This whole 2010 thing is freaking me out a bit. I mean, I’m heading less than gracefully towards middle age. Or who knows where I’m going. I keep thinking about how different things are in 2010 compared with 2000, which makes me realize I have ABSOLUTELY NO IDEA where I’ll be in 2020. For example:
In 2000, I was married, living in a 3BR house that I owned with my husband. We had a dog, a car and an SUV (to help fill three car garage) and all the other trappings of a suburban existence (lawnmowers, snowblowers, etc. to also help fill the three car garage) . In 2010 I am divorced and living in a work-subsidized 1BR flat and I have neither pets nor vehicles.
In 2000, the only foreign country I had visited was Canada. In 2010, I live in Europe and have travelled extensively in Europe, Asia and Australia.
In 2000, I had a Master of Science degree and was a full time student. In 2010 I have a nearly 5-year old PhD and a full time job.
In 2000, I had four living grandparents. In 2010, I have one but she’s a spunky nonagenarian.
In 2000, I used dial up internet for email and web access at home. There was no Twitter, Facebook, or Blog in my life. In 2010, I mostly use wireless broadband to access social media and web 2.0 content, although sometimes I tweet or post a blog from my iPhone.
In 2000, I was a PC. In 2010, I’m a Mac.
In 2000, I was not a great cook and I sometimes made bread in a bread-machine from a just-add-water mix. In 2010, I am an improving and enthusiastic cook, and I make homemade bread on a whim many weeks, without having to take out a cookbook or actually measure much of anything.
In 2000, I had never recorded a CD. In 2010, I have two professional recordings on my CV, although I’m no longer finding myself with the time to do music at that level (but I hope to get back to doing at least something musical sometime soon).
In 2000, I only had a point and shoot camera. In 2010, I have both analog and digital SLRs but neither has been getting much use lately (darned job again!).
In 2000, I wore size (American) 6 jeans. In 2010, I don’t.
In 2000, I had never been to Texas. In 2010, that is still true, but I’m heading there tomorrow!
in 2000, I had never tasted single malt Scotch. In 2010, I rang in the New Year with a wee dram of Balvenie Double Wood, my current favorite.
In 2000, I owned a CD player and a VCR. In 2010, I play music over the Bose speakers on my iMac when home, and over an iPod with noise canceling headphones when on the road. Movies are DVDs or downloads/streaming over the internet.
In 2000, I wore contacts sometimes. In 2010, I wear glasses exclusively. (Not bifocals yet; I’m sure that’s coming in this decade, though!)
In 2000, I bought books. In 2010, I buy eBooks. (Hooray for the Christmas Kindle!)
In 2000, I did not know most of the people who are likely to read and comment on this little reflection. In 2010, I’m a very lucky expat blogger!
So admittedly many of these changes have been in more than just my world: technology has moved on, society has moved on, the world is a different place after a decade. But it does sure make me aware of how little I can predict about where I’ll be, what I’ll be doing, and what life will look like more generally in another decade!
Best wishes to everyone for the new year, and feel free to leave your own “In 2000 I … but in 2010 I …” in the comments! I’d love to know what big changes others have found in their lives over this first decade of the new millennium!
Christmas always brings a bit of a conundrum for those of us non-meat eaters. At least according to the American traditions with which I was raised, Turkey and mashed potatoes is Thanksgiving fare only, while Christmas Eve was meatballs and gravy with mashed potatoes and Christmas Day was baked ham with mashed potatoes and gravy. (My maternal grandmother, it has to be said, had a particular skill in that she could make ham gravy: not a trivial thing. Required an uncooked ham with a ham bone and probably some secrets and a lot of practice. And it tasted fantastic, almost a little sweet thanks to the pineapple rings on the ham.) Sense a theme here? Mashed potatoes and gravy. As both of my grandmothers know/knew, my absolute favorite food. And a bit tricky when the non-meat-eating thing came up with me, almost 15 years ago. These days, there are options: you can get Tofurky gravy, you can get other sorts of vegetarian gravies in packets. But they’re not truly great. Fortunately there is a secret: onions or shallots, mushrooms, and fortified wine, such as tawny port or Marsala wine. With this killer combination you can make not only gravy but also things like stroganoff, another old family favorite. I have been trying to perfect some of these recipes with all of the holiday events, and I’m happy to say that I’ve got it about down. The stroganoff is trickier due to the delicate nature of milk based sauces, so I’m not quite ready with that one yet, but should you ever have a vegetarian around for a mashed potato themed meal, I can just about guarantee this one.
