Christmas Boys
Around this time of year, things start heating up for the holidays. I go to more parties and get invited out more often. I tend to work out every day and take the stairs instead of the elevator to keep the holiday pudge at bay. I get out my favourite party clothes and polish my shoes. I love the holidays.
However, I don't really celebrate Thanksgiving anymore - In Belgium it's kind of hard to get a group of Belgians over for a weekday meal of an 18 lb turkey and all of the trimmings - much less have the time to cook it. And I am sorry, there's nothing sadder than joining the American Women's Club of Brussels (AWCB) for their Annual Turkey Buffet. The AWCB is chock full of Junior League June Cleavers and State Department Spouses who make little to no effort to assimilate in to Belgian culture -they do not attempt to speak French or Flemish, they keep to themselves and form cliques. Plus, I bet they use cranberry jelly from cans bought at the NATO PX.
Since Thanksgiving is not a holiday here, people have already started with Christmas decorations and planning because there's no unwritten rule for when that stuff starts. Heck, my commune just leaves the lights up all year round anyway! It's a bit different because Saint Nicholas comes on Dec 6th or something - that's when the kids get candy put in their shoes overnight...or coal if they were bad and/or the parents have a wicked sense of humour and a drinking problem.
So many of us travel to far and distant places for Christmas, we try to get together as often as possible before mid December - when much of Europe goes into holiday hibernation - as it should be. If I were still working in the States, I think I would have customers who are panicking about year-end figures and throw deadlines at me - or worse, don't even think about Christmas and schedule meetings and conference calls around Christmas day. Blackberries burning overtime.
Here, I can say I am going to the States for 2 weeks and people decide to forego any calls and meetings until next year - no worries. Companies have annual shut downs and everyone just works around it.
Mom has started to plan my trip home. And by plan, I mean plan. So far she has scheduled every second of my first 5 days home and by my calculations, we will have to eat every meal out over the 16 days to visit all of the restaurants she wants to check out.
Another annual occurrence - the reappearance of the Christmas Boys. Around this time of year, Mom starts getting calls from various exes of mine wondering when I am coming home for the holidays. Now, as a seasoned dater of 27 years, I have a few 'friends' in my past(along with several fiances). It's curious, most of them are those who didn't really step up to the plate and couldn't at the time imagine being tied down with anyone - yet during the holidays, they like to reminisce and try it on a bit. Mom just keeps a list and reports to me each week. 'So and So called - he wanted me to make sure to tell you he called and is looking forward to seeing you at Christmas.'etc etc.
When I see these old 'friends' during the holidays, there's lots of 'I want to come see you in Belgium this spring!' Or 'Hey, let's plan a trip and met up somewhere in Europe this summer!' Or 'I will call regularly and keep in touch.'. But it never happens - they still they can't step up to the plate. And it's not their fault really. There's something so reassuring to a Washington DC man about someone who lives elsewhere. If you live in Timbuktu, they don't have to make an effort.
A few of my girlfriends used to joke that the best pick up line in DC is 'I am moving to Australia tomorrow' - (Substitute Australia for anywhere too far to travel to on a regular basis) Hours later, you are guaranteed at least a long boozy smooch if not a 'Where did those panties get to? morning after. (Not me of course, not my style) But you get the gist :-))
OK - Social calendar getting packed up. Tomorrow night at Kitty's with my Finnish, Australian Bombshell friend A-K and others (including Mr. Handsome). Various dinners and cocktail do's to attend. Gift sharing with friends - then off to DC - - Having a big Dim Sum brunch two days after getting home - can't wait! Maybe a visit or two from a Christmas Boy.
Dog Daze
My dog runs the show. Those of you who know me may find it hard to believe - (that's a joke) but yes, my dog runs the show. I am not sure how this happened. But when I'm reduced to negotiating which side of the bed I get, I know I'm pretty much done for.
I took Bunny dog to the groomers on Saturday. A very good friend does this for a living. Though she usually grooms well-mannered, obedient dogs, she has always agreed to groom my dog. She's nice like that. Bunny Dog is a Jack Russell with short and long hair. Groomers pull out the long, wiry hair and leave the short straight hair on certain types of terriers. Most dogs sit patiently and quietly and let the groomer get to work. It does not hurt the dog - as far as every other groomer and dog in history experience. However, when one watches my dog being groomed, it looks as if he's having electroshock treatment.
