Envelope Six

I thought John had reached the limit of envelope bliss until he pulled out the sixth envelope. I haven't been away from the girl(s) for more than a few hours at a time since Millie came to be. Sometimes, when we're down on Long Island, John will take me out for a drive or a movie while the girls nap, and this year at home, he took me out for a few special hours to hear John Irving give a free reading at the local university, but the sixth envelope entailed an entire day away from the biggest, middling, and littlest children. Akk! I spent the first hour of the ride into the city feeling strange and addled, like something was missing (say, three girls), but once I got used to having John all to myself, it was wonderful. Everything about this envelope was wonderful, but the best part of it was being with John, holding hands, and feeling young and in love (because, you know, we are).

The big city! New York.

We took the LIRR into the city and walked through Greenwich Village in the early morning. We went to Strand Bookstore and browsed for several hours; I spent most of that time knee-deep in the children's section. Then, John took me here.



It may look less than impressive, but every last inch of this bakery is stuffed with delectable breads, pastries, and sweets. John's been here several times before on his trips to drive a client and her mother to the doctor's in NYC; remember the gingerbread alligators, the creature, the mouse, the something-or-other that I wish I had in front of me right now? They all were born inside this unpretentious facade. He told me to pick whatever and however much I wished. After much deliberation, I chose one chocolate-wrapped round thing, stacked with vanilla and chocolate mousse, topped with smooth ganache and a maraschino cherry, and then I carefully carried it around the city.

After the bakery, John took me here, the best authentic Mexican restaurant in the city. On his last trip to the city for work, his coworker suggested they all eat at a fancy Mexican restaurant rather than picking up a pizza, and since she's his superior, they ate there. He hasn't stopped talking about their chiles rellenos yet. This is especially funny because John has always told me he doesn't like Mexican food, yet he came back raving and daydreaming about a Mexican dish. Now I know that he just doesn't like Taco Bell and sour cream-dolloped, Americanized versions of the real thing. (Here's my suspicion. I think John rustled up the whole honeymoon, dreamboat vacation just so that he could go back to El Parador and eat more chiles rellenos.)

It was the most elegant restaurant I've ever been in. We were the only customers in the whole restaurant for most of lunch, and I felt awkward when the waiter came to take our orders. I grew up in a family that never went out to eat, and though I've since learned to confidently navigate my way through McDonald's and the like, a place like this strikes me dumb. It was so much fun, though. Dim-lit, romantic atmosphere--heavy, wooden beams, punched-tin lamps, stucco walls, candles, formal waiter with a heavy accent-- all for us!

John laughed at me as I tried to stealthily take some pictures of the ceiling without looking through the viewfinder. He was right to laugh.






I had mole chicken-- slow-cooked chicken simmered in a sauce with over 20 spices, savory and fragrant. The waiter and chef brought it to our table in a Le Creuset crock and shook sesame seeds and queso blanco over it before serving it to me. I felt like a millionaire. John had chilesrellenos. The end. (Post script: I've since made chiles rellenos at home, and John prefers mine to El Parador's, which may mean I just shot myself in the foot, and we'll never go out again. Recipe forthcoming.)

Then we walked around the city some more and hit our heads on this parade. I barely took any pictures of our day because I was enjoying myself too much, but I took these pictures for my brother Pete. You should have seen it-- a crowd full of young and old Poles alike, draped in red and white and hootin' and hollerin' like they owned the town. And they did. For this one day, they owned the town, and it was a joy to see.





Before dusk, we arrived in Times Square, and John took me to see a movie in the sky. The movie theater was crazy, and we had to go up to the sixth or seventh floor to reach our theater. When we got there, we enjoyed watching this film, and I finally ate the dessert that I'd carted around all day long. I took this snapshot from a windy rooftop after the movie.




Then we grabbed a pretzel and made our way through the whirl and color and sorrow of all that humanity to find ourselves on the homeward train, where I failed to take a non-blurry picture of us.

Whether they bring a bowl of ice cream eaten on the couch or a whirlwind adventure, I am so very glad that this is the man with whom I get to share yearly honeymoons.





The next day, we packed up and left for home, stuffed full of envelopian wonders.