My first American Christmas (well....my first in a long time)

I am so confused! Even Christmas in the US has changed since I left 21 years ago! Now I return to find the TV ads inundated with gift suggestions such as the Shake-Weight (have you SEEN that commercial?!.....it should have been rated due to its highly suggestive nature). And the Obama Chia Pet~ Nothing like a quality terracotta presidential head that grows real sprout hair. Perfect for a classy centerpiece or just give him a quick trim to enhance your salad. Then there is the Snuggie....and even better---the Slanket (blanket with sleeves). Are we now so lazy that we have to wear our bedding around the house, thereby never really leaving the warmth and comfort of our beds (meanwhile our asses grow exponentially). But my favorite new holiday tradition.....costumes for cars! Since when did we start dressing our cars up in Christmas costumes? I have seen cars with reindeer antlers and red noses, cars with lit up Christmas lights strung on them, cars decorated with bows, and cars with actual mini Christmas trees topping them. Hey people....remember HALLOWEEN? THAT is the holiday for costumes (and on kids...not cars). So ... eat some fudge, drink some egg nog, sing some carols, and send out holiday cards----but please... put away the Rudolph car costumes!
Thanks! and MERRY AMERICAN CHRISTMAS!

What Not to Wear

Festive Faux Pas

I thought I would be cute and send out Christmas messages via text this year. So I sent out messages to my friends, family, co-workers and even business associates (my lawyer, broker, dentist, and the vet we use). My message was to be simple, classy, and yet festive: "Feliz Navidad to you and your family!" Unfortunately my phone decided to auto-correct. And even more unfortunate.....I sent out the message before realizing that I had been infiltrated by that nasty spell-check-correct function. So my happy holiday message to all went out as "Feces Navidad to you and your family". If you are one of the lucky recipients of my Christmas Faux Pas.....please accept my apologies (if you can stop laughing long enough to do so).

Bust a Move!

 I can't get this song out of my head. Everyone else is walking around humming-- dashing through the snow....or chestnuts roasting on an open fire. Not me. I've got Bust a Move playing in my mind. (and nothing says "tis the season for baby Jesus" like Bust a Move.)

House-hunting in JAW-JA

Reader's tip:  To heighten your right-there-in-the-action experience, click on the link below (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0yt9R0I3gSk) and listen while reading this blog.  You will feel as though you too are out there in the Georgian wilds....making your dreams come true.

I have spent nearly every day of the last 3 weeks with my realtor----looking at house after house after house.  I think I have seen every house for sale within a 50 mile radius.  So I have gotten to know my realtor very well.  Just so you get the picture.....she is not southern.  She is from New York.  And she sounds a lot like Fran Drescher (you remember...."The Nanny")  In fact, she sounds exactlylike her.  And the longer the day gets (and when she gets frustrated--- which is often)...her Fran-ness gets stronger and stronger.  I happen to do a great Fran Drescher (and realtor) imitation......so sometimes I will talk back to the realtor in her own nasally Fran-Drescher-y voice.  Just for fun.

The first few days of house-hunting everyone is very polite and formal and on their best behavior. But let me tell you---after 3 weeks of spending day after friggin day together, we are all pretty much our "real" selves.  So now that we have all let our hair down---house-hunting has become an experience.  Just yesterday Fran stopped at the gas station, went in to pay, and came back with a  giant pickle---you know, the ones that are the size of a small banana--(seriously. this is a true story).  But then she decided it really wasn't all that good and flung it out the window.  I had visions of some poor guy driving down the road and suddenly getting his windshield  smacked by a giant pickle. Try turning that into your insurance company.

And you know you are in big trouble when you are looking at a house-- that I admit was just one rung on the ladder above a trailer---and Fran begins "singing" the dueling banjo song from Deliverance.  Not a good sign at all. (Are you listening to it now?  Kinda gives you the creeps doesn't it.....that's how I feel every day while out with Frannie.  There have been moments when it feels like I am going to round the corner of a house and come upon Ned Beatty in the "squeal like a pig" scene.)

She then took me to her house (so I could see the type of house that I could never afford)..almost 10,000 square feet of marble, art work, statues, a wine cellar, a 20-seat theatre, and room after room after room.  As I wandered around (jaw dragging on the ground) I came upon a photo of a female body-builder---one with man-like bulging muscles and an ass that resembled two hardened mounds of concrete.  My jaw dropped about a foot further. It was FRAN!  REALLY??!!  Fran was a body builder?  Apparently my new jumbo-pickle-eating friend was indeed a mega-muscled maniac back in the day.

Yesterday I called her to get an update on a couple of houses and I got her machine.  "Sorry I am not available right now. I am out making someones real estate dreams come true."   Well that's nice.  Clearly not MINE...since I was on the phone with her recorded Fran Drescher-like voice rather than with her ---getting my real estate dreams fulfilled.  When she finally called back I told her that she needed to change her message----since clearly she was only making my real estate nightmares come true (remember the Deliverance- themed house in paragraph 4 above?)

Now, nearly one month and approximately 200 houses later.....my dreams have not yet come true Frannie. So please throw down your pickle and find me my house!   

More culture shock....these things did not exist when I last lived in the USA:

*I was in Rite-Aid.. or was it CVS?....or Walgreens?  It was one of those on-every-corner drug stores----and I was wandering around checking out all the stuff-you-never-need/want.  And there in front of me were....Press on Toe-nails!  Now, seriously--  Press/glue on plastic nails are bad enough--but stick-on TOE NAILS?!  So there I was staring at these fake toe-nails.  I was somewhat horrified and yet I found myself strangely drawn to look at them closer.  In the package there were two big nails and then a bunch of little ones to stick over your own toenails.   I didn't know whether to laugh, cry, or run screaming with madness from the store.  

*What is the deal with all of the "As Seen on TV!" products?  Isn't pretty much everything "seen on TV"?  Seems like a tricky marketing ploy.  Why not try for "As Seen in the Mall!" or "As Read About Online!" or "As Seen in Your Friend's House" or "As Seen in This Store on This Shelf!"--all of those seem just as good.  

