Tuesday, December 20, 2011
Le Pamplemouse
I was just checking out the menu of a famous restaurant in Port Vila that I have booked dinner for two on Boxing Day.
Given that there is limited service during the festive week, I thought it is best that I get myself organised and pre-order my dinner. Freshly caught lobsters from the nearby beach are definitely a must for mains. I heard that the souffle is another highly rated dessert in that dining establishment. Now I just needed to look for two entrees and another dessert.
I came across a dessert that says pamplemouse served with vodka and ice-cream. Not knowing what a "pamplemouse" is, I did a quick google for a definition.
The first one that came up from Urban Dictionary. The definition is " to suck all of a woman's clitoral and labial flesh into ones mouth then bite it."
Hmmm... I thought. That couldn't be it. Not on a restaurant menu. I looked further and found another more likely definition of the object in question. It is a grapefruit.
Is it just me being outdated?
Or does anyone actually is aware that le pamplemouse meant the act of that?
I must be getting old already.
I was just checking out the menu of a famous restaurant in Port Vila that I have booked dinner for two on Boxing Day.
Given that there is limited service during the festive week, I thought it is best that I get myself organised and pre-order my dinner. Freshly caught lobsters from the nearby beach are definitely a must for mains. I heard that the souffle is another highly rated dessert in that dining establishment. Now I just needed to look for two entrees and another dessert.
I came across a dessert that says pamplemouse served with vodka and ice-cream. Not knowing what a "pamplemouse" is, I did a quick google for a definition.
The first one that came up from Urban Dictionary. The definition is " to suck all of a woman's clitoral and labial flesh into ones mouth then bite it."
Hmmm... I thought. That couldn't be it. Not on a restaurant menu. I looked further and found another more likely definition of the object in question. It is a grapefruit.
Is it just me being outdated?
Or does anyone actually is aware that le pamplemouse meant the act of that?
I must be getting old already.
Monday, December 12, 2011
Looking for Updates?
Yes, I am still alive.
What can I say?
Life is so far so good. I have been back in our business for the past three weeks and loving it.
I am loving it for the hours- I work a lot less and we make heaps more.
I have more time for our not so newly adopted pooch, Rusty. She has plumped up heaps and her fur is as soft as her late sister's. People at the dog park commented on how soft her fur is and how good looking she is. Little did they know how sheddy and rough her fur used to be.
I watch with pride and contentment at how DL and I could transform an abandoned senior dog who came to us in relatively poor condition into such a beautiful and responsive beauty. She no longer greets us with her blank stare in her pet bed but is always promptly waiting to meet and greet us eagerly at the door when she hears the remote control garage door open up despite her weak hind legs.
What the secret formula, you might ask? Lots of love with lots of organic food and bones and tons of Chinese herbs, homeopathy and accupunture I would say. No expenses spared. We sent her bloods to America for testing and anything the holistic vet advised for us to do in order for her to do her job well so as to help nourish Rusty back to health. Plus Rusty gets lots of socialisation with the other dogs in the dog park.
I marvel each day at how wonderful it had been for us to have met our Rusty and how we could have missed her if not for the fact that our local pet rescue had saved her from death row at a pound in Sydney at the eleventh hour. How could anyone haved ditch their pet of 8 to 10 years at the pound? We couldn't have imagined doing that to a new pet let alone one that has been with us for almost a decade. We often wonder about humanity...
Rusty knows she has found her forever home. Recently, DL has updated his own views of the world's most beautiful dogs - "Fluffball and Rusty". It used to be just the Fluffball and privately, he didn't rate Rusty well due to her "Dr Evil" stares. He would compare her eyes to that of Fluffball and how no one could replace the Fluffball in his heart (to an extent, it is still true). Now that Rusty is in the good books of DL, she gets treated to his inventory of Wagyu beef he stocks up regularly in return for having to be subjected to my healthy meals sprinkled with "horrible" tasting Chinese medicine and homeopathy concoctions.
******
In other news, as some of you might have been aware of, I have stopped shopping for clothes for awhile due to my ethical and environmentally conscious view of shopping for fashion forward fashion.
But as someone who appreciates fine style and quality fabric, I cannot resist a good sale.
So two weekends ago, I was shopping for work boots. Yes, you heard me. Work boots of the redback variety since I work as a blue collared tradesperson these days in our business.
I walked past the Alannah Hill shop and lo and behold, they have a further 50% sale on marked down prices. I excused myself from DL and asked for him to hand over his bankcard as a back up in case my credit card with only a $1000 monthly limit is exceeded as it is a card used to pay for bills. We have recently paid off all our credit card debts from our failed business and I have cut up all the old cards.
