A Week in the Lone Star State

Back from Texas... Gran is going into a nursing home, not what anyone wanted for her, but she is too much of a handful for home care.

Thankfully, the major part of the family who did travel over had the opportunity to say goodbye, so we have closure before it is too late, I guess. She is ready to go - in fact we had a scare on Monday but she rallied quickly. Her body is still hanging on, and her mouth is back on turbo. Still, she told me wonderful things, I held her hands and kissed her face. That will be my last memory of her I think. Granny smiling up at me from the bed, calling me her pretty little Baby (as I always will be no matter what age), telling me all her lovely prayers for me, and the softness of her skin when I kissed her face.

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I am currently having a moment where I can't believe I once lived there. In Texas!

Whilst I was there, I ate seafood galore, queso with salsa and chili and corn chips (made with love by my cousin Charlene), chicken fried steak with mashed potato and white gravy (twice)...but no real Tex Mex or IHOP pancakes.

We went shopping at the Vietnamese and Indian markets and had our fill of exotic fruits and tasty produce. And need I mention the awesome clothes shopping?*

I also bonded with cousins I hadn't spent that much time with before, and others who were sort of too young until recently. It was also great being with aunts and uncles I have always loved.
We cousins enjoyed a big meal together, and a few days later everyone who wanted (14 of us) got together for a seafood feast.

On the way back to London on Thursday evening, we flew out ahead of some destructive storm systems sweeping in from Oklahoma and there was a lot of turbulence. It is tornado season there. But we left behind temps in the low 20s C (low 70s F) and came to 9 C (upper 40s F) so I have felt cold all day with the grey dampness, tiredness, jet lag, and ill-timed hunger. I think I slept for less than an hour on the unusually long 9 hour flight. However, I did watch The Devil Wears Prada and then borrowed the book from my aunt when we got to her place.

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I am no fan of cricket but I do keep hearing about the cricket matches being played in Georgetown, Guyana, the [somewhat faded] "Garden City of the Caribbean". So I went to the BBC Venue Guide for the England team tour of the West Indies. Three paragraphs in the middle were written in exactly this order:

Despite its beauty, don't be fooled into lowering your security precautions whilst you're in the city.

Never walk the streets of the city at night and always avoid the Tiger Bay area just west of Main Street and Albouystown south of the centre.

One thing you definitely should do in the city is join what appears to be most of Georgetown and take an early evening stroll on the seawall as the sun sets.

Do you detect a contradiction here?

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Some pics from the past week:

Cousins Dinner - The Grill at The Galleria, Dallas



Clockwise L to R: Evadney and her longtime partner Stan (both personal trainers; they have kids). Nick (grew up in the UK and moved to Tx over 10 years ago, and now sounds halfway like a Texan). Charlene (Evadney's younger sister, very Texan though born in Boston). Elizabeth (one of my British cousins and my godmother). Me. Amber (on her last year of high school and wants to be a kinesiologist). Rachel (wife of Charlene and Evadney's brother Eddie, who is not there - he went out with the uncles). Sabrina (a bank manager at the WTC in the first bombing, worked nearby on 9/11, and now lives safely in Florida).


1994 Lamborghini Diablo:



Charlene's neighbour is an exotic car dealer who borrows the other half of her garage to store his latest acquisitions. Every couple of days there is a new surprise. This one is purple and we girl cousins got the keys and played around with it. He allows her drive them, but she wouldn't dare.

Liv (Nearly At) the Wheel:



I got in and could barely reach the pedals or the wheel. It was awkward fun getting the door open, though.

Gran's daughters stayed in her apartment; Elizabeth, being a director and all, got to stay in her own luxurious hotel room with adjustable air beds; I stayed with Charlene, though Liz said I could have stayed with her the whole time.

Charlene works for a financial software company, has a big new SUV, parked at her own two bedroom/two bathroom home in a quiet neighbourhood. She redecorated the place herself in really cozy velvets and suedes in warm neutrals with wood and wrought iron furniture in a sort of Spanish/ranch/prairie style. She has endless rooms and doors and storage closets, a deck built for entertaining with a bar, refrigerator, benches, jacuzzi, gazebo...very cute. It would have felt average to us coming from our place in The Woodlands, but after living in London, it looked like luxury. We never really liked the town they all live in, and yet after landing and finding myself appalled at the mess of everything in England on the drive from the airport, I found myself reevaluating my entire reasoning for continuing the struggle here...

Coincidentally, in the car this morning we were listening to the stories of other expats who, returning to England from Tanzania, Australia or the US, are never really settled in either place as they go back and forth over the years. I know what they mean. It almost makes you want to give up both and try another place, as if three makes a balance.


P.S. If you want to know how so many relatives ended up in Tx, I would be glad to share the story.

* Great brands for less than half the price you would pay in Europe.

Letter from Texas

Hi Everyone,

Thanks for all your good wishes, thoughts and prayers.

Just an update:

My gran has improved a great deal. Monday she came out of the coma/delerium and started teasing everyone, but is refusing food and remains on IV drips for nutrition and antibiotics (to prevent infections). There are moments when she doesn't see us, or thinks we are other people, but then she figures it out later; she is also advising and encouraging us all for the future, telling a lot of childhood stories and seeing relatives that she will join on the other side.

It was touching that she declared my Mum was keeping her back - thinking that since my parents split up, she needed her mother.

We had a scare yesterday and we all gathered at the hospital, but she pulled out of that too.
This could go on for days or weeks. (I may have to come back...)

We are arranging for hospice care at home in preparation for when the hospital releases her. So yesterday we stripped the walls, wiped everything down, threw things away and gave away furniture in preparation for the hospital bed being delivered today.

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In better news, 14 of us gathered at Red Lobster for a feast last night - my cousin Elizabeth paid and we teased her because she is director of London charities, but she said it was OK since paying dollars makes it half price.