The first minute or two, everything is usually fine. Bunny Dog sits patiently and lets the grooming commence. Then, after a few minutes, he will sort of look around and it's almost as if you can see his thought process change ...hmm. 'I am being held on this table against my will, I am not in control! If I let this continue, I will lose my position as world dominator - therefore must do something horrible and make this a terrible experience to show the strength of my power!!'
At that point, Bunny Dog goes ballistic. He thrashes and screams and bites and growls and shakes and scratches. He whines and cries and leaves nice tooth marks on the Groomer's knuckles. He becomes completely unbearable. An hour later - after having tried a muzzle :chewed in half and spit across the room, a harness: torn and shredded, and the brute strength of 3 people: who will never, ever get the dog hair off of the clothes they were wearing - his grooming session was done. I insisted she take well above the cost of the grooming session because I was so embarrassed. (again)
Then and there I made a (new) pact to change my ways. Put some of the rules and obedience back in to our lives that have so badly gone missing. No more Miss Nice!
You know, hang on a sec'....Bunny Dog is so CUUUUTE after he's groomed! We will definitely start boot camp...tomorrow...
A couple days later and I am back to square 1. Last night I went to bed and found him on my side of the bed. I asked him to move, I attempted to move him myself - but I sort of think my fingers are useful, if not that attractive, so I stopped short of amputation. I tried to convince him a leg of lamb had fallen on the floor in the kitchen so he would move. He didn't buy that... Eventually I found something crinkly and made noises like I was unwrapping food in the next room. When he came rushing into the room, I raced back to bed and took my rightful position. Pathetic.
There I was in my bed, reading peacefully...and then something happened. You couldn't make this stuff up. I swear.
Bunny Dog thought he saw a spider on the ceiling above my bedside table. He rushed over the bed, and spying the most logical way to boost himself up to the highest level to get the spider, he basically climbed up my torso, neck and pounded on my head to get up and claw at the spider.
All at once, he slipped, knocking my bedside lamp over, hanging on to my bedside table, he began to tip it over, all my books slid to the floor in great thumps and then he landed sideways with a back paw catching the lip of his water bowl. His water bowl had been only half full. You know when you spill liquid, it's amazing how far it reaches? (Like a gulp or two of red wine when spilled looks like a gallon was poured on the carpet?)
Well, my book looked like I had dropped it in the bath tub. My duvet was soaked. My floor was flooded, there was water in the closets, on the walls, and I even found a puddle of water in a shoe. I swear, it was like a perfect movie scene from a crappy Disney after-school special. The only thing that wasn't wet was - not surprisingly, his damn dog bed. Which is why he chose to sleep there after all.
Cartoonist Lynn Johnston has been writing a newspaper comic strip called 'For Better or Worse' since 1979. Before my Dad passed away, he had saved one of her Sunday paper comics. This one showed her washing her dogs, refilling their water bowls, feeding them and letting them snuggle on the sofa with her in front of the TV in a nice warm living room. In the last panel of the strip she is watching TV coverage of the crisis in Darfur where people have no running water, no drinking water, no food, no shelter, no safety, no security nowhere to sleep, no hope, nothing but despair and violence.
She looks down at her dogs and herself - and feels ridiculous.
One of THOSE nights
Friday night I met an old friend out for drinks. I have known him for 8 years. He was one of the first people I met in Brussels. He's a lovely guy. He's hot too. We have always had this 'thing' for one another... He has a cool job too. He built the software Euroclear uses for flight planning and he approves all of the pre-booked flight plans in and out of Zaventem airport himself - so I routinely moan at him about the cargo flight that roars over my house on Thursday mornings at 6am.
There's nothing like old friends who fall right into conversation as if you saw them yesterday even though you haven't seen them in months. That's how we are together. He's going through another phase of reading the classics - he's deep in to Shakespeare right now. Really deep. I think he's the only one I know who's read King John for crying out loud. with Shakespeare, I stick to the juicies, Macbeth, Romeo and Juliet, Othello, Hamlet you know...Taming of the shrew.
Anyway - he's a food TV addict too - it's nice to hang with someone who jonz-es for the same things you know.
Anyway - I brought Bunny dog with me to Kitty's and we sat and chatted for hours over various drinks - the place was hopping that night - it was fun. We talked about Food Poker, Saturday Kitchen and Something for the Weekend. We talked about our mutual discomfort when we watch Nigella make herself a small snack frittata with 6 eggs 3 cups of cheese and a jar of jalapeños and eat it with her hands because she can't wait long enough to reach over and get the cutlery. We discussed the next series of Master Chef - to start in January. (So excited - SO EX-CI-TED). His best mate tried out for the new series, but didn't make it on to TV.
