Husband Bragging (not bashing)

For almost a year now, we have been anticipating either Bill being made redundant (laid-off) or finding the right time for him to resign. The management in his company has changed drastically and they are in dire straights. Bill got his bonus, a big hurdle for us, and we are prepared to pay our way home. Only, now, there's a new boss who's taken a liking to Bill for some reason or another and is trying to get him to stay! She's asking him what it would take, and offering some tempting options. UGH!

I feel like a yo-yo!

I know he's an excellent employee and manager. His employees tell him so. I'm glad someone in management has finally noticed. It's nice for him to be pursued and feel valued.

This week and next, he's attending two vendor conferences. At the first, he's speaking to a crowd of about 100 people about how they implemented the product, how they use it, and how the relationship is managed. Next week, he's going to be on an executive advisory board for another vendor, who wants his input on how to improve their products and services. Both of these are great opportunities for networking, exposure, and to get positive strokes. I'm very proud of him.

Yet again, I feel like we're in limbo. One thing left to come that will clench whether I even consider staying in Northampton is the placement letter we'll receive at the end of the week that tells us which secondary school Brendan has been accepted into. If it's not NSB, we will not stay. Simple. I think.

But wait, this was supposed to be about Bill. He agrees that in his existing role, he doesn't want to stay either. But who knows what they could offer. Then again, he sees the company as a sinking ship. Shouldn't we bail? He's worked so hard to gain a tough, fair reputation. I'm glad that he's seeing the fruits of his labor. But...

Hearts and Doner Kebabs

We're not big on giving store-bought cards when a date on a calendar says we should. Instead, I spent Valentine's Day morning on a photo safari looking for "hearts in nature." You should try this with your family. It takes a while to refocus - to stop and smell the roses, or see the hearts, as the case may be, but once you do, you'd be surprised at what you find. I found about twenty images that I downloaded, set to music and sent as an email to Bill. I love doing that sort of thing.

I also love being pampered. My sweetheart took Brendan and me to Istanbul, Turkey for a long weekend, where we stayed at the Four Seasons Hotel! Now, I'm bound and deteremined not to become a hotel snob, but you should treat yourself at least once to their five-star, white-glove treatment. they paid special attention to Brendan. There was a birthday cake waiting for him the first evening when we got back. There was popcorn and coke the next night. And when he solved a 3-D puzzle they gave him at check-in, they gave him another cake!

The hotel used to be a jail until 1983, so the walls were nice and thick, and we couldn't hear our neighbors like we could when we stayed at the Gaylord resort in Grapevine. I'm glad Brendan is a heavy sleeper! The Four Seasons has been beautifully converted, and is situated in the heart of the old town - just where I like to be. With the window open, we could hear the call to prayers from several mosques in the area - five times every day.

This is the most exotic, different city break we've taken. I was prepared to be wary. I didn't know how much they'd like having Christians, and obviously Americans, with Bill's white tennis shoes standing out like a sore thumb, in their city. But I was pleasantly surprised. It could have been because this is off-season and the shopkeepers are hard up for tourists to come spend their money in their shops. (They could sell ice to an Eskimo!) But people greeted us, smiled, and engaged us in conversation. Mostly it WAS a ploy to get us to come to their store or restaurant, but one gentleman stopped while we were waiting for our tour bus, and in very broken English, which he was proud to use, said, "Welcome to Istanbul. We're glad you're here. Have a long, good life." Then he walked away.

Istanbul is old! The Greeks called it Byzantium. The Romans made it their "new Rome" when they conquered the Greeks and called it Constatinople. The Aya Sofia was built in AD 535 by Justininan the Great. Even though it has been damaged by numerous earthquakes, and the dome has fallen in twice, it has remains of beautiful mosaics of Mary, Jesus and John the Baptist. The turks made it into a mosque when they conquered the city in 1453, and renamed the city to Istanbul. But I'm curious to know why they left so many Christian symbols.

Besides the Aya Sofia, we went into the Blue Mosque, so named for the way the sun illuminates all the blue tiles inside. We took a tour/cruise around town, to the Egyptian Bazaar, and down the Bosphorous - the river that divides city and Europe from Asia. It is a major thoroughfair for ships to get to and from the Black Sea and Mediterranean Sea. We also explored the Cistern, a huge underground holding tank built by the Romans to store the city's water supply. They brought the water from 19 KM away via aqueducts and stored it here. Those Romans were smart! But they didn't expect people to see the cistern. They built it from borrowed columns from old buildings whose capitols don't match, heaven forbid, and a few stone medusa heads for good measure. Fish live in the few feet of water that remain.

