Funny Trumps All

In our family we have a saying, “Funny trumps all!” We’re a family that likes to laugh – a lot. In fact it’s hard for me to remember a day that I haven’t shared a laugh with my wife of 37 years. Sometimes we’ve even laughed through our tears. And Deb has taught our children and grandchildren the joy of laughter, too. Of course it helps that we’re all very funny as well. Or at least we think we are. Okay – we are!

Sometimes the need to be funny can be a challenge. Because I come from a family that tells jokes at funerals (my dad) and will make faces when you’re trying to have a serious telephone conversation (Deb and our ill-behaved children). And then of course there’s the deadpan sarcasm (my mom) and the dry sense of humor (my sister-in-law Pat) which at times leaves you wondering if it’s really a joke and that perhaps you shouldn’t be laughing.

And we find situations funny all the time. Our humor is not sophisticated. We will laugh at your jokes (even if we’ve heard them or told them before). We will laugh if you stumble and fall down. We will laugh if you fart. We will laugh at the absurd (like a waitress that has giant “cotton candy” hair) or the mundane (like the way my father-in-law ALWAYS warns us to look out for “the crazies” out there – who are the crazies?). We will laugh at spills, mistakes, mispronunciations, missteps, goof-ups, and someone who has missed a belt loop.

But mostly we laugh at ourselves. And that is the healthiest laughter of all. Being truly funny means understanding and embracing your own foolishness. There’s something disarming about laughter, especially when the laughter is at your own expense.

And remember that God must have a sense of humor, too. If you don’t believe me, take a good look in the mirror first thing in the morning.

Nothing feels better than a belly laugh

So when it doubt, laugh! Laugh out loud. Laugh a lot. Giggle. Snicker. Guffaw. Snort. It feels good and is good for you. I believe a good laugh can clear the cobwebs from your brain. It can ease your burden. Dull your pain. Lift your spirits. And lighten your load.

This being funny thing has successfully been passed down through the generations. My grandkids are funny and they know it. Once when our granddaughter was being scolded (I’m not sure what her offense) our daughter told her “Anna, you are not funny!” Anna responded with a wry smile, “I’m a little funny.” And the scolding ended.

I suppose that funny does trump all.

Peace,

Denis

April In Paris

Two weeks ago Deb and I fulfilled a life-long dream. We went to Paris. The real Paris; the one in France.

Turns out the real thing is way cooler than the ‘Paris Hotel and Casino’ in Las Vegas or the Paris section of Epcot in DisneyWorld. But part of me kept expecting to see Louis Jourdan or Leslie Caron stepping out of a five-star hotel with Charles Boyer or Maurice Chevalier at their side. I suppose I thought that La Vie En Rose would be playing on every corner. Everyone wearing berets and eating baguettes.

Growing up in the sixties Paris was the epitome of class and style. Everything French was fabulous. I watched movies like ‘Gigi’ and ‘An American in Paris’ and ‘Paris When It Sizzles’ and all of the ‘Pink Panther’ movies. I thought that French Provincial furniture was the pinnacle of design and good taste. And Paris fashion was, well, haute couture. Everything that was French or Parisian seemed to me to be jet-set, sophisticated and très bon. For a boy living in a small town in the Midwest it sadly also seemed unattainable.

Of course as I got older my perception of Paris has changed but only slightly. No longer did I expect to see the Hollywood version of Paris but a more crowded, grittier, busier, less glamorous version.

Turns out most of my assumptions were wrong. Paris is beautiful and very assessable. Most of the major tourist attractions are an easy walk or Metro ride away. Like London and New York it is a busy city but not overly crowded (at least where we were). Generally speaking the hotel staff, café waiters and museum personnel that we encountered were friendly, helpful and appreciative of our feeble attempts to speak a few words of French.

But being there – walking through the streets of Paris is hard to put into words. I just kept being overwhelmed by the sheer beauty of it all. The monuments – Eiffel Tower, Arc de Triomphe, The Obelisk in The Place de la Concorde were all more impressive in person than what I have seen in photos. Notre-Dame Cathedral and The Louvre are simply magnificent. The River Seine was amazing. And a personal delight were all the statues, plaques, and place-names in honor of St. Denis patron saint of Paris.

But being in the ‘City of Love’ with the one that I love was the greatest experience of all. Deb and I started out young, poor and in love. Dreams of one day walking arm in arm through Paris seemed like that – just a dream. But there we were.

Sometimes dreams do come true…

And by the way, we did eat baguettes and listened to La Vie En Rose compliments of someone playing an accordion on the streets. It was sublime.