*(I love this one). Television commercials that go like this:  "Hey--ask your doctor about Superla-Anti-depression drug! Works great!  You will feel wonderful and happy and life will be so light and care-free!  However, Superla may cause leg cramps, heart problems, and brain tumors. Oh, and it might also result in dizziness that will cause you to lay in bed all day, blurred vision or blindness and explosive diarrhea and severe ass-rash.  You may also develop a rare blood disease, a skin condition with oozing sores or bleeding hemorrhoids.  But hey--you will no longer be depressed and will so feel happy that you won't care about all that stuff!  So ask your doctor about Superla today!

*Restaurants:  Can I PLEASE eat without being interrupted every 5 minutes by my server?!  I want to enjoy my meal and conversation with my dining companion without some loud waitress/waiter barging up to the table practically screaming "IS EVERYTHING OK? DO YOU WANT ANYTHING ELSE? WOULD YOU LIKE DESSERT? ARE YOU FINISHED WITH THAT?  WOULD YOU LIKE ME TO WRAP IT UP? HERE IS YOUR CHECK! DO YOU WANT ME TO TAKE IT UP FOR YOU?"  He/she might as well add "DO YOU NEED ME TO HELP YOU WITH YOUR COAT?  CUZ YOU WILL BE LEAVING SOON, RIGHT?"  

And while I am on the subject of restaurants-- it seems strange, after living in the land of waffles for 14 years,  to come to southern USA and find a WAFFLE HOUSE on nearly every corner. Kind of odd.  It would be like having a Sloppy Joe Shack in the heart of the Grand Place in Brussels---completely out of place.  OH, and we passed a place yesterday called "Dutch Monkey Doughnuts".  What is that all about?  I was in the Netherlands almost weekly and I never saw a Dutch monkey (or any type of monkey).  And they don't have doughnuts there either.  (I tried to get Dallas to stop, but he refused---but I will be going back there to find out what a Dutch Monkey Doughnut is---so I willl keep you posted)

.

Music to my ears....

So --I have an 11.5 hour drive from DC to GA...and no iPod connector for the rental car. Hey no problem!  I am in America!  Radio Stations will be in all-English, with lots of great music, right?  Here's how it went:

Virginia:  Channel surfing...let's see...country music.  (um. no) ...commercial...commercial...commercial... country music (still, no)...I Saw Mommy Kissing Santa Claus (what the?)...religious channel (no), Rush Limbaugh (NO!), commercial...commercial...country music (UGH)...Tears for Fears (Great!  oh wait....it is the end of the song.  Damn.)...commercial... (stops car as cat has peed in his box, which now needs to be emptied)...commercial...Bob Seger: Night Moves (ok--this will have to do).

North Carolina: commercial.....commercial....country music (this is getting monotonous)...commercial....foreign language channel (WHAT!? I had 21 years of foreign language radio!  I want ENGLISH!)...commercial (stops car to get gas...this area looks dangerous, reminds self that people carry guns here....gets back in car and goes to next exit to get gas).....country music (zzzzzzz)... (Come on! How about Simple Minds? Alphaville? Shriekback? anything 80's?  Please?) ...commercial...country music...Silent Night (really? you're killing me!  it's the 20th of NOVEMBER!)...Bob Seger:  Night Moves (again....well, ok)

South Carolina:  Deck the Halls (now I am getting mad) ...commercial....commercial....more country music (even the cat looks pissed off)...commercial.....country music ( my finger is cramping from all the channel changing)...KC and the Sunshine Band (great! finally- something to keep me awake!)...commercial...(stops car..cat has peed again...could be worse, right?)...Rudolph the Red Nosed Reindeer (someone shoot me)....Bob Seger:  Night Moves (WHAT! Seger must have some kind of hold on the South)

Georgia (YAY!):  let's see what we have here ......commercial......commercial.....country music (uh oh).....Bob Seger: Night Moves (I am a living episode of the Twilight Zone).....wait!  what is this?  OMD?!! (Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark )    Could it be???  YES--it is!---an ALL 80's radio station!  I LOVE Georgia! 

I don't like American TV ...does that make me Euro-Trash?

21 years overseas has left me feeling like a foreigner here in the US of A.  Everywhere I turn is some new, strange concept that I try desperately to digest and understand.  And I can now see how Europeans find us to be utterly incomprehensible.  Today I turned on the TV (for about the 3rd time in 3 months...I haven't worked my way up to any more often than that).  Surely with 362 channels I can find something interesting or even mildly entertaining.  This is some of what I found  :

1. That's My Mama!  (the sequel to "Who's your Daddy?")

2. Gastrosophia (possibly a documentary on Sophia's gastrointestinal problems--not for the squeamish)

3. Never Rake Again! (this was apparently a movie about the advantages of over-logging the rain forest)

4. Bosom Buddies (Remember that series?  Tom Hanks in drag...what would Wilson think?)

5.  Lonely Divorcees: Filthy Ho's (I swear--I am not making these up!)

6.   Best Bra Ever (This show was taken off the air due to lack of support)

7.    Corn College TV (filmed in Iowa apparently)

8.  Bareknuckle Beatdowns 2 (while living overseas, I missed Bareknuckle Beatdowns part 1.  I will have to get it on DVD)

9.  Shark Vacuum (in the same product line as the Dolphin Toaster, the Sea Cucumber Mixer, the Jelly Fish Blender, and the Giant Squid Electric Can Opener)

10. Winter's Bone (This may have been on a Pay for View channel..not sure)

11.  Salvation Station (at first I thought it was called Salivation Station....now that actually sounds more interesting)

12.  Hip Hop Abs (endorsed by Kanye West who says " Hey Suzanne Somers....I'm real happy for ya, and I'ma let you finish, that Thighmaster is OK, but the Hip Hop Abs is the best exercise gimmick of all times!)

