there is something infectious about it (I love watching comedies with him), and the train ride in was enjoyable to me because we were listening to comedic sketches on his Ipod. After the train ride into Penn Station and the A train ride up to Ft. Tryon Park, we exited and I couldn't’t believe I was still in New York City. While we waited for the bus, the Prince and I shared a Spiderman ice pop thanks to our good fortune that a Good Humor truck was right there! It had been ages since I ate any ice pop that had gumball eyes on it. Arriving at the Cloisters was exciting, for it’s located on a hill and is just stunning to view from its base.

As much as I loved the Unicorn tapestries and the indoor relics, my favorite aspects of the Cloisters were the actual gardens and courtyards. The Prince took amazing photos – he has a great eye when it comes to photography- a few of which are seen above. He got a wonderful shot of a butterfly perched on a flower. The courtyards themselves are regal, as you can see from the second photo. The third is one I took of a fountain amidst a courtyard that only contained stone columns. As bare as it was, there was a zen-like quality to the space that was peaceful and relaxing. My favorite garden was the Medieval Culinary garden outside...the Cloisters planted trees, vegetables, herbs, and roots that would have been grown in the Middle Ages. Some of the culinary trees and plants included fig trees, pear trees, cherry trees, garlic bulbs, parsley, rosemary, sage, leeks, chives, and kale.

By the time we finished and after viewing the food garden, we got back on the bus and arrived at the Metropolitan Museum of Art needing a snack. Nothing beats a dirty water dog and lemonade on a hot summer day. I had mine with relish and mustard, and the Prince had one with everything. We sat in the shade on a bench by the sidewalk art vendors, and all I could think about is how perfect the day is because I was with him.

Inside the MET, we viewed the Superhero exhibit, which is a must see if anyone is visiting the museum this summer. After that we sat in my favorite place for a few moments - the European Sculpture Garden - once again visiting our favorite statues of Perseus and Andromeda. We then ventured out of the museum and headed to the subway to go down to Greenwich Village for a dinner of "naninis" at the Indian Bread Company. We both ate the Saag Chicken (grilled chicken tikka cubes with spinach spread, caramelized onion and tikka masala sauce) and I had a mango lassi. By this time we were exhausted and decided to head home.

After showering and falling into bed after the day, I was not sad that the day was over. I know there are plenty more to come. Besides, there may not be gardens with flowers or tapestries or leisurely bus rides down Fifth Avenue each day when we are together, but that is no matter, because all moments I spend with him are perfectly beautiful.

Some fun websites from our fun day:
http://www.indianbreadco.com/
http://www.metmuseum.org/special/superheroes/index.asp
http://www.metmuseum.org/explore/Unicorn/hunt_unicorn_transcript.htm
http://citysbest.aol.com/new-york/best-dining/hot-dogs/

"Then her soul sat on her lips, and language flowed..." ~ Jane Eyre

My boyfriend and I have both been reflective about the strong components of our relationship of late. I have to say that the connection of creativity is one of the many strong dynamics of our partnership.

Last night we wrote a poem together, in bed, stemming from an exercise of choosing words, writing separate poems, and then combining the two. He said that our poem needs to be edited, but I prefer it in its raw form right now. As for the last stanza, well, after sharing moments like this with him, it is impossible for me to imagine not writing poetry with him for all the days to come...

Missed Pain
by Amy and A.K.J.

Under duress
I allow the light
slowly
through the window pane.

The loss of night.
The loss of you.

Without you I cannot move.
I cannot feel,
I cannot do.

The pleasure I derive wanes.

While the night grants us
another moment,
I still cannot breathe.

And,
without you,
I cannot live.
I cannot be.

For you are finally intertwined with me.

"My head grew hot..." ~ Jane Eyre

Living on Long Island gives you the best of both worlds in the summertime. I love being thirty minutes away from the beach and forty minutes away from the city. Summer in the city is special despite the heat and grit and thick humidity that clings to each highrise above and below you as you walk the streets.

My cool cat mentioned the other night to this kitty how there is something about the heat of summer that is extremely seductive. I couldnt agree more. I believe that it true between two people in the heat of summer, but I also believe that the city itself, all five boroughs included, becomes so more seductive in the summer.

