Perspective

Isn't it wonderful and strange how sometimes people you barely (here meaning have only just met you) know make you look at the world as if it is an opportunity -not a mess?!

I'm very glad to have met another somebody- whom I would like to refer to as 'friend'- who reminds me to see things into perspective. And for those who haven't seen things in perspective: below is a tutorial.

Get your vitamins

It's almost sort of true.

You Are Vitamin D

You're a naturally strong person. You've always had a lot of endurance. You can survive what would make most people crumble. You have both mental and physical strength. You don't do a lot to stay healthy - you just live a pretty natural lifestyle. You stay away from processed junk, sleep like a baby, and get plenty of sunshine!

What Vitamin Are You?

One week worth of LM 33 (III)

This week in our house, in the middle of our street:

- the return of M's melancholic mood
- the return of therapeutic baking
- the plotting of Satan's* early demise
- the arrival of M's VISA
- M finally decides on which course to take at the academy of fine arts next year
- M puts her favourite writing utensil to use
- the plotting of feline D's castration
- two d&d sessions run by Allie*

Please check back next week for more news.



* no real names are given

Future Me

Occasionaly I get letters from the past; good advice from a younger me. Or not such good advice but complaints about how miserable my life is, or cryptic messages I can't figure out anymore.

Recently I got 2 of these messages and I suppose my past self would have been happy to know she'd feel a lot better in the future. But since my past self had the inclination to be a somewhat neurotic instable man-hating liability I can't be sure of it.

In case all this vagueness has got you interested here's a link.

The Cake Effect

Below you may read how I lose myself in sombre moods, for no reasons, however there is a method. A procedure. A course of actions that will never fail to make me feel better, sometimes only a very little and quite often for a very short period of time, but nonetheless it works. Below you may read yesternight's variation.

1) Sift 250 grams of auto-levitating (I mean self-rising) flour in a bowl.

2) Add 100 gr of powdered sugar, 2 eggs, 100 grams of melted or very soft butter, 1 cup of very strong coffee, 150 -200 grams of chocolate chips, 1 spoon of baking powder

3) Stir well.

4) Grease and powder oven-proof vessel with flour.

5) Pour batter into vessel.

6) Put vessel into pre-heated oven at 200°C

The result in this case was cappucino cake and M who is still a little sad but looking forward to better days.

U-Turn

Hours, little more than hours ago, little enough time to be measured even in minutes, I was happy. I  always forget how it feels when I'm not happy, so I cannot describe it but I believe I must have been since I wrote the previous post. And now...

All is black.

All of a sudden all is black. Don't ask me what happened. Nothing happened. I was having supper, which one of my house mates cooked, and it wasn't even too salty or too spicy for my taste. But suddenly it was there. BANG! Uninvited and most unwelcome: the feeling of utter despair.

The Ripple Effect

Is any of you, dear readers aware of the ripple effect?

The infinite puddle of joy an empty swimming pool can be and then to plunge in. To make the first ripple and then continue to make them, ... 

It was absolutely bloody brilliant. Brilliant! I tell you. 

Apart from having to pass under the nose and scrutinising looks of well-trained athletes, wearing little more-if in fact not less- than your underwear, displaying a technique at best mediocre for kindergarten level. But nontheless I had serious fun.

Days in the Park - part two

I've already dwelled upon the subject for too long. But I can't help feeling almost rejuvenated from the experience-now ten days ago- os sitting in the park for an entire afternoon and basically doing nothing. For as long as company was absent I was very active in the expanding of my wardrobe (i.e. I was knitting a poncho) but as soon as familiar faces appeard all energy that I did spent went into rubbing the bare shoulders of very pretty ladies, idle banter and consuming moderate amounts of alcohol. And God, does that feel good.

Just so to say that I intend to spent my next bank holiday (1st of May) in much the same way. Naturally you are all invited, advertising your presence may even result in being force fed cherry brownie.