13.  Dive, Olly, Dive (Run, Forest, Run)

14. Suffering Joints? (A sad movie about the pain felt by Marijuana growers world-wide)

15.   and last but not least.....Sarah Palin's Alaska (I ran screaming from the room)

And this is where I turned the TV off.   Wouldn't you?

Please, don't anyone try to explain to me what any of these shows are about....I don't want to know. Really.  

Thank you.

Me....singing

Dallas made this video of me singing Other Side of the World (with all of his favorite photos of me) .....I think he must be missing me.

Mid-week Faux Pas

Came down the big winding stairwell at work....all the way down 3 large flights of stairs.... singing..... Billie Jean (....is not my lover.  She's just a girl who claims that I am the one...)  Loudly.  With Michael Jackson falsetto.  With mouth-made musical sound effects.  As I rounded the last corner which opens up to the large lobby at NCIS (still singing enthusiastically), I walked right into a military formation....made up of about 30 Sailors---standing at attention in the lobby.  Stoically. Silently.  Several Commanding Officers stood in front of them (apparently doing some kind of inspection) and turned to stare at me.  I stopped singing mid-chorus. ... and with a little wave walked out the door.  I am not sure, but I could swear I heard loud laughter as I walked away from the building.  I laughed too.  (so technically they were laughing with me, not at me.)

True words

It is only with the heart that one can see rightly; what is essential is invisible to the eye. 
Antoine de Saint-Exupery

I get up at 3 AM and....

I may have the longest commute in the world....but it is also one of the best!  On the way to work every day I see.....the colorful fall trees--blowing leaves around in the early hours, the Washington monument standing tall and proud, the Lincoln Memorial lit up against the black sky, the wide Potomac river curving against the highway, the dome of the White House in the distance, the Pentagon (where I catch the third leg of my travels), the silent...peaceful Arlington cemetery, the Jefferson memorial--bright in the darkness, and finally a glowing pink and orange sunrise.  (of course I see all of this only if I manage to stay awake during the 2 and a half hour trek)---

This is just wrong.

You know something is wrong in the universe when your bus to work passes the donut shop and it is still closed...and in fact, the lights aren't even on yet. It's a sad day when you are up before the guy who makes the donuts.

Next time it will be pretzels.

I am at work eating sunflower nuts right now (not the seeds....but the small, minuscule little bits inside the shells).  Have you ever tried to eat these tiny things? They taste great....but how the hell are they supposed to be eaten?  I have tried pouring a bit in my hand and then tossing them in my mouth.  This doesn't work so well--- most of them miss my mouth and instead I end up just throwing them at my face resulting in a stinging face pummel, with the nuts  showering my face and then bouncing off and ending up all over the floor.  I have also tried putting some in my hand and just eating them directly from my palm.  However, this is a difficult process.  I have to either use my lips to pick them up from my palm (thereby looking like some kind of a freaky fish eating fish food) or lick them with my tongue. It is somewhat embarrassing (and can severely detract from your professional credibility) when your boss walks by your cubicle just in time to see you lapping hungrily at the palm of your hand.  I have also tried pinching a few nuts with my fingers and placing them in my mouth.  This procedure is much more dignified...but it then takes 20 minutes just to get a mouthful since I can only pinch 4 or 5 nuts at a time.  The next technique I tried is to literally pour them into my mouth directly from the bag, which reminded me of the disgusting technique of gavage--- the force feeding of grain to geese in order to make their livers enlarged and fatty resulting in the delicacy-- foie gras.  I saw this done in Périgord France where 80% of the world's foie gras is produced, and I can tell you that I don't care how good it tastes...I can never eat something resulting from that kind of animal torture. But I am getting away from my story...  anyway this gavage-like technique of pouring the bulk of the nuts directly into my mouth works great... but again--a bit uncouth. I mean--not that I am the most dignified of eaters, but when you work in a cubicle and your snacking habits are visible to the world, you at least try to keep up the appearance of being somewhat civilized.  So I sit here thinking that perhaps I should just choose a different snack to bring to work----something that is easily consumed and does not require multiple test trials in order to figure out how to get it from the packaging to my stomach. (by the way, the area around my desk chair now resembles the bottom of a bird cage). 

Belgium....Belgium.....Belgium

How I miss my Belgium.....

You are not in Oz anymore Dorothy

I have been in Washington DC now for 3 weeks.....and I feel as though I am in a foreign country (which technically I am--after living overseas for 21 years)...I am now in the land of the BIG. ---big houses, big cars, big gulps, big portions, big stores, big asses....and it is giving me a BIG headache. I knew I would have some culture shock but this is ridiculous. And now I have Atlanta to look forward to----some more culture shock----fried-up southern style. I will be like some freak down there...unable to understand a single word they say, unable to figure out how to use the credit card swiping machines at every checkout counter (they don't have them in stores in Europe--because credit cards are not frequently used--if at all---), and unable to choose simple things, like a deodorant ...when shopping-- due to the hundreds of choices (in Belgium, I had 5 to pick from). Things have changed in the US since I lived here back in 1989. Speed eating is the accepted norm... and I now have 362 TV channels (with nothing interesting on at all) compared to the 7 channels I had in Belgium (also with nothing interesting on at all). And styles are different here from those in Europe. Like---what is up with the ultra-long toenails on women? They stick out an inch past the toes! Not only do I find that disturbing--it looks a bit dangerous.....I keep wondering things like---Do they have to buy a bigger shoe to accommodate those extra long daggers? Do they puncture holes in their socks? (and stockings must surely be shredded by lunchtime) And what about their husbands?! Do they have big gashes on their legs from where those weapons of flesh destruction tear at their legs all night? And since when did wearing your breasts under your chin become fashionable? I see all the young girls wearing those push-up bras that practically lift them up around their necks. It's all a bit much for me. I need a waffle and a glass of wine.....

