Bonjour!

Geneva 2012, began a little rough with delayed flights, lightening strikes, sprinting through airports to make connections and lost luggage, but we eventually arrived and settled in.

After a short rest, Gary, Dolly, the boys and I went downtown for a Chinese lunch of duck and then to Manor (prounounced manure) to pick up some necessities like chocolate, Nutella and wine! John was too tired to join us, so towards evening we went downtown again, this time for for dinner at his favorite, 50-50.

The salmon and shrimp pizza was as good as we remembered ! The self cleaning toilet was just as amusing.

Drew kept me entertained by teaching me the best way to survive in a zombie apocalypse. He had the survival “handbook” memorized. Did you know the 3 best everyday household weapons to kill a zombie with are a shovel, tire iron, and a machete? Simon and John entertained themselves with endless rounds of “Would you rather? sic: die jumping out of a airplane or melting?, be invisible or read minds?

Now I’m wiped out from so much walking and so little sleep. I’m trying to figure oLut when I last slept, but I’m too tired to calculate it. It’s 11:11 pm, July 12 here (5:11 pm home). Other than a few hours of dozing, I last slept in my own bed, the night of July 11, waking at 7:30 am (1:30pm here). Oy. No matter how you look at it, it’s been far too long since I’ve kept someone else awake with my snoring.

Random Observations: The smell of Switzerland is just as intoxicating as ever. The farmer’s crop next to John Knox is filled with sunflowers…an amazing field of “Welcome Back”! Time didn’t exaggerate the sweetness of the water from the John Knox lobby fountain…it’s actually sweeter!

G’night…

Hurry up Google, I’ve got some flesh to eat!

Good News:  I was cast as a Zombie Extra in an Indie movie called Kill Me Again.  I’m supposed to be…somewhere(?)… at some time(?)… tomorrow morning, with 2-3 outfits that can be bloodied and dirtied.  I will have hair and makeup done by Natasha.  If I had my own blood or spare body parts, I would need to have my name on them in Sharpie.   I’ve been so excited about this, telling my friends and family, shopping at Value World for just the right “dead look”, planning my zombie strut.  This is a Major Moment in my life…a Bucket List item to be checked off!

Bad News:  My Gmail account was hacked.  Some phucker changed my password and I can’t access it.  This means I can’t get the information about when and where I’m supposed to be.  I’m totally freaking.

Okay, that’s not the only reason I’m freaking, I have realized how dependent I have become  on my email.  I do everything with it.  Not having access to it is like cutting off contact to a good portion of my world.  And do I need to bring up the havoc that can be wrought by the phucker that has disrupted my world?

In order to prove I am me, Google wanted me to tell them the month DAY and year that I began using each of their products (ie:gmail, blogger, calendar, you tube).  Figuring out the year was hard enough, but month and DAY…really, Google?  They also needed the 4 most emailed contacts, 4 labels I use, 4 last emails I sent, etc. etc.  They wanted a credit card in my name, a pint of blood and the promise of my first born grandchild….okay, the last two are exaggerations, but it doesn’t feel like it!

They are supposed to respond within 3 days, which is today, but that doesn’t mean my account will be recovered, oh no…there are many calamities that can still take place.  My contacts can be erased, my inbox can be gone or the whole damned thing can just be FUBAR!

I feel violated by such a little thing.  I cannot imagine how victims of identity theft feel.

C’mon  Google..hurry up!  I’ve got me some flesh to chomp on!

I miss you…

My mom forced it to happen.  She used to pride herself on it.  Everyone would comment on how close my brothers and I were.  She used to tell us she would haunt us if we did not stay good friends for life.  And we are.  They are my best friends and I know I can count on them for anything as they can me.

When my parents were alive, my brothers and I got together a lot. Like a few times every week, a lot.  Although I always enjoyed their company, I took it for granted, sometimes attending out of obligation instead of desire.  Now that my parents are gone and my youngest brother has moved to Miami, the rest of us rarely get together and when we do, it’s not the same.  It feels different…quieter, not like my family.  We are still struggling to find our new normal.

But this weekend at my nieces wedding, we gathered on the patio and it felt right again…we were who we used to be.  The jokes flew fast and furious, old stories were repeated, songs were sung, warming the cool night air with our laughter and love.

We talked about how my dad would be smoking a cigar and chuckling at our antics and how my mom would be holding court inside and yelling at the kids to get off of the dirty floor. We talked about how much we missed them.

We didn’t talk about how much we missed “Us”.Sometimes I want to cry from the missing…

When I grow up, I want to be a Zombie

I miss The Walking Dead.    I have always loved post-apocalyptic stories.  I’ve read THE STAND, by Stephen King about ten times.   So when I found The Walking Dead on my large screen HDTV,  an instant obsession began.   Long Live Zombies!

