Incognito

I sent my folks a link to our Venice pictures last week and my mom wrote me back saying they were very nice but she barely recognized me in some of them. What was it that remndered me a photographic stranger to my mother, you ask. Well, she provided me three possible reasons, it could have been one or possibly even all three working together to thwart the holy mother daughter bond.

1. I must have lost weight - ever since we moved to Europe my mom is convinced that I am constantly losing weight. I have lost weight here, thanks Salmonella!, but I've also gained a fair bit of it back and I'm pretty sure that since we saw my folks last autumn I've stayed relatively the same ( I haven't owned a scale for a long time, they make me a little crazygonuts). It is likely that when we return hom in November that this weight loss will be used as further evidence of some terrible illness I must be suffering from or perhaps a burgeoning new drug addiction that I am as yet unaware of.
2. My hair was pulled back - True enough, my hair is usually worn down or just pulled back with a headband, but seriously, do I look THAT different with a pony tail?
3. SUNGLASSES! - Yes, friends, the most nefarious disguise of all. Big, black sunglasses rendered me unrecognizable to EVEN MY OWN MOTHER! Sure she raised me from the day I was born and according to many a family member I am, in fact, the spitting image of the woman, but throw on a pair of £12 plastic sunglasses and I am prepared to escape recognition around the world. Just call me Carmen Sandiego.

I think I'm totally ready for a career in bank robbery now. I've got a dark pair of green sunglasses too. If I lose a couple more pounds and put my hair in a bun no one will ever be the wiser

wanna know what venice looks like?

Here's a flickr photoset to show you

and here's my favorite picture of them all

Venice and such

On Friday we walked all over Venice. We saw lots of San Marco and the Rialto area. We were going to go to the Jewish Ghetto in Carneggio but we got lost and ended up on the wrong side of the island. This is suprisingly easy to do in Venice. We sat down in a plaza near the hospital to take a break and look at our map so we could get our bearings. We were sitting on some steps that lead directly into a canal and the were boat ambulances parked near us. we were talking and laughing about something, I honestly don't remember what. All I really remember is that I suddenly felt so happy. And by so happy I don't just mean a vague feeling of contentment, I mean an overwhelming feeling of WOW my life is awesome and I am so freaking happy I just might cry! As you may have guessed from previous blog entries, I don't have feelings like that a lot lately. So, I took a picture of what I could see right at that moment and then I took out my notebook and wrote down: We were very happy here. And I took a picture of that too.

I don't have the pictures online yet but when I get them on they will be punctuated by notes to myself (eg The number 5 waterbus is a life saver, Murano is very hot, San Marco is full of People and pigeons and so forth) this way I will never forget my trip. I think I'm going to start doing this more and more on trips so I can keep matching the emotions with the images.

I'm trying to break out of my old habit of never taking pictures and of never really being in pictures either. I'm not sure how it happened but there is a span of my life when I only appeared in about 5 photographs. Not because I hated my face or anything, it just wasn't something I ever valued and now I really feel their absence as my memories of those years have to share my limited brain space with more and more memories.

I hate forgetting things.


ETA 16:47
Also, when we finally got to the Jewish Ghetto on Sunday afternoon Jeremy got harrassed by a Lubavitch who tried to guilt him into putting on a tallit. The Lubavitch wouldn't even look at me more than sideways. Partially, I think, because I am a woman and the more strictly observant the less keen some men are on touching or interacting with unrelated women, but mostly because it's pretty obvious that I am a great big shiksa. The whole thing was very odd. he was super aggressive about trying to get Jeremy into a tallit and the whole thing left us both feeling awkward and even more foreign than normal (and we feel foreign a lot, it's kind of our thing). Most of the time we don't think about ourselves in terms of Jew and Christian, we're just ourselves in our relationship, but sometimes the difference becomes very, very clear.

More than that even, this guy's earnestness and aggressiveness were pretty disturbing. Jeremy's initial response to the guy was "No, no I'm not a good Jew, I don't do that sort of thing." To which the guy responded, "Nobody's perfect, let's go put them on now." He was so certain that the addition of this garment would make all the difference. What if Jeremy had put it on just to get the guy off his back, just aquiesced out of annoyance rather than belief? How is that better than not being observant in the first place? Is it worse to be bullied into an act of faith and belief than to lack them in the first place?

i can return to the internet now

i finished harry potter and no longer have to worry about the ending being spoiled. phew

RyanAir can bite me

If you are ever traveling in Europe and you want to get where you are going late you should fly in an aeroplane owned by RyanAir. The flight attendants will be rude and it is very likely that you will arrive at the airport after all the local public trans has shut for the night. Especially if you are on the last flight of the evening into London. And then, if, like me, you have to go to work the next (no, no let's call it the same day) you will get the fun of being so tired that you want to die! I am not 21 anymore, I need more than 3 hours of sleep! And, seriously, forcing me back onto English coffee so soon after Italian? Totally not cool.

