Forgotten July

Like some of my fellow bloggers, posts have been few and far between. There is simply too much going on.

Jeffy and I are still setting up house because we can only make progress on weekends. People who accomplish things on weekday evenings after work must be superhuman.

Yesterday I scrubbed the kitchen from top to bottom while Jeffy assembled our fantastic bamboo kitchen cart. Yes, it is made of bamboo! It's quite heavy and substantial, a really nice piece of furniture - the top is half bamboo board and half granite slab.

It looks like we will have to go to London in early September. Some of you may remember that my mother has been suffering for over a year now with an undiagnosed degenerative nerve condition and has been undergoing a series of tests at Whittington Hospital. Her neurologist there had referred her to a leading research specialist in the field at University College Hospital's Institute of Neurology, which has the best neurologists in the country. She was finally diagnosed on Thursday with Motor Neurone Disease, which is progressive and incurable. The outlook could be a few months, or a few years, but unless she is lucky and hits a plateau (like Stephen Hawking), there's likely not that much time. There are 4 types, and after further testing, and just seeing how it progresses, they will know which type it is. Mum herself suspects ALS (Lou Gehrig's). Most of the family has been notified that if they want to see her they must go to London, and soon, just in case she loses the ability to speak.

Essentially, MND is the worst diagnosis possible. Multiple Sclerosis (MS) would have been infinitely preferable. Imagine saying about a parent: "I wish she had MS"...

You may think I sound matter-of-fact, and yes I am - but I have had my moments this week, especially at my desk at work, and I am sure they will continue. In the face of it all, Jeffy has been a godsend. I don't know anyone else who is so full of peace, positive energy, internal strength, and pure goodness. Without him I would probably have been in pieces.

*****************

In order to end this on a lighter note, I must share something lovely. One of my most faithful and longtime readers, Moody Minstrel, has composed a delightful acoustic ballad for J and me. Those of you who know of my odyssey will see that the lyrics are perfect. It's called Matching Smiles and was inspired by the photo of us on the tall ship in Old Town Alexandria. I am sure MM won't mind me sharing this with you all, since you are also in the faithful reader circle, and I thank you for that.

Thank you a thousand times, Minstrel-san!

Matching Smiles

What flow of karma, blessed winds of fate
From Heaven's gate
Led our paths to cross?
A scene no artist's brush or author's pen
Determined how and when we came together.
Like an angel dropping from the sky,
You came, and I
Didn't see you coming.
Now I almost fear that I'll
Open my eyes and see
It's all a fantasy.
Nobody pinch me!

A breath ago I fled a grayer place
And turned my face
Toward the setting sun.
I only hoped to sate my wanderlust,
Do what I must to find some warmth and color.
But instead I found a deeper truth
Of rhyme and rhythm
And a brighter promise.
Now the words are dancing
On your lips and on the page
While language sets the stage,
A whole, new age!

We look upon the world with matching smiles
And go in style
Where even words don't go.
We'll hear the music on the 18th Street,
A swinging beat to kiss the week goodbye now.
Turn the darkness to a brighter day,
A place to stay
That is a house, a home.
The candlesticks are red,
The smell of cookies fills the air.
Between us not a care,
As long as we share!

Papou Panos

I know I posted a rather frustrated entry yesterday.  Today I shall try to remedy this.

It's very rainy and English outside, so much so that the White House has turned grey!

However, tomorrow promises to be glorious and warm and sunny.

Now, on to the meat of this post.  It's kind of especially for Tea N Crumpets because she's Eastern Orthodox, and my Cypriot Papou (grandpa) was a Greek Orthodox priest for a while, so it is in my blood even though I was brought up Anglican.

Here is Panayiotis (or Panos for short).  Love the bow tie.  On the right, he looks very young (the other fellow is his cousin Nick). 

Panos was a little man, fiesty and affectionate - he stood only up to my father's shoulder, and my Dad is not much taller than me (I'm 5'3" / 63 cm).  He had olive skin and blue eyes.  I have just noticed, he looks like a dreamer.

I never met him, for he died of a heart attack following a house fire, the year before I was born.  I would have loved to hear his accent, and maybe hear him sing.  

