i'm dying for a Dunkin' Donuts iced coffee right now

Just wanted to let that be known.

One week until my best friend, Dr. Juli Parker and her fabulous husband, Jeff arrive here in Zurich. I'm v. excited but don't think it has fully hit me yet, as I have been focused on organizing things for a yard sale that was pretty much a bust (time spent - 20 hours), rehearsing and performing in a staged reading at the Zurich Comedy Club (time spent - 15 hours) and preparing for a photo shoot for a 2009 calendar which will be used as a fundraiser for the English Forum, an ex-pat site (time spent - 30 hours) ...

The yard sale was a bust because there were only about 20 people who came through the sale, where about 10 of us had schlepped many of our things and set up tables and waited patiently for the rush that never came ... v.v.v. frustrating, as I, having no car, dragged 4 huge, heavy bags and myself on 2 busses and one tram to get there and did not stop sweating until it was just about time to pack up and go home. I did meet a few cool women (it was hosted by the American Women's Club of Zurich), one of whom agreed that if we were stuck inside not selling anything for hours on a Saturday, we should at least be drinking ... I gave her some money and sent her out to get us some booze. So at least we had that for the last several hours.

And, as I tried not to have happen, I did end up 'shopping' at other people's tables ... there were such great deals! In the end, I did come out ahead - barely, even with the 20 CHF entry fee, supporting the bake sale (cupcakes for M., apple tart and coffee for me), purchasing things (a necklace for 3 CHf! An antique seltzer bottle - I collect them - for 5 CHF and free kids books for when people with kids - you know who you are - come and visit) so other than having to repack and re-drag 4 bag-fulls home again, it was fun! (My hero-husband came and met me to help carry and commisserate with the somewhat wasted day and my frustration at the lack of marketing...)

The play reading was great - I'm really enjoying working with and being a part of this group. Tomorrow I will go with a v. cool woman, Karen, originally from NY, to the English Speaking Theatre Festival about an hour away and help behind the scenes with our group's entry to the fest.

The reading on Monday night was a 'debutantes' evening, as it was cast with almost all new comers and those who had never read or been on stage before. I played Meg, the bride in the only role that was not double-cast. I was v. proud of all these brave souls, especially as many do not have english as their native tongue and did a smash-up job.

The only real gaffe of the evening was mine - and I am glad that it happened at this point in my life, not sooner, as I don't know that I could have handled the embarassment and aftershock when I was younger ... Because my husband in the play has cheated on me and I have found out the night before the wedding, I am v. emotional and crying/weepy during much of the second act. At an expecially emotional point, the character of my mother sees this and offers me her hanky and holds it up to my nose saying, 'blow'....

Now, I don't know that I really need to go on here, but I will - just a bit. You see, though the cast had a few 'rehearsals' in bits, we never were all together and much of the time was spent helping with pronunciation, etc... not with physical 'bits' ... so when my mother told me to blow - I (Kristen) had gotten weepy in the character and was also suffering a bit of allergies - I made a noise to pretend to blow and was perhaps a bit too forceful, for as she took away the hankie, I was still blowing bubbles, as it were ....

I can't remember the last time I broke character on stage and it is something I pride myself in not doing, but when this happened and I immediately put my script up to my face and saw that the audience, who were v. close to the action was in hysterics, I too lost it and ad libbed - in character - about my allergies and side stepped over to the box of tissues that was on the desk (thank goodness).

From that point on in the play, I had a tissue in my palm just in case. I am still shocked that I did not loose it again, as it was v.v.v. funny and there were giggling twitters throughout the audience like aftershocks as we went along. And god knows, if I had been in the audience, it would have taken everything I had not to keep laughing ....

When I go to the next reading on Monday night, I expect a barrage of tissues to be handed to me and/or rolls of toilet paper, etc... I see it as an initiation of sorts into the group and really - what are you going to do?!! I am proud of myself for not being more mortified and embarassed and for laughing at the situation and myself (which is something I do often...)