All bitching about budget air travel aside, Venice was amazing. The food doesn't measure up to the other Italian cities I have been to (or Paris for that matter) but as a place, as a city that just seems to rise out of the water, it is astounding! And so long as I am plied regularly with Gelato and Prosecco I can overlook most culinary deficiencies. I'm pretty easy in that respect.

We spent a lot of time looking at Biennale art. The best of which was the Mexican pavilion and the Gypsy pavilion.

I want to go back to Venice. In the autumn or the spring next time though. That way I can experience the city without the sun stroke.

Pictures will follow I just haven't had a chance to upload them yet.

ALSO! If any jerk talks to me about the new Harry Potter other than to say how awesome it is, I will bring the pain! So keep it quiet because I couldn't buy it in Venice, it would have made my carry on too heavy!

Amputees

Jeremy's in Italy for business right now, so I am home on my own with sickpaws the sad faced kitten until I leave to join him in Venice on Thursday night. Even though I only saw him yesterday, I am a big sap, so I was already missing him a little bit on my way home from work and therapy ( a really good though possibly my last session due to my lousy poorly explained insurance). Anyhow, I was walking up my street and for some reason a memory, unrelated to anything I was doing came to me and made me laugh and it was good. So I will tell you, the internet, about it.

A couple months ago we were on Brick Lane having a wander checking out the hipster shops and trying to feel cooler than we are. A guy came up to us with leaflets for a show and tried to give them to us. For some reason Jeremy had his hands tucked up inside the sleeves of his jacket ( I don't remember it being cold but it might of been) so the guy holds out his leaflets and Jeremy holds up his handless arms and says dead pan "I've got no hands." The leaflet guy just stared at him with a mix of confusion and possibly horror. And after we had moved on a bit we both began to laugh uncontrollably, the kind of laughter that gives you a stomach ache. It wasn't even that funny, I know that, but at the moment it was awesome and perfect. Moments like that are part of the reason that I love Jeremy so much. I don't know anyone else who would use a fraudulent lack of hands as a reason for not taking leaflets, most people would just say no thank you, but my guy's got more class than that.

I got a few things to tell you

I'm sorta back, but changing the rules for myself.

I need to not write about work on here anymore. I'm feeling paranoid lately and one way to keep that at bay is not to do anything that would give me cause for paranoia. So, even though I try to keep specific details out of it, I think it would be best to not write about office politics any longer. Although they've all been shitty if you wondering, but just normal shitty, not like last week when everything was extraordinary shitty. So that's good, sort of.

I am also going to try to cut back even more on all the moaning. Not that I only want to write about happiness, joy and light but I'm bored of myself being such a complainer. I'ma try to tell more funny stories, and while some of them will be pessimistic at core, they will still be funny. Or, at least, wrly humourous.

I will also try to improve my grammar. I know it is atrocious.

The following is not a rule, but rather, a sad fact. Oliver has a viral infection and even though he is on the mend he has been in sad shape since last Wednesday. He's got to take antibiotics and I haven't been letting him outside because I want to keep an eye on him. He just lays around and looks pathetic, although now that he's seen the vet he is eating more and seems a bit more lively. Sick kittens (even those who are practically full grown cats) are the saddest ever.

The following is also not a rule, but rather, a happy fact! I made a carrot cake on Sunday. It was vegan and had a soy based cream chease frosting and then I sprinkled crushed pistachios on top. I took a picture of it, but haven't put it on the computer yet. It was an awesome cake though and I love it. I am the carrot cake queen. Respect.

Give me a break

Well, even if you won't give it to me, I'm taking it.

I'll be back later.

Baguettes

This morning I was waiting for my bacon buttie and the chain sandwhich place near my office and saw that they were baking baguettes behind the counter and it made me nostalgic for April and Paris. April 21st to be specific when we went to the flea markets and wandered around eating thick crusty baguette sandwhices, mine was with ham, cheese and hard boiled egg. Such a perfect simple sanwhich eaten with a bottle of Orangina while looking at stall after stall of gilt edged antiques in the heat of the sun.

The memory of this is like an oasis after 15+ days of rain

Accents

Watching The Seven Ages of Rock on BBC2 last night I said to Jeremy while Noel Gallagher expounded on his personal brand of genius (of which he remains thoroughly convinced) "I remember when MTV used to run interviews with Oasis in the mid-90s the were always subtitled because their accents were so strong."
And he said, "Their accents are still really strong, we're just better at understanding them."

We both nodded sagely and were pleased with our developing ears.

Later, while watching updates from Glasgow I was equally amazed at my ability to understand a variety of Glaswegian accents. Glaswegian accents remain the hardest for me to understand, so I was pleased to see how far I've come. I still have to ask Glaswegian Chris at work to repeat himself a lot but I think he puts on a heavier accent than he actually has just to get away with saying rude things without getting in trouble.

On a slightly related note, I still really like the song Wonderwall, I hate that I really like it because I know it's a load of sentimental hooey, but gosh, it's a well crafted pop song. Maybe Noel Gallagher has a little bit of genius in him, though not so much as he imagines I don't think.