La paix et l’amour,

Denis

 

Leaving Home – Going Home

My life is a little ‘upside down’ right now. Home is Saint Louis but because I live in the United Kingdom now that’s home, too. So after a nice visit back home, I’m back home. But which is which?

I suppose the answer is both.

I love my family and miss them terribly but Deb and I are here in England together and that makes it right. And we are having our big adventure and meeting new people and seeing new places and sharing this special time together. Right here ~ right now.

On the other hand my heart is in the United States with my kids, grandkids, parents, siblings, and friends. Right there ~ right now. So I am a man living in two countries. One physically; one emotionally. And that’s right, too. Right here and there ~ right now.

Next weekend we will go to Paris for a little get-away. Paris! A little holiday from our year-long holiday. And then we’ll come back home to England. England!

If someone had told me 37 years ago when Deb and I walked down the aisle together that we would someday be living in the U.K. and traveling Europe together I would have thought they were totally mad (and I say ‘mad’ now because I’m practically English). But back then we were a couple of 19-year old “knuckleheads” without a pot to pee in. And now here I am writing this after just finishing my cottage pie and sticky toffee pudding whilst ‘Britain’s Got Talent’ is playing in the background on the telly. And it’s for real.

And it’s right here ~ right now.

Oaksey, UK - a little slice of heaven at 'home'.

Cheers,

Denis

Waitrose, Sainsbury, Tesco and clotted cream

Salad cream?

Grocery shopping in England is an adventure. We generally shop at Tesco because it’s close by and reasonably priced by UK standards. It’s clean and well stocked. Deb prefers the more posh Waitrose and I like Sainsbury near my office for quick pick-up items and great (and cheap) wine selections.

Onion marmalade - really?

Regardless of where we shop, I’m amazed (and often puzzled) each time by some of the products available. Our shopping trips are getting shorter but my attention span in grocery stores is shorter still and I am not as fascinated by the 17,000 varieties of olive oil as my dear wife.

In all fairness, Deb is an excellent cook and knows what she needs to prepare fabulous meals. The challenge is sometimes finding the proper ingredients, especially with me standing on the sidelines tapping my foot or grimacing. “Oh, for the love of God just pick an olive oil!”

Spanish, Italian, Greek, Israeli...

Because I’m bored and to “help” I have become Deb’s ‘advance man’ in the grocery markets. While she leisurely glides the trolley through the aisles, I run ahead like a dog in search of the elusive rabbit for the next item on her list, which I retrieve and return to her usually to find it’s “not exactly” what she wanted. Defeated I return said item back to its proper place like the sad pup that I am and try again.

This game continues throughout the store. Next item and I’m off in search of the ‘Holy Grail’ of vanilla paste or clotted cream or lemon curd only to have my hopes dashed again and again and again. But I can’t stop myself! Deb and I are like the tortoise and the hare of Tesco: me madly dashing from aisle to aisle while she calmly (painfully) examines each of the items and makes her careful selections. And she ALWAYS wins!

Of course this is further complicated by the multitude of varieties and British names of items on her list. Who knew grocery shopping would be so challenging? And so fun. I love my wife; I love my life. I’ll meet you at the till!

Peace,

Denis

A Sunny Day In England

There is always something for which to be thankful. Today I’m thankful for a sunny day. Yes, the sun is shining and the temperature is about 9 degrees Celsius (or 48 degrees Fahrenheit). It’s a nice change from our snowy and cold weekend.

I tend to be a “glass half full” kind of a guy and I try to stay positive but there are times when circumstances become overwhelming (like moving to a place far away from loved ones, where everyone thinks that you talk funny). And then sometimes I am inclined to have a little ‘pity party’ which never really helps and just adds to the general feeling of negativity. The best way (for me) to get over my melancholy is to make a list in my head of all the things for which I am grateful.

Today I’m starting with the sunshine. The rest of my list today (in no apparent order or importance) is as follows:

Sunny day in Oaktree Business Centre

  • The beautiful blue sky.
  • Kissing Deb goodbye this morning and getting kissed back.
  • My work mates; especially John who brought me a lovely cup of tea this morning.
  • A video that Bess sent yesterday of Anna wishing us a Happy Valentine’s Day (I’ve played it several times already today).
  • Mid-term school holidays this week – because traffic is much lighter.
  • Normal traffic – because it’s never really that bad.
  • The kindness of strangers – most people here have been very welcoming, helpful and patient (especially the cashiers at the markets while I struggle to determine which coin is £2 and which one is 2p).

So I have a few things to be thankful for today and I’ll hopefully have a few more tomorrow. And isn’t that all we can really hope for – blessings and thankfulness?