Through the magic of tipsy, we came to the educated conclusion that in fact, we were ravenous and could no longer talk about food, but had to get some immediately or we would perish. We chose to head back to my 'hood in the hopes of getting to a new Pakistani carry-out in time. We were going to die without curry - of course - odd because it's the first time I have wanted a curry in years.... Sadly We didn't make it for curry. They close at 10 and it was almost 11 - So with very little disappointment, we settled for one of the 6 carry-out pizza places within a block of my house.
We ordered a medium Mexican Pizza (as you do in Belgium)- extra hot. We grabbed a couple of beers and sunk into a sticky, orange pleather couch to wait for our pizza. Sipping beers on a plastic couch at 11 PM on a Friday night - super classy! Cla-saaay! But it was fun watching a group of young teenagers at the only table in the room - they were trying to act all cool. One bossy, super pudgy girl, about 14 years old was doing all the talking. This girl was a pretty big young lady - like pretty much nothing in the food world gets by her without a fight... But of course, she was poking at her pizza crust - You know, the way kids do when they think it's cool to dislike something food related to offset the fact that they look like they eat bowling balls for breakfast? - 'eew, you eat the crust?? I never eat the crust....' (yeah right honey - there aint much you don't eat sweetheart!)
It was funny and laid back and we were giggly and hysterical in turns. When with some friends, it's nice to just do whatever. It's easy.
We managed to talk well in to the night and get through 2 bottles of good wine and about 20 CDs. Just one of THOSE nights when everything clicks in to place.
May I just say, there's nothing more satisfying than watching a handsome guy with sleepy, bed head and stripy, boxer shorts scrambling down the stairs to catch the beginning of Saturday Kitchen. Ahhh. Bliss
Food Poker
I have always had a weakness for Foodie TV - I scan the TV listings to make sure I don't miss my favourite episodes of Rick Stein trundling along the Med pontificating about how lovely the food is outside of Britain and reading passages from Elizabeth David.
I am utterly and completely addicted to a new show called Food Poker. Drool.
Food Poker is brilliant. There's a savoury round and a sweet round and the winners of each round compete in the final head to head.
In the savoury and sweet rounds, 4 Celebrity chefs are each dealt two food cards showing ingredients they MUST use in their dishes. They have the choice to add up to 3 of 5 food cards dealt face up in the middle of the table. Each Chef must pitch to the tasting panel what their possible dish would be. The tasting panel decides which two chefs will battle it out based on their proposed dish. Then they decide which one wins the round after tasting.
Nicholas Watt, a Kiwi who specialises in Southeast Asian and Far Eastern food - is renowned in Tokyo and Sydney for his fusion style and has opened up a new resto in London. He was dealt a lemongrass card and a coconut milk card!! Some guys have all the luck !!
....Or not - the main ingredient in the 5 food cards in the middle of the table was not fish, poultry or meat per se - but cooked haggis. Yes, haggis. That Scottish delicacy of mixed offal meats and unrefined oatmeal cooked in a sheep's intestinal sack. I call it 'gaggis'. Although I am sure the variety of haggis used was a fairly innocuous version. He pulled it off though - who would have thought of opening up the haggis and making fritters with the meat speared with a lemongrass stalk - not me. For sure....
I have seen a few episodes with one of my least favourite chefs - Galton Blakiston. He's so awkward and poncy. His cooking is very traditional, French style, old school and he acts as if that's the only way to cook. It's lovely to see him struggle with squid and green beans or, star anise and marshmallow! He's a goober!
Food Poker is an addiction like the real game I suppose. And because Simon Rimmer is on often, I can see Food Poker Gamblers Anonymous (FPGA) in my future. I love his sweet smile and comfortable, easy way. I can gawk at him on Sunday's too because he does the food portion of Something for the Weekend. (The only reason to watch the programme as the other presenters, Tim Lovejoy and Amanada Hamilton are useless. Particularly Amanda Hamilton - though she's a 'Respected Nutritionist' she can't boil water and wouldn't know a ham hock from a rhubarb stuck up her tight Scottish arse) ......Ahh, back to Simon. That's better.
Tonight - a special treat. Food Poker, work out, light dinner, Rick Stein on the Med on BBC and a special Ricky Stein DVD to share with someone in bed.
Anyone know of a 10-step programme for Foodie TV Addicts?
