A Wonky Day
It's one of those days - everything seems a bit off.
I had a hard time getting out of bed this morning - not usually an issue for me. I usually can't resist the wagging tail and happy-to-see-me eyes from my dog - nor his padding around the bedroom urging me to get up and walk him. This morning it felt as if I had lead weights in my arms and legs. I went to sleep at a very respectable time and had a good 8 hours of kip.
Out in the world with Bunny Dog, on the way to the park I realised that indeed, it was as if the world shifted 2 centimetres to the left overnight or went just a wee bit wonky. Missteps, stumbles, missed curbs, bumping in to doors. I wasn't the only one. Bunny dog walked into the wall in the hallway. I saw a woman hesitate, then try to cross the street, then hesitate in the middle, back and forth 3 times before she realised the light had turned and the traffic was waiting - just a bit off and undecided today. A fellow dog-owner off balance and getting pulled-down by his Chihuahua in the park, a crow missing a branch and free falling for a few seconds before flapping to safety.
On the way to the office, saw a woman limping strangely - her heel had come off her shoe. (been there) I went to pay for my fruit at Metroshop and a pen flew out of my bag, skimmed across the cashier's face and under her chair. The produce woman knocked a 7 foot high stack of plastic crates over with a crash. Lots of people who haven't combed their hair, lots of buttons in the wrong buttonholes, uneven, skewed.
When crossing the road in front of my office, a truck came thundering by, it's front wheel crunching and snapping something with such violence I jumped and shielded my face. A tube of lip balm, chapstick, hit just right. Snapped and cracked and the little plastic lid projected like a rocket and as dangerous as a rubber bullet. Sirens moaning on and off for seconds here and there. A plane that sounds like it's too low, on an unfamiliar path. A helicopter in the distance - over the European Commission area. The Anglican Church Bells - usually every quarter of the hour, ringing at 8:37 am. Goose bumps and a feeling that I forgot something important.
The sun can't quite decide if it wants to come out. It's not grey, it's not raining, it's not partly cloudy, it's not partly sunny. It's not cold, not really warm. It's white out there. Wonky.
Maybe there are some days meant for staying in bed. Skip getting up all together. Lie and contemplate our navels, hug one another, stare at the ceiling and listen to the birds. Say nothing at all. Stop and recharge our souls, relax, breathe deeply, appreciate.
Last Thursday I had 'it'
Last Thursday night I had 'it'. I am not exactly sure what 'it' is, but I had 'it' anyway. And when I have 'it', I am like bait to a swarm of barracudas. Not kidding!
I went out with my friend who clears land mines around the world. He's an explosives removal expert. He has first-hand knowledge of what a land mine can do to a person. He was an adult when he lost his leg while clearing a particularly difficult area in Lebanon. He knows what these things do to people - especially children.
He now visits the Congo regularly to work on multiple projects. He was in Brussels for a meeting before jetting off to Kinshasa again and we had a chance to catch up. As always, he was charming and interesting. And as usual, he thought there would be more to the evening. There's no doubt that he looks and acts like Indiana Jones of the land mine crusaders and is dashing and ruggedly handsome to an extent. He doesn't whinge about his issues and you wouldn't even know he's lost an extremity due to a high-tech prosthesis which is adjusted regularly for natural changes. He's a great friend but I am loathe to get involved with him - for so many reasons - travelling all the time, lives in England, oh, and he works a mortally dangerous job. So, for years we have just been friends.
Last Thursday, there we were at the Hairy Canary and I got a text message from a guy I met through the Xpats web site. It appeared that he was out and about too and within 10 minutes, he showed-up at our table and introduced himself to land mine guy in a propriatary way. Ah. Yes. Sticky situation. My mines friend expected one-on-one conversation (adoration, attention, worship) and this other guy apparently finds me irresistible - (as usual :-)). The Xpats guy a handsome, slim whipper-snapper who at 42 still has the bounce of a frat boy on Friday night out. He's funny and charming, likes to race motorcycles and has a fast car. Nice bod'. Hmm. Indiana Jones vs. Valentino Rossi (or Fernando Alonso - whichever sport you prefer.