Rosemary

True enough the picture is somewhat inadequate. It doesn't do her justice, not by far. The pen that I bought and baptised 'Rosemary'. I have bored myself, my housemates and my friends to bits by telling just how wonderful and beautiful she is and truly I cannot say it enough. She feels like a dream. Writes like a dream. Whereas any quality pen may glide over the paper seemingly effortless like ships cut through calm seas, she floats over the blank pages like clouds drift accross the sky.

Have I mentioned I love her?

Penguïn - part I

I just knew penguins were cool.

Youtube: a rediscovery

It's hard too imagine but in the last three months I have barely watched youtube, until today, when by lack of company to go explore and sunshine to make me want to spend an afternoon by the waterside, I find my self wasting my life in front of a computerscreen. Enjoy the following as I waste even more of the time I try to think of as precious on site mentioned in title.

Muscle Ache

I have managed exactly one feat of sport-like activity this week. A twenty-minute swim in the company of Miss Rabbit*. And still my shoulders, legs, back and arms ache as if I battled an army of full-plated gnomes. Where's a pair of well-trained able hands when you need them.

* for the sake of anonimity no real names are given.

What a girl needs...?

Surely this can't be right. Readily I will accept the fact that not all my needs are met, but it is not as if I am downright miserable.

None of Your Needs Are Being Met

Needs not being met: Physiological, love, safety, esteem, and self-actualization needs While it may seem surprising to you, none of your core needs are being met. You are not getting enough fuel to keep you going, and it's hindering every aspect of your life. Go back to square one. Work on getting enough rest, eating right, and even exercising. To be happy and fulfilled, your physical needs like food and sleep need to be taken care of.

How Many of Your Needs Are Being Met?

One week worth of LM 33 (II)

A more apropriate title might be 'a fortnight at LM 33' because -as the clever reader undoubtedly has noticed- I skipped the weekly update last week. Oops.

Besides the cleanliness of our house-in absence of men that make a mess out of it. Only one other hippie house related - rather domestic -thought has struck me; why am I still the one doing the cooking?

Make no mistake, I love doing it, I propose it not half of the time but nearly daily, and it's not as if I mind doing the shopping. But still, why, in a house were 80% of it's inhabitants enjoys spending time in the kitchen, where everybody is home earlier then me, and all but one prefer company for dinner I alone cook so often for so many?

Are my housemates lazy? Or am I too competitive in being the über-cook in this house and everyone else simply incapable of disappointing me?

Secretary Day

You see on the right a picture of flowers, something I thought myself quite entitled to, at the very least today. Because it's secretary day, and basically that's what I do.  Of course I didn't get any but I bought a little something for myself. You may check it out here.

I heart collegues with baking skills.

Am I not lucky?

The title of this post about sums up what I would write about but it was by far the most pleasant event of yesterday. Especially since I had to reschedule my swimming date, did not taste victory in the picking-up vegetables contest, fell for the wrong guy again, received an e-mail reminder of my dentist for a yearly check-up and had to work late very late. Bah.

But I still heart collegues with baking skills.

Today in the news.

I woke up a little late this morning. Usually I'd eat a hurried breakfast and dash off to work, today I still had a sip of tea and a quick rummage through the paper. And I learned the following:

• In Dubai a dromedary has been cloned for the first time.
• A baby has been made with sperm that is 22 years old.
• In Illinois a thirteen-year old boy robbed a bank.
• Someone wrote a book about the perversity of celebrities promoting their religion or goodwill.
• Three days after his near-heroic third victory, anything the golden boy utters- ranging from 'I had to vomit' to ' I want another green jersey' is still news.

Flirtatious

I do not suppose the adjective that makes up the entire title for what will be the only post today is one many of my friends or even relatives, let alone vague acquaintances will readily associate with me.

But even though it's new to me, it about sums up how I feel. I suppose. I don't really know if this is flirting a more innocent version of myself might call this simply being friendly. And I might mean not much, but I'm sure I mean something (oh vagueness here I come again).

However I refuse to worry about it. I feel flirtatious.

Damn you butterflies in springtime, damn you foolish heart and damn you pftuh, ftuhh, ptuh ptuh. In the meanwhile I'm going to just enjoy.

Breaking the habit.