The photo shoot is something I'm not sure I am handling as well. I saw a few of the photos this morning over email and must say - and this is not me being hyper-critical and ridiculous - that I look pretty lousy in them. I guess my mirror at the apt is a good 'skinny' mirror and I felt that I looked better in my white ski pants, white zip up shirt and white fuzzy, faux fur hat than I really did.

There are no excuses. I just wish I was more happy about the results. I am pleading with the photographer to use one that is more goofy, typical Kristen and that is less embarassing than using one that looks like I am trying to be all sexy and sassy and falls miserably short of that mission ...

Ahh, life's lessons. I'm not sure what this one was - perhaps the same one I keep failing - being comfortable and confident in one's own skin. I know I am no longer 20 and that I was never thin and never tall so when I look at a photo and see someone who is almost 40, short, curvy and not as photogenic as she used to be, it's still hard. Especially when you want to go back in time and not agree to pose for a calendar that will be available for some/many/who knows? to see .... But there is a reason and maybe it's just that. Maybe some young girl who is also not tall, thin and gorgeous will see the calendar and feel more confident in her own skin. I know that would have helped me when I was younger.

It's a good thing that Juli will be here in a week - she is the main reason I'm not (even more) hung up on all these body image and self issues ... she runs the Women's Center at UMass. Dartmouth and teaches women's studies and just got her Ph.D! An amazing woman and an amazing friend - and she actually thinks that I will be going topless with her on the beaches in Italy in a few weeks! Well... maybe I'll just surprise everyone and myself and do it.

Okay - that felt like a therapy session ... Forget the coffee, I need a drink.

80% there - take a look:

Here are some photos of our apartment in Zurich. While we are v. close to being where we want/need to be with it, we still have one room (ours) which has no bed and virtually no furniture and is waiting for both inspiration and appropriate funds... There are no photos of this room or of the second guest room/Kristen's craft room yet ... coming soon!

news flash!

Swimsuit shopping is no less mortifying or depressing here than in the states. (Duh.)

I'm a smart woman. I know that I have the same body I left the US with in February... (admittedly minus a few lbs...) So why is it that I was actually looking forward to shopping for a suit for our upcoming trip to Italy here in Zurich? Did I think the general beautiful-ness of the people here would some how rub off on me? Did I think that a $325 suit would hold the key to a beautiful bod?

I honestly don't know what I was thinking. But I do recognize it as similar to a life-long 'dimentia' I have 'suffered' for as long as I can remember - it goes something like this: many mornings when I awaken I somehow think/dream/believe/hope that I will have been transformed into a supermodel/ideal woman/someone else with long, skinny arms, a waist, clavicles-that-can-hold-water, and a more reasonable/workable/practical-sized-bust. I finally smartened up about 10 years ago and took the full length mirror out of my bedroom as it was was not helping in this matter ...

But I'm starting to make peace with all this body and age 'stuff'. I am. Kind of. I'm trying. Really. What choice does one have? I'm looking 40 in the eye and I can still turn a head from time to time. Other than the arthritis, herniated discs and headaches, I feel pretty good and when I actually take the time to put myself together I can even look good. Why just the other day, someone called me 'Norma Jean'. Now that compliment could last me several weeks... Of course, my pseudo-confidence is much more likely that I realize I could be the mother of most of the 'chippies' on the street and that takes some of the pressure off ...

Speaking of chips ... Have you ever tried to make nachos at home just for yourself? A one person serving? (I just made some for myself because the overly generous people who came over last weekend left a 800lb bag of chips, limes and 12 different kinds of salsa - what was I to do? They called out to me) It's not easy, is it? Because you really can't make just a little bit. You need to spread the chips all over the cookie sheet and then add the meat, beans, cheese, peppers, onions, more cheese, what have you ... and it just doesn't look right unless that whole damn tray/sheet is full.

Now you know in your rational mind that there is no way you can eat all this food. And it's not a matter (this time) of your eyes being bigger than your stomach. It just needs to be this way. You'll save the left overs. You may save them, but you also know that they will never taste as good as they did the first time and that nachos, unlike mom's goulash or lasagna, do not get better when the tastes have time to 'marry'. Face it, the chips get soggy, the cheese does not re-melt as well as it melted and you may as well have just thrown the whole tray away after you stuffed yourself the first time.

