A Roller Coaster Week

It has been one of those weeks. Since Thanksgiving in not a public holiday over here (and I have an American husband) we decided to celebrate the  holiday on the weekend prior to the actual day. We spent all of Saturday cleaning and cooking and and between us managed to come up with quite  a feast. My husband, who always cooks meat much better than I do, roasted a smoked ham with a Dr Pepper glaze. I was in baking mode so I made a plaited loaf and an orange cranberry cake. We also had greens and a side of smashed sweet potatoes. At times like these, I find the recipe centre at Better Homes and Gardens a good source of information and inspiration.

The evening went well but the next morning my son woke up with a fever of 103F and I spent most of Sunday nursing him. Thankfully he was as up and about on Monday.

Work has been super-busy with one thing after another. Thursday I woke up with a swollen throat and half-way through the day I started shivering one minute and boiling the next. I was  pretty sure I had a fever but had to stay at the office as I was the only one left – my manager had his car wrecked and our assistant is on reduced hours – so I had to hold the fort. Once I got home, I found out that I had a fever of 101F. I spent Friday at home - sleeping, reading and setting up a page on Facebook for my blog. I an not sure how that will work yet but I hope it will be a way of giving my blog more exposure. If any of you have already explored this avenue, let me know how you have found it.

This week will see me decorating the house for Christmas and doing some shopping in between work, cooking and keeping up with all your posts. I hope you all have a wonderful week.

He Sings To Me

After days of silence he is finally back. In the velvety stillness of an autumn evening all I can hear is the mesmerizing call of his voice. He can be brash and his ferocity whips everything around him in a frenzy of motion. Where he comes from and where he goes to, nobody knows. Here one minute and gone the next – as elusive as a mystery.

  

But when he lingers and I lie in bed waiting for sleep to come, then he sings to  me. Like the legendary sirens, he sings to me, wishing to lure me out into his frantic arms, tossing me hither and thither and doing with me what he will. Because he is none other than the mighty north-west wind. The wind with majesty in his voice; the one we call the majjistral (pronounced mayyistraal) – my favourite wind, the one that lifts my mood.

Just a whimsical tribute to my muse - the NW wind.

Photos from my archives - taken from our house on a day very similar to today  in November 2008.

The Gypsy In Me

I hope that  you have a few minutes to spare today because I would like to take you with me to those cities and places that have a special in my heart. There are events in my life that I do not want to forget and writing about them here makes me re-live them, giving me the illusion that I am back again. A trip back in time to when I

* walked up a mountain track in Sundance and bathed my feet in cool water at the foot of a water-fall.

* hiked in Arches National Park in the scorching July heat, gazing at the splendour of those natural arches and watching the sun set behind Delicate Arch.

* returned to Rome, time and again, feeling my soul come to life each time i wander through its ancient ruins.

* stood on Charles Bridge as the sun set and a man played a beautiful serenade on his violin for the price of a few pennies.

* rode the roller-coaster at the top of the Stratosphere Hotel and soaked-in the lights of the Vegas casinos.

* gazed in awe at the Colorado River from the top of the Grand Canyon and felt at once both insignificant and immensely powerful.

* fed the pigeons in St Mark’s square and rode a gondola on Gran Canal.

* climbed to the top of the Torre del Mangia and looked down at the warren of narrow, winding streets that make up Siena.

* window shopped in Paris and eaten crepes in Montmartre.

* felt dwarfed by sky-scrapers in Chicago and ran barefoot in the grass in Millennium Park.

* traipsed through advent markets in Vienna as the first snow started to fall and ate Sachertorte at Schonbrunn Palace.

* seen a queen’s jewels in London and mourned at the tomb of the Unknown Soldier.

* sat on the shores of the Great Salt Lake and listened to the mournful cry of the gulls.

* been awed by art in Florence.

* swum with the pelicans at Cabo San Lucas and experienced the thunderous roar of the Pacific as it crashed into the rocks known as Finisterra – Land’s End.

And after each journey I return home and stay put for a while before the gypsy blood in me urges me to take off and explore some other country beyond these shores. So who knows where my vagrant blood will take me next? New York, Morocco, Jerusalem, Machu Pichu, Cefalu`, Greece and its island, Granada, the south of France … the list goes ever on and on … I wait until the call becomes too insistent until I finally have to give in .

This post was written in no particular order so you will see different versions of me depending in which year the photo was taken. All the photos are from 2003 to the present. Unfortunately, I cannot share photos from all the places I visited because I did not own a digital camera at the time.

Monday, Monday

Sunday is almost over again. It’s been a mostly relaxing weekend. I love my job but for some reason, I dread Mondays – the traffic jams; the constant rush to get things done. Sometimes I feel like a slave to my own routine, like it’s the end of the world if I deviate slightly from my day to day chores and activities. So I have no one to blame but moi for all the pressure I am putting on myself.

But is it selfish to sometimes wish I could just take off and go somewhere far from the stress of everyday life - to a place where I can dream and get back in touch with myself? Am I the only one who finds Mondays so oppressive? Perhaps I just need to grow up and remember that Monday is just the day after Sunday and that the world will still keep on turning if I decide to do something on a whim and throw my planned routine out of the window. Sometimes I feel like I am turning into a frightful bore.

My apologies for a rather melancholic post. Hope these flowers will cheer you up.

 

All photos were taken last Spring in our garden.

Ruby Tuesday – Pretty Polly

It’s been a while since I joined this weekly meme hosted by Mary at Work of the Poet.

Today I am sharing a photo of a gorgeous parrot that was nice enough to pose for me when we visited Grant’s Farm one hot, humid day last June. I really loved the vibrant colours on this parrot.

Looking at the parrot took me right back to my childhood, to my great-grandmother’s house and to another colourful parrot – perhaps not as beautiful as this one – squawking away at whoever cared to stop and admire it as is sat on its perch in the balcony. It’s strange how one minute I was at Grant’s Farm and the next I was transported back to being a 4 year-old child sitting patiently on the lap of an 80 year-old woman as she reminisced about her youth. Such is the beauty of that thing we call memory.

For more Ruby Red posts go here.