It's funny the way the weather can make you smile. This has been the mildest November I can ever remember, and it is a delight. I am bopping out of the house each morning without scarf or gloves, and taking in long, deep breaths of air that almost smells as sweet as spring. There are big, beautiful hydrangeas bursting on the enormous bush in our front garden. I'm fairly certain I am wearing a silly grin as I head to the bus stop. I'm smiling at everyone who passes . . . I occasionally get a smile back.
This weekend Tim and I saw some people in shorts walking along Cowes High Street. No flip flops were on display, though even shorts this late in November gives pause. Our long walk along the parade to Gurnard was glorious--I was wearing a jacket, but unzipped. A couple of times I realised I stretched out my arms as if to let the air envelop me, and making a cape of my jacket. I felt like Mary Tyler Moore, happy as Larry (one of those odd British-isms), and would have gladly tossed my beret high in the air, only it was too warm to be wearing a hat. And I felt so in love--with life, with all that I have, with my husband. Lovely weather, my friends, is an elixir.
The nights this November have been just a bit cooler than the days, with inky dark skies. To my surprise this weekend it was clear and dotted with stars that you don't often get to see in the better-lit London skies.It all feels so precious, this November warmth, and I know it is short-lived. Everyone is talking about it--and yes, Brits do talk a lot about the weather (apparently because it's generally rubbish), but this spring-like spell commands a lot of talk in the coffee shops and at bus stops where the outerwear ranges wildly from knit scarves (because it's November, it's what you're supposed to wear) to light jackets (which are more prevalent).
At the same time this unusual stretch of weather has thrown me a bit off kilter--I am having trouble rationalising this fabulous, temperate weather with all the decorations that scream "Christmas!" along Oxford Street. And I realise, well, I need to write out Christmas cards before we go on our honeymoon. I need to buy gifts for the nieces and nephews.
But I can't quite get in the mood. Perhaps as Thanksgiving approaches, it will set me straight. This year we are bypassing our usual Thanksgiving gathering at Bodean's BBQ in Soho for the more comfortable and likely less noisy environs of the home of our friends Taron and Neil, who will be hosting an honest-to-goodness Thanksgiving feast. I'm excited; an intimate occasion in a warm home that will no doubt have the aroma of home-cooked turkey, stuffing . . . I am hoping there's pumpkin pie.
In fact Thanksgiving had always been a favourite holiday of mine--it brings friends and families together without the need for cards and pressies; it reminds us to be thankful, and to cherish our ties far and near. I liked that all of us trouped to my mother's house or, later, to my sister Debbie's home for turkey and ham and the ever-popular mushrooms in a sour cream sauce, and of course the array of pies--pumpkin, yes, but also apple and mince pies too that my mother would make. It was a rare occasion to get us all together as we got older and gained spouses or significant others, yet more often than not we managed it for a number of years. I think I was first in the family to throw a monkey wrench into the annual gathering--going away for Thanksgiving became a bit of its own tradition for me in the late 90s and for the next several years--still spent with friends and, even in a place like Jamaica, turkey on the menu.
The first year I was in Britain I found it strange to work Thanksgiving Thursday and Friday--I didn't miss the Black Friday shopping, but I did suddenly miss having Thursday with my family, like the good old days. Having my American cadre of friends here helped fill the gap--and Bodean's even showed NFL football, which before coming to England was a staple of not just Thanksgiving but many of my weekends.
We adjust; we find ways to celebrate the things that are important to us even when those things may not be widely recognised in our new landscape. I suppose the Fourth of July is another example--but here there is Guy Fawkes Night, and the fireworks are legal!
I have learned to be grateful of one more thing this month--don't laugh--the Transport for London's new online bus arrival schedule in real time. OK, go ahead and laugh, but I'm becoming slowly addicted. You punch in your stop--the name, or the number if you know it--check the correct direction, and voila, a list of all the next buses coming toward you! It's brilliant, especially now that I've practically stopped using the tube because most of my travel is on foot or by the double-decker, where I still inwardly squeal when the seats at the front of the top deck are empty and I can sit and watch the London scene.
Case in point: Tim and I take the 341 from Waterloo Station back to our home in London. The 341 runs notoriously poorly--you just never know how long you're going to wait. As popular as the Waterloo bus stop is, it is one that does not have an LED display of arrivals and several buses stop within feet of each other at three stops in a row. As each bus several blocks down turns the corner on to Waterloo Road I'm squinting to see if it's a 341, or just another 172 or 168 or 4 (which is an alternative, but requires a transfer at Angel). Thanks to the TFL I can now simply whip out my Blackberry, go to the site, and know exactly how long the wait will be. And, I can call the site up while we're still on the train, approaching Waterloo Station, and then know whether it's worth hoofing it to the bus stop or if a leisurely stroll will get us there in the nick of time.
I found myself calling up the site this morning at my bus stop to the office--3 minutes! Know what I'm afraid of? I'll start a little earlier--before I leave the house--and arrange my time around the bus schedule. The good: more time with Tim in the morning sipping coffee, knowing there won't be a bus. The bad: less time with Tim in the morning sipping coffee, knowing I can catch a particular bus if I just look at the site. Deep breath. I won't let it happen.
Life's simple pleasures: Family. Friends. Food. Love. Life. Technology. Be thankful.
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