Two hours on, I was still in the shop. I tried on 19 pieces of garments and with my point of elimination, narrowed must have outfits to 8 pieces, mostly girly frocks, typical of my signature look. One gotta love an Alannah Hill frock! I was glad I had DL's bankcard on me. I bombed a week's worth of mortgage on frocks.
I hadn't quite spent money quite frivously like this since my headhunting post bonus days. My adrenalin was pumping, I was experiencing a high from such serendipity but one other part of that financially pragmatic me conditioned from my poor days in recent times left me with rapid heart palpitations.
Prior to this chance sighting of the Alannah Hill sale, DL and I had gone to the picture framer to sort out our framing situation of 4 antique botanical illustration prints given to me by the older sibling. I have procrastinated the framing to close to a year due to the prohibitive costs of framing. My last financial damage in February, which was nonetheless highly satisfying was A$500 where my US$30 Cuban painting bought eight years ago finally found its perfect frame. But now it was bothering me since our long overdue house warming party was imminent and I had to get our house ready. The decor has to match so we spent a good hour choosing frames and discussing frames, settings, measurements, border colour shades and glass options with the professional frame-maker. We were advised the "true view" glass pane was the best but dearest option to preserve our antique prints. Upon comparing the various glass pane options, DL decided the "true view" indeed looked the most aesthetically pleasing and we should just get the best. I had to agree with him. But are you sure? I asked him again since he was the one paying for it and I have grown somewhat financially prudent. Yes, just go for it, he said. He doesn't like to be indecisive or bothered over one off matters like this. Besides, deep down, I know it will bother or haunt me more for years to come if I had picked a more inferior glass pane when I stare at those pictures and dwell on its imperfections. So I was glad with DL's affirmation. We paid another week and a half worth of mortgage on four small picture frames. Nowadays, I look at those pictures and feel this warm, fuzzy feeling and marvel at the precised worksmanship of the framer and how he had successfully brought the pictures' best. He has the best eye for the minutest detail. I have come to appreciate the work of a picture as it takes a perfectionist with a strong sense of mathematical precision balanced with a neck for aesthetics to bring the best out of a picture. I gues it's like the indispensable visual merchandiser or fashion stylist to bring out the best of a fashion designer's creation or art. Or even a great pattern-maker to a fashion designer.
Well, the story of my excessive weekend shopping spree didn't stop here. After all, that was only Saturday. I spent that night strutting my stuff before DL on the new outfits he has (involuntarily) "bought" me. DL liked them and said those outfits were worth very cent and besides, I hardly buy clothes. I took the opportunity to mention I didn't finish shopping since I didn't have my phone on me that day, there was a long queue in the fitting room and I knew he was going to get irritated thinking I have wandered off somewhere else if he couldn't find me, not anticipating I would be in one shop within for so long. I have always been a decisive shopper and I never shop incessantly in one store. The sale was to last till that very next day.
DL, being that generous person that he has always been with me, popped the question that we should head off to the Alannah Hill shop at the earliest the next day or else I was going to miss out on finding the right sizes for my outfits. I was delighted with his generosity and promised that I would limit my spending.
Of course, I didn't. As they say, the early bird catches the best worms. Being one of the earliest birds, I noticed in my bid to jostle amongst the crowd the previous day, I did not cover as much ground as I thought I did- horrors of horrors! In one fell sweep, I started piling my arms with frocks and more frocks like they were free for grabs- another middled aged Asian lady decked in designer wear was doing the same and I overheard the sales assistant mention something about this lady's shopping spree from the previous day. So we were of the kindred spirit and for the first hour, the both of us ruled the shop.
19 is my magic number. Again, I had taken 19 outfits. This time round the strike rate was higher. After hmm-ing and ha-ing, I could not eliminate anymore outfits and was down to 11. More than 50% strike rate. I had decided that I needed to ring my banker (I remembered my phone this time) a.k.a DL to come and check me out, hopefully dissuade me with some pieces since he does have a critical eye like I do and then pay up. He found no fault in the outfits, was pleased and asked if I would like the check out the matching handbags.
The salegirl saw me step out of the changing room and tried to sweet talk me into buying those outfit and kept complementing how lovely I looked in those frocks. I got to ask the banker, I told her jokingly and pointed at DL. Oh please say yes, she said to him sweetly. I always say yes, DL replied in his usual quiet way. Therein lies the problem, I said to the salesgirl.
Naturally, the salesgirl was pleased and cheerfully chirped in on how envious she was and wonder if I could also find her a generous husband who would buy anything she want.