I had Bunny Dog with me and he was no help in deciding how to extricate myself from this situation with grace. He was a bit subdued because he had run up the stairs at the metro and run around to the investigate the escalator and clipped his paw. No blood, very little squeak. (Vet visit, antibiotics and several days of walking like a sad gimp followed) But the clean cut didn't seem to hamper him that night.
I could see both men eyeing each other as if each was ready to slip a Mickey in to the other's drink. So, what do I do next? I do something so totally me.
I couldn't help it. There was a table in the corner with 4 nice-looking Greek guys -who spoke English very well, probably worked for the Commission. One of them came to the bar to buy a round for his table and he spotted Bunny Dog. It was love at first sight. He has a dog just like Bunny Dog. He asked me a few questions, hovered around a bit. Promptly got the evil eye from one of the two bull fighters at my table, and he shuffled off with his drinks. Dreamy. When I came out of my flirty cloud, I realised how inappropriate that was. So
me though. Both men had sat there and watched me flirt shamelessly with yet another man. So what? If I haven't learned by now...
My Horoscope in Vanity fair - they actually call it 'Planetarium' said the following 'Trouble brewing between your 11th and 5th houses .....likely it's a conflict between your need for intimacy and your desire to keep your options open, your commitments short-term, and your life your own.' Gee got me in one...
The rest of the time at the Hairy, the Greek man and I stole every chance we could to sneak a peek at one another. I was almost bold enough to walk over and ask for his business card, but thought better of it. For once.
I was escorted by both men offering to walk me to the metro - separately - but there's only one me. So both of them walked me to the metro and then the fatal faux pas, Valentino Rossi was taking the same metro as I needed to take. Indiana Jones kissed me on the cheek and whispered, something exasperating - I didn't listen well enough....Then he went down to the opposite platform.
When I was on one platform with the Valentino Rossi guy (Who was on his way home to Stokkel - legitimately- get your mind out of the gutter) We could see Indiana Jones on the other side - a serious scowl on his face. Don't think I will be seeing him again soon. Be careful out there Indiana Jones.
Valentino Rossi is very nice and cute and will be a great friend to me. However, I do think Lara and I have to go to The Hairy Canary on Thursday night and investigate the Greek contingent. This time, I will leave Bunny Dog at home :-))
Handy
OK - it's official. I need a handyman.
I have tried - again (ever so recently)- to get comfortable with the Champagne and fine restaurant brigade. Sorry it's not on. When being shmoozed with fois gras or Dover sole in a cream sauce (a la Normand even) I can't help thinking if the guy in front of me would have a solution to fix the door handle on the downstairs powder room door. I can't get romantic if I can't imagine being able to ask someone to whip out their Black n Decker and sand down the wooden door that's swollen from the rain.
I know it's ridiculous. I know I so deserve to sit back, relax and have someone really pamper me. And the person pampering me deserves kudos for their efforts. However, I would make a 3-course, Michelin-starred meal for a man who spends a couple hours in the garden with me. I don't know where this comes from. Perhaps it came from my parents.
My Dad is the least handy man ever born. His 'tool drawer' in the kitchen has a roll of duct tape, a ball of rubber bands and some twist ties from plastic bags - which are the most sophisticated tools he can use. It's so unnatural for a anyone (much less a man) to not really be able to do those simple things. Once I went home and found that Dad had duct-taped a brick to the floor under the kitchen table. A brick...! Apparently there's a grill for the central heating under there and the grill was damaged by a chair leg. So instead of sorting it out the logical way, he decided to protect it with a brick and duct tape.
There's two things at work here - Dad is not handy and Dad is 83 years old - a little bit of both makes for very interesting house repairs.... Anyway, I showed him that you can buy a replacement grill at the hardware store and fix it very easily - Mom - the long suffering, patient wife is always ready with the plumber's number when Dad tries to fix the sink himself. When they got married and moved in to their first apartment together (49 years ago!) he called the superintendent of their apartment building to hang their paintings on the wall. My Mother was so embarrassed that she hid in another room.
