for the first day in a long time i am just happy. i am okay and alive and that's a good thing.
the 16 year old playing sax on a cold street corner
the too hot curry
the stupidly decadent birthday present for my brother
the smell of my scarf
the yippy colleagues
the toy seaturtle that lives on my desk
it's all good.
and these people, the amazing, ridiculous and a little bit crazy nerds make me really very happy to be alive- and I hope I someday do something that makes me feel like they do about their collider:
http://www.popsci.com/science/gallery/2009-12/gallery-years-most-amazing-scientific-images
(except of course that girl in the corner. she should be fired so gross lethargy and obivious disinterest. because you can fire someone for something like that in my world. which is why i am not empress of everything (contrary to mr gaiman's bestowing of the self same title eariler this year)
18 December 2009
16 December 2009
tea
So I am terribly crap at this, but my year in blogs is as sporatic as my blogging this year, so I guess that's some consistency.
But, today is about best tea.
And this, my friends, has been the year of tea. Perhaps after 5 years (can you believe it's been 5 years?) in the UK the national berveage has finally permeated my bones. Don't know, but a cuppa really is one of life's little pleasures.
Anyway, tea has been the drink of choice for 2009. I only survived the winter's hostility last year through the copious and passionate nursing of peppermint tea (which helps with the plumbing as much as the grannies all say).
The stress of a cold wet spring was lessened by the discovery of camemille and vanilla tea with honey in. So deliciously simple yet decadent in it's own way. No surprises it's called 'moment of calm' on the box.
The summer discovery of citrus rooibos has been lovely. If you haven't had the south african tea in it's own right you should, but this schmancy version with a hint of lemon and orange is now the perfect companion, hot or cold, to my new life sans caffine.
But the cake-taker is out and out the opening of eteaket (see what they did there?). It's a haven of vintage cake stands and exotic aromas. The blossoming teas (and the one with bits of chocolate in) are as cool as they sound. And the cupcakes I am told are divine.
But, today is about best tea.
And this, my friends, has been the year of tea. Perhaps after 5 years (can you believe it's been 5 years?) in the UK the national berveage has finally permeated my bones. Don't know, but a cuppa really is one of life's little pleasures.
Anyway, tea has been the drink of choice for 2009. I only survived the winter's hostility last year through the copious and passionate nursing of peppermint tea (which helps with the plumbing as much as the grannies all say).
The stress of a cold wet spring was lessened by the discovery of camemille and vanilla tea with honey in. So deliciously simple yet decadent in it's own way. No surprises it's called 'moment of calm' on the box.
The summer discovery of citrus rooibos has been lovely. If you haven't had the south african tea in it's own right you should, but this schmancy version with a hint of lemon and orange is now the perfect companion, hot or cold, to my new life sans caffine.
But the cake-taker is out and out the opening of eteaket (see what they did there?). It's a haven of vintage cake stands and exotic aromas. The blossoming teas (and the one with bits of chocolate in) are as cool as they sound. And the cupcakes I am told are divine.
05 December 2009
In the Best of Blog 2009, I am meant to reflect on the book that mattered most.
I have read something like 300 books this year.
It's been a good year for reading, especially because I read more than one grown up book. Some even by dead people, which is unheard of in my line of work.
But for the best, I'm at a loss. some brilliant picture books (Ernest is particularly adorable), I thoroughly enjoyed Cranford and the second Patrick Ness was compelling.
The only book that still haunts me is Tender Morsels. It's fucking brilliant and absolutely affecting. It is adolescence, womanhood and poetry at their most raw and brutal. Not for many, and you have to stomach the first 100 pages, but it is insanely beautiful. but I hesitate to recommend it, it just might kill you.
I have read something like 300 books this year.
It's been a good year for reading, especially because I read more than one grown up book. Some even by dead people, which is unheard of in my line of work.
But for the best, I'm at a loss. some brilliant picture books (Ernest is particularly adorable), I thoroughly enjoyed Cranford and the second Patrick Ness was compelling.
The only book that still haunts me is Tender Morsels. It's fucking brilliant and absolutely affecting. It is adolescence, womanhood and poetry at their most raw and brutal. Not for many, and you have to stomach the first 100 pages, but it is insanely beautiful. but I hesitate to recommend it, it just might kill you.
02 December 2009
Best of the 2009 Blog Challenge
So I have been pretty shit lately. Not really doing anything, including blogging - and what better way to get myself out of this funk than a retrospective look at the noughties and a blog campaign ?
In the meantime, today's theme : My best restaurant moment.
My mind's child is begging me to write this like a third grade book report. I'll resist the urge as much as possible, but I am only human. Ignore the conspicuous, vaguely inappropriate use of big words.
My best restaurant moment of 09 has to be in Pitigliano. Not because i can casually brag about our glorious trip to Italy in July (fun as it would be), but because despite the seeming idyllic setting, I can still muck things up royally. What can I say, it's a gift. My only solace is the hope I can get a staggering billion figure book deal out of the memoirs after, as millions of people will obviouslywant to laugh (with me) at my shame.