Last Saturday, most of the cousins in town got together for dinner as well, at a fancy Grill at the Galleria. That was expensive but we split it.

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I haven't been able to see my friends in the area because our car is the day taxi and my mother can't drive well at night. I don't know Dallas and am not allowed to drive her rental car - I've never been stopped by police in my life, but she won't relent. This sucks because you'd think there would be enough time in the day, but there isn't. Someone always needs to be driven somewhere, or there's shopping and cooking to do, or hospital visits, or something...I can't ask Gigi to come and get me because she can't drive outside of her familiar area, plus I am afraid of the disability controls she uses. It's not fair to ask my other friends to come here either...anyway, I leave tomorrow...

But we have to remember this is not a pleasure trip. Mum and I were arguing about that, on the way to Gigi's house because we were halfway there when Mum remembered that some family friends who had been keeping boxes from our house in their giant garage had finally allowed her to go there in the afternoon and pick up what she wanted. We argued because I had promised Gigi I'd see her, but I got blamed for an arrangement I had made the day before with her approval simply because she had found out later that we could get our stuff.

She had also given them a lot of things...It is weird going into people's houses and seeing your own furniture and decor integrated into every room. It happens all over the family now - reminders of our former life have been dispersed into all their homes in Texas, Canada, and England. Most weird to see my old Peter Rabbit keyring hanging out of my uncle's pocket...

So yesterday I was taking family photos out of frames and putting them in a folder so I can easily bring them with me to London. Some were specially mounted and framed, so those my mother will take to Canada and store under the bed.

Life is full of changes, isn't it? Sometimes we have no choice but to go along with it, no matter how much you must lose.

Sad news

My dear readers, I have some sad news. I have booked a last minute flight to Dallas because my Granny is dying. She was rushed to the ICU this morning. Her systems are shutting down and the only thing keeping her alive are the machines. And so, we all have to be there and arrange her funeral before the end of next week.

She has had her ups and downs over the past couple of years, but was doing quite well this year. That's the way it is. We have known for a few years that this could happen at any time, but no matter how long you expect it, the actual event is always a surprise, so needless to say, today was all panic stations.

She has been a true matriarch. Mother of 10 children, 24 grandchildren and countless great-grands, and always the toast of every family gathering, full of spriteliness and never short of words.

Even outside her family, she was an influential lady and earned the love and respect of hundreds of people over the years. From being Lady Jo in Guyana, an upstanding member of the community, to everyone's granny in Texas and Sunday school teacher to kids who are now parents themselves - there will be a lot of love in the room when we say goodbye.

When I was born early in 1977, my grandfather, who was himself in ill health, sent her to London "to see the tiny baby". She spent 3 months here helping my mum, and she always had a special soft spot in her heart for me...I know what her greatest prayer has always been; she waited for so long, and it hurts that she won't be around to see it happen one day.

And so, within a month of the arrival of the youngest member of the family, the eldest has departed.

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Don't worry too much about me. I am sure I will be fine when I come back. Don't forget the art history assignment from the last post because I look forward to working on that later.

See you soon!

Olivia
xxx

Assign Me

I don't know what to blog! I am having a week in limbo. I didn't get the job at the arts council, but I have two applications to send in this week.

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After a promising start to the spring (remember my London walk last week?), winter is back. The south of France and London were both cold as each other, about 5 degrees C (upper 40s F). The heating is back on, plus my little space heater is back in service, and it was even too chilly to have my window open a crack as it usually is in winter - I guess I had acclimatised to milder weather.

It is supposed to snow somewhere this week too.

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I had an idea whilst I was washing dishes this weekend. I shall open the comments to anonymous voting - on any point of art history that you would like me to research and write about. (But please nothing after the 20th century.)

Go on, get your thinking caps on! But remember, make your vote anonymous so that I can't be accused of favouritism.

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And finally for the listening (not necessarily viewing) pleasure of you old-timers out there.

Little Ones

OK, so where was I? Didn't blog much this week, did I?

I promised a baby blog. Selba tagged me last week for my baby photo, and then I got pics of my lovely goddaughter.




Look, the unruly hair hasn't changed much...check out the awful 1970s colours.






I can't believe my cousin is a mommy! Say hello to Jada Alyse, my cutie-pie goddaughter, born 1 March weighing 5 pounds. That baby carrier just swallows her up. Alyssa tells me she doesn't cry much. I love the top left pic because it looks like she and her mom are sharing a moment, and she looks like a doll.

I can't wait to meet her! I feel so loving in my heart when I look at her!

Have a great weekend, y'all. xxx

Fresh Eyes

A few points before I get to the meat of today's post:

I. When someone about to interview you says you have an impressive CV, are they just saying that, or do they mean it?

My "impressive" CV hasn't served me well since I got it!

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II. Yesterday was a long hard day at a venture capital firm in the City, not far from where I worked last year at M-C.
The kitchen was fancy - red cabinetry and stainless steel fittings, all automatic soft-close. However, it wasn't stocked with as much tea or biscuits and fruits as at M-C, which definitely had a snacking culture as well as lunch delivered in. But...this place had a mini cafeteria with free food! So between midday and 1.30 pm you can go eat. Chili con carne and wild rice, tacos (the first I have seen on offer in London), baked potato, three types of salad, fruit plates, cheese and cracker plates...


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Every spring, there comes one day when I fall in love with London all over again. Today was the day.

I went to the interview at the Arts Council this morning in bright warm sunshine. It was a straight shot down the Jubilee line to Westminster and barely took half an hour door to door. Whilst dodging tourists, I got to walk past the Houses of Parliament, ask a cute police officer if I was going in the right direction, and gawk at lots of exquisite architecture.