Bracing for Culture Shock

Day 1
Actual conversation
United Airline Ticket Agent: That will be 200 dollars for your in-cabin cat.
Me: 200 dollars?!
Her: Yes. 200 dollars.
Me: 200 dollars?---Does my cat get a seat of his own?
Her: No
Me: An in-flight meal?
Her: No
Me: Bag of cat treats?
Her: No (with cold stare)
Me: How 'bout a packet of peanuts?
Her: (silence with cold stare)
Me: guess not.....

Flight Attendant (in thick French accent): Would you like chicken or pasta?
Translation: Would you like paper or plastic? (also in thick French accent)

10:30 PM (4:30 AM Belgian time): Go to bed.
11:19 PM: Wake up. (cat is on my back)
12:50 AM: Wake up again. (cat is laying on my arm, staring at me)
1:24 AM Wake up ....again (cat is massaging my hair)
2:05 AM: Wake up .........again. (cat is trying to burrow under my blanket)
3:30 AM: Wake up. Time to get up to get ready for work! (did I even sleep?)
4:30 AM: Leave for work. (are you kidding me?)
4:55 AM: Arrive at bus stop and board bus.
6:00 AM Arrive at Pentagon and get on second bus.
6:15 AM: Arrive at Navy Yard and wait for shuttle bus.
6:46 AM: Conclude that I missed the shuttle bus. Wait for next one.
7:15 AM: Conclude that I must not be standing in the right spot. Spend next half hour asking bus drivers, pedestrians, and street people about shuttle. Discover nobody knows anything. (or is it.... everybody knows nothing?)
7:52 AM: Homeless woman asks "are you ok?" (you know it's bad when the homeless people are concerned and are consoling you)
8:15 AM: Someone at work finally answers phone.
8:45 AM: Picked up by someone from office.
9:00 AM: Arrive at work.
9:01 AM: Wishing I were back in Belgium.

Day 2-4
It certainly didn't help that I had not slept more than 4 hours a night during the two weeks prior to the move....and then had jet lag on top of that. So after flying in on Sunday and then starting work Monday...that first week of getting up at 3:30 AM for work every day was brutal. My brain was numb and I was barely functioning. I washed my face with conditioner in the shower, stubbed my toe (hard) on a chair at work I apparently didn't notice, one morning I put masquera on only one eye, fell asleep at my desk (in my cubicle---where everyone can see me), couldn't do basic math in my head (and mis-figured a critical calculation), and wore my stockings inside out on day two. It was a week of a comedy of errors.

Update: Week 2
My spiked high heel got caught in the grate at the bus stop yesterday while I was waiting for the bus. So as everyone stood around watching, I not-so-casually stepped out of my shoe and had to squat down and work it back out of the grate--it took me 5 minutes. (and I did hear people snickering) Oh, and my toenail got caught on the carpet tonight and half of it was ripped off... and I am still so tired that today I was contemplating the possibility of getting my eyelashes weaved up into my eyebrows -- at least I could then keep my eyes open.

a little self-talk

A recent conversation with a friend--
He said: Well, in January when I got up to 212 pounds, I said to myself, "Self--you gotta do something." So I started eating better, working out, riding my bike, and in general, just taking better care of myself.
Me: That's funny--I had the same conversation with myself...to which my "Self" replied, "Shut up bitch and pass the Doritos."

Thank you!

Thank you to all my great and supportive friends! ....especially Kim and Steve~ without you I would most certainly be getting fitted for a straight jacket.

oh crap

The movers came on Monday. So of course I stayed up Sunday night til 6 AM. I purged, cleaned stuff off (don't want dust in your shipment---nothing worse than hordes of dust mites feeding on your dusty household goods), packed some items myself, sorted and organized. Now you may be wondering why I was doing all this the night before the movers arrive, instead of weeks in advance, which would certainly be easier and make more sense. Well, it just happens that I am a master procrastinator. I am so skilled at putting things off that I am now working on New Years resolutions from 1975. At work I often find that by the time I get to the things in my "to do" pile, they no longer need to be done. (look at all the time I save NOT doing meaningless tasks!) See---procrastination is actually a time saver. Anyway, I digress. This is not about my perfected art form of doing everything at the last possible moment. It's about something far less interesting----cat crap.

So..back to the story---I stayed up til 6 AM preparing for the big move. I crawled into bed. When I say I crawled in bed, I mean that literally. My cat has diabetes and kidney failure so he can no longer jump up onto the bed. Therefore, the mattress is now on the floor in order to accommodate him. The litter box and his food are also in the room to accommodate him. After crawling onto my bed-on-the-floor for my one hour of sleep, I then had to fight that giddy high that you develop when you are completely exhausted. The one where you have adrenaline pumping through you, keeping you from relaxing and falling asleep.

Then...just as I arrived at the brink of sleep, just before falling over the edge into my subconscious, I suddenly felt myself being dragged back to alertness. No! No! No! my mind began pleading. But it was no use. It was the wicked, nose-burning, make-me-want-to-gag smell of cat crap, just feet away from my head (remember...litter box is in the bedroom for his majesty. And his majesty is usually above kicking the litter over onto his own crap in order to bury the smelly crap). So I found myself desperately fighting that feeling of drifting back to wakefulness. I had mere minutes left to sleep! I did not want to wake up! Yet ---that smell! So, you see, this is what I am reduced to these days---a mental self-debate at 6AM....precious minutes of sleep on the one hand (tinged with stomach wrenching cat crap smell) or wasting precious sleep time getting up to bury the crap, ensuring that I would be jolted back to a state of wakefulness and would probably not get back to sleep at all. It was a big dilemma. And not one I took lightly.

I am sure by now you are on the edge of your seat wondering...Did she fall back asleep, all the while inhaling that foul odor? Or did she drag herself back from the depths of restfulness to get up and flick litter onto that large (and let me tell you it was huge) cat turd? Well, I won't keep you in suspense any longer. I decided that sleep was more important and meaningful and I simply endured the stench as I drifted back down to have a few REM moments.

