Rush hour on a Wednesday night in Humboldt County, California, consists of a flock of sheep grazing their way to the barn and a man on the side of the…
Month: June 2013
This week has been all about relaxing, winding down and taking time out. And there seemed no more appropriate way celebrate it than with a cocktail. Camparigirl is on her way up the coast to Oregon and the beach, and I have a nephew- and niece-free weekend ahead, with rain forecast. So we decided to go seasonal and offer something to sip on, wherever the weather finds you. Of course, if you are in the UK – both will work admirably. Cheers m’dears!
Some of you will have been following my misadventures in ice-cream making – and know that I have ended up with iced cream. Or creamy ice. Not good. The revelation came when sofabrother asked me if I have been making a custard – before I freeze my mix. Well I be damned – I have not. Nor did I know you had to. But, this turned out to be just the advice I needed. Because my next attempt came out gorgeous.
During my Yoga teacher training I battled to meditate. It drove the woman who ran the ashram mad, she said she could feel my thoughts ricocheting around the room. I’d had this kind of feedback once before – at a step class when the teacher asked me to move to the back of the room because my lack of co-ordination was distracting the others. But this felt like a bigger failure – not being able to control ones limbs while hideous 80s disco music distracted my mind was one thing. Not being able to manage my own mind whilst sitting on my butt, was entirely another.
For this installment of “A Life in the Day of”, we travel to Brussels to meet Eleonora, woman of many hats, fellow Italian and blogger at “ottominuti“. We chose to publish her contribution during our week dedicated to all things “slow and chill” because, in the middle of a day (and a life) punctuated by the demands of children and long to do lists, Eleonora finds moments, sometimes fleeting, of clarity and, above all, displays an ability to stop the madness and savour the chill.
Sofagirl and I shared a boss, at different stages of our careers, who, shortly after lunch, would close the door to his office, lie down on his cream coloured leather sofa and, come hell or high water, would take a nap. His assistant would block all calls and visitors, and would knock on his door when 20 minutes were up. I always thought the practice rather weird and prided myself in never having needed a nap in my life.
“Men”, said my pal Howard – who was a good few decades older than me, “are literal beasts. They take what you say at face value. They will not spend hours teasing every word apart looking for alternate or hidden meanings. So, if you tell a man something – or agree to a course of action: he will believe you. He won’t try find a subtext.”
This is how it goes:
You say: “Of course I don’t mind you going out for drinks with the boys, have a great time!”
He hears: “Of course I don’t mind you going out for drinks with the boys.”
He doesn’t hear: “Why do you want to go out with them rather than stay with me? We’re a couple now, don’t you love me, have I done something wrong? It’s that woman at work, isn’t it. Do you want her more than me? I need to know … tell me what you’re thinking!“