The building I went into was also lovely on the outside. Red brick with stonework, big vaulted wooden doors, and in the lobby there was a stone fireplace and oak "linenfold" panelling.

It was a casual interview with two people, so I was in for only 20 minutes. They liked some of the things I said. I was put on the spot a few times when I had to answer impressively about the role of art in modern life and why looking back at history is important. It's funny how in interviews you can come up with stuff you didn't know you knew. They made all the right sounds of approval. At the end I even asked some questions about which organisations were involved in the project and what they hope it will have become by the end of the year. They said that was a good question.

I got chatting with the receptionist. She is from Los Angeles, also with a master's degree in art history. She did a bit of finance here and nearly died inside, so she is happier earning less in a gentler environment.

I know I will miss earning that kind of money. It will be nearly half what I was getting at M-C, when all I did there was audio, and here I will be an actual project administrator. Oh bah humbug. The compromises we have to make...

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When I left the building, I wandered around soaking in the warm sunshine, and taking in the beauty of Westminster Palace and its environs. In fact, I wished I had my camera with me. It's a good thing my phone camera is good for blogging. Unfortunately, I ran out of space faster than usual since I had uploaded some MP3s onto my media stick, not leaving much room for photos.

And while I was out, I fell in love with London again, as I do one day every spring. Life begins again. There were miles of daffodils in St James's and Green Parks, blushing blossoms on the trees, courting pigeons underfoot. The air was light, the sky was blue, the sun was warm, and the breeze was soft. I felt happy.

I walked through St James's Park, crossed Pall Mall and passed Buckingham Palace (Her Majesty was at home), then through Green Park to Piccadilly and along there to Fortnum & Mason. I haven't been there in many months.

I saw my old friend, a lady who has worked at the deli since I was studying at Christie's. I used to go there for more affordable sandwiches and wraps than those offered at nearby Italian cafes, and she and I would chat. She missed seeing me and said I ought to go round more often. They no longer make sandwiches like they used to, but she offered to make me one anyway, and any time I ever want one. She said she would have liked it if I got a job at the Royal Academy across the road.

I always treat myself after interviews, I don't know why. I bought my usual medium box of assorted chocolates, and she even managed to fit in a couple of marrons glaces (glaced chestnuts), a box of Rose Pouchong tea, a jar of rose and geranium jelly, a jar of quince jelly (I had to stop there or else I would have brought home the violet jelly, lavender jelly, earl grey tea jelly, pomegranate jelly, and rose petal jelly too!), some Bahlsen choc and coconut biscuits, a box each of Duchy Originals sweet oat cakes (the best) and cracked black pepper oat cakes, a lemon for my smoked salmon (forgot yesterday, and have discovered that undressed salmon is a bit ick), a bottle of F&M chili tomato ketchup, some old fashioned sausages, and a box of freshly handmade asparagus and padano ravioli.

Oh, me spoilt, I know :P
Totally...

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Westminster Palace:



























Parliament Square



Thought the Americans would like this one. A bus, the bell tower of Westminster Palace (only the bell is called Big Ben!), and the London Eye across the river.



Westminster Palace peeping out from behind Westminster Abbey




Crossing Pall Mall between St James's Park and Green Park, Buckingham Palace is on the left. Her Majesty was at home...

Weekend Escapade

What a busy weekend I have had!

VIVA ITALIA

On Friday, Miss S and I went to the Viva Italia! exhibition. Ate lots of goodies and freebies. Alfa Romeo had a display area with two vintage models and three new ones.

There were two vintage Spiders with a new one, all three red. Beautiful cars. I was enjoying the aggressive front grilles. Ooooh and the new Spider was fitted out by Pininfarina!




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After parting with Miss S, I kept walking up Kensington High Street, up Kensington Church Street, all the way to Notting Hill Gate. I was looking for the new Whole Foods Market that supposedly opened on the high street, until after I returned home I found out that's not until summer.

I was surprised that Whole Foods has reached the UK. It started in Austin, Texas in the early 80s! No surprise that the world's largest organic/natural food retailer comes from Austin (if it had to be from TX), otherwise it would have been California.

Apparently they have a few outposts in London already called Wild n Fresh. I saw one in Camden today.

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FULL SPEED AHEAD

On Saturday, I went to see my favourite anonymous commenter, the former Delightful, to repeat what we did last year in his first new sporty car, only this time it was a Porsche 911 in electric blue. He is the boy with all the toys, I tell you.

But because it was so fast, the drive this year seemed shorter. We went over 100mph so many times I lost count, and the Porsche is so solid and grippy that you don't feel it and don't notice it unless you're staring a the speedometer. He might not like to hear it, but he drives just like I used to. Boy do I miss taking corners diagonally to the inside, and doing The Sweep on cars littering up the fast lane.

Guess the top speed we reached, busy British motorways allowing? 134mph. But don't tell anyone.

Since moving to St John's Wood, where one goes by every half hour, I have learned to recognise the big hollow grumble of a Porsche driving by. This car, when you hit that optimal speed just right, sounds like how the sweet spot on a tennis racquet feels....know what I mean? There's a sort of a long ping...which I first noticed with my Dad's car, only better.

We were back in the abbey town of St Albans, this time at a trendy restaurant where we shared a starter of corn cakes with fresh salsa and guacamole - well made, considering. F-D was very good and predicted that I would go for it, bless his cotton socks, so he ordered it.

For mains he had spaghetti with crab and chili, and I had the best cod ever. Moist, succulent, tender, and falling apart on a bed of bok choi, in a miso sauce sprinkled with sesame seeds.

Then we went for another rather fast drive with the music cranked up. F-D thought Muse's Hysteria was a good fast drive track, so we played that a few times and I sang my heart out, though it didn't work so well going over bumps with sports suspension.