Now this story would seem to have a happy ending. And it would have... except for the fact that I went on to dream that I was lost in a sewer and that I was sinking in a cesspool of stinking fecal matter. I can't imagine a more disturbing reality seeping into my dreams. Maybe tomorrow night I will spray the room with cinnamon air freshener and I can dream that I am swimming in a large pumpkin pie. The scent of Thanksgiving would be a nice change.

just a thought….

No matter how sweet and delicious, an unrealized dream becomes quite simply just a wish.... fading at daybreak.

translation really is not translation

Things I will not miss about Belgium....

me: Hi, I am here for my appointment.

lady: stares silently

me: Um...my doctor's appointment.

lady: That is not possible.

me: Well... it must be possible. I have an appointment today. I wrote it down very carefully in my calendar, took the day off at work, and drove all the way here.

lady: No.  It is not possible. What is your name? (I tell her)

lady: No.  Your appointment is on August 13.

me: Yes, I know. And that is today---August 13th.

lady: No--the appointment is for August 13, THREE-ZERO.

me: blinking rapidly with a stupid expression on my face, trying to understand what just happened...then suddenly I know.  What? Nooooo....that's THIRTY, not THIRTEEN. (AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHH---the scream now occurring in my head).

lady: Today is not possible. You can come on the thirteen (by now it is clear she means thirty)

me: No, THAT is not possible ...since I will no longer be in Belgium…..and will be living in a far off land where thirteen is clearly thirteen and thirty is definitely thirty.

The land down under

If you are easily offended, would prefer not to know my very personal business, or lean toward being even a bit prudish----Please stop reading here!
OK...did I lose anyone? Well, just remember, I did warn you.
I paid a visit to my Belgian Gynecologist the other day. (now perhaps I lost a few readers at this point). You may consider what I am about to tell you to be a bit vulgar and way too explicit OR you can consider it a scientific experiment in cultural diversity. Take your pick.
So...back to the story....I paid a visit to my Belgian Gynecologist. Visiting a doctor here is very different from the American experience. The office is part of her house. She has no receptionist or secretary or billing clerk--you just walk in and sit in a very small waiting room--with enough space for exactly 3 people to wait and furnished with a small soft sofa and a comfy chair. When someone leaves, the doctor steps out and indicates for the next person to come on in......into her very small exam room (with of course no assistant)--just a desk, a sort-of reclining chair with stirrups, and a see-through screen (why bother with a screen when it is virtually transparent?) to stand behind when you are told to strip down and then come out mostly naked (no curtain or sheet to cover you, or paper gown of any sort). You don't lie back on an examining bed----you sit up, slightly leaned back, able to observe the entire goings-on. So now fast forward a bit....there I am sitting in this chair, mostly naked, knees wide, feet in the pedal-things (why do we call them stirrups? no one is riding anywhere) thanking the lord that I had the foresight to choose a female doctor. She has this microscope-looking-instrument between my legs and close to me, obviously zeroed in on my nether regions. Oh----and there is a large light shining on me down there....VERY bright----lighting me up like a mini football stadium. And she is in the middle of the exam, instrument plunged deeply. Suddenly her cell phone rings. "Oh" she says..."excuse me...I am going to get that". Out comes the speculum. ---- What!!!? Are you kidding me? So now, here I sit in the most exposed, unnatural position of my entire life... and she is answering her cell phone? And it wasn't a quick call either. No---it was at least several minutes long (which feels like 10 hours when your feet are in stirrups). And it didn't seem to be an emergency either. In fact, it sounded rather chatty. I don't speak much French---but I did hear the word couleur (color). Now perhaps it was a business call (like maybe she was discussing the color of someone's labia).....but I don't think so. The tone was very informal. In fact, at the time I was thinking maybe she was ordering wall paper. So I sat there spread eagle, spot light blazing as if my vagina were about to be interrogated (vee have vays to make you talk) ....and she is taking a phone call!! At that point it all seemed so ludicrous that I started to laugh (she didn't notice...she was engrossed in the call---most likely discussing curtain fabrics at this point). This story does have a happy ending...after all, I didn't have to get any further exams. I shudder to think of having an appointment with a Belgian proctologist.

Life hacker

Ever feel like someone hacked into your life? ....and then erased your hard drive?...... but left you some spam?

my thought for the day....

Painful as it may be, a significant emotional event can be the catalyst for choosing a direction that serves us--and those around us -- more effectively.

they are really bugging me..

I hate flies. I really hate flies. And here in Belgium, screens are virtually non-existent. So the flies come into your house whenever you have the windows open. And, since here in Belgium, air conditioning is also virtually non-existent, the flies are pretty much daily visitors. They are disgusting. Did I mention that I hate them? Last week they landed on my cats' food...and laid their disgusting little white eggs. The week before they got into the bottom of the kitchen trash can and laid their disgusting little white eggs...which then became disgusting little white maggots. And even more disgusting.....this week I saw two of them on my favorite wood cutting board---copulating. It doesn't get much more disgusting than that now does it.

I don’t really like Sir Lance a lot

first and probably last time to watch the Tour de France go through my neighborhood.... and so I waved at Lance as he rode by.......he ignored me. how rude.

I scream, you scream

The ice cream truck in my Belgian neighborhood drives by daily in the summertime.  He doesn’t have bells or a nice light summer-feel-good tune playing as he approaches.  No. Instead he has another song blasting from his loudspeaker……..JINGLE BELLS.  OK---now I can see some parallels here…..ice cream is frozen like snow, and we may be “laughing all the way” when eating ice cream.  And admittedly some Belgian summer days can be quite cold.  But beyond that, I fail to understand why he would choose this song.  Once I hear it, it sticks in my head and keeps playing over and over.  The last thing I need to be thinking about when I am relaxing and enjoying a nice cold summer popsicle, is how in just a few months I will need to start preparing for the hectic season, shopping endlessly, and stressing over what to buy everyone.  So I am asking you Mr. Good Humor……..please consider changing your tune to something more seasonally appropriate.   Get some real bells, play a beach tune, or hey---you could even play SAKURA---the song our ice cream truck played when we lived in Japan.  At least that song is nice and relaxing---all about cherry blossoms.  (but also a strange ice cream truck choice…..it is only a clever and cute choice if you are exclusively selling cherry ice cream).   But there must be hundreds of songs that relate to summer, and I bet some that even mention ice cream.   So, Belgian ice cream man…..if you are reading this---thank you for your consideration in this matter.   And a very early Merry Christmas to you.