Anyway, after a week of blissful fun and mad sex, we decided to eat out in a proper nice restaurant - and do it italian style, with all 4 courses and everything. we booked a table (the town was small enough there weren't enough restaurants around to guarantee space anywhere). I even wore my beach cover up like it was a real dress and put on make up. And while my thick sticky hair still smelt of salt water, I like to think it was still shiny in the candle light.
But then, I also liked to think my italian was good enough to get us through (Liam spoke not a word and of this town's 300 residents, we never found anyone who spoke a jot of english. Charming, but hella hard work on my one mediocre term of italian in college. Good thing we only ever needed food, directions and a bathroom. Lord knows what would have happened if we needing to express feelings or something.
Anyway, I tried to translate the menu for my man and when stuggling with scallopes I took a stab in the dark for scallops, seafood at the outside. I was sure it would be fine. probably.
Until of course it came. A escallope of pork in gravy. A big wadge of pig meat plonked in front of my vegetarian boyfriend. on our big romantic date in rural italy - our perfect, someday we'll tell our kids about it moment, and I manage to practically poison the poor thing.
Good sport that he is, he ate it (and liked it - the half he could manage. I think he was untrained in the will power it takes to prevail over pork's soporific tendencies). Probably a good thing too, because I wouldn't have had a fucking clue about saying 'he can't eat this, take it back and bring me something made of tofu' in italian.
but still. the wine was brilliant, the nettle ravioli was awesomely weird, and nothing beats a damn sexy gentleman slurping for his life in a tuscan sunset.
In the meantime, today's theme : My best restaurant moment.
My mind's child is begging me to write this like a third grade book report. I'll resist the urge as much as possible, but I am only human. Ignore the conspicuous, vaguely inappropriate use of big words.
My best restaurant moment of 09 has to be in Pitigliano. Not because i can casually brag about our glorious trip to Italy in July (fun as it would be), but because despite the seeming idyllic setting, I can still muck things up royally. What can I say, it's a gift. My only solace is the hope I can get a staggering billion figure book deal out of the memoirs after, as millions of people will obviouslywant to laugh (with me) at my shame.
Anyway, after a week of blissful fun and mad sex, we decided to eat out in a proper nice restaurant - and do it italian style, with all 4 courses and everything. we booked a table (the town was small enough there weren't enough restaurants around to guarantee space anywhere). I even wore my beach cover up like it was a real dress and put on make up. And while my thick sticky hair still smelt of salt water, I like to think it was still shiny in the candle light.
But then, I also liked to think my italian was good enough to get us through (Liam spoke not a word and of this town's 300 residents, we never found anyone who spoke a jot of english. Charming, but hella hard work on my one mediocre term of italian in college. Good thing we only ever needed food, directions and a bathroom. Lord knows what would have happened if we needing to express feelings or something.
Anyway, I tried to translate the menu for my man and when stuggling with scallopes I took a stab in the dark for scallops, seafood at the outside. I was sure it would be fine. probably.
Until of course it came. A escallope of pork in gravy. A big wadge of pig meat plonked in front of my vegetarian boyfriend. on our big romantic date in rural italy - our perfect, someday we'll tell our kids about it moment, and I manage to practically poison the poor thing.
Good sport that he is, he ate it (and liked it - the half he could manage. I think he was untrained in the will power it takes to prevail over pork's soporific tendencies). Probably a good thing too, because I wouldn't have had a fucking clue about saying 'he can't eat this, take it back and bring me something made of tofu' in italian.
but still. the wine was brilliant, the nettle ravioli was awesomely weird, and nothing beats a damn sexy gentleman slurping for his life in a tuscan sunset.
loss
i just heard a kid I went to high school died this fall. i say kid. he was in my class. he was a man now. a dentist actually. and by the sound of it, a good upstanding one.
not that I knew him, other than a friend of a friend. the sort of gregarious sportsman and upstart that intimidated me then and reminds me of my brother now. but still. it's sad, even from a distance. he always seemed like a nice guy.
i don't know what to say, but it makes me sad.
sometimes i think deaths accumulate. that sorrow collects in little crevasses in my soul. like i never stop grieving someone, it just fades away until someone else joins the ranks and all the previous sorrows well up and compound. like hard bits of scar tissue that grow over each other until I'll just be one callous lump of all the loss and regret.
it probably won't happen. but it might.
but this isn't about me. it's about joe. and i am sorry for him and his family. I hope the world of lives he touched were better for it and that he is remembered and loved. because sometimes that's all you can hope for.
not that I knew him, other than a friend of a friend. the sort of gregarious sportsman and upstart that intimidated me then and reminds me of my brother now. but still. it's sad, even from a distance. he always seemed like a nice guy.
i don't know what to say, but it makes me sad.
sometimes i think deaths accumulate. that sorrow collects in little crevasses in my soul. like i never stop grieving someone, it just fades away until someone else joins the ranks and all the previous sorrows well up and compound. like hard bits of scar tissue that grow over each other until I'll just be one callous lump of all the loss and regret.
it probably won't happen. but it might.
but this isn't about me. it's about joe. and i am sorry for him and his family. I hope the world of lives he touched were better for it and that he is remembered and loved. because sometimes that's all you can hope for.
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