I don't know why you may have saved the rest of the nachos. Perhaps you have one of those Pampered Chef stoneware trays that are supposed to make things crispy not soggy when reheated. Maybe your husband is out of town and he loves nachos and you know he'll pretty much eat anything or maybe you are just like me. A frugal/thrifty yankee. (a Red Sox-loving yankee) I was reared a yankee by yankees whose people were yankees that begat yankees and so on ... it goes back a looooong way, ladies and gentlemen. I just can't seem to shake it sometimes.

From saving left overs until they have become a petri dish experiment in the refrigerator to balkng at the insane amout some people will pay for a bathing suit to missing Marshall's like you wouldn't believe - I'm a New Hampshire farm girl through and through and chances are, I'll be wearing my 3 year old, black and white polka dotted swimsuit in Italy this year. And I'll be looking damn good. (for an old broad...)

quiz day

While I attempt to put the final touches on the apt. so that I can take some photos to post/send, please amuse yourself with these fun activites:
fun,
fun,
and more fun! See Iron Man. Great fun. Robert Downey, Jr. is perfect in the lead. Great early summer popcorn movie.

a groupie from afar

The English Beat, one of the best bands ever is playing tonight at Tupelo Hall in Londonderry, NH and I am not there.

While this may not seem like a big deal to anyone else - especially as I have seen the band at this very venue 3 times in the past 2 years - it is a big deal to me and it is only dawning on me now that I will actually not be at tonight's (or tomorrow night's) show.

I have been in denial about this for months now. I actually thought that I would be able to finagle a way to fly from Zurich to NH just to see them. I had all sorts of clever ideas. I can't even go into them now - I'm just too sad.

Please, someone - anyone - go see the shows! Tupelo Hall is a small, intimate, fabulous (BYOB!)venue and you can dance right in front of Dave Wakeling as he sings "Twist and Shout" and "Mirror in the Bathroom". Amazing. Truly.

This is like some sort of delayed high school crush. I'm a groupie from afar of an 80's ska band and they don't even know I exsist. Sigh.

My only consolation in all this is that I have already created a new fantasy regarding The Beat that keeps me going on particularly low days: It is a well-known fact that I will be 40 in less than a year. While there are many things that an old broad such as myself might wish for in honor of such an occassion, what I want, more than anything is to have Dave Wakeling and The English Beat play at my party.

No big deal, right? (I could have asked for an Ausin Healy like my dad got for his 40th. But I'm not that high-maintenance...)

So Mr. Wakeling, wouldn't you like to come to Switzerland next spring, say March 15th? Please? ...

a gift for the gal/guy who has everything ...

Now go tell the person next to you a joke and press here. (Bill P. this is for you. Sorry I couldn't make it portable - perhaps Matt can arrange that...)

May Day, May Day ... our first riot

Last week we had a holiday. Well, much of the world did. It's called International Worker's Day and according to Wikipedia: May Day commonly sees organized street demonstrations by millions of working people and their labour unions throughout most of the countries of the world though rarely in the US and Canada. Communist and anarchist organizations and their affiliated unions universally conduct street marches on this day.

What fun! I had read about the rioting in previous years on an ex-pat forum I frequent but truthfully didn't think much of it, as many people said that any 'action' seemed to be focused on the more seedy areas of town. (Zurich's seedy area is what one might call 'hip' in any other city.)

As is always the case when many different people weigh in on an issue, the on-line forum contained varying degrees of panic, warnings and dismissal regarding May Day. I was amused to read that some people were staying home with windows shut, shades drawn and doors locked while others, writing enthusiastically of rubber bullets, tear gas and giant water cannons, were hoping to find the action and perhaps even become involved in the day's activities.