We ended up at the cinema in Finchley where we didn't like the lineup, so F-D suggested the O2 Centre near me, where we plumped for Ghost Rider and then when it was over I got the blame for choosing a bad film. He's such a cheery bugger. Finally we stopped at Sainsbury's and did a bit of shopping - well, I mentioned everything else so there is no point leaving that out.

Ghost Rider ... hm, the fiery bits were ok, but there were also scary bits. I jumped about 4 times and screamed twice. The Texas talk made me laugh a whole lot. "...you're purdy and all..." There were quite a few laugh out loud bits.

I just knew it was Texas as soon as I saw the open country with the short trees and the meadows of bluebells. If you've lived there, you never get it out of your system. No sirreee.

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Tomorrow, I am going to a seafood restaurant for my 2nd cousin's 6th birthday. We go there every year for birthdays, so it will be predictable. Adults, kids, food, toys. And an aunt who will ask me too many questions that I don't want to answer.


I had better end this on a better note:



Yes, the Porsche has hips!

Bok! The Bunnies!

I love how the chickens

1) Run over to break up the fight with a few frontal shoves

2) Stare the bunnies down while tempers cool

3) Strut off together with a warning "bok!"

Keeping the mean streets safe from marauding lagomorphs.

post PMS PMS

Gosh, what did they put in the water? I laughed at all sorts of things today:

Tom Hanks in Money Pit when he gets stuck in a hole in the floor for a day and a night and his girlfriend is going all over the house calling for him and can't find him.


Mel Gibson in The Patriot when he watches the French general primping before going into battle, and the embarrassed face when he gets caught looking.

All the way through a couple of emails from two friends.

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What a busy day on the phone. A consultant called asking if I wanted her to put me through for a two-day temp at the Arts Council. I said yes please. She called back saying, tough luck, but the info to be dealt with was so sensitive that they didn't want someone who might potentially work for them again one day. (So when do I start???)

Later she called again asking if she could put me forward for a 9-day booking at an Italian oil and gas company (my dad worked for one of their subsidiaries once). But then she called back and even though recommending me first she said they chose someone with more PA experience. So she recommended me to a colleague who has a 2-month booking at the London Development Agency (2012 Olympics and all that!). Coincidentally, my landlord's organisation has regular dealings with them. I will hear by lunchtime tomorrow if I've got it.

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Random stuff:

Ever since I told my friends I like Family Guy, I've been forgetting to watch it. Stewie is priceless, oh absolutely yes.

I found out that racecar backwards is racecar.

Just before my birthday, I should receive my free upgrade to Windows Vista Premium (yes!), I suppose because I have Windows XP Media Center...

I briefly considered trying a few months in France as I was waking up this morning. My 12 years of language study needs hammering back into shape. And, you know, maybe French guys aren't as "fussy" as English guys about what they want in a girl.

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Speaking of which:

Trying to get a date is as hard as getting a job. Send a CV, no reply. Answer a personal, no reply. And the same principle applies to both: You can't get a job without experience, can't get experience without a job. Although by now, my job experience outweighs dating experience. What are they looking for???

And yet I get more replies from personals than from job applications, but it goes downhill from there. I am not tall, curvy, leggy, busty, blonde. I am also fed up of guys who say they want a girl with a brain and that looks don't matter. "You're smaller than I'd expected." "You've got short hair." Well, you knew that before, so what?

Recently a pretty good looking guy, my age, said that what I wrote him stood out "above all the rest" as something written by someone he would like to meet. After I sent my photo did I hear back from him? Well, let's just say how many times can someone claim not to have received your photos sent 3 times to both address?

Then there was the one who sounded just like Rupert Everett and shared so many of my more obscure old fashioned interests. He called me and promised an evening of dinner and the theatre after he finished marking his students' literature exams, and had even made up a fun nickname for me. Nada.

Who would be proud to have me on his arm? Probably someone I couldn't stand. For instance, a couple of years ago I went on at least 4 dates with an utterly boring man that I could not get rid of. He was nice in the worst possible way, but we had nothing in common and he had a very limited range of topics. He just seemed sort of intrigued by my way of life, and I started to feel like I was going to be his free ride into society. So I have learned that "just nice" doesn't work, there has to be something more.

Then there was the scary Slovak who practically stalked me for months. Well educated and intelligent, but so intimidating in an incessant Russian way. I didn't like something about his weak chin either. The worst thing is I met him through my aunt, who totally vouched for him. I didn't even date him, he just assumed I was and started calling me cringeworthy nicknames after the 4th time I saw him, and even assumed he could tell me what to do. When the sight of someone causes the smile on your face to drop, then you know it's time to escape. Like magnets repel.

And yet, after that I managed to wrangle 2 dates with a guy who looked just right for me, he played the violin, was Italian-Greek from France, and we had a load of things in common - very much with the same upbringing and foundation. His English was perfect as he had studied in the States, but we started to speak an English-French mix. He put me on the bus and I never heard from him again. A few weeks later I found his profile again, and guess what he had done? Essentially described me as his ideal match, down to the curly hair.

Only one normal, well brought up and very attractive person put up with me for 4 months, and I don't know why he bothered, as in the end it pretty much came down to the gap in experience between two similarly-aged people.

My barely recovered self confidence was shot for a year after that. It's back now, but I'm starting to worry about when I start going to those gatherings where people meet each other. Will my attitude be different to what it was a year and a half ago? My whole body of experience hasn't been very encouraging, and I am so behind...plus I lost every ounce of confidence after my parents divorced a few years ago, and many would say that it should have no effect on me, but I am an only child and we were unbelievably close; still are, just not as a trio - I actually had physical reactions to the situation, and now am more cynical and put less faith in what men say.

The longer I stay single, the more difficult it is not to panic when a guy I like pays me attention. They just don't understand. They think that the way I am acting is me playing games, when it is actually me not being able to figure out how to handle things. It takes me weeks to get over the fact that he wants to hold my hand! It took me many months after the breakup with the last guy to stop feeling nervous around him, and of course by then it was way too late.