He trained to be a priest in the Troodos Mountains of Cyprus in the early 1900s, and his pure voice was famous in the area.  However, he did not stay.  As Cyprus was a British protectorate, he immigrated and found a new life in London running two restaurants.  He was a good cook at home and could whip up a feast from nothing, all the while singing his sacred music and chasing everyone out of the kitchen.

When I was a toddler, I scared my mother when I would sit under the dining table and sing my heart out, something sounding very much like Papou.

This video is from 2006, but I still talk like this - because Tea N Crumpets rightfully imagines me with an English accent.  (There is sometimes a slight mix of Texan in there though.)

Today I can still sing my heart out, in both Greek and English and a couple of other languages, but it took many many years for me to discover Greek Orthodox chants for myself.  I too have a pure voice, like a choirboy, with no vibrato - I know this from singing Handel's Messiah every year at home.  

Panos Kavarnos is Greece's current angelic voice.  If you can wear headphones while listening to this, or listen in HD, even better. It gives me goosebumps all over.  Surely this must be what heaven sounds like.  Or if not, I hope one day Kavarnos is appointed God's Choir Director!

The memories

I had this whole blog planned about how my roomie had food poisoning yesterday but how at first we thought it was norovirus (stomach flu), so I wiped everything down with bleach or alcohol...

But then I rarely post without photos now, so I was browsing my collection looking for the one of the baldacchino at St Peter's Basilica to share. Came across one of my parents, Ruth and Oliver.



Staring at this image, their smiles, their eyes, remembering how they were together, I burst into tears that would not stop. Maybe will happen every so often, just when I think I'm over it. God knows what my mother feels in her lonely hours. Her eyes are always sad now, even when she's smiling.

This was their last photo "together", at the wedding of the son of an old family friend. Nobody yet knew they had been divorced for months. Neither of them had yet even broken the habit of holding hands. My dad is the best hand-holder in the world. She used to talk about the first time he held her hand, and the electric thrill that went up her arm and made her heart jump. It was real! I've felt it too.

My father could never be near my mother without reaching for her. It's like they needed each other. I will never, ever forget...the day he walked out it was so sudden and unexpected. As he turned to leave, my mother reached out for his sleeve, in a gesture of helplessness and desperation, a side of her I'd never seen...For the rest of that day, I was mute. My poor mother for some reason made me help her wash my car while a thunderstorm approached. I suppose that was better than sitting inside thinking about it. She spoke to me, and I would not make a sound.

That day she lost every bit of confidence and trust he had nurtured in her since her first marriage had ended. But then so did I. We've both had to start from scratch. I moved away to London so I made slightly more progress over that first year. I will never forget the day I began to see things in color again, as though my eyes had just opened to the world around me, but she was still stuck with the house and the memories so she went to the gym every day, working out the negativity and the pain. To this day neither of us are quite what we once were. Like a couple of broken vases that have been glued back together but don't stand quite as straight as they once did.

People tell me, I was an adult and it should not have affected me. That it happened and I should just forget about it. They can't understand what it's like to be an only child and an extra sensitive person (as my mother says, "still waters run deep"). My parents and I were everything to each other. The end of their marriage caused me to question my very existence. My foundation was shattered and the source from which I drew my strength had shriveled up. And there were no brothers or sisters to share the pain with me.

My parents suited each other so much - in looks, height, intellect, and personality. They even aged at the same (slow) rate. They had struck such a balance together and even though this was the second marriage for them (the first being disastrous mistakes) the D-word was anathema to our minds. They had found their One. All my friends wanted to grow up to find love like theirs.

My mum managed the money and my dad managed the rest. He always told her, "Don't worry about it, hon, I'll take care of it". And he did. Now she struggles to learn how to do things she never needed to do before. Although she was an ambitious and feisty career woman when they met, he would not abandon his pursuit. In the end, she put it all aside to have me and dedicate her whole being to marriage and family. She seemed born to be a wife and mother and he seemed born to be a provider.