It is mid-easter holiday, a two-year tradition dictates that I should be utterly drunk, angry at the entirety of mankind, sad, humiliated, heart-broken, drooling and above all redecorating bathrooms with vomit.

It can't be denied I had my share of alcohol this weekend but nonetheless I am almost sober now, with no intention of being sick and every intention to enjoy a few hours of sleep and whirl through my working day tomorrow.

In elaborate conference with those friends that shared most of the day and it's sunshine with me I have decided to start a new tradition; Picknick in the Park, with maybe some dinner and a movie afterwards.

editors note: a picture may or may not follow

I <3 bubbles @ breakfast

For most people 'the holiday season' means two weeks before and after New Year. For me the holiday season starts around Easter. And for obvious reasons; Easter chimes the season of warm enough mornings to have meals on the terrace, it invites for waking up early, stroll in the countryside for bits and return hungry enough for an elaborate breakfast* which my parents fix without fail at every possibly festive occasion**.

* Champaign, fresh juice, home made toast and marmelade, farm yoghurt, dark chocolate, soft-boiled eggs, croissants with caramel cream,...

** Festive occasions being; 2 out of 3 children being home for the weekend, extremely sunny weather, the discovery of a mislaid bottle of bubbles or a lucky turn during our morning walking leading directly to a bakery, and so on.

An Alternative Easter Bunny

Happy Easter everyone!

Quote #30

To fear love is to fear life, and those who fear life are already three parts
dead.
Bertrand
Russell, Marriage and Morals (1929) ch. 19British author, mathematician,
& philosopher (1872 - 1970)

Women on the verge of breaking down with laughter.

Consider 125 minutes of the following:

You may well imagine girls night was a succes. And it would have been even without a movie. The starter bubbles were perfect, the main course delicious, the brownie too dark, too crumbly, too sweet and way too good not to eat at least two bites too many. Life can be sweet.

Too Subtle

Too subtle, whereas I am usually called too vague.

Too subtle, while I think it is obvious, so very very very obvious.

Risotto con tomatoes

In view of the recent demise of a shared cooking blog, this-a-here web page will be the new medium by which I will let my recipes reach you.

This may seem a tad boastfull but since I heard no less then five times how good it was I suppose you want the recipe.

Temteisjuhn Risotto

- 0.5 kg sticky rice
- 0.5 kg chopped tomatoes
- 0.25 kg bacon
- 0.25 kg mascarpone
- smidgeon of parmezan cheese
- pinch of salt
- pinch of freshly ground pepper


Heat a dash of olive oil in a suitably big (preferably non-stick) frying pan. Add bacon and tomatoes. When the tomatoes are nearly done add rice and water. About 1 cup of water for two cups of rice. Leave to boil for a while and add water as you see fit. Meanwhile season to taste.

When the rice is done you turn of the fire and mix in the cheese and mascarpone.

Done!

RIP Clichalien

Around here and here, you may for the first time have heard mention the existence of such a thing called 'Clichalien'. The rise has thus been discussed in detail and over the fall of said subject we may be brief.

He/she/it is no more.

But then what force on earth is stronger than a woman in times of springcleaning?

Photo Blog

A picture, also available here.

And no, this is not a promise to keep my other blog a little more up to date. 

Rant V

I want answers. Answers to a lot of questions. And though the questions may seem riddles to you I won't make a misty show about what I can or can't say. It's my place on the internet goddamn you, I can say whatever I bloody like.

I want to know what the look on his face means.

I want to know if it's ok to say I'm not in love.

I want to know weither it's him I miss or the feeling of being cherished.

I want to know what I feel, not assume I'm not in love, because falling in love is such a bad idea.

I want to know if maybe falling in love is exactly what I need to do.

I want to know that I'm not happy yet, but that I will be someday.

I want to know above all that halfway my feelings for him I won't just fall right back in love with you. Yes, YOU.

New books -part ?

Every now and then a girl must have new books. Please enjoy crtitising my taste as I unsecret those I have bought this weekend.