No visit would be complete without going to the Grand Bazaar! This is what I came for. But I was disappointed with it. The Egyptian Bazaar was more like a covered market, more what I had in mind, with it's piles of spices and Turkish delight. The Grand Bazaar was just an old indoor mall with concentrated shopkeepers coming at you from every direction. After half a dozen carpet merchants tried to drag us into their stores, we finally succombed to one of the less pushy ones. They offered us apple tea and sodas. We sat on couches and looked at lots of rugs. I really just wanted a hall runner, but Bill helped me change my mind and we walked out with a 5x7, double-knotted, naturally-died carpet in tans, reds and sages. I love it! But when we stepped out of the shop, the merchants mobbed us. "Now it's my turn!" they all said. It took two of us to carry the bag, and we made a beeline for the exit. Needless to say, I didn't get to see a lot of the Grand Bazaar, but I think we got enough of it.

The last night, we went to a dinner show, to see cultural dances from around Turkey. The audience was a veritable United Nations assortment. There were at least 25 countries represented. I knew they would have some belly dancers, along with the traditional dances, and whirling dervishes. There were a few other families there, so I expected it to be a family show. However, it featured 3 belly dancers – all very talented. And toward the end of the meal, the Greeks at one table moved their dishes, had the ladies dance on their table and tucked bills into their bras! Let me tell you, the Greeks, by far, know how to party hardest!

We've finally learned how to explore a city at a leisurely pace, without the need to see everything. I know we only scratched the surface, but we had a really nice time. I'd love to go back and see more mosques, the Topkapi Palace that was right next to us and we totally ignored, and the archeology and mosaic museums, but maybe with a different crowd. I can only drag my guys to so many museums and churches before they rebel. It's definitely at the top of my list, and staying at the Four Seasons didn't hurt the experience either.

Snow in England

As I write this, I'm looking out the window at a winter wonderland. I see the magpie with the gimp wing that lives in my front garden is eating the last few berries on the bushes.

It began snowing this morning before we woke up and hasn't stopped. I'm not sure of the official total yet, but I think we've had about 4-6 inches of snow, yes inches! Unfortunately, Brendan's school was one of the only ones that wasn't closed for the day. We don't have an excuse not to go, since we walk to school, but many ride the bus, and those weren't running this morning. I hope he's getting plenty of time to play outside. I can't wait for him to get home so we can build a snowman.

I walked with him to school this morning and continued walking for over an hour taking photos. I couldn't help myself. Every time I turned the corner, there was another postcard-perfect picture that I had to take.

The world is beautiful under a blanket of snow. It transforms everything into something magical. See if you agree.

Childhood Angst

Yesterday, Brendan used the ultimate kid complaint on me. He huffed, "Why is Dad the boss of me, if I'm my own person?" This was brought on by the fact that Bill insisted that Brendan get his hair cut. It was almost touching his ears, for heaven's sake!

Brendan wants to grow his hair longer. He's had the same short cut since he was practically in kindergarten. But, he doesn't spend much time styling it in the morning, or at least the way Bill finds acceptable, so he insists on keeping it short.

I don't have a problem with his hair. I think he should be allowed to wear it any way he wants. But Bill sees it as a sign of poor parenting if his child goes out in public with bed head. He likens it to wearing dirty, ratty clothes. I think it's one of the only ways Brendan has of expressing himself since he wears a uniform to school. But that argument doesn't hold up when Brendan doesn't fix his hair.

I'm certain Bill having this argument with his dad, who was in the military at the time. I've seen school pictures of little Billy in his buzz cut. But at some point, his dad let up, and by the time we started dating, he had hair way past his ears. So when is that point going to happen for Brendan? I've sworn to stay out of the middle of this. I told Brendan that he needs to talk to Bill and present a convincing argument why he should be allowed to wear his hair long, but he doesn't want to bother, yet. Maybe it will become a bigger issue in Secondary School.

I imagine it won't be too long before I hear the other immortal complaint, "You're not a kid. You don't understand what it's like!" I've heard that it is a scientific fact that, just as in child birth, the brain forgets the pain of adolescence, and so it may be true. I won't be able to understand. Perhaps there is something to this tweenager thing that I hadn't seen in Brendan before. Lord help me. The ride is just beginning!