Of course, it wasn't perfect. She's a middle child and he's a youngest. She is bossy, he is rebellious, and both of them are stubborn. But when they argued and he'd flounce out for a drive, he'd always come back and hold her and say he's sorry, and that she's right of course. Now that I am older of course I have identified little things to look out for, to avoid, or to aim for in my own marriage one day...But what they had was as close to perfection as I've seen a couple achieve.

My father was the most affectionate, warm-hearted, positive, generous, loving, intelligent, creative, and handy man I have ever known. I hate how I always use the past tense. He is still alive, but I haven't seen him in over two years, and I miss him. I miss his blue-green eyes with the hazel freckles that change in every light. His perfect laugh, how he throws his head back and how his eyes become more blue as his cheeks turn red. His soft warm hands enveloping my little ones. His strong heart beat, the sound of safety and security. I still like to hear his warm and vibrant voice on the phone, especially when I get voice-hugs. But he never really talks about himself anymore. It's like catching crumbs. He makes me do all the talking, but when I need it, I am amazed at how much positive encouragement and advice he gives. He could almost be a life coach.

He has done everything, so now I know where I get that from. At school he wanted to be a physicist, and his bookshelves attest to this, but he was also good with his hands - he made copper bowls and a wood stool with a woven seat, things that are so strong they will outlast even me. At home, he made me a rocking chair, a train on wheels, and when I went to university he made me a dainty shelf for my cosmetics and wrote on the back of it. Before making it in oil & gas, he danced, modelled, met actors and artists and people with noble titles; worked in electronics, even on the early Concorde and other mysterious projects.

He's the kind of man who wouldn't waste time in dryness. Let me explain: No matter how old I was (and I left home at 25) I couldn't pass him more than a certain number of times without a "come here" and a lovely huggle and a big kiss on my forehead. If I was standing around waiting for something in the microwave, the last 7 seconds would not be wasted - those were to be taken up in a hug if he was nearby. Even when I have my own family one day, I bet I will still want a Daddy hug. Then again, I couldn't pass up the opportunity to plant a butterfly kiss on his cheek. And when this song came out, we owned it.

When I was in my late teens, I had to tell him that when we went to the mall, he couldn't hold my hand any more. He was so disappointed. I'll always be his baby. He still really only calls me that. When I was little he once told me, "You can get married one day one one condition." "What's that, Daddy?" "You still let me call you baba." "OK, Daddy."

But gooey stuff aside, my father made me funny. I would go home on the weekends and he and I would bounce off each other like a comedy duo. My mum would laugh till her eyes watered. Charged up with all this wit and energy, I would go back to university and spend the week making my friends laugh too. I still have a sense of humor, but the sparkle is something I seem to have lost. I miss the laughter and the inside jokes. And I miss the love notes and drawings he would scribble on Post Its as he ate his breakfast before work, one for me on my placemat, and one for mum on hers.

Growing up, to hear my daddy say, "I love you." was the most thrilling thing beside that wonderful glowing look he would give, the look only a father can give his baby daughter - a look of molten pride. And a grin. His grin is contagious, it splits his face in two.

I also miss the look of pure adoration he would bestow on my mother. We used to call them eye-beams. When he eye-beamed at her, she would eye-beam back with her big eyes, and she'd look so chuffed, and her bottom lip might tremble with the joy, which would make him laugh. She used to tell me that when he came home from work and she heard the car door close, her heart would flutter. And when she baked his special breakfast buns for him every week, she would tell me, "I love your father so much, the love is just pouring out of my heart into these buns." He would always feel that when he ate them.

And all this he left...

'Twas the night

Went to my cousin's house in Westchester for Christmas dinner.  It was cozy, and wee little Skippy was all over me, so I got puppy cuddles, and fur on my clothes.  :)

****************************************************

And then after all that coziness, today I headed out to Jersey City in a falling fog, a pervasive sea mist, dampness that goes through to the bone.

St Paul's Chapel near the PATH train to NJ at the WTC station.  A few hours later the fog had thickened so much we couldn't even see across the street.

Jason flew in from Houston and is staying with Chris in JC until the 31st, so I went to keep him company while we waited for Chris to arrive later.