Cook an onion and a few shallots in olive oil plus a tablespoon or two of butter over medium heat until golden. Add salt and pepper generously at this stage. Add a few handfuls of mushrooms, roughly chopped, I like criminis but sometimes do a mix. Cook until the mushrooms have rendered down in size and are starting to stick to the pan. Deglaze with 1/2-1 cup of fortified wine and cook that down. Add a few tablespoons of flour and mix well, cook the roux-like paste for a few more minutes before adding any liquid. Add 1.5-2 cups of vegetable broth or stock, and a few squirts of either veggie Worcestershire sauce (made without anchovies) or soy sauce to taste. Cook over medium-low heat stirring constantly until thickened.
If my instructions are too hand-waving, find a copy of this book “New Vegetarian,” which is the best veggie cookbook I’ve ever seen and which has a gravy recipe in it (although I dispute her method, the ingredients are similar and the quantities should help for those who like to measure things).
It is because of recipes like this that I will continue to be furious at the French chef who caters dinners that I attend regularly, and who thinks (like many non-vegetarians) that meat should be replaced by starch and tomato sauce should go on anything. I’ve made this gravy twice in the last two weeks, first served with vegetarian Quorn meatballs (Quorn is the only common brand of veggie meat-substitute products easily available in the UK; there is no Boca or Morningstar, sadly!) and mashed potatoes, and the second time with whole portobello mushroom caps with polenta and blue cheese crumbles. Excellent both times, so something for everyone–those who love and loathe the meat substitute products. Now if you’ll excuse me, I’ve really got to master that Stroganoff recipe.
You have had a serious procrastination problem this week. All rage will thusly be directed inwards.
I’m only trying to help, NFAH
Dear Self,
Stop going to bed so late. You know you’re not going to want to get up. The internet is really not that interesting, not compared with sleep.
It’s like I’m a naughty 13 year old again, NFAH
Dear Self,
You set your self a goal to get to the gym 8 times in a certain period. You made it 5 times. Better than 0, but not as good as 8.
Things still need to improve, NFAH
Dear Self,
I know some of the work that needs to be done is remarkably boring. That goes for housework too. But you still have to do it, just buckle down and get it over with. These little bursts of energy and inspiration to do things at 10 pm are nice, but are contributing to the “not wanting to go to bed problem”… just work normal hours like a normal person and go to sleep on time.
Tired of the “living alone means there are no rules” syndrome, NFAH
Dear Self,
I know you just found out that your ex-husband got re-married, but really stop writing about him. That was a long time ago, and you don’t actually miss him or feel nostalgic.
(Shaking head at self in disgust), NFAH
Dear Self,
You do realize you have to be in a car on the way to a plane in just under 12 hours and you’re not packed. Stop writing Dear So-and-So letters and go to bed!
There was a massive winter storm in Minnesota this week, and people are just starting to dig out. Funny that, it makes me nostalgic. I don’t miss the realities of Minnesota winters, but I do miss the romance! I lived most of my pre-England life in really snowy places (Minnesota and Michigan) and when the Christmas songs start playing, I start dreaming of a white Christmas. Even though I am almost never in a white Christmas kind of place these days. Last year in Australia I was definitely not in that place, and I quite enjoyed the cognitive dissonance of being in a sunny clime over the holidays. And seeing a gigantic Christmas Pelican with presents in its beak. And eating Christmas dinner outside by the pool, with freshly grilled fish as the centerpiece.
Now I’m heading for Florida, and I’m guessing there will not be a white Christmas there. I don’t miss the realities of it all, and I quite like that my window is open to air out my flat here in England where it’s been quite temperate. But Christmas really is the season of nostalgia, isn’t it? Dreaming of idyllic childhood holidays and happy times. Bing Crosby dreams and all of that. For this, I think the most appropriate thing I could say is in the lyrics of the Tori Amos song ‘Winter’ which was also my ex-husband’s favorite song of this season. He loved the part about putting hands into the father’s glove. I love this part:
When you gonna make up your mind
When you gonna love you as much as I do
When you gonna make up your mind
Cause things are gonna change so fast
Things do change, so fast. When I was with the ex whose song this was, I had never been to Europe. I’ve now been living in the UK for nearly 10% of my life, which is a scary thing to contemplate. And I’m relatively settled, I have plans for the future and they don’t involve much but continuing on with my current plans and existence. I will have to deal with an application for residency in the next 1.5 years, and I will have to continue to work hard and live up to my foreigner status as a net contributor to the UK economy.