Peace,

Denis

A Scone By Any Other Name Would Taste As Sweet

One of our big concerns about moving across the pond was the food. To be honest, English food is not universally renowned. Oh, of course there’s Yorkshire pudding and fish and chips but beyond that most non-Brits can’t name a single English dish that they’ve ever eaten and enjoyed or more importantly ever ordered in a restaurant.

It turns out that we have been pleasantly surprised. Not only have we found some lovely pubs (for the record ‘pub’ is a misnomer – most pubs are more like casual restaurants that happen to sell ales) but we have also discovered some fabulous ‘green grocers’ (produce shops).  And the full-line grocery stores that we’ve shopped have great meat, dairy (especially cheeses) and bakery – not to mention the puddings!

Add to all of this the fact that Deb is a fantastic cook and there’s a very good chance that I will come home weighing an additional stone or two.

Last night at dinner we discussed the fact that we haven’t missed any foods from home. Not one – not once. Plus with the availability of inexpensive French and Italian wines we’ve been dining like royalty.

Much of the food here is the same as what we’re used to in the States. But there are notable exceptions:

  • Scones – scones here are not the giant Starbucks variety, which are often coated in sugar. Instead they are typically small, round, dense delights that sometimes have sultanas baked in but I think that the best ones are plain. Simply delicious with a cup of tea.
  • Carrots – carrots are small, sweet, and fresh. None of the little whittled-down type that are washed and ready to eat that we find at home (which seem to have been bleached of all germs and taste).
  • Beef – British beef is wonderfully marbled and red. Brits don’t seem to be afraid of a little fat (hence the concern about gaining an extra stone or two).
  • Chicken – It tastes like chicken from when I was a kid. Maybe it’s not raised in a ‘poultry factory’ over here.
  • Swedes – A root vegetable, that can be mashed, roasted, baked – always delicious.
  • Meat Pies – What can I say? See beef and chicken above.
  • Ginger Beer – A soft drink; like rootbeer but with an attitude.
  • Puddings – Actually all desserts are called puddings here but the real puddings; those delectable concoctions of sponge cake and warm sauce are a little slice of heaven. I love them all – Sticky Toffee, Chocolate, Caramel with Pecan Sauce. Yum, yum, yum!

So we’re eating well and learning to love some new foods along the way. I’ll continue to thank God for all the blessings on our table. Now if I could just master holding my fork in my left hand then I could dine like a proper Brit. 

Happy Eating!

Denis

Love and Marriage

Love and marriage. Go together like a horse and carriage? I think that’s the lyric.

Today is our wedding anniversary. And our love does go together with our marriage. We don’t have a horse or a carriage, but we have had 37 years of wedded bliss. I suppose some days are more blissful than others but altogether it’s been an incredible ride even without a horse and carriage. And we have been blessed in countless ways.

Sometimes it seems like only yesterday that I stood at the altar of Trinity Church and turned and watched as Debbie walked down the aisle on her father’s arm. The church was flooded with light on that January afternoon and as she approached me it appeared that the light was emanating from her. And that’s how each day since has been: she fills my life with light!

37 years ago we had no idea where we would be today. But if I could have dreamed this big back then, this is exactly what my dream would have been. This life. This wife. This family. This love.

For 37 years I have been married to the person that I love and respect more than anyone else in the world. Deb “gets me” and she makes me want to be a better person. And because of her I believe that I am. I would never have achieved any success in this life without her inspiration, love and support. And I’d like to think I’ve helped her along the way, too.

Deb,

Thanks for an amazing life. You are my heart and my soul.

Love,

Denis

Sneezing, Runny Nose, Itchy, Watery Eyes…

My cold medicine claims to relieve my sneezing, runny nose, itchy, watery eyes, etc. I guess the key word here is relieve. Relieve the systems not eliminate them – ugh! Why can’t I feel better now? And what about the pounding in my head? And what about my (nearly) constant coughing?

It’s a perfectly beautiful autumn day here; The St. Louis Cardinals have just won the World Series; The Green Bay Packers are headed to 8-0; Last night was our ‘Dinner Club’ and we shared a fabulous meal and lots of laughter with great friends; Halloween is tomorrow (and my grandkids have the most adorable costumes) and I can’t stop coughing my fool head off! Poor me! Why me? WHY ME??? Come to think of it, Poor Deb, she’s got to put up with me. I’m not a very patient patient.

None of this makes any sense. I’ve gotten my flu shot. I take (mostly) good care of myself. I eat right. I get a reasonable amount of exercise and rest. And yet here I am, fallen by the common cold. “Cough, cough, cough.” “Sniff, sniff, sniff.”

But somehow I’ll muddle through. And please don’t feel sorry for me. I’ve already got that covered. I just need to find the remote control, my Puffs Plus Lotion® tissues and my Vicks VapoRub® and settle down in front of the T.V.