Make no mistake, there was a time when I thought that I could go out with nearly any man I chose, but of course after finding out that wasn't true, and just how different I really was, and that inexperience counts against you, well that was a huge shock.

God, I am in trouble...

Sorry. It's not like me to complain about these things to you, but sometimes it does overwhelm me. You see, I have found out that I am the sort of girl that everyone wants to pat on the head and protect. And they end up just being friends. I have this sinking feeling of disappointment in the pit of my stomach at the moment.


(I think I'm going to regret posting this, and I know what you all are going to say. You're all going to be nice and say the right things, but I'm not even sure I want comments.)

Ugh. This is worse than last week when I actually had PMS.....

I promise to be more cheerful next time I blog. There will be lots to talk about, anyway.

Robomop

I watched I, Robot last night for about the third time. I've said it before, but I will say it again. I am intrigued by Sonny. I love the expression in his eyes, the vulnerability in his voice, and the way he makes us sympathise with him.
I also liked Teddy, the bear-bot in A.I.. But...they were not real...

Sony has discontinued its trainable robo-dog AIBO as well as the mini humanoid Qrio (cost: approx. $2500), and the Sega i-Dog (£12.99) is lame. Then there is the somewhat intelligent RoboSapiens (£200ish) by Wowee. But Asimo is pretty cool. You may have seen him in the last Honda ad. He's so adorable and seems so eager to please, you just want to bless his little rubber socks. And he looks like a wee little spaceman!

As long as they don't humanise them too much, I think robot helpers will be fine.

Check out the videos of what the lil' fellow can do, on the Honda Asimo website. He - I mean, it - can climb stairs, run fast and slow, run in a curve, sidestep, kick a ball, dance, recognise faces and simple gestures, walk backwards, respond to pressure by adjusting its stance, wait for someone to cross its path before continuing, hold a human hand and walk, carry a tray, push a cart...and it does have to learn these things on its own by making calculations and adapting.

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That wasn't what I really meant to blog about. Last week I had a joyful reunion with the writings of Michael Crichton. I read Timeline. It's sort of about quantum physics and time travel to the 14th century, only the developers in the book don't call it that because they say time travel, per se, is not possible. Instead, they talk about multiverses. More than one universe - I suppose what we know as parallel universes. So here is the question I scribbled on a scrap of paper in the Tube one morning:

If it is not time travel but MULTIVERSES, then how can the Professor travel to the 14th century AND leave a note that will be excavated in the 20th century to be found by his OWN team and not some other team in another multiverse - or not be found at all, if in one universe the site has not been discovered or is inactive?

Because the rep from the company that developed the quantum travel described it thus:

"...the universe we see...was just one of an infinite number of universes, existing side by side.
Each of these universes was constantly splitting, so there was a universe where Hitler lost the war, and another where he won; a universe where Kennedy died, and another where he lived."

Most of us have had that sort of conversation before - what if he did, what if he didn't - but it's the crossover here that confuses me. The Professor visiting in 1357 loses his glasses in the scriptorium and his colleague Kate in 1999 excavates them the day after he travelled there. The manuscript specialist finds a parchment note in his handwriting asking them for help, including the date and the solution to a code.

Fine, if it were mere time travel...but how can he be in another universe?

Another thing that was mentioned but not resolved was the fact that the time travellers are split at the home end, and they disappear, but it is not they but their counterparts from another universe that are reassembled at the destination - because in our universe they figured out how to transport them but not how to reassemble them, so our scientists are relying on those from another universe that have reassembly capability...body swap? So, where do our travellers go meantime, into the ether? And how come their counterparts know the same things as they do?

And if they compress not a person but the information equivalent of a person, as in a fax, then how does that person go and fight battles and draw blood on the other side?

This is making the idea of the Matrix sound simple. So, enough quantum mechanics for now because even the physicist Richard Feynman said in 1967: "Nobody understands quantum theory."


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Check out my new flipped hairstyle:

















When I first cut it short 7 years ago, it was drastic. I never thought I could keep it at this moderate length and that it would still be (somewhat) controllable. But I did miss my curls and really needed to feel softer and more feminine, and wanted to see how far I could push it. I've been growing it since last autumn with only a couple of reshape trims since then.

At the salon on Friday night, the stylist only chipped the weight off the back so she could work it. She styled it carefully with her fingers - no tools - and a hairdryer, working out the top, straightening the strands, pulling out the sides (which is where she utilised the natural fannish tendency of the left side, of which the right was easy to imitate). Still, that frontal wave refuses to go. It now insists on returning to a distinct curl. Ah well. C'est ma vie.

*Fanfare*

Pass out the chocolate cigars - I am a godmother! (Or in our family, a "nen". It's a Guyanese thing.)

My Canadian cousin Alyssa brought daughter Jada into the world today, weighing nearly 6 pounds, reportedly with long limbs like her Mommy. And it was by C-section because Baby hadn't turned and they delivered her a couple of weeks early so that Lyss wouldn't go into breech labour.

It was Alyssa whose boyfriend Roger (her best ever and the one she was going to marry) passed away tragically and unexpectedly last September aged only 25 of a brain aneurysm, and I wrote a very distraught post about it. His family is standing by 100% and treats Lyss just like a daughter in law. This is going to be one very loved baby - all the families involved are over the moon.

Lyss was one of those mums-to-be who chose not to find out the gender of the baby, having the inhuman ability to wait 9 months to find out. Most of us wanted it to be a girl, even Lyss's brothers Mike and Paul. At least now I am totally prepared, thanks to my own godmother Elizabeth, who is also my cousin.

I am going to give her one or two Beatrix Potter books every year, like my Nen did. She contributed greatly to my early library and love of books and reading, as well as to my love of handmade boxes (though that is not exactly something I plan to pass on!)