Being a zombie is now on my bucket list.  Err… I mean portraying a zombie.  I long to be made up to look rotten and ooze pus and then gimp across a set…ohhh yeah!  I’m shivering in delight just thinking about it!

Segue…

As of today, May 16, 2012,  there are 219 shopping days until the Mayan Calendar “ends”.  Just now, Google had 48,200,000 results on the subject.  It’s mind-boggling!  Despite the fact that the world isn’t really going to blow up in December*, it’s interesting for my apocalyptic aware mind to do some thinking… If I were to pack a bag with just enough to survive what would I put in it?    How would I protect my family?  Where would we go?  Could I really poop in the woods?   I actually spend mental energy (that probably should be spent remembering to pay the bills) on these questions.

Ten or so years ago, the lights went out for half of Eastern America and my husband was happier than a pig in shit.  He loved showering in rain water, loved cooking over the grill, loved using the lantern at night.  He’s that kind of guy.  Most people who know me would snort with laughter at the thought of me doing the same, but I’ll bet they also don’t expect being a zombie to be high on my bucket list!
* December 21st 2012 on the Mayan calendar marks the end of what they called a Baktun, which is similar to our centuries.  December 22, 2012 will be the beginning of a new Baktun (the 14th) and the Mayan calendar will cycle forward (ie: the year 1999 to 2000).  Doomsday theorists neglect to mention the cycling-forward part!

50 Shades of Boring

I have tried to read it…really, I have.  I just can’t get past the junior high school writing ability of the author.  It frightens me that so many of my friends have and say they loved it.  It’s not like I am a literary snob..I adored Twilight. But this 50 Shades of Crap fell to a whole different level of Just. Plain. Ick.

So, what is it that caught the eye of John Q?  What makes one book a success and another a flop?  What is that secret formula?

I had this conversation with the author of the play I directed, and after writing a major best seller, she was just as clueless.  She seemed to think that “Book Clubs” were the key, but had no idea what it was that made them love one book and ignore another. She said that Oprah had a huge influence on the market during her Book Club days.

The success of 50 Shades of Puke is discouraging.  It’s like the artists that just splash different colors of paint on a canvas and call it a Masterpiece.

Damn, even I could do better than that!

And when I wake up…

I fly in almost all of my dreams.  I do.  I have the ability to hover and  levitate.  Sometimes I can actually soar across the sky.  All I have to do is flutter my feet and bat my arms and off I go into the wild blue yonder…

It’s sounds really stupid when I read what I just wrote, but in my dreams it’s the most amazing feeling.

I’ve looked up flying in dream interpretation websites and they all say the same thing…it means that I want to escape my routine existence, change something in my life, free myself from my challenges…yeah, whatever,  I get it.  No big surprises there.

But I can’t help but be disappointed when I wake up from a dream where I flew through the clouds with the wind on my face, to feel the same pain I’ve felt for what seems like forever and start my day.

I’m baaaaack….

I’ve been reading a blog belonging to the author of a play I’ve just directed, in anticipation of meeting her this weekend.  Most of it was about her daughter, her life, blah, blah…the stuff I went there to learn.  But buried deep in 2010, I found a post about the actual act of writing, something that has been on my mind a lot.  She said for her, writing was “like working with clay; you find and refine the shape of the book…yet also like spinning; making a neat line of yarn out of a messy ball of the subconscious.”

Profound.  My problem is that my messy ball of writing has so many twists and turns, that I can’t find my way to the beginning!  One of the only regrets in my life is that I didn’t write more.  That I let that part of me go stagnant.

Then I started thinking about the process of directing. You start with a empty shell of words on a page and turn it into something alive.  You take an authors words, characters and directions and mold them to your own vision. I know the actors lines better than they do.   I agonize over every action an actor takes, every sound cue, every light that is set.    The author may be the biological parent, but I am the adopted mother, raising our child.   We share a very close bond.

This author has also written a NY Times best-seller, a novel that has been a book club favorite for something like 15 years.  She’s written a total of 12 books, been a journalist (my first college major),  written songs, published poetry and Lord knows what else.  She’s incredibly talented.

I’m really excited and more than a little bit nervous about meeting her.   All in all, I think she will like what she sees…I’m proud of most of this show even though there are parts that make me cringe…(’nuff said about that).  I think I am probably overly critical of my own work.

I hope I am.

There’s no place like home!

Friday and Saturday were full of last visits to the Ferney Market, souvenir shops and favorite restaurants.