It’s a hard pill to swallow…..

step 1:  hold cat's head gently yet firmly. open cat's mouth & put pill into back of throat. massage throat and hold mouth shut until cat swallows. talk soothingly to cat & release restraints on head. praise cat for doing a good job.
step 2: retrieve from blanket the pill that cat just spit out. repeat step 1 without swearing

step 3:  repeat steps 1-2 until pill is mushy and pretty much useless

step 4: start steps 1-3 over with new pill and get a drink (water for the cat, something stronger for me)

step 5: success!  YAY!  go to bed feeling accomplished

step 6:  awake in morning to find the pill in the cat's bed. hold back urge to strangle cat.

step 7: push new pill into a small bit of cheese.  put bit of cheese in cat's mouth.  hold shut

step 8: watch orange foam (mixed with white foam from pill) come out of cat's mouth as cat growls angrily

step 9: give up and go to work. (is it my imagination or is my cat actually SMILING???)

don’t even think about it.

Life is bittersweet....and I wouldn't have it any other way.

‎'Cause it's a bittersweet symphony this life...I'll take you down the only road I've ever been down...I let the melody shine, let it cleanse my mind , I feel free now.

A real man~

A real man will reassure a woman when she feels insecure & comfort her after a bad day. He'll inspire her to do things she never thought she could do; and forget regret. He'll make sure she always feels as though she's the most beautiful woman in the room & will enable her to be confident, sexy, seductive, and invincib...le..
No wait -SORRY, I'm thinking of wine. Never mind!

Less than dependable would be unacceptable

Yesterday while shopping at the grocery store, I came upon a toilet paper product I had not yet seen, called "Charmin--Ultra Strong". The packaging states, "For a Dependable Clean". What??? Softer, yes....that I need. Bigger rolls....great, that is definitely a plus. Larger packages....perfect--I hate running out. But a more dependable clean? Maybe it's just me.....but I am not even sure what that means. More dependable in what respect? I don't know about you, but for the most part, all toilet paper seems pretty much dependable. In fact, I cannot ever remember a time when I thought "gee, I sure wish this toilet paper was just a bit more dependable.....just can't depend on toilet tissue to clean the way you used to." But again....maybe it's just me.

and so I told him....

hey---my shoes always match! oh wait...not true. I once wore one black high heel and one navy high heel to work. It's hard to be taken serious as a therapist when you are sitting there in your chair, listening intently to the patient's problems, and suddenly you glance down and notice that your shoes don't match. Well, it was an honest mistake. They were the same type of shoe ....and it was dark in the hallway when i put them on. ...and navy does look a lot like black in certain light.

On an ordinary Saturday......

So....there I am driving along a Belgian country road and I come to a T---and right there ahead of me, just off the road is a big barn with several cows lined up in front of it. Behind the cows stands a man. That's strange......he is wearing a long, transparent bright pink plastic glove. What is he going .....what the.... the man is putting his hand into the cow's ass!....then in goes the wrist......then the forearm....then the elbow......and even a bit further! (if you are cringing at this point, imagine how I felt watching the scene. I am certain that involuntary cheek clenching occurred---by both me and the cow). Well, that was an experience I could have done without on a nice, sunny Saturday drive. Oh....and to make matters worse Barry White was playing on the radio...."I've Got So Much To Give". The whole experience was entirely disturbing.

Translation: "DANGER--NO! Do not put your hand inside of the cow" (Really!)

Note to Self--number 59

The soles of high heel shoes are made in a curved fashion with the heel elevated so that they sit properly on the 3 and a half inch heel. So although it seems reasonable to break the heel off one of your shoes when the other heel has snapped off (after gettting caught in a grate while walking in the door at work), this technique does not in fact work. You are not left with 2 nice flat shoes, but rather 2 very warped shoes that you cannot even walk on at all.

Note to Self--number 60
You look ridiculous attempting to walk around the office with 2 heeless high heel shoes. ...even on a good hair day.

Cat Man Do

yeah...this would be a lot funnier if it weren't TRUE. This morning my cat woke me in the usual manner--by head-butting me in the nose (hard). She did it numerous times, each time getting progressively harder. Where do they learn this stuff? (oh...and she can open doors too...by jumping up and hanging on the handle. Naurally she was not happy when we moved and the new house had mostly doorknobs instead of handles). So when I show up for work with a broken nose and wearing a lovely fur hat....you will know how the morning went.

A friend in need...

I received this message from a friend today...whose email account was obviously hacked. Below you will find her letter and my response to my "friend".

Tanya
I had to make an impromptu trip to Cyprus and right now I'm in a difficult situation and urgently need your help. Can you lend me $750, I'll refund you as soon as I get back this weekend and explain better to you. I know this may not be a good time to ask for such a favor but I just thought I could turn to you for help. I would be glad if you could keep this between us. Thanks.
Janine

Hi Janine
Thanks for writing and I would be happy to help you out. Before I do so I have a problem of my own I am hoping you can help me out with as well. Having consulted with my colleagues and based on the information gathered from the Nigerian Chamber of Commerce and Industry, I need your help to transfer the sum of $47,500,000 (forty seven million, five hundrend thousand dollars) into your accounts. The above sum resulted from an over-invoiced contract, executed, commissioned and paid for about 5 years ago by a foreign contractor. This action was however intentional and since then the funds have been in a suspense account at the Central Bank of Nigeria APEX Bank. I am now ready to transfer the funds and that is where you come in. The total sum shared will be as follows: 70% for me, 25% foryou, and 5% for local and international expenses incident to the transfer. The transfer is risk free on both sides. If you find the proposal acceptable I will need the following documents.