• The Complete Novels of the Brönte Sisters
• Wives and Daughters - Elizabeth Gaskell
• Women in Love - D.H. Lawrence
• The Scarlet Letter - Nathaniel Hawthorne
• Father Brown - G.K. Chesterton
• Mrs. Dalloway - Virginia Woolf
• The Little Prince - Antoine de Saint-Exupéry
• On Chesil Beach - Ian McEwan
• A hedonist in the Cellar - Jay McInerney
  
• The Enchantress of Florence - Salman Rushdie
• The Wind-up Bird Chronicles - Haruki Murakami
• On War - Carl von Clausewitz
• The Voyage of the Beagle - Charles Darwin
• Elizabeth Costello - J.M. Coetzee
• The Orange Girl - Jostein Gaarder
• Traliedieren - Patty Scholten
  
• Parfait d'Amour - Lyndsay Bekouw
• Dumonts Kleine Specerijen Lexicon
• The Conran Cookbook - Simon Hopkinson/ Terence Conran/ Caroline Conran
• Anatomie voor de Kunstenaar
• De Volledige Inleiding tot Tekenen - Barrington Barber
• Straattaferelen Schetsen - John Marsh
• The Painted House - Graham Rust
• The Celtic Design Book - Aidan Meehan
• Colour Source Book - Rosalind Ormiston & Michael Robinson
• Penguins - Frans Lanting
  
• Survivaltechnieken - Guy Croisiaux
• World History for Dummies

Sigh

Isn't it wonderful to be in love?

I have never before been able to enjoy it this much, and I know I will make all of you very curious but you will have to be patient, as patient as I must be. I won't be able to hold her until the 16th april, however then I will introduce you all and you will, nay WILL envy me. In th meanwhile I hunger, lust and desire.

And this is enough mystery and vagueness for today. I solemly promess to be utterly clear in my next post.

The Lady at the Post Office

Competion day 6 and this is the second post about post attendants, maybe this needs a little explanation.

'Doing' the mail is the part of my job I mastered first, since a newborn snail could do it with it's eyes -on-tentacles closed there is nothing very spectacular about handling incoming and outgoing post but still I pride myself in not once so far having made a mistake, and also perhaps I am sensitive in all things concerning letters because I like so very much to write and receive them in real life.

This was however a post about the Lady at the Post office. She is less indispensable, far less part of my working day routine than the mailman of whom I spoke earlier but still, she the one, and none of her four or five collegues who remembers I never pay cash,  who comments on my dress, who offers advice on good non-busy hours to come to the post office and wishes me pleasant weekend every friday afternoon.

I wish I could vote her employee-of-the-year.

On a lazy sunday afternoon

More and more my blog is not an open letter to my friends and acquaintances but a dairy page edited for publication. What this will turn into I don't know yet. I just thought wasn't sure I would come up with another post for the sake of competition so I decided to describe my sunday so far.

I woke up around ninish, got dressed and enjoyed for the first time in ages a real breakfast; hot mint tea, toast with caramel syrup, fresh orange juice, ... you get the picture. After some quick washing we ( my parents, my younger sister and myself) went to a book fair, where I spent too much money by far. A list of the purchases may follow.

And now after a somewhat copious dinner of chicken and mushrooms in peppery cream sauce, I am plotting to start reading, but I would also like to start the knitting of a new and summerproof poncho and I'm wondering why I'm not just cuddled up in front of the television with my youngest sibling and watch the round of Flanders. So many options, so little time...

One week worth of LM33 (I)

Another part of the deal (see below, or click the link) was that we (ie Dieudonné and myself) would every friday or saterday write a review of the week in house LM 33. I will undoubtedly be less original but all the more persistent in keeping this up.



A new week brought us the arrival of the Clichalien. An extraterrestial-like design on our living-door that repeats our most typical quotes. Since aparently I repeat myself the most, half of my quotes didn't make it to the final selection and even so I'm cited twice as much as any other house mate. I'm not sure whether to be happy or not.