“You know Deb, a cup of that peppermint tea would be nice.” “Deb?” “Deb?”  “Cough, cough.” “Sniff,  sniff.” “Deb!!!”

Pray for me! This might be a long recovery…

Peace,

Denis

Don’t Be Fooled By Her Size

When my wife was a little girl she wanted to be Barbie® – tall and blonde and all the rest. But instead God decided to make her Midge® – Barbie’s best friend. Midge is short and brunette and NOT BARBIE. But even though Midge (Deb) is ‘vertically challenged’ you shouldn’t be fooled by her size. She is larger than life. Her circle of influence is boundless. She dreams big. She has more class in her little finger than most folks have in their entire body. And she has more friends today than I have had in my entire life.

The best things do come in small packages

Most descriptions of her include phrases like: big heart; generous spirit; huge smile; hearty laugh; giving friend, loving mother, and caring daughter. These are hardly the images of a mousey little Midge. And Deb does things in a big way, too. Meals are an event. You’ll never leave her table hungry. Holidays are a time for elegant decorating and grand entertaining, and fabulous food.

And if you are in need, she’s the friend/sister/daughter/mother to call on. If you need a laugh, she will always deliver. If you need someone to hold or if you need to be held, her arms are always open wide. If you need to cry, she will cry, too. Debbie has this incredible gift of making you feel that when she’s with you, no one else is more important or more needed at that moment than you. You have her complete undivided attention. And she gives her entire self.

Her children and grandchildren will also tell you that she is a ‘force to be reckoned with’ as well. And most importantly, you should NEVER attempt to hurt one of her children or grandchildren – she’s like a lioness in her need to protect them. And I believe that she would “stare down the devil” if the need arose.

And for me, well when Deb walks in the room it’s like everyone else fades into the background. All the light in the space seems to be emanating from her. She just gets to me.  Deb always tells our granddaughters “that you have to be pretty on the inside if you want to be pretty on the outside”. And she lives those words, too. Her beauty shines through.

Barbie, you might be a statuesque blonde but you’re empty on the inside, I’ll take ‘ma femme petite belle’ over you any day!

Even though I’m over a foot taller than she, I know that she stands well above me in terms of heart and soul. But most of you are already aware of this.

Peace,

Denis

Deb, it’s been my pleasure and honor to “look up” to you all these many years. I love this life we share.  I love you, D

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Cjgav6VXUxc

Made With Love

“What would you like for dinner?” That’s Deb’s usual request as I’m walking out of the house on my way to work each day. My response: “I don’t care” or “Whatever you would like” or some other non-response. I might as well say “I can’t be bothered with that right now!” And I’m ashamed of myself for doing that…

I’m not a ‘foodie’ but I love to eat. And I love to eat good food. But I can’t (won’t) cook and I don’t know what’s “in season” or what it takes to prepare most meals. It’s not that I don’t care; I just don’t care that much. This makes me kind of a rat-bastard because Deb loves to cook and she puts so much thought into each meal. And I (on most nights) just come home and wait to be served. Don’t get me wrong – I appreciate it and I am always thankful but I don’t necessarily understand the ‘art of cooking’. It’s similar to my complete lack of regard for opera or ballet – never quite acquired an appreciation for either. I suppose that the ‘finer things’ in life are often lost on me.

But yesterday when asked, ““What would you like for dinner?” I thought about it and replied, “Something light or summer-timey”.  And away I went. I never gave it another thought.

To my delight when I came home Deb was preparing bacon, lettuce and tomato sandwiches. Now I don’t think that she needed Julia Child’s cookbook for this meal but to me it was as wonderful as if she had prepared Boef Bourguignon. The BACON smelled amazing! And the fresh lettuce and tomatoes, that she had ‘hand-picked’ at the produce market down the road, were perfect. Not to mention all of the other produce that she purchased: peaches, watermelon, strawberries, blueberries and carrots.

I savored that BLT! It brought me back to a simpler time. And the worry and stress of my day slipped away. It occurred to me (once again) why my wife is such a good cook. It’s because all her meals are made with love. She takes the time to plan most meals based on my half-hearted suggestions and then she goes the extra mile by hand selecting the ingredients to prepare whatever is on the menu du jour. It doesn’t matter whether it’s Veal Prince Orlov or Sloppy Joes she always adjusts her recipes to add a ‘dash of love’. And often a dollop!

Cooking with Nana ~ a living legacy

So when you sit down to dinner tonight and give thanks to God for your blessings don’t forget to thank the cook, too.

Bon Appétit,

Denis

P.S. Deb, I reckon that we’ve shared over 13,000 dinners together – that’s a lot of love!  I can never really thank you enough (but I’ll keep trying).