"This lane inclined up-hill all the way to Hay..." ~ Jane Eyre

Yesterday morning I woke up in the Prince's arms and could not resist kissing him repeatedly, not feeling guilty for disturbing him even though we both could have slept a bit later. I become too excited; waking up with him always feels like Christmas morning - it is that special, indeed. I was looking forward to our day...or rather, his day. We decided to take turns deciding what the day's activities would be during this weekend getaway to the North Fork of Long Island. We were in Mattituck thanks go J. Sarah's parents giving us their vacation home for a long weekend.

Saturday was "my" day, which included eating breakfast at our favorite restaurant in Mattituck - Love Lane Kitchen. The kitchen, photographed above, is a great place for fresh coffee, delicious breakfasts, and fresh lunches. I had the special of sweet potato pancakes and the Prince had a panini with pesto and vegetables. After breakfast we arrived at the house to unpack. We then did a few errands before going wine tasting. Sadly, many wineries allow limos and party buses on weekends now, and its unfortunate because it really takes away from the lovely experience that is usually so relaxing and wonderful. The best time to go is winter and weekdays to wineries. We did do a flight at Peconic Bay, which was lovely despite the crowds. We then drove to the beach area and sat listening to music for a little while before we went back to the house for cocktails and snacking on cheese from Catapano Farms (they are a goat cheese farm and make amazing goat cheese gouda). I then made dinner - ratatouille and penne paired with Simi Chardonnay - that I will post on my food blog shortly. The rest of the evening was quiet and cozy - we so needed this downtime.

The Prince's day started the same way mine did- breakfast at Love Lane Kitchen! This time around I had an egg sandwich on a croissant and he had an omelet. We ran to get the New York Times and spent over an hour reading the paper on counter stools in the kitchen at the house with Meet the Press on in the background. Afterwards we changed into swimsuits and went into the hot tub on the deck, which felt decadent and therapeutic all at the same time. I stared at the trees above me, red and gold leaves abundant as the North Fork is experiencing the height of its foliage. After the hot tub we turned on football and got pizza for lunch. The Prince made a fire in the fireplace and we sat and watched the movie The Happening before I got up to make dinner of chicken cutlets crusted in Parmesan, potatoes au gratin, and honeyed carrots (which I will also post shortly on my food blog). After dinner, the fire was still burning as we waited for the Giants game to commence, and we sat on the couch staring at the fire, quite content, indeed.

I am sure he is reading this and thinking what I am thinking - how writing about our time together like this in chronological form does the weekend very little justice. For what made it most special are the moments we spoke, the moments we didn't have to speak, and the moments of laughter between us. Those moments stay private...always.

Besides which, I have no time to write anymore today. I promise the Prince an ode this weekend, and its time to write it for him, and him alone.

http://www.catapanodairyfarm.com/

http://lovelanekitchen.com/

http://www.peconicbaywinery.com/sitecontent.cfm?page=welcome

"Seemed to swim round me..." ~ Jane Eyre

For over two hours this past Friday, the Prince and I had the pool and jacuzzi at the Simsbury Inn to ourselves. It was a quiet day at the Inn, and though my plan was to relax in the jacuzzi the entire time, the Prince had other plans for me once he found out that...well...

I was never formally instructed on how to swim.

Granted, we had an above ground pool growing up in my house that was no more than four feet and I went in, underwater even, with goggles and loved being in the water. However, I was never given formal training and could no nothing more to truly stay afloat than a simple paddle. I am not always comfortable in the water - there has always been fear on some level and I have never truly been a risk taker in the water.

So with his perfect combination of patience, encouragement, and ability to tune into the best way I learn - detailed verbal instructions - he taught me the first basics of swimming, including how to truly float. I never thought twice about trusting him as he held me, and I never doubted his intuition of when to let go of me and allow me to do it on my own. After a while, I was able to not only float in the water, but thanks to his tutelage, navigate myself as I floated. He also taught me how to use my hands in the water when I swim and where to position my legs as I kicked. Granted, I shall never be Dana Torres, but I look forward to the next time I am in a pool.

Sometimes after a weekend or a getaway, the Prince asks what my favorite part of it was. As we grow together, its always harder to pinpoint a specific moment. This getaway is case and point. I loved each and every minute of it with him, especially in the pool together. With slight embarrassment but complete confidence he wouldn't tease me about it, I told him a story when we were in the pool together about how, as a young girl in my pool, I would daydream that I was a mermaid in the water, waiting for my Prince to come. Of course daydreams never truly are like reality, because my Prince is a better Prince than this mermaid ever dreamed up.

"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...