But I’m sure I’ll always feel nostalgic for snow at this time of year, even when I know that a storm such as the one that hit Minnesota would bring my life here to a standstill. I don’t miss owning a house in Minnesota. I don’t miss shoveling the driveway. I don’t miss worrying about parking when Snow Emergencies are declared. What I do miss is the beauty of the snow, the break in time that takes place when things shut down because the weather really is that bad. So I guess I have to learn here in the UK to take a break and enjoy life, Christmas, and the whole thing.
Dear Bicyclists who ride straight at me when I’m walking to the gym,
It seems so easy to me. The pavement is split in half with a white line and even a ridge down the middle. There is a picture of a pedestrian painted every few meters on one side of the line, and a picture of a bicyclist painted next to it every few meters on the other side. So why the £%&(^%$ do I keep having to jump out of your way when I’m walking on the pedestrian side?
Thinking if you can’t figure this out maybe you shouldn’t be riding a bike in public, NFAH
Dear hopeless French chef,
I know you disagree with the concept of being a vegetarian or pescetarian, but do you even try the food you prepare for us? I’m guessing not, because tomato and basil sauce on roasted parsnips really did set a new low.
Unapologetically not about to start eating game and thus destined to leave dinner hungry, NFAH
Dear Brits around me who have lived abroad,
You continue to amaze and amuse me with your comments about Britain and the British, which often voice things that I dare not utter myself.
Increasingly serious that living abroad should be a requirement for a University degree, NFAH
Dear recently unfollowed Twitter peeps,
You can’t say you weren’t warned. (See previous Dear so-and-so for details)
Apparently more snarky than ever, NFAH
Dear ladies with science PhDs who are some of my favorite people in the world,
I am SO looking forward to seeing you at the conference next week in an undisclosed sunny location. I suspect that you can tell from all of this rage that I could really use a break from my current surroundings.
Following up on the success of last year’s Christmas party for my group from work, I did it again. A few things were different. First, the gauntlet had been laid down over the bake-off, so as you saw earlier this week I made Krumkake. Let’s just say they were a hit. I have 9 cookies remaining, after having made literally dozens. Given the fact that there were 10 people at this little soiree, and I did not have any once I started seeing how popular they were, I think the team averaged 4-5 eaten cookies each! Second, I also cooked something hot in addition to providing cheese and crackers (all American ones, Triscuits, Club and Saltines, from my cracker bounty!) and nibblies. When I was in the US last summer with one of my colleagues, she had remarked after several different hot dips at restaurants that she loved them and did not remember having seen them on British menus nearly as often as they appeared in American restaurants. So I made (what I thought was) an enormous vat of crab and artichoke dip (think three packages of cream cheese and four containers of crab meat to get the scope of the scale of this thing) and I swear they left nothing behind, the entire thing went–and quickly! Finally, in addition to my contribution to the bake-off, one of the temporary visitors to the group offered to make and bring a Tiramisu. We nearly polished that off too. (I swear, I am am not a slave driver and I have no idea why they were all so hungry!) The best, though, was when people discovered that the hollow centers of the Krumkake were the perfect place to put the Tiramisu. Like me, my team is largely made up of expats and so clearly this sort of fusion had broad appeal!
Photos of the before and after:
(The dip was not out of the oven, nor had the Tiramisu arrived yet).
The Christmas miracle was that I ended up with more and better wine than I started with. Aside from a few generous creatures bringing a bottle each, one of the gang found an import wine merchant that had oaky Californian Chardonnay and brought me 6 bottles! Enjoying a lovely glass now… Happy Friday Night!
Normally this is a Friday thing, but I’m bubbling over and can’t wait three more days.
Dear December,
I am not ready for you. Could you please wait a few more weeks?