(A) YOUR BANKER'S NAME, TELEPHONE, ACCOUNT AND FAX NUMBERS.

(B) YOUR PRIVATE TELEPHONE AND FAX NUMBERS -- FOR CONFIDENTIALITY AND EASY COMMUNICATION.

(C) YOUR LETTER-HEADED PAPER STAMPED AND SIGNED.
So Janine--once you do this for me ....you won't even need to borrow the $750 from me--aren't you lucky that you turned to me for help! Sounds like a win-win for both of us doesn't it! So just send me the above info as soon as possible! And don't worry--as you requested, I will certainly keep this just between us.

Thanks Janine..and great hearing from you~

Tanya

Snow (hey oh)

Come to believe that I better not leave
Before I get my chance to ride
When it's killing me, what do I really need
All that I need to look inside

The Vegetarian and Raw Food Diet

If you are on a diet that does not include meat, butter, sugar, chocolate, any other delicious ingredients and is made with only raw, uncooked food... and you invite me to dinner....please kindly obey the following rules:

*Do not discuss how you squeezed the salmon vertebrae so that they “pop” and how you then put the vertebrae juice into the salmon loaf that I am trying desperately to choke down at the very moment that you are describing all this spinal popping action.

*If you plan to serve salmon loaf (made with vertebrae juice), please have a pet available, hovering under the table, so that I can slip it my dinner when you are not watching.

*Do not call it pumpkin pie if it is not baked. Pureed pumpkin mixed with pureed carrots and squash is not pumpkin pie. If it does not have sugar and whipped cream (or a cream substitute such as cool whip), it is not pumpkin pie. Putting it in a pie plate does not fool me.

*Unbaked beets that are pressed into cardboard-like squares are not crackers. Even if you put cheese on them---still not crackers.

*Please let me know 5 minutes in advance as to when dinner will be ready so that I can rush to the table to beat everyone there in order to ensure that I get the plate with the smallest portions. (Dallas beat me to the table last time which meant that he got the smallest slice of salmon loaf. I cannot tolerate this mistake a second time.)

Yin and Yang

hmm...well that's strange. Just noticed that my favorite dark burgundy eyeliner pencil (the one I have been using for a year) is marked "LIPLINER PENCIL" in small print down the side. That might explain the extra creamy texture & hint-of-berry color. oops. Well I guess it's only fair. I once had a nice cocoa-colored lip pencil that I later discovered was an EYELINER. See..all things in life do balance out in the end~

today while out exploring at a castle....I was rammed by a ram. 
one with curled ram horns.
he rammed me in the knee.
it hurt.

on an unrelated note.....I now have a new mantle piece.

"Pay no attention to the people behind the curtain" or "The Plane Truth"

I am sitting on a plane at this very moment on my umpteenth transatlantic flight. I have now discovered that the class system is alive and well. When flying, people are divided up into 3 very distinct classes. The very rich with money to burn (first class), the well-to-do who are used to being treated like they are somebody--and expect this (business class), and the poor slobs--that would include me (economy class).

When first getting on the plane, the rich very quickly disappear behind the curtain into their private world of luxury. The well-to-do lounge in lazy-boy-type seats and are served champagne. The poor slobs are herded to the back of the plane and crammed into seats with their knees bent up agonizing close to their chests. It is a bit reminiscent of a disturbing film I once watched about how veal is processed. I have never been able to eat veal since...calves forced into too-small stalls, unable to move and fed a diet lacking in nutrition and substance (see---just like economy class!). At least the Kobe beef in Japan is treated humanely. To make their end-product-meat tender, they are frequently massaged. Oh yes--eventually they too are butchered, but at least their muscles are tension-free and limber as they march off to the slaughter house.
But let's get back to the class system....
Normally I am just a poor ignorant slob enduring the economy class. But this time the airline overbooked (surprise!), and I was one of the "chosen ones' who was bumped up to business class, or as I now call it----heaven. I say "chosen" because that is exactly what it is. There is no lottery, no flipping of the coin, no first-come-first-serve or any other logical or semi-fair system used to determine who gets this privilege. I feel at this point that it is important for me to warn you......should you decide to continue reading, you will be faced with information that is disturbing at best. *Spoiler Alert* : the rest of this blog will permanently disillusion you, and may make flying economy impossible in the future.

When hustling through business class on my way to the veal farm, I am usually aghast at how much leg room there is. I try not to look.... mainly because it makes me feel deprived --like a kid in a candy shop who can only look at the bright colored sweets and smell their sugary allure, but who doesn't have enough money to buy any of it. It's a sad story I know. And that is exactly how I feel....deprived and sad. Sad to see all that leg room and those big comfy seats. I also hurry through that section so that all those well-to-do fliers don't gaze at me for too long. I don't want to see the pity in their eyes as they see me heading to my child-size seat (very insufficient for my extra-large-adult-size ass).

Well, I finally discovered the reason for all that additional leg room. They don't want any of the poor slobs to know this....but I am going to tell you anyway. You see, they need the extra room because the seats recline to a completely horizontal level! Imagine my delight when I found that I could literally lay back and sleep--legs propped up on the adjustable leg/foot rest, head back on the adjustable fits-to-the-shape-of-your-skull head rest and arms splayed out on my own, don't-have-to-share arm rests. However, I did spend 30 minutes adjusting my seat. If I was going to enjoy this upper-class experience, I wanted to do it right! (Plus---I couldn't figure out the fancy control panels on either side of my seat and it would have been way too embarrassing to ask those around me --who clearly knew what they were doing---how to adjust the seat properly. I didn't want to draw attention to the fact that I really didn't belong---that I had class-hopped). So you see, you need all that extra room between seats so that when the guy in front of you reclines back, he doesn't end up in your lap (if economy seats reclined like this, your head would be in the lap of the person behind you----2 rows back). Oh.....and the blanket is a nice soft cotton and 3 times the size of that polyester pot-holder sized square of cloth you get in economy (that is supposed to be clean but invariably has a long blond hair clinging to it). Dinner is on china, drinks are in real glasses, you get a table cloth on your tray and a nice crisp white linen napkin. Stewardesses bring several bottles of good wine down the aisle so you can choose your vintage. And while the poor slobs are munching their 9 peanuts, we in the upper-class are snacking on freshly roasted warm mixed nuts served in little white china bowls (and they came down the aisle 3 times with a large roasting pan of nuts to offer us more!). I felt so guilty I wanted to hide some in my pockets in sneak them back to the poor slobs when no one was looking. Oh----and dinner was actually good! --- filet mignon with garlic mashed potatoes and raspberry cheesecake! As much as I was enjoying my high-society treatment, I couldn't help but wonder what the hell was going on in FIRST CLASS!. Are they up there lounging on feather beds with Egyptian style servants cooling them with large palm fans and half-naked gorgeous models feeding them grapes by hand? I seriously can't imagine what could be better than my big lazy-boy recliner and those delectable warm roasted nuts.

