Return of the Stig
Mondays are usually drab. Not this past Monday tho....
About 8 PM I heard the faint rumbling of the engine blocks away. I could hear the distinct revving of the Triumph Motorcycle as it sped closer to my house. The pit of my stomach was trembling with excitement like when you wait in front row seats at a huge rock concert. Anticipation - this speed is not fast enough.
Suddenly the roar was intensely loud and powerful. Everything shaking and big as if the motorcycle was on the ceiling! Goosebumps and heavy, fast breathing. The roar softened and came to a deep idle, a few seconds later, a powerful spit and click and it was off.
I was slightly warm...waiting...
And there he was. Casting a shadow 20 feet high in the night light of the entryway.
All of him.
Black Leather, Textile , carbon fibre, Kevlar and reinforced nylon with pads in all the right places. Dark visor down, shiny, mysterious. Big manly boots, huge gloves. The squeak of leather clad thighs fighting muscle to muscle as he strode. A cruising, cool, confident, waking dream of hot engine-fueled man.
The Stig had returned.
Never, ever underestimate the power of foreplay. Watching the Stig strip his leathers is pure foreplay to me. The minute the visor goes up, I'm done for.
The gloves, the helmet - all salty and sweaty and hot. Everything from the sound of the straps being undone to the leather and kevlar rubbing together to the slap of taut skin being peeled of hot and sweaty layers.
He's so wonderful. He's so BIG. And kind - always greets Bunny Dog first. A man after my own heart. Though he knows I would rocket launch myself on him if he didn't break up the foreplay a bit....smart Stig. In control Stig.
Needless to say, he did take care of me in my rather overwhelmed state. He knows what he's doing. He's a romantic with a good heart and he's the sexiest man on the planet.
Thanks for the visit Stig. Come again soon
Food TV Addict
It's getting out of hand. The amount of foodie TV on BBC is overwhelming. And the real problem is that I love it. I love it too much. I'm addicted. I can't get enough. Last night's scheduled programming - a foodie TV overdose.
Last night I watched, The Hairy Bikers food tour of Britain, Nigel Slaters' simple suppers, and back-to-back episodes of Master Chef: The Professionals. When 11pm came around - I was in a food TV coma.
I watched over 50 plates of food being prepared on TV last night. Made my head spin!!
And for goodness sake, how do you decide what to make for dinner when watching all those options?
I can't remember half of what I do at work. But I do have incredible brain capacity for two things - in this order.
1. Food - What I ate for dinner last night or anytime in the past, what I am going to make for dinner tonight, what is in my fridge for dinner, what is in the cupboards for dinner and anything really, related to dinner....
2. I know every item of Gap clothing from between 1989 and 1996 - (1000s) and in which collection they first appeared. I know! It's a gift! My favourite collections being 'Lifeboat' - for it's class and jaunty weekend elegance and 'Picnic'- for being the most entertaining, garish crap anyone has ever spent money on.
I digress...
Back to number 1. In the back of my head, I always have a complete inventory of the ingredients in fridge and what I want to cook, serve and eat for dinner. I subconsciously prepare dinner in my mind while multitasking at work - women can do this...So for dinner last night, I had planned to simply roast the two little birds in my fridge (Cornish game hens) with an apricot glaze. Then I started watching foodie TV.....which led me to consider the following cooking options
Spatchcocked grilled and served with Portuguese pepper sauce
Moroccan stylee in my lovely tagine - Ras el Hanout and cous cous
Stuffed with wild rice and served with mushroom sauce
Glazed with reduced pomegranate juice
Roasted with oranges and Fennel
Roasted with thyme under the skin served with orzo and pine nuts
on and on
Well. Needless to say - the silly birds are still in my fridge! I couldn't decide what to do with them and eventually it was too late to cook and eat. Plus, I was glued to the TV anyway.
Now, don't get the idea that I just sit there all night eating and that I am getting to be the size of Jabba the Hut!! I am not! Last night, like many nights, I did my work-out DVD between The Hairy Bikers and Nigel Slater...and of course, I took Bunny Dog for his evening constitutional. Tonight I shall go bike riding too.
I have a lot of work to do today - in the back of my mind I will be planning a sumptuous and sensual supper for Saturday night...
Sexy Food
Regularly, I make food for someone I refer to as my 'food boyfriend'. He's an ex (truly) but we are still tied to one another through our mutual love of good food. He's the best eater I know and completely appreciates the effort that goes in to each meal. He 'gets' me in a food way not many people do. He understands my need for a challenge and to show off and cook as a way of showing love.
When I ask him what he wants for dinner, he knows not to ever say the words 'oh, anything' or 'whatever you like'. That's non committal. That's an answer from someone with anything other than food on their minds. And if you know me, you know that's not the right answer. I want specifics. I want to know exactly what would make your heart beat faster in anticipation of the meal. I want to know what you have been craving. Because for me, feeding the need, the desire, is what gives me a buzz.
I also like the challenge. Although sometimes I get a bit caught out. Not with technically tough things as I usually prepare well in advance, but with those dishes I think I can whip out in no time after work! The other night - great example. A seafood lasagna. Technically - easy peasy. Time and effort... nightmare. Prep a lot of seafood (including shrimp) , make enough bechamel for an army, assemble lasagna, grate cheese etc. Make salad, prep garlic bread. I was exhausted by the time the lasagna went in the oven. It was worth it though. It tasted delicious. And most of all, it was appreciated and loved. And bonus - only one pan to clear after dinner!
This Saturday night I have offered to cook a sensuous meal for another friend. He gets the foodie thing too. He's a good cook himself. He's suggested things he likes. Things he wants. Good start....
Did you catch the word 'sensuous'up there? Sure you did. Now, exactly what I meant by that, I don't know. I don't know why I said it. I'm not thinking the
9 1/2Weeks kind of thing - spread-eagled on the kitchen floor having whipped cream and jars of condiments poured over me and slurping raw oysters off each other's bums - although I guess that depends on how much Champers we drink....
I have learned the hard way that cooking in lingerie is seldom a good idea...I wasn't planning on blindfolds or anything kinky like that...I haven't rented
My Dinner with Andre or
The Last Tango in Paris or anything. I won't do strawberries in chocolate like served at a white trash wedding on Valentines day. I think I'll just make some damned nice food and serve some damned nice wine and enjoy the appreciative company.
Maybe I'll visit the jungle drawer for some inspiration...
Wonky
Every once in a while things go wonky. I've just had a wonky week - although I am scared to use past tense for fear that wonky is still a present tense situation....
Names of the 4 rabbits in the children's story The Tale of Peter Rabbit kept running through my brain this week. - you know: Flopsy, Mopsy Cottontail and Peter.
I was Flopsy - I fell down a couple times and at times felt like a rag doll with no muscles - therefore flopsy. Last Sunday, I slipped on a lovely 'gift' Bunny dog left for me in the middle of the stairway. I crash landed on my lower ribs and back, and then thumped down step by step. It was one of those falls where you have to sit for a few minutes to determine whether or not you're seriously injured. The bruise is still tender to the touch.
I felt pretty wobbly and flopsy for the rest of the week largely due to that. This week I ever so slightly lost control of a couple scallop shells filled with scallops, bechamel sauce and cheese topping, I couldn't possibly drop them and have a clearable mess to clean up. Not me, I awkwardly manhandled and mis-ballanced them all the way down my legs trying to stop them from hitting the floor by pinning them between my thighs and the kitchen counter. A huge mess. And like a Mr. Bean episode.
I knocked glasses off tables, I dropped bags, boxes, papers, pens, full cups of tea, turned over bowls of cereal and spurted yogurt all over myself when opening a pot the other day. I bought a super jumbo pack of light bulbs so I wouldn't run low and dropped them by accident on the pavement right outside the shop.
I was Mopsy - well, you can't have a flopsy week without being mopsy. I had to mop the downstairs floor 6 times this week. Between my flopsiness and Bunny Dog's dogginess I couldn't win. So it was really OK when the cap split off the bottle of floor cleaner and splashed all over the house - needed it anyway.
I was Cottontail - I went out on Saturday night with friends. I had 'it' that night. That special something that works like a man magnet once in a while - I clearly thought I was the cutest and hottest bunny out there. (And I was fer shur) Everyone loved my dancing and I was surrounded by 5 good looking men all evening (I was).
That was me!! Sweet loveable Cottontail by night!!
The next morning however, more like - horrendous, monster, screeching,
Cotton-MOUTH. URF. wa, wa-t, wa-, wat, wat-er .....gasp.
On to Peter. There's nothing to tie in to Peter unless the guy Cottontail was chatting up at 2 in the morning at Archiduc the other night was named Peter...but I don't think so. (Think it was something horrifying like Guido- no offense to people named Guido, but you know...). Beer goggles should be illegal don'tchya think?
So that's the story of my wonky week. I am sorry to tell you I just tripped in the office, fell on to my desk and broke my favourite tea cup, and my mobile phone just died. Wonky's not over yet.
Gormand's Week
Last week I took my annual holiday in Normandy. As usual, Mom flew across and stayed with me in Brussels for a night before we headed off. We take our time driving down, usually staying in Honfleur or Deauville over night.
The journey is something I have come to look forward to very much. Crossing the Pont du Normandie is such a liberating feeling. Once I get over the bridge, I feel holidays are truly starting. It's like the Chesapeake Bay bridge for those of us who grew up spending summers going to the beaches in Delaware and the like. It just feels different on the other side.
We had very close family friends along this time. It was lovely although a bit overwhelming on the food front. I am a bit of a gourmand but I was not prepared for spending a week in close proximity to people with Gourmand's Disease. Not only did they buy everything in site at every market, but they planned meals all day and every day. They ate meals at meal time just because it was meal time and not because they were hungry. And one of them was a bit of a kitchen Nazi if you know what I mean...sort of controlling everything going in and out of the fridge, monitoring what's eaten, what's left. It was weird. I was overfed the whole week. At one meal - I swear, we were all seated at a table (heaving with seafood, salads, bread, cheeses, and fruit) and just as I took the first forkful of food, one of the friends announced exactly what we would have for the following day's lunch and dinner. Seriously, had it all already planned out! I thought OMG - let's do one meal at a time folks - oink!!!
At the start of the holiday Mom announced that she was going to eat oysters every possible chance. She wasn't lying. She hoovered Oysters - I calculated the number of oysters I think she consumed that week - somewhere around 70 - no kidding. She ought to have a pearl in her stomach by now!! But the Oyster thing paled in comparison to the butter and cheese thing. For the love of god that small woman can eat a lot of cheese. It's no wonder that every few days she would discuss he inability to go number 2! Waay Too much information - but lay off the cheese Mom - eat a peach or something - geez!! Leave a tiny bit of Pont L'Eveque for the rest of the planet. Don't get me started on the butter....
Bunny Dog had a nice time until he hurt his dew claw on his right paw. He was in terrible pain and couldn't be persuaded to really chase rabbits. He chose to quietly stake out briar patches and huge rabbit warrens in the dunes hoping a rabbit would just pop out. Kind of like when he hangs around the kitchen hoping I'll drop a roasted chicken on his head or something. He was pretty sad for a couple days though. He soon perked up when we spent a whole afternoon splashing in the salty surf together. I think the salt helped his wound heal a bit.
The weather was spectacular this time. Not a bad day the whole week.
All in all, it was lovely. But I never want to eat again. YA right
Jungle Drawer gets a make over
My lovely housekeeper comes on Tuesdays. She's only in my house for a few hours a week, but that's just enough for me. She's a very pretty, young Polish woman who is a meticulous cleaner. She has a particular fondness for tidying things like shelves and cupboards.
She worked over the holiday period and even though I was in DC, I left her a few projects to complete. I came home to a kitchen organised with military preciseness -I can now actually count how many pairs of chopsticks I own - way more than I need as it turns out, well, way more than anyone needs really.
I asked her to tidy up my closet - where I have a huge pile of sweaters about 3 feet high. Somehow they get tried-on and thrown back in the closet and never refolded, not sure how that happens...do I do that?? YA
Anyway, I told her not to bother with the drawers - I mean - come on, how could I ask someone else to tackle jungle drawer anyway - I would be embarrassed.
So, imagine my horror when I came home from work last night and found that she had completely organised and tidied my jungle drawer. Not only am I horrified that someone did that chore for me, but I am horrified that someone has seen my stash of sexy lingerie.
She folded my regular daily panties into the size of postage stamps and lined them up by colour on one side of the drawer - a novel experience for me - I can actually see my huge selection of under garments! The slightly less fabric-y items - like thongs and stuff, are so perfectly packed in the drawers it puts Victoria's Secret to shame. My thing-highs are all tucked in to small parcels and easy to find.
No more digging around in a frantic spazz when trying to find sexy lingerie to throw on - in order to pretend to my date that I had the stuff on all night while we were out.
Now I can see everything. I have a LOT of lingerie. I feel obligated to wear everything just to get it out a bit. Give those bustiers a bit of a runway trip through the bedroom. Get those garters snapping over the Christmas thighs and figure out what in the hell that silky, strappy, slinky thingy is for....
This is actually going to be a real project. I think this should be done systematically. I think I need volunteers to help me with this project. I shall start to interview prospective volunteers this weekend...
Return to Schedule
I need work rehab. I am on day 2 of my first full week of work in 5 weeks and I can't handle it. I had so much vacation time left at the end of the last year that I took off the first two Fridays in December and went home to DC from the 17th to the 29th. I made it in to the office on the 2nd of January - but I was like the only one on the planet working that day and it was pretty quiet. I feel disconnected and demotivated. Like there's nothing to look forward to. I need some work therapy. Something to challenge me and get me fired up....not another flipping business review to prepare....
I spent the whole first day back going through 1100 e-mails I received while gone. I have categorized them by urgency. Some were apparently very urgent and needed my undivided, immediate attention...then. Now, not so much. It's pretty interesting how things are so urgent when they really aren't. Actually, it's not interesting at all.
To add insult to injury, it's bitterly cold out. Like -10 C (14 F). It snowed the other night and Bunny Dog has been loving his walkies - he goes nuts in snow. So I have been freezing my toes off waiting for him to burn-out his crazy winter energy zipping to and fro in the drifts. And the house only feels warm for a few minutes after coming back in from the cold. I can't get really warm.
I need a nice new man to spice up my life - add an air of mystery and a bit of romance. Well, that thought has already put a smile on my face!
I have just agreed to Hairy Canary for this Friday night - a few drinks with my Swedish friend A-K. She's a hoot. Perhaps I can meet a new 'special friend' that night too. It's been known to happen. Especially when I have 'it' and I have a feeling after this week (which seems as if it's already gone on for 15 days) I will definitely have 'it'.
OK - only 3.5 more work days before 'it' night. Back to the grindstone, take that call, chase that customer, file that report, prepare that presentation, get on the conference call at 5, make travel plans - return to schedule.