Time-crunched, NFAH
Dear British ladies of a certain age:
Yes, you are right in thinking that those neon colored tights with black skirts and shoes are making a statement. That statement is, “I’m not young enough to pull off this look.”
Helpfully yours, NFAH
Dear Gym,
I know you must think I don’t love you since I don’t visit you very often. Hopefully the three visits in the last eight days will help reassure you that I really do love you. And I do plan to visit you more often in the new year.
Yours with sore muscles, NFAH
Dear American boys,
Your shameless self-promotion is really starting to wear on me. I know this attitude would work okay in America, but here in England it’s a bit much. Why don’t you just whip that thing out, and I’ll grab my tape measure.
Glad I don’t have one, NFAH
Dear team,
I promise you that in the next 48 hours my flat will become tidy and food and drink will be obtained. I realize that from the look of things right now, it does not appear that a holiday party will take place on Thursday.
Channelling Cinderella (but not until tomorrow), NFAH
Dear Social Media people,
There are really only a few ways to piss me off, I swear. But you’re very good at them:
Be a (very) minor celebrity but refuse to be facebook friends with anyone you don’t know. Send a message explaining how you don’t want to have too many facebook friends. Excellent, I will be sure to delete that post I was writing about your self-produced CD
Actually do tweet what you are eating for every meal and when you are bathing. TMI and I don’t need to know.
Or tweet the name of a new song every 3 minutes
Or keep tweeting the same message day after day
Or keep trying to advertise your latest scheme
Or make your blog content unreadable due to advertisements
I was walking in an English town today, wearing jeans and a red hoodie and carrying a very large cup of Starbucks coffee (i.e. looking as much the hapless American as is humanly possible) when I saw something up ahead. A police motorcycle, blue lights flashing, was waiting in a zebra crossing. I looked up the road and saw more blue flashing lights. Several more police. They started moving towards me. Then a fancy black car. Funny, it had a flag on top. I peered in the large car window (not even frosted–perfectly clear) and saw an elderly couple sitting there in the back seat. She had on quite the outfit, a peach hat and matching jacket. No, it couldn’t be… yes, yes it was.
I had accidentally stumbled on the Queen’s motorcade.
A few more cars, a few police, and it was over. And I was shellshocked. I had a stupid grin on my face for at least the next five minutes. The locals I spoke to later in the day were impressed, none of them had seen her in person before. (Contrary to popular belief, not all Brits actually know the royal family.) And yet there I was, minding my own business, walking down a random street being all American, blissfully ignorant of what the royals were up to. (I now know that there’s a website where you can find out where they are and what they’re doing.)
Of course, when I emailed my sister with the “you won’t believe what I just saw” news, her retort was almost as incredible:
I ran afoul of Obama’s motorcade in Seoul today. Good day for us.
The word ‘crackers’ means different things in the US and the UK. In the US, it’s my favorite snack food, much better than potato chips (crisps) and often either cheese flavored or used as vehicles for cheese or other nice savory foods. Here in the UK this meaning is mostly the word I find confusing, ‘biscuits’ which can can be either like crackers or can be sweet and essentially like cookies. I am well-known on this blog for being obsessed with the American crackers called Cheez-its, which are my favorite snack food ever. They are amazing on their own, or are even better in a double-cheese configuration when dipped in cream cheese. This was the subject of my recent shock contest win from another blogger in the US, where I won a box of boxes of crackers mailed to me. The resulting bounty of snack foods are pictured here:
Yum. I’ll be busy for a few weeks with these, although as they arrived more than a week ago, I am already down one box of Wheat Thins and one of Cheez-its. Crackers don’t last long in my carb-craving household.
But as I was walking home from work today, I saw the seasonal British crackers in a shop window. I actually experienced this for the first time in Australia last Christmas, and there are pictures of me wearing a paper crown hat. Thank goodness for semi-anonymous blogs, as I have the perfect excuse not to post the image. But you can get the idea at the ‘Christmas Cracker Shop’ website. I looked downright silly. I can see how this is one of those holiday traditions that one retains from childhood, and I thank my Aussie friends for sharing their tradition with me last holiday season. Maybe I’ll even buy some this year to acknowledge my increasing adaptation to my adopted country. But on the balance, I think I prefer Cheez-its. And thank goodness I have another box yet to go.
