Weird things we ( I ) do in the kitchen

I just can't leave this "kitchen subject" without mentioning some weird habits  I have in the kitchen and some prety funny instructions.

I don't know if any of you have the same habit ( I do hope I'm not the only one) but I have this little stool that I bring in my kitchen whenever I'm baking something. I place it infront  of my owen, bring my Shandy supplies and light a smoke. As soon as whatever is placed in the owen, I sit infront of it and WATCH my master piece.

On one of my daughter Ana's visits  to our island, I  just made myself confortable with all my additional stuff infront of the owen and she comes in the kitchen. Looking at me, she says:

"OMG, so thats where I got it from.

"Got WHAT from",  I asked.

"Well, the sitting and watching infront of  the owen *thing*.

"Oh, so you do the same thing"

"Sure, I thought I was weird, or something, but now seeing you doing it as well, I guess it runs in the family", she replyed.

Somehow, whenever I tell this story, I have to remember Erica Yong (my Guru of all Gurus)....the comparison actualy has nothing to do with food ...what-so-ever, and I do apologize for mixing food and "this stuff" , but , maybe, after all, it has some weird connection. She wrote in one of her books ( of which I gladly posess all of her work) that most of us, after finishing the "hard work" in the toilet, we stand up, turn around and always proudly  check the "piece / or pieces of art we just produced..or got rid off"....maybe no connection to the kitchen habits...but worth mentioning. LOL.

Oh, and there was another habit , I thankfuly don't do anymore. Now, just in case you wondered, I was told this by an Italian cook...so, ok, maybe he was pulling my leg, but it sure worked out well. Now days, when we buy pasta, on all the packages we get the cooking time written, so no need to do what I used to do b/4.

To check if your pasta was sufficiently cooked (al-dente) I was told you take a spagetti out of your boiling pot, throw it on the ceiling, if it drops immediately = its not done yet, if it sticks to the ceiling and then slowly comes off and falls = its just the right "al-dente" type. So, if somebody came in the kitchen and saw me throwing spagettis into the ceiling...they knew lunch was not ready yet.  Thankfuly, I don't have this habit any more, and the ceiling is much cleaner now.

OK, no Erica Yong comments connected to "throwing pasta on the ceiling....although, there might be one or two...nawww....maybe next time.

911..Lynn, Javacat, Sheila...everyone...I want to report a shooting!

There is definitely something in the air, and that "something" affects  our husbands, partners...w/e in the male form. Wonder who the hell went retrograde now, and why was there no warning about this????

Yesterday, quiet and pleasant Saturday afternoon in the house. Picture the scene ***Georgio (10) out with his friends,  Stefan (22) out, also with his friends, ME ...now where do you think...mmmhhmmm...right...sitting in my study infront of Winston (my computer...love giving names to anything and everything) klicking and wandering thru...., my husband...now what did you think...very good...yeeesssss, in the living room with the remote in his hand...watching TV. Ok got the picture? Cool. I may proceed .

Now, thats a normal and usual scene in our house...."BUT"...this is what happens when something is in the air...affecting ^^ see above mentioned.

I could see just with the corner of my eye that "he" passed by, strolling like, well, not to worry, what time is it, maybe coffee time...maybe toilet time...whatever...klick, klick, klick .....BANG!!!!CRACK!!!  CRAK!!!!! OMG!!!!

Me:  ,    WTF?!?

Him: <<<mood of the voice<<<  Lila, please stay with Winston and don't get up.....

Now, thats a mistake, don't ever tell Lila what not to do....k?

Right, got up from my chair and coutiously going towards Georgio's room, I find my husband in a weird position ...his hands on his face...like saying "what have  I done", from him I glance towards Georgio's table ....there's my precious antique lamp ...BUT...the antique porcelaine shade has a hole in it and  you can still hear the cracking sound as it continues to crack...crack...crack.... ( now when I say "my" IT IS MINE)....

A glance back at my husband, now if he was in any other state then "I plead guilty" state of mind....I would have blown my top off and yelled like hell, but seeing his guilty face I instead burst into laughter. Now its his time to look at me in a shocking way, as he knows very well how I react ....but this time it was just too much. Thru my head I pictured Lynn's hair dryer, Javacat's calculator, and a couple of other minor things that happend during the passed few days, so wth. Finnaly I had to ask ...:

Me: OK, now, could you just tell me, pleeease,  how did you managed to do THIS?????

Him: Well, I was kinda bored, you with Winston.... so just walked thru the house, went into Georgio's room, saw the toy gun , took it in my hand, you know like in the movies...holding it in a horizontal position ( hey, he is actualy showing me how he shot my lamp shade)...aimed and pulled the trigger.......I swear, I didn't know there were any bullets inside....

What do you tell a guy who just shot your lamp with a toy gun?