I haven't seen him in exactly 4 years, so it was lovely to catch up and have a laugh face to face, I mean, we do talk regularly on the phone.  Also, as he is studying for his final flight simulator module in mid-January, we ran through the pre-flight and post takeoff checklists, with a huge poster of the cockpit draped on our laps.  Hehe, I was in the Captain's seat :)

The nothingness of sea fog

The Boardwalk in Jersey City.  It seems Manhattan and the entire Hudson River have disappeared!  You stand at the railing to look across the bay and see exactly...nothing!  It is a mist that hangs on your eyelashes.  You think you can blink it away, but it stays.

Also note the pile of frozen snow beside the lamp post, one of many dirty stubborn piles scattered across the city in random corners and in the middle of walkways.  Tomorrow, it will be rainy but even warmer than today (record 65F/19C) so surely there will be more melting.

******************************************************

When Chris arrived we went into Chinatown to the Malaysian restaurant with the awful service and delicious food that we stumbled upon when we went to dinner with Vera and her father in September.  

We ordered and shared, I do love sharing.  

Starters:  Indian roti with curry sauce, and fried calamari.

Mains:  Pad Thai and drunken chicken.

Jason loved the Pad Thai, which was indeed outstanding.  Now let me tell you about the drunken chicken.  Half a chicken steamed in rice wine, a ton of minced garlic, ginger, turmeric root, and I'm pretty sure the red things were goji berries (!) - it was deeeelicious, yummy, scrumptious, and I want it again soon.

Then we walked into Little Italy, which is actually being subsumed by Chinatown, for hot chocolate/coffee and pastries at the same place as last time, Cafe Roma.

It's funny, I used to do that in London, go to my favorite dim sum restaurant in Chinatown, then walk to Leicester Square for hot chocolate goodness at the Haagen Dasz Cafe.  Everyone who visited me in London did that routine - just ask Chris, and probably Vanessa too!  

Oh shoot, I forgot to take pics of the food tonight.  It's OK, Jason and Chris had me in stitches all evening.  I was laughing so hard I wanted to tell them to stop and let me breathe.  I think I had a year's worth of laughter in one go, and I'm set for more, since Jason will be here till Wednesday morning.  Usually I'm the one missing from our group, though they were all together in Houston last week.  Vanessa, we miss you!

Thank God for real, true friends.

Thanksgiving 2008

On Wednesday night I went up to stay with my cousin Ryan so that his sister Mandy and her family could pick us up Thursday on their way down to Long Island.  Mandy's brother in law and his wife live in Huntington.  They are dentists - he is from Guyana and she is from Brazil.

Is this confusing?

She usually has Thankgiving catered and it was delicious.  There were interesting Brazilian snacks - breaded balls of salted fish, breaded chicken balls, and the best one, beef meatballs made with bulgur wheat.  Now that's an addition to the mix I would have never thought of (usually breadcrumbs (too dry), grated potato (fairly moist), or water chestnut (juicy)).  Bulgur wheat doesn't exactly add moisture, but it does create an enjoyable texture, and there was a hint of mint.

Main course:  turkey that had been soaked for a couple of days in sugar water, very tender. Caesar salad, and a Brazilian ground chicken salad mixed with sliced green olives, raisins, diced apples, and topped with crispy fried potato sticks

Sides of sweet potato, seasoned rice, farina stuffing, and the nanny made shrimp lo mein.

Dessert included pumpkin pie, coconut custard pie, an assortment of luxury cookies, and a variety of Indian sweets made of milk/nuts, etc.

There was of course lashings of rose, red and white wines, and Moet & Chandon champagne.  No matter what the name, I still don't like champagne, and oddly enough neither does the host as he commented to me while collecting our empty flutes.

L-R: My second cousin Kristine, my cousin Mandy, another in-law's kid, Mandy's sis-in-law Monique and her son Danny(?)