I then began feeling like an impostor.....an intruder in some secret club that I was somehow able to sneak into. I felt a sense of loyalty to my comrades back in economy. At one point I thought I should run back to economy and shout "Hey! Do you have any idea what is going on up there??? They have warm nuts!"

In fact I was so enjoying my "business experience" that began thinking to myself.....if there is a plane crash----I am not getting out of this plane. I am staying right here in my comfy seat with my nice soft blanket. Who cares if we crash.....I can die laying horizontal with a raspberry cheesecake stain on my shirt.

And then it hit me. How on earth can I ever fly economy again?! I mean, before I was ignorant --even though I saw those grand chairs--I was oblivious as to how heavenly they truly are. But now...now I am enlightened! Now I know what is going on up there behind the curtain (and the purpose of the curtain is clear now as well...to keep us poor slobs in the dark). Oh--it will be so painful to have to trudge through business, back to the bowels of coach again.

If you chose to read this and you are like me---- a poor slob who flies in the cheap seats, I am sorry to have to be the one who informed you of this very real social class system of which you are on the bottom. But maybe someday, you too will be chosen to be bumped up to the lazy-boy section. When you do----think of me ---and have an extra helping of warm roasted nuts.

Good Advice to Self

Here's how it's done--take very small bites, carefully pulling bits off with your teeth..then chew as slowly as possible for an extended period of time, pulverizing the small morsel. now comes the most difficult part..swallow with extreme caution taking care not to hold your breath during this painful moment.


These are my best instructions on how to eat your own words. But even given my most excellent advice, you may just find that you choke on them.

A belated snack....

Don't you hate it when you suddenly find that you have a small piece of meat floating around in your mouth......and the rib dinner was 2 days ago. ugh.

An important note....

Note to my big ass: Please stop following me around....it's getting annoying---and you are beginning to frighten young children. And lately..strangers have been known to attempt to hop on you and hitch a ride. The last time I flew on a plane, I had to buy 2 seats....mine and the one behind me....for you. At work you have become a hazard---for safety reasons they now make me wear a shirt emblazoned with "wide load". I checked my VMA (very massive ass) index and I am off the scale. So please find someone else to cling to~ and give me a break.
Sincerely,
Tanya

Disturbing things that happen when you are on a plane....

Disturbing things that happen when you are on a plane....(actual events from a recent flight. names have been eliminated---mostly because I did not bother to get their names)
* The elderly lady next to you looks over and says "I hope I don't get sick". (she then lets out a gagging cough)
* You are so hungry that you cherish each individual peanut in that minuscule packet, savoring each one and counting them as you eat them. (there are nine)
* You look over to see the guy next to you sleeping .....and his mouth is hanging open (and it looks really stupid and funny!...even though it's disturbing....you laugh). more disturbing: 10 minutes later you suddenly wake up to find you are doing the same thing and look over to find him looking at you ....smirking.
* You see the largest man on planet earth coming down the aisle and he stops at your row and nods to the seat next to you and says "that's mine".
* You smell something horrible and realize that people around you are farting freely as the noise cannot be heard over the engine sounds and it is nearly impossible to detect where the smell is originating from. (you scoot a bit closer to the plane wall, away from largest man on planet earth)

To Pee or not To Pee

I had to drive to Germany for work on Friday. I stopped at a pull-over rest stop to make a call (it's illegal to talk on a cell when driving in Belgium). Anyway....while I was sitting there, a garbage truck pulled up next to me and the guys in the truck got out and began to empty the trash cans in front of my car. Then they began picking up the miscellaneous items left next to the trash cans. You know, large boxes, discarded grocery bags filled with trash, a bathroom sink,....wait....what? ....a sink? yes, apparently Belgian rest stops have everything AND the kitchen sink (or bathroom sink in this case). I mean, really.....who the hell leaves a sink at a rest stop? A few minutes later a car pulled up next to me. A guy got out and went over to the nearest tree and peed on it. Well, I thought----if he had only been there a few moments ago he could have peed in a nice sink!

When your mother-in-law comes to visit.....she is no Swiss Miss.

When my mother-in-law (M-I-L) first came to visit us in Europe we took her to Switzerland. She had never been to Europe before so she had some interesting observations...
M-I-L: Wow! They sure have a lot of hospitals here! Every other building is a hospital!
Me: Um....No, that is the Swiss flag flying on those buildings.
M-I-L: You know, I thought there would be a lot more blondes in Sweden.
Me: Well, there might be....in Sweden. We are in Switzerland.
M-L-L: (while looking at large graffiti on wall) Hey, do you think that means the same thing over here as it does in the U.S.?
Me: Actually, no it does not. In fact, when you go to a store here in Switzerland-- and you buy something-- as you are leaving, you should always say to the clerk "Fuck you very much".

Lovin' life in BE

went today to get my Belgian Identity Card......nothing worse than living in Belgium without an identity. But don't worry---soon I will have a card to prove that I do indeed have one....an identity.