That he's crazy, well its quite obvious that he's crazy, wtf was he doing strolling thru the house in mid of a quiet Saturday afternoon.....well...he said he was bored....does he miss his childhood and playing with toy guns...apparently he does, but at this moment in time , if I'm lucky, he just might never think of playing with a toy gun again....or else.

I was still laughing my ***off and coming back to "play"  peacefully with Winston, while he picked up the small pieces of porcelaine and ductaped the lamp...huh.

I was soon being served a cup of coffee, and told later on in the evening that maybe it could be a nice blog entry, now that was going a bit too far and pushing his luck. If I was all cool about it, it doesn't mean he can be cool about it or EVEN mention my Sancuary Place....now, wait a minute......but fine, I said, I'll think about it, tomorrow. /my favorite attitude...by Scarlet O'Hara - Gone With the Wind.

An idea crossed my mind, today,  creating a cat that looks like one of my mom's cats...you see both of her cats ware a ribbon around their neck with a tiny bell...so she knows at all times where they are and what are they up to......

....not a bad idea at all...wonder what colour of ribbon should I chose?

Now, Sheila, think about this,/is it the full moon..must check it out - my son Stefan also sleepwalks/,  Lynn..please put my antique lamp shade on the post-mortum list, and Javacat....I understand, I realy do.

Oh, and don't just try to be smart and asked why the hell did I place an antique lamp in Georgio's room...OK? I don't thing Georgio would even come up with such an idea. What now, was all this  MY FAULT??? Oh, well, see this is the trouble with us Geminis, we have an angel on one of our shoulders and a devil on the other....we end up, or "they" end up fighting just all day long, and all this questions and answers...we go thru them even before you have time to post a comment....so,  SKATT!!!!

 

 

MY VILLAGE - VALSEQUILLO

Just how many times have I gone out, or just passed by, and yet only today  I noticed that the almonds are in blossom.  For the Canarys, this is a sign that spring is in the air.

Its a sunny and windy day, here in my little Canarian village - Valsequillo. I needed to go out of the house, just for a walk, I needed to relax, clear my head from all the dull everyday routine, discharge the stress that has invaded my body...I needed to walk.

The mountains are beautiful at this time of the year, due to some heavy rains, everything is green and fresh, and it will stay so only until June, as from then on there are no more rainy days and everything sadly returns to yellowish and dusty colours.

Everyone that passes by says Hola or Buenos dias, walking by a small grocery shop the owner comes out to greet me with a smile, reaching out with an orange in his hand, saying its good for me...lots of vitamines. I smiled back and said Gracias.

Next is the hairdresser Jesus. I love this guy, always smiling, seems he knows everything about everyone, he just never stops talking. I stop to say Hola, and there he comes with his smile asking if I wanted to come in. I tell him I'll be around next week for my usual, but he just goes on and on, and I end up having a cup of cofee while listening to his endless stories. Finally with a Gracias and Hastaluego I continue my way through the streets of my village.

Oh boy, and look who comes right at me, my bank manager, and boy am I mad at him...and he knows that very well. He starts talking even before he reached me, about how I shouldn't worry about my tickets,  how everything is taken care of...apparently neither the bank nor the airline company had nothing to do with all the mess accured while purchasing my tickets....but its all the fault of the Visa guys (now who the hell are they) and I can relax, because the transfere will be done by Monday. I was speechless for a moment and quckly thought... if I start talking now, he's not going to appreciate my tone or my words...and I'll just end up yelling in the middle of the street.....so  ....nah...Lila forget it...I say to myself.  I end up saying politely Gracias, veremos que pasa....(thinking to myself "go jump in the bay you sob"....).

I reached the Plazzoleta and sat on a bench. I wondered is it possible to take a walk thru this village and not meet anyone? I didn't need to talk, I just wanted to WALK, for crying out loud.

Some kids were playing at the Plazzoleta and a couple of them asked about my youngest son Georgio. "Donde esta Georgio?" Well, where the hell can he be....IN SCHOOL, damn it!

It was time for me to get back home, at least I had more peace at home than in those streets.

I decided to take a short cut as I heard all the "news" from my hairdresser, I've eaten the orange, and I don't need to see that bank manager again.

Well, wishful thinking...there goes my neighbour in his car and wants to drive me home. I politely say Gracias, but I'd rather walk.....NO NO NO Señora, the delivery from the supermercado is at your door waiting for you......OMG....

To cut the story short, he drove me home, sure there was the delivery guy in his pick-up van waiting and chatting with other neighbours. I apologized for not being home, but I didn't expect him b/4 2 pm......"oh no importa Señora Lila..." , take it easy, the neighbour saw you go out so he went to look for you, at the grocery store they told him you went to the hairdresser, the hairdresser told him you went to the bank and the bank manager told him you were at the Plazzoleta....and the kids playing at the Plazzoleta told him........oh well...........THAT'S MY VILLAGE IN THE CANARY ISLANDS.

Note to myself:   Don't ever brag about life in big cities...you wanted to live in a village so SHUT UP.