Mandy, her daughters Kristine and Karissa, and her husband Cornel (son Kevin is missing, he was in the living room arguing politics with his uncles)

With my second cousin Karissa.  She is 13 now and so grown up and full of knowledge about anything you care to discuss.  But I still remember when she was a tiny baby and so cute with such a soft little voice, and my mother used to make whispery sounds in her ear to lull her to sleep...In fact, the first time I visited NYC that hot summer of 1995, Mandy was pregnant with her.  Her brother Kevin was 3 at the time and his brain worked faster than his little lispy mouth could talk, so all his information would come out in a jumble.  Or he would ask you a question and then impatiently answer it before you'd put your response together. :)

********************

Monique's style is very warm and Mediterranean - everything has a Portuguese/Spanish/Italian authenticity, as though I'd been transported far from icy New York.  So of course I got caught up in light and color:

Champagne, flowers and light

Candle with solarize effect

Bright still life

Dark still life

I prefer the dark still life (looks more Old Master) but Karissa doubted that I wanted my crumpled napkin and her hands in it.  I should not have turned on the flash.  Which do you prefer?

Family Reunion

We didn't fly back from Toronto in time to vote, but by the time we touched down on the tarmac New York State was blue and the electoral votes were probably already in.

Comment I made on Um Naief's blog last month re Powell's endorsement of Obama:

It will show the world that America is more sophisticated and therefore worthy of credit, if it can differentiate between Muslims and terrorists to such an extent that someone with a name like Barack Hussein Obama can be elected to leadership in an era where we have deposed a Hussein and are fighting an Osama.

My cousins had CNN on nearly 24/7 and it was refreshing to see the kids both from NY and Canada, ranging in age from 10 to 17, passionately discussing the candidates' closing speeches with each other and their parents. I mostly sat and listened, still not believing that these intelligent and articulate teenagers were babes in arms not so long ago...I remember when their moms were pregnant. I feel old. But I love that my cousins have such smart children. Well, so it should be, I mean imagine if it were otherwise for my cousin and her husband who are on the NY Board of Education and a high school principal.

**********



Toronto Approach

My cousins (Ryan and Andrea) and I landed just a few minutes before the London bunch (including my Mum) so we all waited and met up in the International Arrivals lounge. My cousin Pierre from Orangeville picked up the London bunch and I went with them to Orangeville, and the rest were taken to Kitchener by their brother Neil.

Much of the drive between Toronto, Kitchener, and Orangeville looks like this:



I've been visiting Canada since 1979 but never have I been so impatient with the mileage. Usually I just let the endless driving pass by but this time every trip felt a half hour longer than it used to. 1 hr 45 min to get anywhere proved too much so my London cousins and I started up with the "Are we theeeeere yet?" a couple of times!

Endless straight flat or undulating roads slice through farms, fields, forests, and provincial parklands. Roads with names like Blind Line (because you can't see round the corner), 15th Line or 168th Line (running NW to SE), Sideroad 12 or Sideroad 39 (running NE to SW), Hurontario Road (because that's where it is) or Forks of the Credit Road (because that's what it passes through). I've made these trips in the dark in driving snow, and I will never know how my cousins know where to turn.

It was lovely countryside but I couldn't capture as many images as I'd have liked, even when we drove through the Forks of the Credit River area, over the river, and into Belfountain (conservation hamlet from the 1840s). Also, the fall colors were mostly over but my cousin Elizabeth asked me if I thought the deep orange sunset bathing the tops of the sparsely yellow-leafed forest trees reminded me of Klimt. Love it when my family says random things like that.

Despite an early snow last week which had melted, the weather warmed up and for most of the trip remained mild, even reaching 20 C (60s F). My London cousins were excited because it felt like English summer!

**********

Some of you may remember Jay-Jay, or Jayj as I call him. He wuvs me. He's Aunty Rita's boy. My mother helped her adopt him about three years ago after she was widowed and her previous dog was put to sleep, so Mum was actually his first mum since Aunty Rita didn't really want him, and he missed my Mum when she returned to Texas. They rebonded after Mum sold our house and moved in a couple of years ago. He still loves his Aunty Ruth. When she talks to him on the phone from London now, he goes to her old room looking for her! She's the only one who tells him off so he can't get anything past her and he knows it.