What I love about summer in the city...

~ The Subway: I know you are thinking that the subway is the worst part about the city in the summer. It is extremely hot on the platforms and people move lethargically as they wait for the trains. This is true. But what is also true is how good the contrast feels once the train starts to arrive. The breeze reaches you and you are beginning the cool down. The car doors open and the moment you step into the car is the moment that feels amazing: the cold air conditioning hits you and it the feeling on your skin tastes as good as an ice pop does on your tongue.

~ Rooftops and Gardens: Eating and drinking on the rooftops of Manhattan is special. There are many rooftop bars, but the rooftops and gardens to dine in are spectacular. Its like a little oasis away from the city hubub. As much as I love al fresco dining on the sidewalks of New York, I do prefer back gardens or upstairs getaways. One of my favorite outdoor garden areas to dine and drink is in Astoria, Queens. Its Cavo, a Greek restaurant with an oasis in the back that makes you feel like you are somewhere outside in Greece as you sip your retsina. A few blocks away likes the Bohemian Beer Garden - an outdoor Oasis with a plethora of pitchers of Pilsner!

~ Museums: They are cool with culture and the best exhibits are always in the summer months when the tourists come. Case and point? The MET has their costume institute filled with an exhibit on Superhero costumes. http://www.metmuseum.org/special/se_event.asp?OccurrenceId={5B98D8A0-AB67-4137-8F5E-873FDB82EE73}&HomePageLink=special_c3a

~ The Rest: Shakespeare in the Park, Lemon Ice King of Corona ices, Coney Island, Yankee Stadium, mojitos at Asia De Cuba, street fairs, the lingering smell of halal meat in the humid air, the sound of flip flops of women on the sidewalk, the available parking on the Upper East Side, air conditioned cabs, A Midsummer Night's Swing at Lincoln Center, Mr. Softees parked by the parks, air conditioners dripping down on the sidewalks, owners giving their dogs bottles of Poland Spring, Monday night movies at Bryant Park...

For some Lovin' Spoonful and cool lyrics like Cool Cat looking for a Kitty: http://youtube.com/watch?v=1fxhebNeFXk

"I should say I loved you..." ~ Jane Eyre

Perhaps I have not been entirely truthful.

I have been writing these past few months...just not all of my words have been here on the blog. I have a red moleskin notebook that has been filled with my thoughts of him since the night after our first date, now almost four months ago. The notebook has been by my nightstand, in his eyesight without knowing what it was. It was my way of expressing myself to him in moments where the feeling was too intense to carry in my heart alone, but not emote directly to him due to my vulnerabilities. Only a few weeks ago did I finally have the courage to share it with him, and that moment was intense for me...it was, indeed, one of the most vulnerable moments I have had in my life.

There are an infinite number of reasons as to what makes him a best friend, a best boyfriend, and a best lover to me. One of the quintessential reasons is that he never makes me feel I ever have to be self-conscious about my emotions, thoughts, and feelings; he is so accepting of who I am, just as I am accepting of who he is.

I didn't intend to share my writing here, but he encouraged me to do so. I wont share more than one, and this is the one I want to share with one significant addendum: the trust referred to has, indeed, been earned and given freely...

March 2, 2008

This bed smells like us...as if we embedded ourselves into the fabric of the sheets as we made love and unfolded into each thread. I think of you in this moment ~ your eyes, forearms, lips, hands, chin, chest, skin. I love touching your skin...smelling your skin. I love the color of your skin and the contrast of the tones of our hands when we lock our fingers together.
What I hate is that I cannot put my thoughts into my speech on matters of my feelings pertaining to you. I am still angry at myself for breaking down last night and giving into your interrogation of me - of my thoughts when it comes to you. What do you want to know? I feel like nothing I express could even be believed by you right now. More time must pass. I feel as though time is against me, and for you as well. Trust must be earned, not given freely. I do not trust you completely ~ not yet.

"And that faithful friendship..." ~ Jane Eyre

Carrie has carried me through many a Sunday night when Saturday dreams were hanging out to dry. She and her crew also comforted me, along with Chinese take out (usually chicken lo mein) and a cheap bottle of chardonnay, on many a Friday night when I preferred to get a manicure and stay home for the evening after a long and stressful work week.