Valsequillo de Gran Canaria

....thats my village in the Canarys....see that little spot on the left...well thats me waving at ya     

Modern tech and bureaucracy -vs- ME !!!!

Maybe this doesn't happen in your country, in your world but it happened to ME.

A couple of days ago, I wanted to buy on-line tickets for my trip to Milano. Just as mostly everything is done on-line today, as they say its, easy, it saves time...BUT...it can also be frustrating, annoying and all the rest.

So I enter the site of this airline  company  and at the last stage when I'm supposed to get the verification code...it goes POOOOOOFFFFF.....I'm kicked out, to be exact.

So I go in again do the same procedure...and get kicked out again. Ok, this is a good enough reason for my first smoke....

Now, I decide to leave the super "easy-saving-time-technology" and call them on the phone. NOPE, they have no registration of my name, of my flight or my payment.....smoke, smoke.......

OK.....smoke......I call my bank and guess what they tell me...."yes Mam, your account has been charged for so much Euros for purchasing a ticket ..........smoke...smoke....smoke....

Well, I phone the airline again, wait , wait wait, in case you want to purchase tickets...press 1, in case you want info on the flight schedule press 2.......and in case you want to complain JUST STAY ON LINE AND WAIT !!!!  smoke ...smoke...smoke...smoke....

Finally, someone decides to answer my call, I explain everything and they say..."very sorry, but you have to send us your confirmation verified by your bank and we'll get back to you ASAP"..............  cute...real nice and easy and saving-your-time.

Its Friday, so NOTHING can be done until Monday.....you can just sit and wait, get hypertension, yell at everyone around you, smash the doors, or drink Xanax and chill out.

Monday....BANK....Hello / Hello, I explain everything again, ask if they could help me in any way / I mean I'm their client - am I not / well  NO, sorry but we cannot help you in any other way but print your extract from your account....WE CANNOT put a stamp on it...as we do not do that!!!!!!!!!!! And all the rest, Mam, you'll have to do yourself. FINE!!!!!!

Back home, on the phone again, press 1, press 2 press whatever you want or just try to stay cool and wait for another half hr......Repeat the story for idk which time, and I get a number of their Fax and an e-mail to write to them explaining /for which time would it be now?????/ everything, enclose a copy of your Bank statement, and we'll forward it to our CLIENTES-CONSULTING-AND -RECLAMATION-DEPARTMENT.  How sweet

Well now, someone tell me, if this is safe, easy and saving my time, not to mention the additional packs of cigarettes, Xanax, my family trying not to get in my way or step on my shadow, and ME GOING COMPLETELY CRAAAAAZZYYYYYYYY  smoke...xanax...smoke....

If you are, wondering, I'm still waiting for the airline company to call me. The only bright side of this story is that I'm not supposed to travel before the 2nd of February, what would have happened if I was travelling the next day......I KNOW,   DON'T ...JUST SKIP IT....OK?  smoke...xanax...smoke...xanax.....smoke.....

A LEGEND

A legend says:

"When we are born, our soul splits into two parts, one leaves, and we search for it throughout our lives, some find it some don't, so  the search  continues  in  next lives."

Has anyone of you been blessed by knowing that you have found your other missing half of your soul?

Memories of Venice

After wandering around for an hour or more, I inevitably found myself strolling through the sprawling cafes and hungry pigeons of St Mark's Square, heading towards the magnificent basilica. The midsummer heat was intense, the crowds sluggish and sweaty.



After joining the line for the basilica, I turned to look back past the Dog's Palace to the rows of black gondolas, the gondoliers, in their striped T-shirts and berets, sang a welcome for tourists.

Inching forward with the line, gazing up at the distant bell-tower of the campanile, where sightseers were drinking in the views.  Then, quiet, not wanting to wait anymore, I started down towards the Gran Canal, and cut along to an arched bridge that crosses over to the white, light and airy palazzio, which has once been the home of the late Peggy Guggenheim. As much as I appreciated the masterpieces of the Renaissance and Rococo periods, and the Gothic magnificence of the churches and museums, stepping into the glossy, sun-drenched rooms of this modernists home was like stepping out of a labyrinthine underworld into the bright, flowering meadow of a nursery rhyme.

There were unusually few people around as I wandered from one room to the next, losing myself in the Mondrians, Kandinskys and Picassos, and then allowing myself a wry glance at the infamous Angelo della Citta.  Then admiring the works of Max Ernst and then Joan Miro's Interno Olandese II. In other rooms yet more abstract and Cubist masterpieces led towards a staircase at the end...

Back on the street again, walking towards the Hotel near the Accademia, longing for a rest in my room which had a restricted view of the Giudecca canal and faded old frescos,  I passed a small piazza, where a couple of artists had set up their easels in front of a church, and the sound of an English rock band thrummed from an empty cafe...I continued across the piazza knowing that I would not be lost, like the many ghosts of this historic city.

The journey of my life will continue...

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