"I thought only of the bliss..." ~ Jane Eyre

My hair is sopping wet because my body is too tired to even hold my hairdryer. Instead, my wet curls create streaks of dark grey against the light grey material of his baseball t-shirt which I keep grabbing the collar of and placing it to my nose because it smells like him. Sleeping in this shirt will make sleeping alone tonight easier. I sip some DuBoeuf Beaujolais and think back to sitting on the couch together with wine in hand, laughing at a cork that ended up in the bottle. I think about how so many things in life seem impossible, like ships in bottles, and try to remember that even that is possible. It is possible to experience bliss for days at a time, even in ways that may seem subtle and prosaic. Perhaps in the end those moments are when bliss can truly happen. Like pulling over on a road to look at the ocean in a small corner of a shoreline and taking photos of each other. Like running your fingers through his thick, dark hair as he sleeps, inhaling deeply as you listen to him breathe. Like eating leftover sag paneer and roti for breakfast together. Like standing out on a deck having an animated discussion about politics and NPR's responsibility to listeners as you wrongfully hold a menthol between your fingers and exhale at the sheer awe of his ideas. Like listening to Sinatra sing "My Funny Valentine" as you drive towards Atlantic City. Moments more private, moments in public, moments in a car stuck in traffic. Mostly moments of laughter. Moments you would like to bottle up and taste over and over again. In a recent moment, I was told that I am a hopeless romantic. I don't think that is true. Perhaps a hopeful romantic, but I do not see romance through rose colored glasses. I can see it clearly, realistically. Pragmatically enough to know that such blissful moments with a special man are not common, but unique and to be savored. And, above all else, to be discernibly thankful for.

"In the course of preparing tea..." ~ Jane Eyre

My bedroom smells like jasmine and vanilla and the scent makes me crave jasmine tea, among other things, which is brewing right now as I sit here to breathe deeply and make myself a proper afternoon tea. This is a vacation day for me, and I shall not return to work until Wednesday. I have an entire weekend to myself and am so excited that nothing is planned but time for me and to do things for myself.

Of course this morning I spent with Jack; he is attending "school" for an hour and a half at an amazing child recreation center that holds educational classes. I went to the house and my sister, Jack, adn I had mini waffles, hopped in the car, and then we got to sponge paint, sing, have snack, and play. I watch him in the room and am proud of his patience, his politeness, and how well he gets along with other children. I am going back to another class with him on Tuesday morning, this time a music class called "Broadway Babies" where musicians and actors dress the part from musicals and sing to the children. This Tuesday is Mary Poppins, so there was no way I was missing that experience to see him dance with a character dressed as Bert to "Step In Time."

I am moving again and excited - this time a house. A house I will share with my twin sister. I have not lived in a house since moving out of my parents' home when I was 22, so the idea excites me to no end, especially the idea of a garden. I want to plant flowers, of course, but I also want a vegetable garden of tomatoes, zucchini, and cucumbers. I want tomatoes so I can jar my own sauce, and I want cucumbers so I can make my own pickles. I am procrastinating this afternoon and looking at pickling websites. http://www.pickyourown.org/makingpickles.htm I do have to start packing and boxing, but it will be an easy move - not stressful. The only stressful part to me is picking paint colors. I am thinking long and hard about colors for the bedroom and want to veer away from the golden tone I have had for a few years now. I want something warm and am leaning towards: melon. Melon with brown and blue accents.

I am reading a book about a tea shop called The Tea House on Mulberry Street. Its a good, light, fluffy read for a cold February evening; it's about an Irish couple who own a teahouse in Belfast and about all of the colorful characters whom frequent the shop. There is a cherry cheesecake recipe at the end that sounds delicious and would make if I didnt dislike baking so much.

My tea is ready, my book is here, and I go from one written word to another...

"The fact is, I was a trifle beside myself; or rather OUT of myself, as the French would say..." ~ Jane Eyre

I am dealing with post-holiday blues tonight with all things French. Because what makes you feel better than something that is Francais? I made a croque-monsieur for dinner (no bechemal, very little cheese, cooking spray instead of butter but it was still tres fantastique) and am sipping a Cabernet Sauvignon. I am catching up on French gossip pages and reading about Sarkozy getting cozy with a new Italiano mistress. I am looking at French recipes for my thirtieth birthday getaway weekend to the North Fork at the beginning of February. Savory crepes? Coq au vin? I told J.Sarah that I want to make brandade just because I saw Jacque Pepin make it and it looks so good. This afternoon, my brother-in-law made reserves for tomorrow night at Artisanal for my sister, my boyfriend, and me so we can have a big pot of fondue. Nothing like drowning the blues away in a big pot of melted, hot, bubbly cheese.

I am not sure why I get post-holiday blues. Its not that I don't see my family each week; sometimes we even see each other each day. I suppose it has more to do with a spirit and feeling more than anything else; Christmas is a time that takes you the closest proximity back to the memories of your childhood and a time when you were with the ones you loved who are no longer alive. It was a time when my sisters and I still lived together under one roof; as much as we share now, you couldnt help but share more when living together in one home. We work so hard to pay it forward to Jack and ensure that he experiences the same blessings we had from our parents on Christmas and each day of the year, but I know that it will never be exactly the same. Its all very Le Petite Prince, mais oui?

Its nights like this when I know I need to think pink: La Vie En Rose. I have Edith on the CD player and am thinking about procrastinating even further tonight (I have so much on a to-do list right now) and looking into flights to Quebec in February. Even the idea of waking up in a city where hot croissants and cafe au lait is the only way to go for breakfast makes me less blue. I may head out tonight to the bookstore because I realize that Jack has yet to read Babar, and we all know that French elephants make the best of children's stories. Though as great as it is having the memory of an elephant, I do wish I could forget the past a little tonight and be less bleu.