We spent hours trying to cram everything we brought with us and everything we purchased into our suitcases.  I swear I could not have fit even a feather more into ours!

This last Saturday morning at the market, Gary introduced me to something he called a “Saturday custom” in France, drinking Pastis.  In southern France sunny afternoons are spent languishing on the terrace of the local café, lazily watering down a half-emptied glass of Pastis with more water, diluting the spirit but extending the experience.  We did it in about 10 minutes.  They serve about an inch of the clear amber Pastis in a tall glass with a pitcher of ice water (the ONLY ice I’ve been served in Europe).  Once the cold water is added to the Pastis, it becomes cloudy and of course, the more water you add, the more diluted the drink becomes.  It tasted a lot like Ouzo, like black licorice.

Even though I was anxious to get home, I was so sad to be leaving…I think anyone who has visited somewhere wonderful, understands what I mean.  John felt the same way.  I hope hope hope we can return next year, and the year after that, and the year after that…..

We went for a last dinner at Fifty-Fifty and then returned to the Chinese restaurant I had been to before for another wonderful meal.  This time John and Simon both had duck.  It was great.  John realized that during this trip he has eaten (for the first time) horse, duck, oysters, snails and octopus.  He has also traveled by plane, train, automobile, tram, subway, cable car and bus.  Wow.

After reading through my past posts, I realized that there was so much I failed to capture about the trip.  I didn’t write anything about how the cafeteria staff (Theresa, and later, Fatima) were cold at first, but eventually became our friends even though they didn’t speak a word of English.  I left a bottle of Rose, the wine they drank every lunch,  as thanks on Sunday, but neither of them were working.  I hope they get it and realize it was from me.   I never mentioned that they cleaned our room every other day, or how horrible the pillows were.  I never mentioned how the laundry machines would lock if you didn’t get your laundry out in time.

I said nothing about learning how to play 2 handed eucher, or how the worlds largest hornet invaded our room….TWICE!  I wish I could capture the depths of the deep conversations I had with several of the students about life and living and just about everything.  The great, new friendships of Matt, Raimey, Lu Wanna, Lisa, Pagen, Takumi, Jen, Winona,…oh boy, I could go on and on and on…

Things to remember:  The blueberry jam, the classroom Nespresso machine, the view from the basketball court, the tiny individual refridgerators, getting yelled at for being on the “private drone”, the neighbor cows and the sound of their wind-chime like cow bells, John’s Nutella everything!, Movenpick ice cream.

Sunday morning, we were up early.  We ate a last breakfast, finished packing and set off for the airport around 9 am.

6 hours and $118 worth of hamburgers and chicken nuggets!!(Switzerland is EXPENSIVE!) later (ugh!) we finally boarded our plane.  The boys were great.  But it was a long wait.  The trip to Amsterdam was no problem.  We cleared customs easily and made our hour later connection with no issues. It was a long, long, long flight to Detroit.  It seemed to take forever, despite being shown several movies and having a book to amuse me.  The kids were as good as they could be under the circumstances, but by the time we arrived in the USA at 7:30 US time, it was 1:30 am for us (Swiss time), and we were tired, cranky and just ready to be home.

Now we had been to four countries, and none were as horrible to enter as the good ol’ US of A.  We stood in this long, winding  line for 2  hours, just waiting for our passports to be stamped. They only had a few windows open and several flights had come in. We still had to claim our luggage and go through customs!  Incredible!   I wanted to cry.  I don’t know how the boys didn’t!  It was hot and everyone was thirsty and it was horrible.  Really.  We inched along a few steps at a time, dragging our carry-on’s along, sweating ….well, you get the picture.

Welcome home.

When we finally pushed through the doors to the “other side”, Mike’s smiling, welcoming face, was the most beautiful, wonderful thing I had ever seen. His hug was heaven.  John got a huge hug and kiss.  He was grinning ear to ear with his trademark smile!  Of course, Drew and Simon were ecstatic to see their Mommy again!

Unfortunately, I was struck by the heaviness of the air here, and unpleasantly hit with the odor.  Ew.

It felt great to hug Becca again…she looks great!  Her new job is so exciting…I am so incredibly proud of her!

Joe’s butt wiggled faster than ever when he heard John’s voice and even the cats came down for kitty kisses. Gifts were handed out, chocolate was tasted and stories were shared, but soon, our heads were spinning with exhaustion…

My own bed felt so comfortable, but my pillows…oh my pillows cushioned my head like the clouds and before I could even think about it, I was asleep…back with the ones I love.

Iron Chef Geneva

The tall bald man in a bowtie bit his apple, heralding the beginning of the greatly anticipated, Iron Chef Geneva.

