The good life.

My birthday has come and gone. I am a year older, probably none the wiser, except for the knowledgethat I am loved. I did know that before of course, but being spoiled silly always helps to remember.

I do think people know by now that I am not the biggest fan of standard birthday cards. I like the ones from a select few i.e. my mother and Julia as they are usually something to keep and bring out at times when I need to put a smile on my face. No difference this year and I wanted to share with you the poem from Joseph Beuys Julia shared with me:

Anleitung zum guten Leben

Lass dich fallen, lerne Schlangen zu beobachten. Pflanze unmögliche Gärten. Lade jemanden Gefährlichen zum Tee ein. Mache kleine Zeichen, die "ja" sagen und verteile sie überall in deinem Haus.
Werde ein Freund von Freiheit und Unsicherheit. Freue dich auf Träume. Weine bei Kinofilmen. Schaukle so hoch du kannst mit einer Schaukel bei Mondlicht.
Pflege verschiedene Stimmungen. Verweigere dich "verantwortlich zu sein" - tu es aus Liebe! Mache eine Menge Nickerchen. Gib Geld weiter. Mach es jetzt. Es wird folgen. Glaube an Zauberei, lache eine Menge. Bade im Mondschein.
Träume wilde, fantasievolle Träume. Zeichne auf Wände. Lies jeden Tag. Stell Dir vor, du wärst verzaubert. Kichere mit Kindern, höre alten Leuten zu. Öffne dich, tauche ein. Sei frei. Preise dich selbst.
Lass die Angst fallen, spiele mit allem. Unterhalte das Kind in dir. Du bist unschuldig. Baue eine Burg aus Decken. Werde nass. Umarme Bäume. Schreibe Liebesbriefe ...

I only found this art card with an English translation:

I am not sure where the translation of the title comes from as I would have called it “Recipe for a good life” or something to that extend. It also raises the question why Beuys would want me to watch snakes as per the German version. Not that I think snails are much more appealing, but in terms of appreciating and learning patience and slowness they make a whole lot more sense. Unless you can think of an important lesson one can learn for life from snakes. I am lacking a bit in the fantasy department here…

Vielen Dank für die Blumen.

Yes, there were actually lots of flowers. And cake, balloons, presents as well as a lovely dinner at the Pot Luck Club. There was also this little card from my boss (Accompanied by a voucher to the Princess Bride on the Grand Daddy roof. Ian will have to sit through it because that is the condition to spend the night with me in the Love of Lace trailer afterwards.)

This card reminded me and brought back memories of my 20th birthday, the first I celebrated away from home when I lived in Hamburg. I must admit I don’t remember much of it; I do however have one clear memory of my friend Johanna who had come early for a visit. We were passing time and ended up lying on my bed, which was actually a pull-out couch as my first flat didn’t have a proper bed, in the afternoon while we waited for the rest of the girls to arrive. Time got long so we drank a bottle of bubbly, not so shocking, OR a bottle of Martini Biano, slightly more concerning. I’m a bit fuzzy on the details as it has just been a long time ago. But either way we must have had fun, as I clearly recall not only eating gummi bears while we drank, but also drowning the most colour appropriate ones in the bubbly/martini glasses, recreating the most nail biting scenes from Titanic.

Looking at my little card I wonder if drowning gummi bears in drinks is in fact a common past time which we just didn’t know about and thought us special. What does everyone else do while they drink?

Dress rehearsal.

… and then there was the dress. Finally. Sorry it took me so long, but after all I do have a birthday party to plan.
If you are a guy, you may want to give this story a miss and go back to the one with the Tortilla and if you are a girl…well, I am sure you know the feeling. The feeling you get deep down when you find a perfect dress. The feeling when it seems like the stars align and you get a glimpse of what heaven is all about. For you anyhow.

This happened to me on Sunday. I was killing some time because I was getting my shipment from Italy aka my friend Alessia from Rome, meeting me for lunch and bringing me pasta and Bacio. The real parmesan cheese managed to get intercepted by customs yet another time, but the thought makes me too sad to explain any further… So there I was buying Ike his 5 year old ‘big boy’ birthday shirt from Country Road and then had a quick look around myself. There it was on the shelf and just a little while later on me:

Though I called it my early birthday present to myself to validate the expense, I immediately had to wear it out to the meat party. Excitedly I told Ian about it on the phone before he fetched me. In hindsight I know it was a rookie error to expect any praise from a boy for something that is not barely covering my bum cheeks, my breasts, or is made out of sheerness and lace.