**********

Family reunions always make me happy. I have 24 cousins and between them they have about 17 children. Add to that the aunts and uncles who can make it, plus anyone related by marriage and you always have a full house.

On Friday some of us did last minute shopping at Canada's favourite store Winners, especially me. Not knowing Neil's 50th would be at a hall and there would be evening wear, I took decent clothes expecting we'd all go to Fiona's house like we did for New Year's '04. I picked up a black and white piece much like the one I have at home which is reddish and teal, both intriguing 4-in-1 dresses by Lapis:




The softer lining is a contrasting color to the shiny crinkled exterior, but interestingly the pattern is created by attaching the inner lining to the outer layer and punching it through. This lends a comfortable weight to the fall of the material. Also, the elastic smocked top ensures a comfortable fit. Because it's crinkled it's reminiscent of the old Fortuny gowns of the early 20th century that came rolled up in a self-cloth bag, and these things pack very well for travelling.

I had left my wide belt at home, so I called my cousin hoping she'd have a substitute. She did, but it kept popping off because the buckle was defective - the prong too short and the D-ring too soft. I wanted to wear it like the model on the far right but had to settle with the style on the far left until I gave up rebuckling it and left it off. The night of the party was bitterly cold so I layered up a little bit more than I'd have liked and don't know how some women turned up in proper gowns. Even when I'm indoors, if it's icy outside I feel it under my skin. Do you?

**********

Rather excitingly, my mother splurged on me a bit with a pair of wool Tahari trousers and this striking red TH bag:



My cousin Ryan insists it is not "red", it is "oxblood". I would have never come up with that word unless I'd read it somewhere.

**********

Images from Neil's surprise 50th:


1) Neil knew he was having a party, he just didn't know so many people (close to 200) would come and from so far away.
3) Mandy's husband Cornel emceed in true high school principal style with all the right speeches. He called every table up one by one to the buffet and then stood and authoritatively surveyed the room with his hands folded in front of him before deciding he could put down the mic and go off duty!



1) There was a belly dancer who danced to Moroccan music and then Neil joined in.
2) Five of six aunts showed up (the one in the middle is my Mum).
3) Cousin Alyssa and her man Jon, who is originally from the North of England.
4) Cousin Ryan and me.



1) Cousin Alyssa and my goddaughter Jada.
2) Aunty Rita and cousin Mandy.
3) Aunts Eve and Roh.
4) Cousin Pierre and Aunty Rita.

**********

No rest for the wicked. We drove home to O'ville, and had to drive back to Kitchener the next day for dinner at Fiona's to celebrate cousin Michelle's 42nd birthday. Mich rarely leaves the UK, hates flying and isn't that keen on North America, so it was special to have her here.


1) Gathering for the cake and candles.
2) The cousins with a couple of aunts in the way.
3, 4) Neil and Mich cafuffle over the cutting. At Guyanese birthdays people rarely cut the cake alone. At my mother's 21st she drew names from a hat. Some English guy got called up, which puzzles most people not in the know, leading them to ask, "Who's she marrying there?"



1) Some of the older cousins chatting at the breakfast table. (Neil owns patents and a factory in Kitchener. Elizabeth (my godmother) is a non-profit consortium director in London. Michelle (Liz's sister) is a stay at home mum of three boys. Fiona (Neil's sister) also owns a company and her husband works with both her and Neil.)
2) Four of my second cousins. The two on the outside (Krystle and Tiffany) are Neil's and the two in the middle (Karissa and Kristine) are Mandy's, even though the two at the front look like sisters. Incidentally, Krystle is becoming a model and Alyssa was one briefly a few years ago.
3) Jada, Alyssa, and Jon who is really really good with Jada (whose father passed away 2 yrs ago).
4) Lala and O-o.


1,2) Jada and Sasha (a cousin's cousin on the other side).
2) Princess Kayla (Fiona's daughter) with her guitar.
3) Cousins Andrea and Mandy.

The Orangeville lot drove back but Mum and I stayed in Kitchener. That night she went to bed early but the rest of us changed into pyjamas and made lots of tea, and that's when we had the political discussions I mentioned at the top of my post. I love my family and they almost make up for my having no brothers and sisters. No matter how old we are, aunties and cousins will sit together and "hug up" as we call it. I had my turns with Fiona and Mandy, both of whom have been advising and encouraging me since I was a teenager. However, they are shameless and once they start teasing me or being cheeky, that's another story!