“Call it”, he shouted, as he tossed the Franc into the air.  Team G.I. Tim, called heads, and when the coin fell between the slots of the wooden floor, it was determined that since heads was not showing,  team Anitadayoff won the right to choose the better of the kitchens (Kupperman’s).  As the loser, Team G.I. Tim, had first choice of food and Gary’s kitchen to work in (including a sink of dirty dishes).

The bald chairman, sipped from his brandy and quieted the murmering crowd. “Ladies and Gentlemen…it’s time for The Reveal”.  His, also bald assistant, Food Security, deftly pulled the sheets off  mounds on a table.

Displayed were three groupings of food.  Pile A contained a whole pig, tripe and multiple weird fishies and other ocean denizens, Pile B included duck breasts, duck fat, meatballs and salmon, and the middle pile was a varied grouping of items that both teams could use.  Fair game was anything found in any kitchen or refridgerator!

The chairman spoke again…”In the words of my uncle, I say to you with an open heart and an empty stomach … Allez Cuisine!”

Unfortunately, most of Anita’s team had gone into town and had not yet returned, leaving her almost alone, so being compassionate, I offered my help. Anita accepted and told me to carry a bunch of stuff to the kitchen.  “No problem”, I responded and went about my task.

When completed, I asked what else I could do.  “Find40 yogurt cups for mousse”.  “No problem”,  I responded and went about my task.

When completed, I asked what else I could do. “Stay out of my way while I decide what to make”, she curtly replied.  “Um….no problem?” I responded, and went about my task.

After 10-15 minutes of sitting there while she moved around the kitchen blindly, I asked her what else I could do…”Just sit down and shut up”, was her answer.

Now this, I had a problem with….so I left.

Four hours later, it was time for the presentations! (Eventually, the remainder of Anitadayoff (and I’m sure they did by the time it was over!!!)  returned).

We ate: meatballs stuffed with foie gras and mint; curried duck; “grown up” mac and cheese; cassoulet en croute with a side of squid salad; “three little pigs” stuffed with … something … potatoes in duck fat, penne carbonara, fish stew, chocolate mousse, …among a bunch of other things that I just can’t remember.  Everything was amazingly wonderful!

And in the tall, bald chairman’s own words…

” In the closest battle in the epic history of Iron Chef Geneva, there were no losers–only winners. And the winners, who shall defend their title in 2012 in their return engagement in the storied kitchenettes of John Knox Centre, is … Team G.I. Tim! Special thanks to celebrity guest judges Birthday Brian, ILO Sumir, and Leo Oliver!”

This ‘n that…

Tuesday night, I took the boys to the carnival and John won a stuffed camel playing a horse (well, camel) race game.  The best ride they went on was something I had never seen before.  We named it the “Bubble Ride” (see pics).  The kids climbed into huge plastic balls, which were filled with air, sealed, then rolled onto a tub of water.  They became human guinea pigs on wheels! It was hystarical to watch and they had a fantastically fun time!

Yesterday, we returned to our favorite park, the one at the zoo, and the kids spent the afternoon playing with the locals.  Max and Ollie came along and really enjoyed it, also.

While doing laundry a few days ago, I dropped my Kindle, and broke it.  John says the internal screen is cracked.  My Kindle is my favorite thing (next to my family) and I wanted to cry.  It’s been a tough adjustment, not having anything to read in my downtime, or at night before bed.  The plane ride home is going to be a long one.  It’s not like I can pop over to Borders and get a book…everything here is in French!  I’m not one to cry over spilled milk (at least possesion wise), but I’ve been sobbing over this puddle!

John has been complaining about having a clogged ear for about a week.  It’s been getting worse and we’re flying on Sunday, so,  the concierge, Corneila, recommended a clinic, and today we went to see what the problem was.  Two hours , 75 Francs, and an entire candles worth of wax later, John was cured.  Apparantly, his ear was packed with wax, so the Doctor took a huge syringe, loaded it with water, and rinsed his ear out for a half hour.  John, understandably,  hated the experience.

I’ve taken a couple of runs into town with the students as a “tour guide”, as the program draws to a close.  It never occured to me that they have had very little time to explore and value my (ha!) “street smarts”.  I am taking yet another excursion in a half hour to Manor (prounouced Manure) with a group to purchase chocolate.  After a few such trips up and down the hill to the bus each day, I’ve earned my own chocolate!

Today is the last day of class and it feels like the last day of summer camp.  Many are leaving in the morning…others the next day…some the next.  We are leaving Sunday at 2pm, but since Gary leaves at 11 am, we are sharing a van to the airport at 9am.  It’s going to be a long day at the airport, but we’ll figure something out, I’m sure.

3 more days!

Wow.