She is right. Indeed I feel I am a lucky girl. I would hate to be with a man who is tight with money. Which girl wouldn't right? But it is the generosity from his heart and always putting me before his own needs that has always touched me. The perceived generosity of a financially wealthy man is nothing but that from a not so financially well off man is usually a sign of sincerity.
As DL joined the long queue to pay up for my new wear, I chanced upon a nice pair of heels and gestured wildly in his direction if I was allowed to throw that in the mix, he nodded but I could tell his attention span was getting a little short at this stage and he would like me to conclude my shopping fairly soon to get the hell out and have some lunch (as he is a very cranky man once he feels the discomfort of hunger pangs) so he still has half a day ahead to himself for other actitivities such as taking the dog to the dog park, reading car magazines and then playing his xbox 360 before yet another new work week begins.
So yes, I got his cue, threw that last pair of heels into the mix and concluded my shopping spree. Another week's worth of mortgage on clothes. I think that would do me for the next six to twelve months.
Feels like my highlight for 2011 and oh, our impending trip to Vanuatu in less than two weeks.
Life, at the moment feels good.
Yes, I am still alive.
What can I say?
Life is so far so good. I have been back in our business for the past three weeks and loving it.
I am loving it for the hours- I work a lot less and we make heaps more.
I have more time for our not so newly adopted pooch, Rusty. She has plumped up heaps and her fur is as soft as her late sister's. People at the dog park commented on how soft her fur is and how good looking she is. Little did they know how sheddy and rough her fur used to be.
I watch with pride and contentment at how DL and I could transform an abandoned senior dog who came to us in relatively poor condition into such a beautiful and responsive beauty. She no longer greets us with her blank stare in her pet bed but is always promptly waiting to meet and greet us eagerly at the door when she hears the remote control garage door open up despite her weak hind legs.
What the secret formula, you might ask? Lots of love with lots of organic food and bones and tons of Chinese herbs, homeopathy and accupunture I would say. No expenses spared. We sent her bloods to America for testing and anything the holistic vet advised for us to do in order for her to do her job well so as to help nourish Rusty back to health. Plus Rusty gets lots of socialisation with the other dogs in the dog park.
I marvel each day at how wonderful it had been for us to have met our Rusty and how we could have missed her if not for the fact that our local pet rescue had saved her from death row at a pound in Sydney at the eleventh hour. How could anyone haved ditch their pet of 8 to 10 years at the pound? We couldn't have imagined doing that to a new pet let alone one that has been with us for almost a decade. We often wonder about humanity...
Rusty knows she has found her forever home. Recently, DL has updated his own views of the world's most beautiful dogs - "Fluffball and Rusty". It used to be just the Fluffball and privately, he didn't rate Rusty well due to her "Dr Evil" stares. He would compare her eyes to that of Fluffball and how no one could replace the Fluffball in his heart (to an extent, it is still true). Now that Rusty is in the good books of DL, she gets treated to his inventory of Wagyu beef he stocks up regularly in return for having to be subjected to my healthy meals sprinkled with "horrible" tasting Chinese medicine and homeopathy concoctions.
******
In other news, as some of you might have been aware of, I have stopped shopping for clothes for awhile due to my ethical and environmentally conscious view of shopping for fashion forward fashion.
But as someone who appreciates fine style and quality fabric, I cannot resist a good sale.
So two weekends ago, I was shopping for work boots. Yes, you heard me. Work boots of the redback variety since I work as a blue collared tradesperson these days in our business.
I walked past the Alannah Hill shop and lo and behold, they have a further 50% sale on marked down prices. I excused myself from DL and asked for him to hand over his bankcard as a back up in case my credit card with only a $1000 monthly limit is exceeded as it is a card used to pay for bills. We have recently paid off all our credit card debts from our failed business and I have cut up all the old cards.
Two hours on, I was still in the shop. I tried on 19 pieces of garments and with my point of elimination, narrowed must have outfits to 8 pieces, mostly girly frocks, typical of my signature look. One gotta love an Alannah Hill frock! I was glad I had DL's bankcard on me. I bombed a week's worth of mortgage on frocks.
I hadn't quite spent money quite frivously like this since my headhunting post bonus days. My adrenalin was pumping, I was experiencing a high from such serendipity but one other part of that financially pragmatic me conditioned from my poor days in recent times left me with rapid heart palpitations.