**********



The cul de sac where Fiona and her family live. When I woke up on Tuesday morning after the rain, I heard a woodpecker rapping away on a tree in the copse behind the development.

The houses are spacious enough but still there's, like, another whole house in the basement! I envy those Canadians and New Yorkers their 1.5 homes on one lot. Texas doesn't have basements due to the tornadoes and floods. These basements have living rooms, bathrooms, kitchens, utility rooms and endless closets. They rarely feel underground when they're not walk-out/garden level. I'd love to move in to my cousin Mandy's in Westchester - with the exercise room connecting the basement den and nanny's room to the separate apartment with its cute bathroom and front door letting out to the backyard. Man!


The End. This was long eh?

Soul Food

Today the weather is very English: rain, wind, and temps under 10C (about 47F).

I'm off to Canada on Thursday for a few days, for a big family reunion on the occasion of my eldest cousin's 50th birthday.

So I'd better catch you up before I go...

(Apologies if some of the images are clipped short by the sidebar, which detracts from their impact.)

*********************************************************************

A couple of weekends ago, I stayed at my cousin Ryan and he drove us up to Westchester for the birthday of cousin Mandy's husband C. I enjoyed all the wonderful homecooked Guyanese food in their lovely cosy warm house, hanging out with their very intelligent kids. The guests were mostly C's relatives. His brother and sister-in-law are dentists - in fact they said if I wanted I could have an assisting job for the asking. I didn't know while I was there that his other brother is a lawyer, but I am considering legal assisting.


Skippy rules the world, and as he'd had a hard day cooking the food and supervising the kids, by the end of the night he was the sleepiest member of the family!


*****************************************************************************

Last Friday I was invited to the Chanel Mobile Art exhibition in Central Park. However, seeing as I live so far outside of Manhattan AND at the end of a train line, there was a significant delay which meant that the time slot on my ticket had expired by the time I got there half an hour late. (Fortunately it was free.)

While I waited for my friend to emerge from the pavilion, I took photos:



The pavilion designed by architect Zaha Hadid





An auxiliary building blends into the landscape.

*********************************************************************


Afterwards, we walked a few blocks to Alice's Teacup for lunch/afternoon tea on E 81st St. and 5th Ave.(?)



This teacup really is an antique, from Bavaria



We chose the "Mad Hatter Tea for Two" which included 3 scones, 2 sandwiches, and a dessert spread. There were 150 types of tea to choose from! Predictably, I got one that would go with milk and sugar.

Scones: winter berry, oatmeal chocolate chip, buttermilk - with strawberry preserves and cream of course.

Sandwiches: 1) smoked chicken, stilton and granny smith apple and 2) chicken curry with apples and red onions (the flavor is haunting me right now).

Dessert: a hefty slice of mocha chocolate chip and buttercream icing cake, and a variety of crispy cookies.




***************************************************************************

Then we went to the MET since it was such a lovely day, neither of us wanted to go straight home.

I snapped quite a lot of Greco Roman artefacts and sculptures but most of them didn't turn out so well with my phonecam. These are the best ones:


Roman religion required the woman to be covered during devotions


This rock crystal perfume bottle is the size of a man's thumb, so imagine the fine workmanship on the chain - I have an identical necklace which is only 40 years old, and this is about 1,960 years older than that!


Fine granulation and filigree on a gold Roman brooch



However, on this day the Egyptian images turned out better:



The Cat Goddess (Basta) in her simple Bastet form


A wooden head


Pharaoh whose name is on the tip of my tongue...



She-Pharaoh Hatshepsut, from her tomb









A scarab


These glass bead frogs are about the size of peas!


The Temple of Dendur, rescued from flooding as a result of the building of the Aswan Dam


Papyrus fronds in front of the Temple


The amazing space dedicated to the Temple of Dendur

****************************************************************

And on Saturday, I cooked cutlets: