Jungle Drawer and a Date with the Stig
I am pretty good at doing the chores I promise myself to do. I clear out the garden when I set my mind to it. I wash every single bit of the table linens and put it all away nicely. I throw out newspapers, organize magazines I want to keep and put finished books upstairs in the loft. I do clear out the downstairs closet semi annually - and repaint where and when needed. I am pretty good.
Why for Pete's sake don't I ever get around to sorting out the huge 'jungle drawer' in my closet? It's mayhem. Every morning as I get ready for work, I end up digging through the jungle drawer upper-arm deep for bras, panties and matching socks (the biggest issue). It's insane. It could take up to 30 minutes to match a pair of trouser socks appropriate enough for the outfit and the office. It takes ages to find them in the mountain of lace, pretty prints and elasticised cotton bikini briefs. Every morning I swear to get it done 'this weekend'.
I have a bit of an Imelda Marcos addiction to underwear - pretty panties and stuff. I think it's a throwback to my days working at Victoria's Secret where it was ingrained is us that women deserve luxurious lingerie, sumptuous robes and indulgent, pampery bubble baths just because we are women. (The sales pitch to get professional business women in the door even if they were destined to be single and fugly their whole lives - money talks). The result is, that I sub conscientiously buy lingerie all the time. I have matching bra and panty sets in a lot of different colours, shades of cream and of course, black. Many, many black sets.
I also have this theory that if I purchase 6 sets of trouser socks at a time, I will never not find one or two which match and therefore - no problem. This theory doesn't work. Either there's a magic sock fairy in there who steals my socks or they just get lost in the vortex of elastic, underwired, laced hell and disappear forever. I suspect there's a hole in the back of the drawer but I haven't found it yet - ... if there's a hole in the drawer, why doesn't the mountain of crap get any smaller???
I love wearing skirts - yes I do. I hate sorting through my tights or stockings to dress for skirts. (I do not own or wear PANTYHOSE. Pantyhose are so totally 80s it's insane. I do not see the benefit in wearing 'flesh toned' nylon rubber bands - especially since the makers of panty hose seem to think the shade of 'cinnamon' matches anything in our wardrobes. Sorry - NO offence to those of you who still wear those energising, sheeny, shiny, support control, satiny beige-hued panty hose - really) I do wear cotton and Lycra blend opaque tights or thigh high
stockings. They are classic and clean looking AND right now - they are tangled in a huge snarl in the 'jungle drawer'. Like a snake's wrestling match. The strategy for finding tights or stockings: Find a bit of tights fabric and just pull and pull and hope there's another leg attached.
The real problem is that I buy lots of things that I end up not liking at all. Victoria's Secret made the greatest string bikinis for 20 years and I had hundreds of pairs of them. But they have changed them - they are cheap imitations of what they once were. They are crap now. So I tried all sorts of other brands until I found the perfect one. All of the rejects are perfectly fine and always think I will use them but I don't!
Anyway - I must to clear out the drawer this weekend . I have a date with the Stig and he likes the pale yellow lace set! Whatever the Stig wants, the Stig gets. Welcome to the Jungle.......
Miss Me Myself and I goes to Mexico
My mother has been in Mexico for the last week and a half. She has gone to visit family friends who are so close, they really must be considered family. The couple she went to visit are Judith and her husband Daniel. Judith is with the US Embassy in Mexico City and her husband - a French chef, travels the world with her - usually securing a great position in some embassy kitchen - more recently he has been working with security firms who specialise in expat safety. Judith's father was my father's longest friend - they knew one another since they were 5 years old in Detroit. Relationships don't get much older than that one!
Judith and Daniel were in Washington to help Mom move house last summer. They are godsends. And because they are extremely fond of my Mom - they have a lot more patience with her than I. You know, that whole thing with how annoying mothers can be to their own kids. I don't think it ever goes away.
Anyway - since being home for Christmas, I have conducted my regular calls home as a dutiful (if only slightly clingy) daughter and have listened to Mom warble on and on. It dawned on me that for the whole month of January - Mom spent each phone call talking about herself non-stop. I have to put aside the 80-year old excuse because Mom is not a typical 80 year old woman. She's as active and vibrant and intelligent and interactive as someone much younger and is a pleasure to be around - generally! But something has happened in the last few months and I have started to refer to her as 'Miss Me Myself and I'.
The world has shifted slightly. And is still shifting... just a bit to the left and a tiny bit up, no, down a bit, there. It's now entirely revolving around my mother.
I know that Judith and Daniel are absolutely rolling out the red carpet for my Mom and two cousins (Dorothy and Norio - the ones who depleted the Camembert stocks in Normandy last summer and ate so much butter I tried to sell them to OPEC). Judith and Daniel will take them to museums, markets, galleries, breathtaking vistas, amazing ethic and secret gourmet restaurants, side trips to Inca ruins and amazing resorts. They would have their guestrooms made up with crisp sheets, and fresh flowers and chilled bottled water. They would have their lovely housekeeper tidy the rooms daily, wash and iron everyone's clothes as needed and even do emergency sewing jobs in a second. Judith and Daniel would bring the car around and plan the walking tours with the least stairs possible, and ensuring they passed by benches for Mom to take mini breaks throughout. They are incredibly thoughtful and caring.
I called to check up on them yesterday. Judith answered her phone and recounted the fun they were having and the things they were doing. Yesterday, they were driving out to the beach from Merida to see a beautiful Flamingo farm and spend the day on the water. They had been staying in a beautiful Hacienda with luxurious amenities such as vanilla scented jacuzzi baths and massage therapists, fresh fruit prepared anytime anywhere etc. Judith and Daniel standard treatment.
Judith handed the phone to 'Miss me Myself and I'. Miss Me Myself and I started in with 'yes', she having a good time although the first day she did bang her shins in the van (rented especially for driving everyone around in comfort) and that produced terrible contusions. She's a had a fine time wandering around even though her knees are acting up a bit. She has had incredible food even though she's had a bit of tummy trouble as usual. She's been napping extremely well, but sleeping only fitfully through the night in the gorgeous bedrooms she's in. She is enjoying the fine warm weather, but her skin is a bit dry and she feels a bit overheated at times. She would be having the time of her life is only she didn't bang her shins in the van they rented...round we go....
Conscious of the fact that all parties were sitting in the van with Mom - I did manage to swing the conversation around to talking about other people or things - and she did pretty well. A sentence or two and then it was back to 'she, herself and her'.
OK. Maybe it is the 80-year old thing. All the talk of physical ailments...typical of some old biddy. But I am not ready for that. I mean my mother has travelled all over the world in her lifetime. I remember when we were having dinner with my cousins at a bistro next to my home in Brussels last summer. We were talking about traffic in Paris and Mom just uttered, 'I think the traffic is OK in Paris - I mean compared to Mexico City , Karachi and Bombay...' It hit me just how much my mother has travelled - with or without Dad. Maybe she has reached that age where she has shifted from 'cosmopolitan foreign service world traveller' to 'freak of nature who amazingly, made it there and back without requiring the help of the UN emergency medical aide disaster team...' God help me.
I have rented the beach house this summer in Normandy as usual. Mom is making her annual trip to see me. Correction, she comes to see her 'grand-dog' not me...seriously! I am just a by-product. A chauffeur, a caterer and a housekeeper. I must take her to Honfleur on the way down for an overnight, stop wherever she wants and make sure she gets enough butter everyday. I can't understand why my brother and his wife don't want to come along....gee
(The plan for that trip: to get her wined and dined enough each night that she's asleep by 10 PM - that way I can sneak out the patio door, run down the dunes and scream at the top of my lungs to save my sanity......Or make sure I have some hot guy there to help me loosen up a bit....hmm, I like the sound of option 2)
Anyway - you should know that Miss Me Myself and I is having a wonderful time in Mexico and you'll hear all about it on next weeks call.
You are my Master, Chef
You may have missed it in an earlier blog, but the Master Chef series is on. Those of you who know how I feel about cooking shows will be very surprised that I have not blogged about the show or contestants the way I normally do. Why is that you think? (Or maybe you're not thinking that at all...but read on anyway!)
This year, the regular heats of Master Chef have been like watching high school home economics courses. The contestants are only marginally better than those 'can of soup' cooks - You know, those people who make casseroles from cans of cream of mushroom soup, canned green beans and flavourless hygienic chicken breasts. Or people who can make whole meals from Ritz crackers, a few pimentos, spam and a can of processed cheese whiz. (no offense or anything..)
This year's contestants are generally terrible. their skill levels are below the standard of the show - truly. Judges John Torode and Gregg Wallace have to argue each night about who is the lesser of all 3 evils and therefore allowed to win the heat. One woman in heat 2 or 3 showed such promise. She did funky creative things like make a chocolate mud-pie dessert with delicate chocolate tuille biscuits and deep dark creamy chocolate pudding decorated with sugared herbs to look like grass. The taste and creativity was apparently stunning. She fell flat in her mud pie when she grilled a few slices of blood pudding for her finale and lost to two completely mediocre cooks who got points for knowing how to mash potatoes without lumps. The bar is set very low indeed.
Last week, there was a guy who wilted like a wet noodle in the professional kitchen test and admitted to John and Gregg he didn't want to go forward because he couldn't stand the kitchen work. Well, then dude...WTF are you doing entering Master Chef then? Did you misunderstand the show's purpose? Hey, if you can't stand the heat - then by all means get out of the kitchen - BUT For crying out loud - You should not be there at all - your Master Chef spot could have gone to someone who WANTS to win -and yes, wants to win the MASTER CHEF prize - which is -...wait for it..... to be a MASTER CHEF in a famous kitchen. Grr. breathe...
This week - FINALLY - there's some skill. This week is known as 'Comeback week'. Contestants who won their heats in Master Chef last year are invited to come back and try again - this week the 'comeback kids' who really ant to try again are competing against eachother. They know the Masterchef pressures, they have been through the food mill already - and they want more. These cooks are in it to win it. And they are REALLY GOOD!
This week's contestants want the title. They have practised, they have quit their day jobs to cook all day, they have cooked for friends, family and co-workers to perfect their dishes, they have struggled with improving flavour and presentation, they have done everything to improve their knowledge of food. They are passionate and it shows.
Now John and Gregg fight over every detail of every dish served - desperately trying to find some crack in their work which will help them separate the damned good from the extraordinarily excellent. Someone has to win the heat. Sadly. I wish each one of these wannabee chefs could replace the winners of the previous weekly heats.
Anyway - I am back in love with my Master Chef for the time being.
When a Salesman becomes a Stalker
In early December last year, my colleague and I went up to London for a meeting with our boss and our colleagues.
Of course, we took the Eurostar and were massively late. The train we boarded at the crack of dawn stopped dead about 15 minutes out of the station. Due to a total power failure, we sat still for almost 2 hours and were starting to get pretty chilly before the decision was made to get tugged back to Brussels Midi station. At that point, we were to wait for the next train that was departing - in over an hour. Not only that, but we had to disembark and stand in line to check-in manually -presumably taking the seats that were not filled by the original ticketed passengers on this particular train.
Needless to say, we were pretty fed up by the time we arrived in London and ran to the office. We didn't get there until after 1 PM.
We walked in on the end of a presentation given by an outside company - an HR intelligence and data compiling company. The presenter was just taking last questions. As he left, he shook hands all around and dropped a card in front of me. Just at this time, a colleague mentioned that I had missed a good presentation and that this guy's company might have something good for one of my customers. Overhearing this, the presenter guy's ears pricked up. Just like any slobbering sales monkey - when there's a whiff of an opportunity, they are all over you like white on rice. He was. And is.
Well, he's been calling me 2 to 3 times per week about business opportunities. I have enjoyed some of the more strategic discussions we have had early on - but have not been in a position to engage his services for any of my projects. I have repeatedly told him this, but he's getting pretty annoying - like a cheap car salesman in a used car lot - he 'touches base' with me every chance he gets to make sure he's right there when I make my decision. I have no reason to use his company's services right now!!
He's taken to calling me every Monday (and usually other times of the week) but he's told me he has it in his agenda to call and touch base with me every Monday. No amount of dissuading him. Mondays about 10:30-11 am there he is all salesy and pushy and chipper and pretty fakey! I now have his number plastered to my phone in the office so I can recognise him as the caller and let it go through to voice mail.
Yesterday, things took a turn for the weird. I absent-mindedly answered the phone while returning to my office - the note stuck to my phone as a reminder not visible from the other side of the desk - and on the line - there he was. Cringe. My sales nightmare.
The first thing he said was 'I swear, I am not stalking you!'. Immediately - I am thinking uh oh. Geez, the mere mention of the word Stalking means he's thought about it and probably IS kind of stalking me!! Yipes.
Confirmation comes a few minutes later when he takes things in a super weird direction and says he wants to take me for
dinner next time I am in London.
Ya, um....no....
He didn't ask about coffee, or lunch, or just a meeting - but dinner.... What is he thinking??? (I wouldn't have done any meetings anyway) He said he would enjoy have an evening out with someone who really knows the business and can 'talk shop' followed by a load of other crap about having good company for dinner etc.
Don't you think that's weird? I mean come on! Scary!! No answering the phone again, ever!!
I may be wearing those huge, black Jackie 'O' glasses and a floppy hat to go to the London office next time...no one will recognise me!
PS - There's only one sales guy I want - he works for my own company and he knows - However, he's firmly and severely chained to a heavy ball with rug rats and suspicious, 24-hour surveillance. So I steer well clear.
Happy Birthday Friend
Saturday night I went to a birthday party for a friend's 40th birthday. It was a great party and I was so happy I could be there. It means a lot for me to be there for special moments in his life because he was there for me at a time when I needed friends most.
Just after moving my whole world to Belgium 8 years ago - I was far away from home with no friends and I was extremely lonely. I had to travel all over Europe each week to see my customer sites and would get home at 11 or 12 on Friday evenings - or worse, be stuck at Heathrow Airport that late alone, tired and wondering what to do with myself - realising that no one cared. There was no one waiting for me. No one wondering why I was delayed. No one worried about me. I went for 2 months without touching another living soul with exception of shaking hands with colleagues or business associates. It's pretty damaging to one's soul. You really don't realise how important friends and family are until you are too far away from them to do anything about.
So, I made a pact with myself. I had to make myself go out and explore the city and try to meet people. I made myself go to the biggest meat-market pick-up joint in town just to feel like I was in a crowd. I went to O'Reillys. Within a short while a group of men came over to talk to me.
The first thing anyone said came from this man who would become my first friend in Belgium. This man told me that he liked my lipstick - and then asked if I wanted to go bungee jumping the next day. What a line!! I said no. I asked his name - the first and only question I had been able to ask - and he said 'Why so many questions?'. This was my introduction to Crazy Jan.
Jan decided that it was his responsibility to represent Belgium to me - this silly American girl - and to make sure I explored and got to know Belgium. Thus he embarked on an effort to expose me to a different aspect of Belgian life each weekend.
He took me to Ghent to drink Genever in quantities and flavour combinations that I would prefer to forget. I am pretty sure we looked at some churches and canals and art galleries, but couldn't tell you anything substantive about them. I do remember he took me to see the world's largest hanging basket of flowers - Yep. - I know, I know - you want the details of how to get there - booking a flight as you read this....
He took me kayaking on the Lesse and Meuse rivers near Dinant where he egged me in to tipping the boat over a waterfall - or three of them - with us in it. He encouraged me to steal a better kayak from other people while we were on one of many beer stops down the river run. He lost the keys to his car and set the alarm off which rang at top volume non-stop for 2 hours until his best friend drove all the way out to Dinant with an extra set of keys. He thought it was hilarious.
He took me for Moules near the Begiunage in Brugge and then bicycle riding in Zeebrugge where he insisted that we ride out to the cargo dock miles out the causeway to the cargo load in freezing wind. When we encountered a 10-foot chain link fence on the way out to the cargo load - which pretty clearly meant no trespassing - he insisted that I climb the fence - with my bicycle no less!!! We road out by these massive cargo ships that hold thousands of those cargo boxes like on 18-wheeler trucks. We drove around stacks of boxes waiting to be loaded (later learning that we had ridden around the one filled with immigrants who perished days later) - scary! But he made me do it. And I did.
He invited me to parties, took me to receptions (many of which we crashed without my knowledge until it was exposed) He gave me adventure. Most importantly, he introduced me to his friends - many of whom have become good friends as well. A couple of whom who have become my very best friends.
Crazy Jan has this ability to bring people together and to make everything a fun experience. I was honoured to be present at his wedding a while ago and recently to get a chance to hold their beautiful new baby Nele.
His wife Tania is an amazing woman. She is kind, intelligent, beautiful and funny - it was she who planned this 40th birthday party. She had planned it for a year - and it showed. There were servers bringing gourmet bites all evening, foie gras and onion confit, crevettes salad, Camembert with toasted nuts, marinated anti pasta bites, tiny mousse cups and tarts and petit fours etc - Open bar, DJ, and a really good live band - along with a slide show going all night and featuring over 600 photos of Jan's life - I was tickled when photos of my parties came up - photos of my dog. Like I fit in to the puzzle a bit. Like I was part of someone's life history - not in America, but here in my adopted home country. It meant so much to me because it verified that I have been woven in to at least a small part of Belgium and not lived on the periphery like so many expats do. I think my Dad would be proud of me for that alone.
I have said this before, but it bears saying again. Friends are the most important thing in the world. And I certainly appreciate the friends I have here and back home. Thank you all for being so wonderful.