But it is my friends and sisters who have carried me through the severe moments of life's greatest pains and obstacles, and this kind of deep support from friends was reflected on the screen tonight above all else.

Yes, there was a festive and flirty feel to seeing the film tonight with my dear cousin, for three years ago we watched the last episode together in her den while eating desserts and learning Big's real name. Tonight we dressed up, we got cosmos after the movie, we fussed over the fashions in the film as we drank our pink drinks. It was a celebration on many levels, especially a celebration of friendship and sororial bonds.

For me, the best parts of the film were not about shoes, bags, sex, or the city. The most poignant parts dealt with the essence of friendship down to its rawest moments. I teared up often during the film, but sobbed when I saw Samantha having to literally feed Carrie because she was too depressed to eat. That hit home, and in that moment I thought about my sisters and my best girlfriends. I thought about the night I had to sleep at Missy's after a severe breakup because I just couldn't be alone. I thought about J.Sarah taking phone calls at two in the morning when I was in pain from being so hurt by a person's callousness and coldness. I thought about Robin coming over one morning when I actually couldn't get out of bed because I was heartbroken, and I thought about Cassie asking me the hardest questions about myself even though they were meant to make my life easier.

Of course the tables have been turned and I have been the one to be the support system, but my being there for them is just as much as a given as they are there for me. It doesn't take watching a film to appreciate the bonds that we have, but it certainly is special to have a reason to reflect on those bonds and revere them.

It has been hard living without Carrie and the crew these past few years, because they, too, served as a constant support in my life. It may sound trite to some, but it wont to those who truly understand what it is like to be a single woman in a city with brains and beauty, looking for the ultimate purpose in life: love. But, as the film points out so well and so clearly, perhaps in the end its not about romantic love...but the love of your girlfriends and sisters that matters the most in this life. Having both is the icing on the cake.

Thankfully, in that sense, I have it all, just like Ms. Carrie Bradshaw.

Cheers...

"A fortnight of dubious calm succeeded..." ~ Jane Eyre

The cottage room, main house, and reception area possess beautiful Japanese accents, and the gardens at the bed and breakfast also felt quite influenced by Japanese-style horticulture. I am a believer in feng-shui, and in addition to the physical environment achieving feng-shui (Chinese for "wind-water"), the energy between he and me also feels completely balanced, as it has been since our first date. When I am with him, a gentle wind blows over my soul and my emotions are as clear to me as water. It does not surprise me that a breakdown of the feng-shui theory is the yin/yang. It all comes down to energies balancing each other, whether that energy be love, passion, or desire.

The above photo was one of the prints in the bedroom depicting Japanese women preparing for a wedding. At first glance, there seems to be a great deal of chaos and activity, but if you focus deeper into the lines of the image, you see how evenly balanced the painting is, right down to the colors used. The deep and passionate red is balanced out by the cool and calming blue; an excess of either color would ruin the equilibrium. As one woman looks up, the other looks down; other women are facing each other on a perfect diagonal. There is a particular smooth curve to the riverbank the women stand on. There is nothing sharp or jagged about the lines - they all compliment each other in one fell motion of the brush.

Earlier this evening I was thinking about how some aspects of the Bushido of the samurai may be applied to a romantic relationship, especially rei. The amount of respect I have for him is immense; his mind and his soul command it. I know it is reciprocated, making it mutual and balanced.

Other aspects of the Bushido, such as self control, do not apply at all and it becomes a paradox of sorts. I lack all when it comes to him, yet I feel as though my emotions would be completely unaligned I possessed any at all...

"The moon rose with such majesty..." ~ Jane Eyre


He and I spent the past two days amidst the landscapes of the Catskill mountains. Each moment was surrounded by majestic mountains, vibrant flowers, breathtaking views, lush greens, and sweet smelling air. The environs were also decadent, with a cottage room filled with Japanese prints and a zen-like feel. The photos he took show all of the bounty that encompassed us, and taking it all in had a dreamlike feel to it. There are posts to come about our romantic getaway, but they all deserve this preface...