By the way - I am a bit grouchy with Dad because he found himself in my 'Old Room' the other day when the plumber came to fix something he messed-up. My Dad read all of my high school year books - AND all of the quotes and comments written by friends. How dare he? And why do I have to explain the word 'toke' to my father when I am 41? There is a statute of limitations clause on explaining high school behaviour isn't there? Like aged 25 or something...
You know who is handy? The Welshman, of course. And he loved eating dinner under the trees in the garden petting Bunny Dog and drinking wine - setting the world to rights.....But alas. He lives in Wales now...
Hmm...where to find a handy man...
Chinese Curse
In a speech in Cape Town, South Africa, on June 7, 1966, Robert F. Kennedy said, "There is a Chinese curse which says, "May he live in interesting times." Like it or not, we live in interesting times..."
Aside from the fact that Chinese people have never heard of this curse - it's a pretty potent one wherever it originated. And it seems to have come true for us humans. These are interesting times as a whole, but individually, I think we all have challenging personal lives.
My mother just called to tell me what happened to Auntie Bette. (Pronounced Bett) Who at 80 years old, still works as a lunch lady at the local elementary school in Homedale, Idaho. (The main thoroughfare in Homedale is called Chicken Dinner Road - no joke).
Anyway, in between bouts of laughter, Mom said Bette might be the first person in history to run themselves over while driving the car. Yep. Apparently she was getting in to her car with the car door open, slipped, grabbed the steering wheel and that gizmo on the side that changes the gear - her legs slipped under the car and she effectively drove over her own legs. Auntie Bette is badly bruised, but doesn't have a single broken bone. I know it's not a laughing matter - but it SO is!!
When Mom called, my 83 year-old Dad picked up the phone to say 'Hello' for a minute or so. He then got off the line because he was 'supervising' the plumber who was repairing something in the bathroom off of 'Your room' (one of 3 guestrooms which will forever be referred to as my room) - anyway about 10 minutes after Dad hung up - Mom asked who was making all the noise? She thought someone was talking in my office. I informed her that Dad had not replaced the receiver on the hook properly and that from my end I could clearly hear Dad and the plumber sorting out the issues, moving porcelain toilet tops, watery noises, etc. I thought my Mom was going to die of laughter. She's in such a good mood today!! She thought it was a hoot that I had been listening to that for 10 minutes. She and Dad will have a giggle about that too.
There are so many whacky things going on our lives right now - and truth be told - we would get really bored if it were all about normal, serene days, with little to no excitement, abnormalities and malfunctions.
May you have an interesting weekend
Food TV
I have just reviewed the line-up of spring/summer food shows on the BBC. I am mostly excited about what's going to be on.
There's a fantastic series on called
The Hairy Bikers - these two ex-hippie dudes travel the world by motorcycle (or scooters when necessary) and every so often stop to prepare local specialties on the roadside. I love them. They will taste anything and stop at nothing to experience the true culture of the locale. They are fat and as the name suggests - hairy with unkempt beards. They often refer to their past overuse of recreational stimulants, in their Northern English lilts. What I really like about them is that they visit local markets and really comb through them showing you where they get the ingredients for that day's cooking. (None of the magic used on most cooking shows where little dwarves behind the scenes are shopping frantically, dicing veggies and marinating meat so the presenter can look casual cooking a curry in the middle of a tea plantation). The Hairy Bikers are shown doing all the work themselves. And they are pretty good cooks.
Saturday Kitchen hosted by Antony Worrall-Thompson is back with fresh episodes following a few weeks of re-runs, rehashed and segmented shows and the winter Olympics schedule. Saturday kitchen shows re-runs segments from some o the most famous cooking show hosts of all time. Keith Floyd, Rick Stein, Gary Rhodes. I shall resume my own Saturday Kitchen 'schedule': get up early, do my marketing with Bunny Dog, do my work-out and be ready to do chores in the house so I can watch the show, then chores in the garden or other planned activities. Fascinating hey?
