another year rolls by

Just a few days ago, another year went by.

'Sright.

And to commemorate the event, Ana gave me a snot-suffused kiss, a knee-the-belly-pull-the-hair kind of hug clambering up sweetly on my sofa-ed self, and a treasured card with her chicken scratchings.

We got into the usual eternal rush that most workday mornings present, deciding to postpone any niceties till evening. Boy was I feeling giddy when D and Ana decided to sing impromptu in the car on our ride to work that morning, "Happy Birthday to you... Happy Birthday to you... Happy Birthday dear Ana's Amma*... Happy Birthday to YOU"
*Ana loves to hear her name in every song/nursery rhyme these days.

D didn't work late that day. He came home on time for dinner, which, I must mention, was made by me. Yes, me, the birthday gal, who repeatedly falls hopelessly for the much-(ab)used spiel, "Baby and I love your food, you make much better stuff than they can serve at any restaurant, besides, you would not have liked any place I chose... I would love to cook for you but you don't seem to enjoy it much..."

All very sweet, and designed to sound flattering, but, quite true.

Frowns and potential shunning by neo-feminists not-withstanding, I was thrilled to receive D's gifts pictured above: Best of ATK recipes book, plus a perfect 3qt pot I had been wanting for a long time, but, never found the right look/quality/price until I pointed this particular one out to D at IKEA.

Of course, an abrupt we don't need another pot settled the matter that day.

Actually, my first choice for 3qt slipped out of sight, but, no matter.

Ordinarily, buying a pot would not be an event in and of itself for me. But, for the last few years, I have been using my treasured stainless steel pots with copper-bottom that my mom gave me - quite a collection really - but, the most-used approximately 3qt size pot started falling apart - the handles fell off first, accidental falls have created unsightly dents on the sides, and a few inadvertent negligences have left unscrapable dark grunge stuck to the bottom which stubbornly refuse to come out... and I absolutely love to cook, so, I can't have enough utensils in my kitchen.

The highlight of the day was to read the inscription D penned in the Best of ATK cookbook: I am sure their "Best" is no match for yours !!

Knowing him, I have no doubt he meant it. Coming from a guy whose gushing remark would be a sincere "Very Nice" twice as opposed to the perfunctory "nice" once, I'll take this as a lavish compliment.

Anyway, another year has rolled by and all I can show for it is my saner self. Not necessarily wiser self, but definitely a mellow self still learning the intricacies of being a mom...