From what I've gathered, those that historically start the riots are not even from Zurich. They're thugs from surrounding areas who come into town to cause a fracas and get everyone all riled up. One woman said that in certain areas, you are encouraged to leave beer on your doorstep as a peace offering to discourage them from taking and/or breaking your things. What the heck kind of riot tactic is that? Sounds more like Halloween trick or treat to me...

So on this day off, May 1st, (Happy Birthday, Andrew Cheney) Mark and I set out on an adventure that began as we went to look at some second-hand furniture at the BrockiHaus near the train station. (He was in and out of there in 10 minutes. I have been known to spend an entire afternoon at this one in particular - remember the free chair?!)

Since we were in the area, I asked him to show me where the apartment was that we had 'gotten' then 'lost'. A few months ago, just before I arrived, when it looked as though it was going to become our home, he had assured me it was on the 'good' end of the red light district... (This is the place near the only Hooters in Switzerland that I mentioned in my last post.)

As we walked along, I immediately recognized why this area might be called 'seedy'. But not necessarily in a bad way - I must admit that seeing some diversity in Zurich was a welcome sight. (it's not at bad as NH, but...)Not only was the crowd much more racially diverse but there was more noise, more trash on the sidewalk and in the street, people just hanging out smoking, fast food restaurants, bars with happy hours, head shops, peep shows, massage parlors ... you get the picture. But it was great. V. much alive, and filled with energy. I wish my mom had experienced this - she commented on the fact that it felt a bit like the people here (even the kids) were on Prozac ...

As we headed away from the strip joints and The Macarena Club, we heard the sound of a bull horn. It got louder as we approached the block where the apartment was. I looked at Mark expecting that he, as the one who had been here for much longer than I and spoke the language, would know what the heck it was. I didn't have to wait for an answer - as we walked up from under a small overpass, there it was - a riot! (Truthfully it was more of a standoff at this point) We had stumbled upon the famed riot!

I was a little apprehensive but had to check it out. We weren't as flagrant in our voyeurism as many others who kept getting closer and closer to the riot gear-clad police, testing them and taking videos and photos, but we still were there watching and waiting. It was a little other worldly, actually. I mean, I've seen machine gun-armed men in airports, rebels in the jungle in Malaysia and militia hiking down the face of a snow-covered mountain in Yugoslavia, but I was just a tourist then - on my way to or from or just passing through for a few days - I live here.

I wanted to know what this was all about and why. I knew the basic jist, but that made little sense to me played out like this and the language barrier made it even more frustrating. Mark could not even understand, as they were communicating in heavily accented Swiss German.

There were several tank-like trucks (photo above) that M. told me were water trucks. (He also told me that it would hurt a lot if we happened to get invoved in the mele ...)

After standing and watching and listening for about 20 minutes, we decided we were bored and I still wanted to see exactly where the apartment we lost was. Turned out it was smack dab across from the small park where the protesters were. Of course.

As we circumvented the 'action' I saw what appeared to be a giant flea market on the far end of said park. As you can imagine, riot or no riot - I wanted in. (And likely people would be making sweet deals if they were fearing for their lives, right?) Somehow M. talked me out of it. I just know there were some awesome buys there - things I really needed. And that stays with you for days when you've missed out on something like that, you know?

I never did get to see the apartment ... so after all that excitement, I convinced M. to go see Once with me. Yes, the v. same movie I had just spent 12 CHF to see just 3 days earlier. (And now it would be 18 CHF each!) I'd never gone to see the same movie in a theatre in the same week before - I really felt compelled to see it again and to watch him watch it.

My biggest challenge was to keep my yap shut when the best parts were coming up and not to hum along with the songs. I succeeded for the most part and was only slightly let down when he was not as blown over by it as I was. He liked it. A lot. But it's hard for something to live up to its reputation when you have me gushing about it. I can be a bit dramatic. ("It is the BEST film I have seen in sooo long! I cried - it was so amazing. You HAVE to see it. You of all people will love and appreciate it sooo much - trust me!")

What a day. About the only thing this May Day did not have was a pole with colored ribbons and cute, little dressed up kids running around it. (Why do they do that again?)