Here's to years of Winnie the Pooh, Beatrix Potter, Dr Seuss...suppose I should have brushed up on the new stuff too. Any suggestions?

Needless to say, I will be taking my place at the Christening.

Can't wait to see pics!

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Moody Blues

Grrrrrr.

This morning I sat on the Tube beside a man whose breath whistled through his nose. He wasn't old, and he was married. The poor wife. I felt like saying, "Stop whistling."

Then on the Tube on the way home I overheard two girls talking. It was quite enlightening. One of them talked about how her mind wanders when she interviews people...

Encouraging.

Since yesterday I have probably twisted my right ankle about 6 times - in both directions. The real sprain came tonight as I was descending some steps, pointing my toes straight forward, and my ankle went again, bigtime.

Anyway. It's been hurting more and more as the evening wears on. At least I could walk tiptoe earlier, but now I can only hop...

*cries*

Do I have to go to the doctor? I don't think I should go to work tomorrow...

Ow ow ow...hurts


Reminder to self: don't blog during PMS.

I've got something that will cheer things up. Yep, it's not all Mozart and Beethoven around here. Crank up the volume and have a listen to Muse. I love what they do with sound, it's often spine-tingling.

Take a Bow
(what got me into them in the first place)

or

Sing for Absolution
(heart wrenching!)

You can also see the video on YouTube, if you like.

Foodie yum yum

MMMMMMmmmmmm the fish n chips yesterday in Richmond was poifect!

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This morning I have been watching New York City (Les Halles) chef Anthony Bourdain. He is right out of a page from the beatnik biker 1960s. Tall, tanned, lanky, weathered, curly grey hair, an earring, black leather jacket, and he smokes.

He's on this gastronomic world tour. This weekend I saw him in St Petersburg, Russia, eating smoked dried fish, coulibiac, caviar, lots of vodka with radishes, washed down with cucumber juice...

Then Oaxaca, MEXICO. I wanted to EAT ALL THE FOOD (except for the toasted crickets, ant eggs and fried worms). All sorts of mole' sauces, fresh pico de gallo, chorizo, soups, ices, enchiladas...OK, all these things in this list don't look outsdanding, but with Mexican food, it's the preparation and the resulting flavour explosion that matters. When I tell you what they put in the mole sauce: charred avocado leaf, roasted chipotle peppers, chocolate, salt, other spices...cooked up with turkey or goat...to see these things being prepared in the outdoor kitchens, everything with fresh hot tortillas...I just can't convey it here.

Last weekend I saw him in Thailand and Vietnam. I've already raved about the Hairy Bikers cooking in SE Asia, so I won't repeat myself here. Yes, of course, they all ran into unwelcome surprises, such as the Bikers eating dog when they thought it was duck, and Bourdain feeling a bit off after eating the busiest birds' nest soup you ever saw (not as basic as the Chinese one)


And right now he is in a red 1968 Mustang convertible, leather jacket, sunshades, cigarette - saying that is the car he wants to die in, let it be his funeral pyre...

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Speaking of food, I have a few recipes that it would be fun to share with you. First up, if I can find the crinkled piece of paper I wrote it on, I will give you a Butter Tart recipe from Canada.

BUTTER TARTS - very addictive.



For 12 Tarts:

1/2 cup seedless raisins
1/4 cup unsalted butter
1/4 teaspoon salt
1/2 cup packed brown sugar
1/2 cup golden corn syrup (or in UK, golden syrup)
1 egg, slightly beaten
1 teaspoon vanilla

Heat oven to 450 degrees F (~ 230 degrees C). Pour boiling water on raisins to cover completely. Let stand about 5 minutes. Drain but do not dry. Mix raisins (still warm) with butter, sugar, salt and syrup. Stir to dissolve sugar and melt butter. Add slightly beaten egg and vanilla. Fill tarts. (Add a pecan on top of each tart?)

Bake in very hot oven for 15-20 minutes - filling should still be bubbling, but lightly browned on top. Don't overbake or filling will be too thick.

Remove tarts from oven. Loosen edges of pastry with the point of a knife. Let tarts remain in pans for about 10 minutes to give them a chance to set, then remove them from pans to cool completely on cake rack.

(Olivia adds: Enjoy eating them, then put them away so you don't eat them all in one go! Seriously, my aunt baked them for my cousin's baby shower, and I just kept coming back for "another one...and another one....oh, and one more....ok, this is the last one...")




TEXT

Ageism etc

So, what has Liv been doing this week?

First I have to get an old Tag out of the way, from Moody Minstrel:

What does your desktop look like?



Bernini's cast bronze baldacchino in St Peter's Basilica. Personal holiday pics are my favourite wallpaper.
As you can see, I also have Google sidebar.

I tag all of you who blog!

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I have been:
Temping at a law firm aaallll the way out in Putney. It takes an hour at the least, assuming there are no delays on the Tube and there is enough room to get on to the first train that pulls in. It is only 3 stops away from Wimbledon. The work is easy, thankfully, so the pay is much lower than I got in the City. Jeans are de rigeur, and they seem to waltz in whenever they like - unlike the City, where I was the last to arrive at 9.30, here I was just right. The guy who sits next to me came in at nearly 10 and no one batted an eyelid...

There is a nice little cafe in Wandsworth Park that I've been going to across from the office. Today I bumped into two of the girls from the next floor down and sat with them for lunch. At one point they were talking about how it was when they first started there, and how much younger the new employees are - you know how it is, when older people talk about "the youngsters"...

I was dismayed and threw out the challenge, "How old do you think I am?
"Twenty three," spoken with confidence.
I shook my head.
She gave a look of surprise. "Twenty five."
I shook my head again.
Eyes widened and she grudgingly ventured, "Twenty seven?"
A third shake of the head.
Throwing all caution to the wind, she exclaimed, "Thirty?!?!?"
Yep, in a few weeks I will be...
Same age as they are!

