Another year sped by...

At 1830hrs tomorrow evening, I will set another steap nearer to the barrier known as the big 4-0. Yes, I'm officially on my way to middle age proper.

And yes, that is the cake that was presented to me this evening, although I have doodled a little with the colours. I also have my first age spot on my right hand, but I'll just keep that to myself.

And I now am also on Flickr. Should you wish to be added to my friends, to view more private photos, drop me a line.

Operation eliminate overload

Two days to go till ETD and this is what my life feels like:

Testing the cam

It's always nice when one has a willing subject to test on.

I'd been wondering if it was worth getting a point and shoot, since I'm living with a Canon babe, whose equipment usually arouses the envy of guests at any dinner party. So today, I finally caved in and bought one. Firstly, because I see things every day that I want to take pics of, and secondly, because I am sick and tired of relying on my SO for pics. About time to get her into the picture, I think.

So we splurged on a Panasonic Lumix FS5 in hot pink, which SO recommended because of its Leica lens. It fits into my handpalm and is quite light. Expect more and better photos as I gain control over this miracle of gadgetry. Now all I need is some decent photo software.

Hark, the nightingale...

Every year, four blondes and a brunette meet up and hit the local open-air theatre for a concert. Last year, we boldly took ourselves to Rickie Lee Jones and yearned for the voice of yesteryear. With that experience still rather fresh in our minds, we decided that we needed some quality this year.

And so, under less than promising skies and after some cuba libres, we sat down to enjoy the voice that is kd lang.



What can I say? The woman can most definitely sing.

Some of the songs of her set:

Miss Chatelaine
Constant Craving
Hallelujah
Helpless
Close your eyes
Wash me clean
Smoke rings
...

We enjoyed every second, were fortunate to be right up there in front of the stage (her own special request, said we and she'd feel warmer) and the downpour only started after midnight and after several glasses of cava, jokes and laughter.

A good night was had by all.

This is what mankind has become

I've spent two days looking incredulously at a photo in the newspaper of two Roma girls, 11 and 13, on a beach near Napoli, Italy.

Their bodies are covered with a towel, their feet protruding. They were peddling their wares on the beach, when the sea must have caught up with them. Incredibly enough, the holidaymakers did not budge to help them as the waves swallowed them. Even more incredibly, the same holidaymakers sat on the same beach for a whole hour, slapping sunscreen on their thighs, eating lunch, proceeding as if nothing had happened, while these two bodies lay there, and until the police and an undertaker arrived to pick up the human remains of these two maidens.

This is what the world has come to?

I'd like to think that I'm living on another planet today, please.

The L-Word to have a spin-off?

There is a rumour flying that the L Word shall have a spin-off. This begs the question, which character will be the main focus, the centre of all our lesbionic attention?

OR

???
Or someone else?

Any preferences, ladies?
Apparently, the luscious lady herself has not yet been informed by the powers that be of her impending new series.

Mussels are here!

Yup, it's that time of the year. Since last Friday, Zeeuwse mosselen are here. So today four generations of Domestic Demi-Goddesses took themselves to Sint-Anneke (across the river) for a pot of Dutch mussels and French Fries. A very typical Belgian meal, right?

Delicious! Just what the doctor ordered after last night's capers (on which more in the next post).

It's really easy to make (and usually we do make this at home, but the first pot of mussels is always eaten in a restaurant in our family, go figure). Clean the mussels, remove the beards, toss out the closed ones. Heat some wine and onion and other assorted herbs depending on the tastes of your guests in a huge pot, let simmer and then add an equivalent amount of water. Bung in the mussels. Cook on high until all the mussels are open. Try to lay your hands on some French fries (in our house, this involves a timed bike ride over to the chips shop to coincide with the open mussels on the table). Mix some mustard and mayonaise for the dip. Serve, eat, and make sure you puzzle around as much as you can with the mussel shells to ensure they all fit in the cover of your pot. Seconds are a scandal; you will fail the 'anal retentive family member' test.


And behold, a pot of mussels. Comes highly recommended. Enjoy!

Ce plat pays qui est le mien.. .

I suppose I should have posted something weeks ago about the fact that Belgium is falling apart at the seams again. In fact, the government has yet again fallen in our little banana republic (visions of the Italian government, which seemed to get knocked down and then get up again, because you're never gonna keep me down... )



Yes, the lyrics of this song are quite appropriate when you look at the situation. So what's the status? PM resigned. King told him, no way, josé and hasta la vista, Yves. Then HM appointed three old crocodiles/former statesmen as 'negotiators'. And conveniently, he forgot to appoint a Flemish negotiator, thereby sending the message to a few million people that their opinion is completely irrelevant in this matter. But that's OK, we'll just continue to pay our taxes, so the other half can live comfortably off benefit.

Where will it all end, you ask? Well, since my name is not Madame Esmeralda, I have no clue. If you told me that in a year from now, Belgium will have been disbanded, and consist of two individual, or even three mini republics, I might be inclined to believe you. But then, it was an artificial construction to begin with. Let's toss a bit of France, a bit of The Netherlands and some post-war Germany into a big ole salad dresser, shaken not stirred, and see what comes out of this whole roly-poley? Oh, and while we're at it, let's get some prince without a cause or a throne and invest him as the king of this comedy. Ah, men in charge.

So taking bets now: will we have a government by the time I come back from holiday (20/08) or will we be declaring the Flemish Republic this time next year?

I shudder at the mere thought of inflicting that upon the world.

Growing up together...

It's been a tough two weeks on mother and daughter. Our mite had just finished school at the end of June, only to be tossed straight into hospital for ear surgery. Then, nary a week later, thanks to her two working mums, the poor kid was sent to day camp.

As the days went by, mothers and daughter became increasingly unhappy with the situation, with the mite begging, nay, even clinging to our legs, dragging on the floor, as we walked towards the exit, to stay home with us.

And so the days of doubt started: every party around the breakfast table dreaded that inevitable move towards the upstairs for bath and clothes and then of course bike or car to ... camp. It started to give me headaches. I couldn't sleep for worry; the munchkin started to get black circles under her eyes. I was contemplating telling all my customers to go stuff themselves for two months. Then I would routinely run into other mothers with a guilt-ridden conscience on playdates, who were having an equally bad time of it. We started to question ourselves. We started to think of ourselves as those bad mommies. I had nightmares about emotional scarring and being told 14 years from now, during a row, that it was all my fault for sending her to day camp when she was 3.5.

And then today came: last day at music camp. A performance. A smiling star of the show, entertaining a crowd of a 100 or so parents, together with her old and new friends. And then the discovery that the camp actually keeps a photo blog. And my mini WonderWoman actually seemed to be having fun. In fact, I was dumbfounded by the discovery. As I tried to put two and two together, I asked myself whence this sudden onset of separation anxiety? Whence the Oscar-meriting performances of abandoned child of the year?

Regardless, it has been a draining two weeks. And because we are true masochists, we are subjecting ourselves to another week of this medicine. Same people who organised the last week's camp, which the munchkin seems to have enjoyed more than the first week. The theme: A voyage of discovery. And likewise one for mothers and daughter, who discovered over the last two weeks that they can be quite brave when they need to. But who still feel the need to be joined at the hip... until my last, dying breath...

current mood: diva-esque

Just can't explain it.