In other news this week: the nearly daily visits of The Count aka the youngest brother of my nearly favourite housemate. His presence in our living room is nothing new, even before monday last, I would come home to a deserted house but for a lone figure clad in stylish black and white hunched in front of a wirelessly internet-connected portable computer or I would retreat to the attic where I safekeep the prayer place and find retreat impossible for the presence of two brothers in the practice of armed combat.
This week however I bid him welcome in our humble abode no less then four times, consider the seclusiveness of the young man concerned and the limited amount of days in a week and you may well be as surprised as I am. But don't mistake my words, there are few people whom I welcome into my dwelling with more or even equal pleasure.

The Postman Always Rings Twice

You may think, dear reader that I am referring to a movie classic.

But in fact I am going to tell you about whom I like to think of as 'my mailman'. He's forty-fifty something. His greying hair is short, his dress style never changes, he greets me nearly daily in the same peppy slightly smokey voice and every time he leaves with a wink. He's not ultimately lovable but I've grown strangely fond of him. In much the same way one grows fond of goldfish or kitchenmold (doesn't this sound harsh), but he's one part of my life as a working girl I would not like to trade.

I know he's not MY mailman, seeing that I have to share him with at least every other secretary in the building-whom I will scorching with flaming rays from my eyes and crush into despair with my sheer unreachable superiority, should they wish to claim the uniformed messenger themselves- still I hope to find out in time when is 'postman-day' so that I may surprise him with a(n) (origami) flower.

Chicken in beersauce

Some of you may be hoping for a recipe. And you will get one, a very basic one but still, others may hope for a detailed review of my evening, and yet others may wonder if I really couldn't find a better picture of either beer or a chicken. But first things first.


Recipe 'Poultry in beer'

- 1 large chicken in parts
- 1 unit of you favourite dark or ombre beer
- 3 or 4 onions
- three large tablespoons of onion marmelade
- thick slice of butter
- spoon of soy sauce
- pinch of cinnamon
- pinch of rosemary


1) Melt butter in sufficiently big pot.
2) Chop onions coarsely and fry shortly.
3) Temper heat and add chicken to pot.
4) Add all seasoning and a cup of water.
5) Leave on stove for about an hour.
6) Add beer an broil for another half hour.
7) Ready to serve! Will feed four very hungry people.




How did it all go? I suppose some akwardness is nothing out of the ordinary when you invite people you don't really know that well. But I had quite a pleasant evening, learning probably almost everything I'll ever remember about HDR photography, watching what my visitor has described as 'the Human Zoo', showing my drawings (by request, I'm not that fond of my own work yet) and giving up my evening walk. Plus, though I did not get any flowers I was not left empty-handed.

Never a moment's rest.

I must apologise. I have kept something from you dear readers. I recently told you about three fields of competition between me and my most recent new housemate, there however also another competition running which I had won before I even knew it was a competition.

The battle of vegetable collecting. The weekly thrill of who will get to the vegetable collection point first. So far I have won 6 times out of 7 and there is no reason to assume a different ratio for the future.


Bassically I just wanted to say: I rule! For some part at least. And though I realise I make my life a littel stressful by wanting to keep up, I enjoy it just the same.

And now I'm going to get me a cup of tea, my head still hurts.

April Fools'

... as a date known as the first of April.

And what a day it has been. Everything looked dark and all day long I had sunshine. And just when I started to think it might all turn out well, the raincoulds appear. 

I stand by the decision I made but the confrontation with reality is nonetheless harsh. I may be a lot happier without the constant fear for another heartbreak, I want to be happier still.

April fools and I'll fool myself.

Crush

As my loyal followers are aware and my recent admirers may suspect, I fall in love easily and out of love only with the utmost effort and pain. Since I have decided a while back that I do not s-wish to be miserable the entirety of my live, I have come to the conclusion that it might be better should I never fall in love again.

Ponder and wonder, it is a strange decision to make, for as long as the future I paint for myself is brighter without a man to break my heart however, I will stick to it. Call me crazy or narrowminded or wont to overly complicate my life, I don't care. I'm happier this way and I'd dare say so are the guys I meet. Instead of being treated as the root of all evil, they are now met with conversation and smiles. At rare occasions even cuddles.

Tell me this is not a good thing. I will nevermore befriend a man and forever fall in love.