This early afternoon I stood in the shower with a skylight above me and views of the foliage from the window. Literally soaking it all in, tears came to my eyes, immediately blending into the water that ran down on me. All of this - this majesty, this uncultivated perfection, this beauty around me - is nothing compared to the soul of the man I was with here. There is more vitality in him than there is in the lilacs I smelled...there is more passion in him than in the petals of the red roses on the grounds...there is more majesty in him than the the regal mountains outside of the door this morning...

"Fell in love with..." ~ Jane Eyre

If he and I were to be characterized in terms of a piece of art, it would probably be one of my most loved: The Nighthawks by Edward Hopper. I fell in love with this other piece of art yesterday, a song, the moment I heard it when I was lying next to him. http://youtube.com/watch?v=SQO7IUrqXqY
Yesterday evening I ran into the very coffee shop where, in essence, this commenced over three months ago. I was grabbing two espressos for us before dinner and glanced at the table we sat at, smiling to myself as I ordered from the barrista. There is something about love in a coffee shop that is cliche, but you have to figure that there is not much else two people do but converse without distraction, sipping warm goodness with an opportunity to share conversation for hours. If you are fortunate, the person warms you more than what you are sipping at your lips warms you. I remember almost a week later after that meeting, which was never meant to be a date, we were back there sipping coffee and reading the Times on a date. Except we didnt read the Times. We just kept talking, and the conversation has not ceased. It has been a path of continual conversing that grows richer with each word in passing. As the lyrics go to the song, I've seen the paths that your eyes wander down/I want to come too.

I suppose what this blog needs is me spending time in a coffee shop with a red eye, infusing some more writing here lately and continuing a path I have made for over two years. Honestly, I am not myself lately, but I am happy not to be myself, for these recent moments in coffeeshops and elsewhere, have rendered me speechless.

And for the first time in my life...I love being speechless.

"My whim is gratified..." ~ Jane Eyre

As a child, I read plenty of fantasy fiction, from Tolkien to Lewis to Juster. One of my favorite movies was The Last Unicorn, which, ironically, I just learned that Christopher Lee was the voice of King Haggard (whom I recall in animation looked a lot like Mr. Burns from The Simpsons). To this day, I remember the lyrics to the song; I had watched the film dozens of times and am still disappointed to know that the rumors of a remake are false; they started back in 2005 and nothing has come to fruition.

Once I became a teenager, I pretty much abandoned fantasy fiction, and during college was pretentious and became all about the canon. I don't even really recall reading current fiction during my college years; it was strictly the classics until I started teaching. The most recent return to fantasy fiction was, of course, thanks to Harry, Hermione, and Ron. Still, they are the only characters I have read about in fantasy fiction as an adult until recently...

One of the first things my boyfriend and I started sharing when we began dating are books. We are both avid readers, though our taste in fiction differs, which makes sharing books all the more exciting. He is a fantasy fiction reader, and when he told me about a particular series last Sunday, I asked if I could borrow them.

On Tuesday night, I came home after a long day of recruiting to two books with a note from him that meant the world to me. The books that were left to borrow are by Naomi Novik who writes the Temeraire series. http://www.temeraire.org/ I am already halfway through His Majesty's Dragon and am so glad there are three more books after this one, because I am devouring it. I highly recommend the book to fellow bloggers. This is the first time in a long time that I am reading fantasy fiction, and I am enjoying it on so many levels, one being that I am experiencing books that he enjoys so very much. I feel that a passion I had as a child is renewed once again thanks to him.

"Sweet paintings of butterflies..." ~ Jane Eyre

It has been two and a half months, and the butterflies will not cease to exist inside of me. Their wings flap inside of my stomach as crisply as a white linen sheet drying outside on a windy spring day, refusing to cease for even a moment for some tranquility. When the phone indicates his number, they begin to move inside of me, as if they were walking up a stem, slowly approaching a flower that is steadily in bloom. When a time is set to meet him, they leave the pillar all together and fly in the space that is my stomach, speedily pounding their wings in sync to the rhythm of my heartbeat. Before the hour of which we are set to meet, I try to distract myself from their continual soaring in my soul. Nothing really helps cease their presence, so eventually my encompassing the butterflies becomes the butterflies encompassing me. As time passes, I become more and more skeptical that they shall ever leave. Then again, I love their beauty, as well as the beauty they represent, and realize that perhaps I do not wish for them to leave...