Ian: Wow – you got a new nightgown.

Indignantly I complained to Julia on the phone, the person who I know would understand me and more importantly the dress. Arriving and meeting at Tjing Tjing the dress was inspected by her and she just started to shake her head at Ian.

Julia: This does not look like a negligee!

Ian: I said nightgown not negligee.

Who would have known that a South African man knows what a negligee is?

The almost perfect score.

The past weekend had 3 highlights. One I told you about already. The second one was the meal on Friday evening. Let me elaborate…

My uncle has recently become the master of the Spanish Tortilla. And Gazpacho, but this is not a story about cold soup (Sorry Dirk, I like your Gazpacho, I just don’t think soup is worthwhile writing about…). We have been the happy receivers of his newest cooking endeavour for the past few Sundays over lovely, lazy family lunches and except for Bob have now officially given him the 10.0 for his Tortilla 2 weeks ago. Though he totally deserves this score, I think Bob was quite smart as he only gave him a 5.5 in order to poke his ambition and make him try again and again and again thus getting us more lovely lunches out of it.

I, instead of insulting him, thought I’d rather try it myself. So on Friday, it being the end of the month, me being somewhat broke, I thought a little dish of potatoes and eggs would be the perfectly frugal end to the week.
Off I went to the kitchen with a boyfriend eying me dubiously from the couch. Though I was cut off halfway through phone directions from my uncle, I was confident and had promised him a piece if I deemed it above a 5.5. Though this picture of the little Tortilla in the pan is somewhat scary looking, I was quite proud of my end result.

Not so yummy looking yet...

... much better!

Ian, good boyfriend he is, said it was the best Tortilla he ever ate, mentioning only much later it was the only Tortilla he ever ate. I still decided it was in fact good enough to show to the master of creation. Mind you, I don’t think I would have gotten in the house without bringing him the goods when Saturday morning dawned.

There he was with a scrutinizing look on his face while he dove into the Tupperware with two fingers breaking off a large chunk. Now I was scared. Had I committed the cardinal sin of Tortilla making? Had I overcooked and overdone it?
“Mmh. Mh. Mh. Chuckle. Chuckle.” My uncle is the only person I know who actually chuckles and these chuckles translated to the fact that I became a proud owner of a 7.0 for my first Tortilla ever.

Meat in the city.

I had a bit of a funny weekend. Not bad, but a bit odd at times. Many lost jokes too and even more really silly ones. A true example from the Fleisch Fest Julia, Meike, Ian, and I went to yesterday afternoon:

Me: Julia, look there is the bread master!
Julia: Who?
Me: Jason. The master of the bread, I told you about him!
Julia: Yes, but which one?
Me: The one who looks like a biker though he is a baker.

Silence.

Both of us: Boah haha ha ha ha. 

The burnt Cosmos may have helped to make us appreciate this comment more than usual.

On the note of burnt Cosmos: Did anyone else know a Cosmo gets burned? As in put on fire. Apparently the girl next to me at the bar with the tattoo knew, she looked very non-fussed by the bartender’s actions. I on the other hand felt a bit offended by the dirt in my drink topped by the dirt in her looks when asking her, why if it was an essential part of a Cosmo they never showed it on Sex and The City. Considering we were at Tjing Tjing and no one, but me would ever admit to being so uncool as to watch SATC*, I probably deserved that look. No one, but me and Julia actually, because when I told her about my newest discovery from the cocktail making world her first question was how she could have missed that during six seasons of SATC. I love how great minds think alike.

Other than that there was lots of running after meat and then eating what we caught. None of us is a lady or has any shame and Ian just really likes meat, so we rather ran than to feel left out with empty plates. Which ended in multiple food comas and a whole lot of left overs, because as usual in situations like this post war times – there is actually enough for everyone.

In addition my tortilla scored a 7.0 and I bought the perfect birthday gift/dress for myself. More about all of this tomorrow as I actually have birthday invitations to finish.

*If it makes me sound any cooler – I had to think quite long about this acronym and every time I mention the show I always get confused whether it is called “in the city” or “and the city” as both would make perfect sense to me.