Prior to this chance sighting of the Alannah Hill sale, DL and I had gone to the picture framer to sort out our framing situation of 4 antique botanical illustration prints given to me by the older sibling. I have procrastinated the framing to close to a year due to the prohibitive costs of framing. My last financial damage in February, which was nonetheless highly satisfying was A$500 where my US$30 Cuban painting bought eight years ago finally found its perfect frame. But now it was bothering me since our long overdue house warming party was imminent and I had to get our house ready. The decor has to match so we spent a good hour choosing frames and discussing frames, settings, measurements, border colour shades and glass options with the professional frame-maker. We were advised the "true view" glass pane was the best but dearest option to preserve our antique prints. Upon comparing the various glass pane options, DL decided the "true view" indeed looked the most aesthetically pleasing and we should just get the best. I had to agree with him. But are you sure? I asked him again since he was the one paying for it and I have grown somewhat financially prudent. Yes, just go for it, he said. He doesn't like to be indecisive or bothered over one off matters like this. Besides, deep down, I know it will bother or haunt me more for years to come if I had picked a more inferior glass pane when I stare at those pictures and dwell on its imperfections. So I was glad with DL's affirmation. We paid another week and a half worth of mortgage on four small picture frames. Nowadays, I look at those pictures and feel this warm, fuzzy feeling and marvel at the precised worksmanship of the framer and how he had successfully brought the pictures' best. He has the best eye for the minutest detail. I have come to appreciate the work of a picture as it takes a perfectionist with a strong sense of mathematical precision balanced with a neck for aesthetics to bring the best out of a picture. I gues it's like the indispensable visual merchandiser or fashion stylist to bring out the best of a fashion designer's creation or art. Or even a great pattern-maker to a fashion designer.
Well, the story of my excessive weekend shopping spree didn't stop here. After all, that was only Saturday. I spent that night strutting my stuff before DL on the new outfits he has (involuntarily) "bought" me. DL liked them and said those outfits were worth very cent and besides, I hardly buy clothes. I took the opportunity to mention I didn't finish shopping since I didn't have my phone on me that day, there was a long queue in the fitting room and I knew he was going to get irritated thinking I have wandered off somewhere else if he couldn't find me, not anticipating I would be in one shop within for so long. I have always been a decisive shopper and I never shop incessantly in one store. The sale was to last till that very next day.
DL, being that generous person that he has always been with me, popped the question that we should head off to the Alannah Hill shop at the earliest the next day or else I was going to miss out on finding the right sizes for my outfits. I was delighted with his generosity and promised that I would limit my spending.
Of course, I didn't. As they say, the early bird catches the best worms. Being one of the earliest birds, I noticed in my bid to jostle amongst the crowd the previous day, I did not cover as much ground as I thought I did- horrors of horrors! In one fell sweep, I started piling my arms with frocks and more frocks like they were free for grabs- another middled aged Asian lady decked in designer wear was doing the same and I overheard the sales assistant mention something about this lady's shopping spree from the previous day. So we were of the kindred spirit and for the first hour, the both of us ruled the shop.
19 is my magic number. Again, I had taken 19 outfits. This time round the strike rate was higher. After hmm-ing and ha-ing, I could not eliminate anymore outfits and was down to 11. More than 50% strike rate. I had decided that I needed to ring my banker (I remembered my phone this time) a.k.a DL to come and check me out, hopefully dissuade me with some pieces since he does have a critical eye like I do and then pay up. He found no fault in the outfits, was pleased and asked if I would like the check out the matching handbags.
The salegirl saw me step out of the changing room and tried to sweet talk me into buying those outfit and kept complementing how lovely I looked in those frocks. I got to ask the banker, I told her jokingly and pointed at DL. Oh please say yes, she said to him sweetly. I always say yes, DL replied in his usual quiet way. Therein lies the problem, I said to the salesgirl.
Naturally, the salesgirl was pleased and cheerfully chirped in on how envious she was and wonder if I could also find her a generous husband who would buy anything she want.
She is right. Indeed I feel I am a lucky girl. I would hate to be with a man who is tight with money. Which girl wouldn't right? But it is the generosity from his heart and always putting me before his own needs that has always touched me. The perceived generosity of a financially wealthy man is nothing but that from a not so financially well off man is usually a sign of sincerity.
As DL joined the long queue to pay up for my new wear, I chanced upon a nice pair of heels and gestured wildly in his direction if I was allowed to throw that in the mix, he nodded but I could tell his attention span was getting a little short at this stage and he would like me to conclude my shopping fairly soon to get the hell out and have some lunch (as he is a very cranky man once he feels the discomfort of hunger pangs) so he still has half a day ahead to himself for other actitivities such as taking the dog to the dog park, reading car magazines and then playing his xbox 360 before yet another new work week begins.
So yes, I got his cue, threw that last pair of heels into the mix and concluded my shopping spree. Another week's worth of mortgage on clothes. I think that would do me for the next six to twelve months.
Feels like my highlight for 2011 and oh, our impending trip to Vanuatu in less than two weeks.
Life, at the moment feels good.
