Chookooloonks

alex, wearing a soca warrior t-shirt i finally bought her, after the team was already eliminated from the world cup

Whaddya want from me -- they finally dropped the price to something reasonable!

no. i love you too much to post pictures of speedo boy.

Besides, I'm not sure that I have quite the photographic skill necessary to fully capture the pallor of his skin (really, I think you can see internal organs), the scrawniness of his form, or the brevity of his speedo. Moreover, I don't think I could look through the viewfinder of my camera at him long enough to take the shot. I have my limits, man.

Instead, allow me to present to you this picture of Alex, whose expression fully captures the horror and disgust that crosses all of our faces each time we're met with the Nasty that is Speedo Boy:

open message to our neighbour who insists on washing his ever-clean car wearing teensy tiny speedos

Dude, put that away.

measurements for week #6, and schizophrenia

Alex and me during a rainy day self-portrait, taken June 8, 2006

For the third week in a row, I've lost nothing (leaving my total inches lost at 4-1/2). I can look at it three ways:

(a) I should be happy, because I only worked out 4 days of the last seven, and given my metabolism, I should've blown up like the Stay Puft Marshmallow Man;

(b) My body has found the weight it truly likes to be -- however, the weight I truly like to be is about 10 pounds less (I'm guessing -- I've been avoiding the scale), boding intense and possibly hostile negotiations between me and my body in the very near future; or

(c) The 1/16th of a mile that I've cut off of my usual running route during the last few weeks (so removed to avoid further "dumpling" incidents) is apparently critical to my fitness success, clearly establishing that construction-worker abuse is vital to any serious exercise regime.

Today, I choose (a).

In other news, this morning I met a woman I'd never met before for coffee. (For the purposes of this story, let's call this woman "Clementine," which isn't her real name, or even close, but didn't you just love Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind?). Clementine and I share a mutual friend in Houston, who suggested that Clementine contact me while visiting Trinidad to determine the country's "livability." Always happy to help a friend of a friend (and talk about Trinidad), I obliged.

It's always very interesting for me to talk to Americans about Trinidad, because I find myself feeling rather schizophrenic. On one hand, I spent the majority of my life in America, and in many ways, I understand what Americans value about their home country. On the other hand, even given my extended time away from Trinidad, I feel more Trini than American, and so I find myself "selling" Trinidad whenever I speak to non-Trinis. So even though I talked about the crime situation here (because, let's face it, Clementine was asking about residing in Trinidad, and unfortunately, you can't talk about life here without including some mention of crime), I ended up spending a majority of the time talking about the lovely people! Beautiful scenery! Amazing music! Vibrant art! The Soca Warriors, for heaven's sake! Then, afraid that perhaps my Trini bias was colouring my description to her a little too much, guilt moved me to suggest she talk to my friend Joanna, who recently moved here with her family, to get a truer version of what it's like to move here from another country. Hopefully, between the two of us, Clementine will get a somewhat accurate picture of what life in Trinidad is like.

The other thing that I noticed myself doing (which I know I do all the time), is while I was speaking to Clementine, my American accent came on strong. Having spent so much of my life in America, I can do an American accent without even thinking about it. And its tone? Completely nondescript. It's like Newscaster American -- there's no mistaking its origins in the United States, but you'd be hard-pressed to assign a particular state or region to it. It is, come to think of it, like Clementine's (and by "Clementine," I mean Kate Winslet's American accent from Eternal Sunshine, not the woman I met today, whose accent is clearly from the northeastern part of the United States). And yet, when I needed to speak to the waitstaff at the restaurant where we were having coffee, I slipped right into Trini. It's like being bilingual, without ever changing languages. At this point, I don't even know WHAT my natural accent is anymore.

So pity poor Alex, who, God help her, is surrounded by dozens of people speaking dozens of different ways to her. Her father has a distinctly Cornish accent, and I slip back and forth between Newscaster American and St. Joseph's Convent-girl Trini (there is, apparently, a special way girls who attended St. Joseph's Convent high school, as I did, speak, as compared to the rest of Trinidad). Celeste speaks to Alex in a rank Trinidadian accent. My parents speak to her in unspoiled Trini. Her schoolteacher is from Holland, though married to a Trini; and so she speaks to Alex with a Trinidadian accent slightly tinged with Dutch. All of Alex's friends at school are from both Trinidad and the rest of the world, but her best friend, Charlie, speaks with an Australian accent (though Charlie's grandmother, who Alex sees often enough, speaks to her with a Polish accent). Recently, anyone who meets Alex invariably asks me, "What is her accent?" My usual response: "Hell if I know."

Still, in a way, there's a part of me that is pretty proud of the fact that Alex is exposed to so many cultures in her day-to-day life -- I suspect very few children her age have such an international community at their disposal. But I can't help but also wonder to which country Alex will feel most of an affinity -- will she feel more English? Trini? American? Wherever we may end up moving next? I suppose time (and her accent) will tell.

In the meantime, Clementine (the woman I met today, not Kate Winslet), I hope I gave you the kind of information you were looking for. If the information seemed a bit random and disjointed, you now know why.

don't. push. me. 'cause i'm close. to. the. eeeeeedge

So this morning I was really angry. What I was angry about isn't all that important.

Okay, yes it is.

I mean, really: do you think it's unreasonable for me to be angry because my babysitter was late... AGAIN... with no explanation, no phone call, and she has yet to give me a cell phone number that works, even though she has, wait for it, THREE cell phones? The number I called this morning was answered by some friend she lent it to. Honestly.

When she waltzed in TWO HOURS LATE with only a half-hearted explanation ("When I left the house this morning, it started to rain." RAIN! Hello, it's the TROPICS!), I blew her head clean off her body. Then I went for a run -- my first in three days, since lately I've had Many Pressing Obligations.

As I walked out of the house, the sun was already blazingly hot, because -- allow me to direct your attention to this globe -- the Equator is here, and Trinidad is righthere. So I stepped out of the gate...

...and had the best run I've had thus far. Seriously, I was so busy stewing that I didn't notice I ran more than I ever had before. And so, my little kumquats, I've discovered the key to my stamina:

Unmitigated fury.

ain't no party like a gran the great party

Granny the Great shakin' her groove thang to Stevie Wonder's "Happy Birthday to You." Click the image above for more photos.

Well, I'm happy to report that Granny the Great rang in her 100th birthday in fine style, and she seemed to enjoy every minute of it. Photographic evidence of the festivities can be found here. I don't know about Gran, but I can tell you that I'm still recovering.

Enjoy.

happy 100th birthday, granny the great!

Granny the Great, c. 2005

Today is my grandmother's 100th birthday. Needless to say, this is an amazingly special day for our family. On behalf of all of her grandchildren and great-grandchildren, Marcus, Alex and I took bouquets made of 100 anthureums (the flowers shown in this post) to her house last night, and placed them all over the place, so when she wakes up this morning, she'll be met by an explosion of colour.* Then, the entire family is accompanying her to a Mass at her church. This evening, there will be a huge party (with an extensive guest list which SHE specified -- granny don't play). As unofficial party photographer, I'll be sure to have lots of photographs to share.

So anyway, happy birthday, my beautiful grandmother. Know your family adores you.

_________

* The idea of 100 anthureums was given to me by Chookooloonks reader twocatmommy, a month ago when I asked for ideas for the perfect gift. Twocatmommy, if you're reading this, please e-mail me a snailmail address where I can send you a small token of my gratitude!

in four years...

...we've:

- had two weddings;

- lived in three countries;

- owned one house;

- made two homes;

- visited 6 countries;

- had one beautiful baby girl;

- managed to love each other even more that the day we exchanged vows.

Happy anniversary, Marcus. Here's to many, many more.

the day of reckoning

In about 10 minutes, Trinidad & Tobago will be playing Paraguay in the World Cup. Here's how it shakes out:

If England beats Sweden (also starting in 10 minutes), and we beat Paraguay by 2 goals, Trinidad & Tobago will go to the second round. Which is a good thing.

So, go England, and go SOOOOOOOOOOOca Warriors.

More later.

* * * * *

18 minutes into the game:

TnT: 0, Paraguay: 1

I'm sick.

* * * * *

86 minutes into the game:

TnT: 0, Paraguay: 2
England: 2, Sweden: 1

It's pretty much over. TnT played beautifully, just not beautifully enough.

The good news is I won't be randomly singing that I am a SOOOOOOOOOOOOOca Warrior nearly as much.

Unless Alex asks.

* * * * *

90 minutes into the game:

TnT: 0, Paraguay: 2 (FINAL)
England: 2, Sweden: 2 (FINAL)

Marcus is crushed!

measurements for week #5

Total cumulative inches lost: 4-1/2 inches (inches lost in the past two weeks: 0 inches) Number of days I went running in the last 7 days: 5 (swam the other two)

Ladies and gentlemen, I believe I have reached what is called a "plateau."