After
Saturday Kitchen, there's another cooking programme on. Usually it's hosted by a pretty good chef. Starting Saturday it will be
Bill's Food - hosted by Sydney restaurateur Bill Granger. The BBC website describing his new series finally does justice to the simplicity of Bill and Bill's cooking. BBC uses words such as; basic, simple, everyday, normal, easy, simple, basic, easy, simple, plain etc etc. Of course - this guy is a huge celebrity in Australia and films his show from his amazing house overlooking the most expensive Sydney area beach property.
Bill Granger's claim to fame is scrambled eggs. Really. One of his restaurants has people lined-up around the block for fluffy, creamy scrambled eggs with chives or something. Someone should tell the Aussies that they can buy eggs at the supermarket....
I do get irritated with people seem to make their living so easily and are canonised for doing the bare minimum. He's really just a shadow of Delia Smith with a nice house and blond hair. At least Delia Smith knows she is teaching the basics and doesn't pretend that what she does is ground-breaking. Bill, we can all go to China town and get a Peking duck to shred and add to package noodles - but thanks for the brilliant recipe idea.
The last
Bill's Food I saw, he actually made granola. Toasted oats, seeds, dried fruits (bird food) and stuff thrown on a try and in to the oven. That's it. He then showed on TV how to swirl 6 crushed Raspberries in to a bowl of yogurt. 'Not too mixed - it should be like ripple ice cream'. Ok Bill, I'm taking copious notes.........Then he said 'Raspberries may seem a bit extravagant for kids, but you don't have to do it often'. Well Bill, if that's extravagant to you then... - oh never mind - geez. Give me that sunny yellow and baby blue-painted house on a cliff overlooking the Sydney harbour furnished by an upscale Ikea-like store and let me cook something
REAL on TV dude!!
There's a slew of new and interesting food related shows on. One of the more entertaining (to me) is
Eating With. The show spends a half hour with a celebrity and travels through their personal food history and eating relationships. It's clever and interesting. Last week, Cilla Black (a very popular home-grown singer in England) revealed that during the war she became fond of sliced orange rubbed with an Oxo stock cube for flavour. The deprivation of wartime and rationing helped her develop a taste combination that seemed so decadent and rich to her as a child - and it's still one of her comfort snacks.
Eating With chronicles the food people grew up with and follows their evolution or sometimes, non-evolution from those influences. Tonight's episode features the son of Camilla Parker-Bowles (AKA the Duchess of Cornwall) (AKA Charles' Wifey). He's a food writer and it should be interesting to see if he learned any thing from his mother.
Off to scan the stalls of the Gypsy fruit vendors down the road from the office. Want a springy, sweet, fresh snack to eat at my desk....
It never really goes away
18 years or so, I think
since I last saw you
you came to my apartment in Glover Park after college
once
and maybe to Mom and Dad's house
once
Thoughts of our first encounter even many years before then
when I was sixteen and you were seventeen
young and sweet
You chased me
Preppy, Lilly-Pulitzer-trousered, handsome young man
Working for Senator Kennedy
Me for Senator Inouye
Flowers
Dates
You got me
You were the opposite of boys in town
Georgetown Prep and Gonzaga boys were a little bit tough, a bit dirty
You were clean, fresh, lime scented, eager, smart, foreign, from Frenchtown
There's a picture of us in my storage boxes
You and your brother, me in the middle
Sun kissed happy kids in Maine
Toothy smiles, wind -blown hair
Back then you sent pages and pages
of single-spaced love letters in many volumes
phone calls, visits
learning, testing, trying
The love of my life
peaked too soon?
Grew apart
Me at University and then work
You with the 82nd Airborne to University then work
Worlds apart
Only hours away
Now years, success, life and the real distance of an ocean
between us
A few months ago I saw one of the most handsome men I've ever seen
Reminded me of you
Still, it's been ages since I have seen your face
I'm glad I got in touch
Now we talk regularly long-distance
grown up
experienced
still searching - as you say
I am your friend and always will be
I love you and always will
You should know this
And I think you do