***

I mean, really, if a guy my age thinks I'm just out of college, he is not going to want to go out with me, is he? I am tired of taking it as a compliment...when I'm 50, fine, but here I am trying to make my way in the world. I have often said I am about 10 years behind my peers career- and relationship-wise. So watch out, in a few years, I might finally get my dream job and meet the man of my dreams, and have kids after 40. *sigh*

**********

A few people here and on my other blog have asked if I saw any celebs at Home House on Sunday - well, if I had, I would definitely have aired it!

I've seen a couple of familiar faces right here in St John's Wood. There is a guy who looks a bit like Bill Nighy, but isn't - he was ahead of me in the queue at the bank round the corner, opening a new account.
Then tonight as I left my local Tesco, Don Warrington went in, but I've seen him before.

Of course, everyone knows that Sir Paul McCartney lives here - well, he can't stray far from Abbey Road studios, can he? Joining him are Noel and Liam Gallagher. I hear Kate Moss has been spotted, and if you were to go to the local kosher cafe round the corner, you are likely to see George Michael, Minnie Driver, Roman Abramovich, or Sir Paul.

They are all next door to their fellow slebs, the Primrose Hill set, a short walk away through Regent's Park: Jude Law, Jamie Oliver, Sienna Miller (who has now moved to this side), Jonny Lee Miller, Ewan McGregor...

**********

Off to bed for me now
*yawn*




TEXT

Lingering Luncheon

Everything seems to be picking up, now that the days are growing longer and spring is round the corner.

I went to Sunday luncheon at Home House with a pleasant group of people. Yes, Home House, where the monied let down their hair and celebs rub elbows with royalty. (What you wouldn't guess is that it is only a few years old.)



I was invited by a pleasant young lady I met a few months ago at a political Party, um, party, and of a ruling family. It turns out she is a member of my old place, the Arts Club! So I know more than enough people now to be a guest there.

The guests were all from various mideastern countries (Ms R and Mr F from Kuwait, twins from the Emirates, a pair of French-Lebanese cousins) and one Indian, and all educated in Europe, the UK or the US, and mostly quite beautiful. So many nice teeth. All of us have been mistaken for something else. The twins look Greek. Ms R has been mistaken for Indian. I've been Indian, Lebanese, Italian, Egyptian, Greek...Well, I do have two, maybe three, of those.

The champagne flowed first in the bar, after which we moved upstairs to the dining room. Ms R had assigned our seating, which I liked because we alternated boy and girl. For starters, I chose a delicate crab spring roll on a fresh mango salsa. Following this I enjoyed grilled seabass on celeriac. Ms R had recommended the roast beef, but as I had some yesterday and it gave me grief, I passed. She did, however, give me her Yorkshire pudding because I like it and she doesn't. There is always room for dessert, so I had pear and almond tarte with berry coulis and cream, and a very delightfully mild and aromatic Earl Grey tea.

The big serious topic was racism in East versus West. The fact that one guy was a lawyer, and there were 8 people to contribute their thoughts, meant that it turned into a long discussion. We joked that next time we meet up, we will discuss ID cards.

Although everyone had impeccable table manners, for some reason they referred to me on a few protocol questions. I only dug my hole deeper by ordering Earl Grey, and then Mr F said that was just what is supposed to be drunk in the afternoon, isn't it? (I hadn't thought of it at all.)

I have also been encouraged to brush up on my Greek and Icelandic for next time. Ha.Ha.Ha...

Four and a half hours at lunch in good company. That is the best kind of Sunday.

Let's get this party started [edited]

Diva's party on Saturday was awesome. Click for Photostory. after pre-drinks and lots of food at the house, we moved on to Sahara bar. There we did lots of fun "action shots", laughed our knees off, and Amy snogged her new beau while Diva passed out for 5 minutes because her drink was actually spiked. It caused quite a ruckus over at the bar when they were informed this week.

Speaking of shots, I had one in the middle with everyone else; I couldn't choose what, so I told Amy to surprise me. I had a chili lemongrass martini, and...something else. Possibly an Oriental Garden martini...We all only had about 2 or 3 drinks each and went home after 10pm to have cake and tea, after which Diva was back to normal. ;)

**********


Now on to more drinkies. I went to Detroit bar in Covent Garden with my friend Neil to scout it out for my birthday. They have a wonderful array of cocktails, in fact they were serving cocktails in London before they were cool.

Before 7pm we had 2 for £7. I had a carribean (coconut rum, cinnamon liqueur, banana syrup, cream) and Neil had a sing song (vodka, mango juice, lemon juice, sugar syrup). They do really yummy little spring rolls, and the olives are nice too. Second round, he had a paquita (tequila, passion fruit, lime juice, elderflower cordial, sugar syrup) and I had a rose petal martini (gin, rose vodka, lychee juice, topped with a red petal). It was deeeeeeelish. It seems I usually get most excited by floral drinks. And we then had some scampi with lemon mayo.



As to the setting itself, it's very underground, as though in a space age cave with large alcoves and intimate nooks. The lighting was low and the music was chilled, and not once did we have to raise our voices to be heard. I know there was more to be found. Apparently there is a restaurant there as well, somewhere in the labyrinth...!

**********

Alright my lovelies. My head is telling me that I did indeed drink gin (although G&T doesn't do this!), so I am off to bed with a glass of water. Not all at the same time, of course.

(P.S. That is a photo of my rose martini. I held the candle to the stem to light the rim. Cool eh?)

**********

[EDIT]:

For those of you who can't see Flickr pics, I hope Webshots works.

Chocolate Connoisseurs

Yes, finally a post about chocolate. You all know I love dark chocolate, but the odd thing is I can go for months without touching any. In one month, I must have eaten chocolate only 3 or 4 times. A cherry liqueur or two a couple of times, a Grand Marnier After Eight stick...

Selfridges no longer stocks Pierre Marcolini, which really is one of the best in Europe. Marcolini is Belgian and holds the official title of chocolatier with boutiques in Brussels, Paris, and Tokyo, but is based in London. Possibly some of you remember me going on about it last year. Actually, I can date the fall-off in chocolate consumption from then. If I ever get around to visiting the boutique on Kensington Church Street...

There is Rococo on Marylebone High Street, but you can find various selections of their chocolates at a few London stores now, such as Liberty and Waitrose. Valrhona is another good brand. I prefer it to Green & Black's, but it's not as widespread. I have found Valrhona at Fortnum & Mason, Selfridges, Waitrose, and even spotted some at our local Tesco today. Carte d'Or is also supposed to be good, but I haven't tried it yet even though I can find it at Waitrose too. I haven't looked at the chocolates at Harvey Nichols or Harrods 101 because I get carried away with other foods there!


Green & Black's Maya Gold versus Dove Organic Citrus Spice

G&B

1) 55% cocoa solids
2) bittersweet chocolate
3) self distributed brand from London
4) made in Italy
5) wrapped in gold foil


Dove

1) 61% cacao
2) semisweet chocolate
3) distributed by Masterfoods USA, a division of Mars, Inc
4) made in Italy
5) wrapped in gold foil

Dove smells like a spice market, giving an idea of cinammon, some clove, maybe even nutmeg. On the tongue it is silky smooth, round-edged, fast-melting, slightly bitter with no tartness, and has a delayed zingy bitterness with an exciting chili-like tang.


G&B gives an immediate pleasant orange bouquet, but then feels more gooey, is more overwhelmingly bitter, has a rough texture, and leaves a bitter aftertaste and heavy coating on the tongue.

If only we could get Dove in the UK...

Special Stuff

This weekend I went off to Diva and Nags to celebrate her birthday with Amy and Sunshine (and the Man). Pandy couldn't be there, and we missed her, but we will see her again soon.

As usual, we laughed more than anyone in a 5-mile radius. Laughter IS the best medicine :) It is impossible to hang out with that lot and keep a straight face. I love 'em to bits.

I didn't take any pictures because I didn't take my camera, and I didn't take my camera because I knew Diva would want to exercise her brand new camera, but once she puts up one of her outstanding photo shows, I will link to it.

**********

And then this morning I woke up to this:

A box of exciting goodies from Nikki all the way on the other side of the world!

It was a bright spot in my rainy day. I got:

Some dainty green earrings which make me feel thirsty because they look like grapes. A maze puzzle on a valentine heart. A smooth bar of the very excellent Dove orange spice dark chocolate. A pouch of 3 delicious Burt's Bees tinted/shimmering lip balms. Mmmmm, mintyyyyyy.

Oh, and a card entitled: Red Rover, Red Rover, send cute, financially stable, emotionally mature men right over!

(Ain't that the truth.)

Snowbound

Yesterday, all of England was blanketed in snow. Up to 10cm in some places. Not many children went to school - so they threw snowballs and went sledding. Today there was more snow oop north, but the south has mostly melted.

The transport system was paralysed: crews worked overnight to clear the snow off the rails because tube trains won't run if they cannot make contact with the electricity, but still many tubes struggled to pull out.

London lost £100million yesterday in business owing to the snow and people not being able to get in to work.

They stayed home and spent the day sending photos in to the news to be shown during the weather bulletins. There were photos of snowmen, snow robots, snow dogs, snow bears. Who knew that people who rarely see the stuff could get so creative with it?

It wasn't that cold yesterday, so even though the snow stayed in most areas, I could have gone out without being so muffled up. The ground became wet overnight, and today it's so much colder. My toes aren't warm at all.

We talk about global warming and how we will all melt, but I am watching a program about the Supervolcano, in this instance at Yellowstone. I have blogged about this before, right here.
Planet earth is due a major eruption. If it happens, the world will plunge into a mini Ice Age.

You can't win either way.

Anyway, I'm off out of town this weekend for Diva's b-day party and not looking forward to wearing party clothes in this weather...It's more acceptable to go to a dinner in Canada wearing a polar neck, than to go to a club in the UK.

P.S. If anyone can improve on that grammatically lame last sentence, please do.

P.S.2 Sorry to say, I have yet another headache today.

Mind the Gap

My Dad called me from Calgary last night, which absolutely made my day, retroactively of course. It was lovely to hear his comforting voice.


In Orangeville last month

**********

Today, before dinner, I was looking through some job listings at one of those all-purpose community sites. Then I found myself looking at the personals. Quite a few looked interesting and I was tempted to answer. But then I had dinner, and when I came back, they all looked awful.

I was supposed to go out with someone this week, but haven't heard from him.

**********

Continuing the moodiness, I have been very untalkative for the past couple of weeks.
I think my landlord and landlady (henceforth Mr and Mrs L, as I am fed up of typing their titles) have picked up on that, for they haven't asked me too many questions about anything.

Although, a few minutes ago Mrs L did need help with her TV/AV buttons. She came creeping up the stairs to my room saying my name in a piteous voice. So I went out to the landing, and she poutily said she couldn't get the TV to work. It's funny, do you know what I instinctively did, to someone more than double my age? I bent down a bit, patted my legs and said sweetly, "Come on, then." As you do when you take a child by the hand to go get cookies and milk...

...Saperlipopette!

**********

In slightly better news, my consultants are already putting my new CV through for a few things, and asking me to cross my fingers, so you had better join in.

And to round off the better-news section, my dear friend Jia Li in Newfoundland has made me a cool London Underground logo: