As the Kitchen-Redo (Re)Turns (A Soap Opera)--Part 2

When her husband speaks of problems, should she be concerned?

Is a kitchen redo ever done?

Once a heart beats quickly, will it always beat quickly?

Find out now on the latest installment of New House Girl—As the Kitchen-Redo (Re)Turns… Part 2!

When we last met the New House Girl, our feminine heroine was as close as a woman can get to a man… while cutting holes in the kitchen ceiling. Side by side they had drawn holes, cut holes and together made long, hot, sweet… messiness of their kitchen. As they say in Buenos Aires: It takes two to tango. And: There’s only one Evita Peron. And: Don’t Cry for Me, Argentina. And: !Ay, caramba! Actually those beef-eating South Americans are very talkative, which is more than the New House Girl (uh, I) could say for herself and her stoic spouse. Looking back on their entire relationship, she could remember him saying just two things to her: “I do” on their wedding day. And yesterday, “About these lights, there’s only one problem.”  

“A problem!” she gasped. Her breath came fast, she gulped air into her lungs mostly because she was wearing a totally impractical peasant dress with a bodice that barely covered her heaving bosom. She tossed her hair back with a move so elegant she must have looked like Grace Kelly, Elizabeth Taylor or at least Miss Piggy. She looked up at her man’s strong jaw, Roman nose and irascible eyes. He was a rake, impossible and her Guiding Light but suddenly she knew just what she had to say to him. Her lips trembled, parted and finally formed the words, “What do you mean, ‘problem’.”

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Now back to our program, As the Kitchen-Redo (Re)Turns… Part 2.

“What ‘problem’ are you talking about?” she said again because they always repeat the same statement after a commercial break. He wiped the sweat from his brow then looked deep into her green-blue-gray-hazel-brown-India-ink-jet-black eyes. 

“We’re going to have to repaint the kitchen.” 

“You mean,” she laughed “Just the ceiling,” she lifted her face to him revealing her beauty mark… which was one of several splotches of dirt and plaster that had fallen on her sweat-drenched skin during their saw-cutting fest.

“No,” he shook his head. “The whole kitchen.”

“Mister, I’ve got everything you need,” she said lifting… a gallon of Behr’s Elegant White paint and two brushes. “One for you and one for me,” she said running a brush over his muscular forearms.

“Not so fast,” he said standing so close she could hear his heart beat quickly. Perhaps he should have his heart checked out by a doctor at General Hospital? She made a mental note of calling the local Ophthalmologist and scheduling EKG, ESP and FYI tests for her husband. Speaking of her husband, he was still speaking, “First” he said “We have to remove all the old coats of paint, down to the plaster. Only then do we repaint the room and ceiling.”

“Down to the plaster?!” she said as a tear leaked from her left eye. He watched the tear cascade down her cheek, off her chin, around her ear, and circle her neck—three times—before resting on her ample bosom from which he heard her heart beating quickly. Perhaps she should have her heart checked out by her favorite Dentist at General Hospital? He stepped forward to tell her this but she moved way from him flipping her hair like Miss Piggy. What a woman, he thought! And what a muppet! When another tear escaped her right eye he suddenly realized the pain he had caused his spouse. What a fool he had been to put her in this position! He had not been upfront about what this job would entail. If only he had controlled his unquenchable need; his hungry heart; his burning desire… to put LED lights and a dimmer switch into the kitchen ceiling. 

“I’m sorry I made you cry,” he said taking her into his arms. With her head resting on his shoulder she felt like a child or at least All My Children. From this angle she also got a wide view of the ceiling and realized he was right—they’d painted the kitchen before when they’d done the first kitchen redo. But now they needed to do it… and do it right… on this second kitchen redo. Their eyes exchanged a look. Suddenly she and he both desired the same thing. Her hand grabbed what he wanted her to… a paint scraper. 

“One for you and one for me,” she whispered handing him a paint scraper of his own. Then she climbed on top of… the ladder and gave into the thrill, the unbridled pleasure of scraping off paint! Yes, yes, YES!

In one hour-long episode she learned that she should be concerned when her husband spoke of problems but that together they could handle any problem that came their way. Also she decided that a kitchen redo does begin and end. But there can always be a second kitchen redo or a third kitchen redo. Although if they had a third redo she would definitely complain in her next therapy session with a Surgeon, Oncologist or Radiologist. 

Finally, after medical appointments at General Hospital and Grey’s Anatomy, she learned that if a heart beats quickly, it’s usually related to stress, 16 cups of espresso or being scared of embarking on a second kitchen redo right after finishing the first kitchen redo. But once the kitchen work was done everyone’s heart rate should return to normal. At least that’s what the Proctologist said.

Standing in the kitchen with her husband scraping paint off the walls together, she looked forward to more Days of Our Lives. Or at least to finishing this @#$% second kitchen redo job!

As the Kitchen-Redo (Re)Turns (A Soap Opera)--Part 1

Can she cut holes in the ceiling?
Will she destroy her kitchen to improve it?
Is her husband crazy or inspired?

Find out now on the latest installment of New House Girl—As the Kitchen-Redo (Re)Turns.

But before we bring you the latest adventure, first a recap of what’s been happening lately. For the entire month of April the New House Girl has been interrupted while she’s (uh, I’ve) been traipsing through the Low Countries eating waffles in Belgium, chocolate pralines in Brussels and partying in the orange-loving Netherlands. But now April’s good times are over and it’s back to the ranch in sunny California for more home improvement, kooky cats and kookier neighbors.

When we last saw the New House Girl she was debating her relationship with her husband, specifically: what to do with the kitchen ceiling. Seated at the table across from her spouse she looked at his strong arms, his wide chest, his thick hair.
“I love…” she said breathlessly “Everything about our kitchen.”  He raised a rakish eyebrow before his dark eyes met hers with a smoldering look. He inhaled the air scented with her one-of-a-kind perfume—a base of oregano and tomatoes from the pasta sauce she’d made mingled with the swimming pool chlorine in her hair. He exhaled.
“Want to punch a hole in the kitchen ceiling?”

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Now back to As the Kitchen-Redo (Re)Turns—

“But why?” she gasped, her bosom heaving. Although she was young and restless, she was still trying to wrap her brain around his question. Perhaps the doctor at General Hospital was right and her spouse was crazy and addicted to… living in a disaster zone. The doctor would know everything about psychological and addictive personalities since he was a trained… gynecologist. After all, a doctor is a doctor, right? Her tongue flicked over her lips and she leveled her gaze at her spouse and pouted, “But we just finished redoing our kitchen.”

Then he spoke to her of LED lights and how they were energy efficient and cool (as in, they did not heat up when turned on, unlike her) and how he could put them on a dimmer switch. His words were very persuasive. As were his arms and all his tools. Before she knew what was happening he was standing on a ladder drawing circles on the ceiling of where the new recessed LED lights should go. Then standing close to her he unhooked… the existing overhead lamps. Then she grabbed that symbol of manliness… a saw. Before she realized it, he lifted her onto… the ladder where she cut a hole in her own kitchen ceiling! Yes, YES! Causing havoc in a room she’d already redone was dangerous, stimulating and so thrilling!

She punch-cut holes in the ceiling. She destroyed her kitchen to improve it. And the man of her dreams was not crazy but totally inspired! Doctor General Hospital was wrong. Aren’t those doctors always wrong? Man oh man: these LED lights were going to be great! She hugged her inspired husband.

“About these lights,” he said looking into her bold and beautiful face, “There’s only one problem…”

What is that problem? Find out on the next installment of the New House Girl on As the Kitchen-Redo (Re)Turns!

Vacationing in the Low Countries: Reflections on Writing about Belgium and the Netherlands

This was my second year participating in the A-Z Blogging Challenge. Last year I wrote about wine--which became part of my comedic wine book, Evolution of a Wine Drinker. Meanwhile this year I wrote about the Low Countries. As an American who's spent beaucoup time in Belgium and the Netherlands I gambled that I had enough material to write for a whole month about these two adjacent, diverse yet different countries.

I should have bet double or nothing because I would have won big time. I had so much to write about  I ended up cutting material. I'm a good gambler.

Like last year, I wrote a list of A-Z topics in advance but did not write the actual blog post until the day it needed to be posted. Writing this way is a great challenge to me and I enjoyed it. While last year I found it tiring to write every day, this year my blog post was just one of the several things I was writing: namely a novel, a screenplay and comedy sketches. My writing work ethic has improved in one year and the A-Z Blogging Challenge has helped that.

As a side note I learned during the challenge that a screenplay I wrote made the top six finalists in a screenplay competition. From these six, one finalist will be chosen to have their screenplay made into a movie. The finalist winner will be announced in June.  Pretty exciting stuff.

During the A-Z Challenge month I switched between writing about the Netherlands then writing about Belgium. For example, I wrote A is for Amsterdam, B is for Brussels, C is for (Dutch) Canals, D is for (Belgium's) Diamonds, etc. this worked well and kept things lively.

This year I had the label of (HU) for Humor and I'm glad I did for it helped readers identify me as a humor writer. Just in case they didn't get my hilarious, knee-slapping jokes.

I visited a number of other blogs which, like last year, reminded me how vast the world and blogosphere are. It's a good reminder. Since I couldn't visit all of them in April I plan to try to visit the rest now that the Challenge is over.

The two best things about this year's Challenge were: 1) The people reading and leaving comments; and 2) Trying out a non-humourous post on my blog. About the first, the comments are proof that the reader read the post, which always makes me happy. As for the second--the un-funny writing--when writing about Belgium, I felt I had to write about Ypres, the Belgian town and site of five big World War I battles. With this year being the 100th anniversary of that War to End All Wars, I took a gamble that my usual and new readers would go with me on the sad, historical journey to Ypres to remember the 1.7 million soldiers and civilians who died near Ypres over the four years of the war. I should have bet triple or nothing. Not only did they go with me, they spoke and wrote to me about it afterwards. Not everything in life is funny. Sometimes we have to suppress our funny bones and feel with our hearts. Writing about Ypres showed me that.

All of which brings me back to the best thing about the Challenge: the people.

Thanks to all the people who read my blog, participated in the Challenge, and wrote their own blog(s). Finally, a special thanks to all those writers who organized this year's wonderful event! For me it was even better than last year!

I gambled and learned so much in this year's Challenge, so now if you'll excuse me, I'm off to the racetrack to gamble on California Chrome in the Preakness!

D is for Diamonds

A kiss on the hand may be quite continental but

Diamonds are a girl’s best friend.

Square-cut or pear-shaped.

These rocks don’t lose their shape.

Diamonds are a girl’s best friend.

Tiffany’s Cartier! Black Starr

Belgium—

Belgium?!

It sounds ludicrous but this small country of two parts, three languages and beaucoup rain is the place to go for diamonds. That’s right. If a girl likes diamonds—and what girl in her right mind doesn’t?—you have to hightail it to Antwerp, Belgium. 

I did… Sort of. 

I was sent to Antwerp on a scholarship to study language and literature and while I was there, I became enamored with diamonds. Any girl in my shoes would have—at least any girl in her right mind would have. 

The city of Antwerp is located in the northern part of of Belgium near the border with The Netherlands. Some 2,000 years ago Antwerp was founded by the Romans on the banks of the Schelde River. There’s a popular origin myth story about the city stating that sometime during the 2nd to 4th centuries a giant ogre lived on the banks of the Schelde—as giant ogres are wont to do—and said giant charged a high toll of anyone who wished to ferry across the river. When travelers could not pay his fee, he cut off their hands and tossed them into the river. Frustrated at this ogre’s behavior, Brabo a young Roman man, refused to pay and in turn cut off the ogre’s hand and threw it into the river. (It’s a very big river that accommodates mucho severed hands.) And hence the name of the city: Hand-Twerpen, which translates as “hand thrower”. 

None of this information has anything to do with diamonds… except the Schelde, which is a wide river draining to the North Sea. Its width and depth meant large ships traversing the sea or the Atlantic Ocean could then sail down the river to the port of Antwerp and deposit their goods for sale right in the city. For centuries Antwerp has been one of the world’s busiest ports with the best origin myth about how it got its name. Even today Antwerp is the 15th largest port in the world, the third largest in Europe, and larger than the Port of Los Angeles, California—no joke!

When diamonds were found in India, and later in Africa, the uncut diamonds were brought to Europe to be cut, polished and sold. Since the 15th century Antwerp’s safe, accessible harbor paired with its wealthy population made the city a favored place for diamonds and the girls who loved them. 

I fit right in.

While exploring Antwerp’s Diamond District I discovered it encompasses just one square mile near Antwerp’s Central Train Station. The street leading to the station is sprinkled with jewelry stores whose window displays are full of diamond rings, earrings, bracelets, necklaces, broaches, pins, hair clips, tie clips, money clips. Basically if you have it, they can cover it in diamonds. 

While these stores welcomed visitors, what I really longed for was to see the Diamond Quarter’s professionals—known as diamantaires—buying, selling, cutting and polishing the stones. These are the people who determine the 4Cs: Carat, Cut, Color and Clarity. Unfortunately for me most of that work was done in safe buildings, behind closed doors by a small number of diamantaires who were wary of girls who loved diamonds. Most diamantaires entered the diamond trade because their families had been in the industry for generations. In fact, a large number of diamantaires are Hasidic Jews and Indians from the sub-continent.

During my time studying in Antwerp, I never got to see a diamond being cut, polished or prepared for its setting. But I did make a friend. We are very close. She has many facets I like, is sparkly and looks great in my ears. I call her “earrings” and I love her. I’ll never forget where I found her: Antwerp, Belgium.  

Oh, Diamonds! Diamonds! 

I don’t mean rhinestones!

But, Diamonds are a girl’s best friend.

C is for Canal

"Another day in Amsterdam," I sang over my breakfast croissant.

"I want to take you to a coffeeshop!" Benny said downing another cup of coffee. 

"You've already had six cups and it's not even 9 AM."

"Dutch coffeeshops sell coffee, food and pot."

"I don't need anymore food."

"Maybe you want some pot?"

Dutch society is famous for being tolerant. The coffeeshops in Amsterdam, as in all of The Netherlands, sell coffee, sandwiches and cannabis, the sale of which is tolerated by the Dutch authorities. The cops wouldn't tolerate huge sales of marijuana but they will small amounts for personal consumption. Across the table Benny was dressed in his jeans, walking shoes and a tank top. He was ready to show me Amsterdam.

"What do you say?" Benny said bouncing in his chair. The bouncing was either due to his excitement or the liters of caffeine now coursing through his veins. "Want to see a coffeehop?"
"No, thanks," I shrugged.
"What?!"
"In California pot is legal. I'd rather see something I can't see in my hometown."
Benny scratched his head. "Want so see the Red-Light Disrict--" I looked at him. "My guy friends love seeing it."
"Is there anything else to see here?"
"There's so much--!"
"Let's start with one thing."
"The... canals?" I nodded.

We boarded on a canal tour boat, ordered two glasses of wine and from the deck of of the boat passed through the canals of Amsterdam. The sunshine, the watery canals the wine, laughing with my friend  the day was beautiful, unique and very un-California. I toasted to Benny's city, its relaxed way of life and its fabulous canals.

"To another day in Amsterdam!"

B is for Brussels

“Bonjour,” I said turning my gaze from the beautiful buildings to the waiter standing over me.

“Bonjour mademoiselle,” he replied sliding a menu before me.

 “Je prend un gateau chocolat.”

“Excellent.”

“Une bière.

“Excellent.”

“Et Jean-Claude Van Damme.”

Ah, Brussels! It’s not Amsterdam, in fact it isn’t even in the Netherlands but in Belgium, one of the Low Countries. Brussels brings to mind chocolate, beer and old buildings. It also makes me think of Brussels’ native son, Jean-Claude Van Damme—the “Muscles of Brussels”.

When you’re in Brussels you have to eat chocolate, drink beer, visit its treasure trove of 400 year-old buildings and see Jean-Claude Van Damme. Preferably all at the same time. And the spot to partake in these gastronomical, historical and pop culture pleasures is the Grand Place. Located in the heart of the city, this square dating back to the Middle Ages, is lined with buildings tipped in gold leaf and adorned with golden statues. Originally the houses lining this square were built as the headquarters for the guilds—such as the bread makers, beer makers, butchers, bakers and candlestick makers. Today these buildings house museums, banks, chocolate shops, restaurants and cafes, which makes this the-place-to-be for chocolate, beer, old buildings (and potential) Van Damme sightings.

While living in Brussels I made a habit of going to this square for this double-double whammy extravaganza. Sitting outside at a cafe with a view of these grand old buildings I would eat countless Neuhaus chocolates and drink 436 different types of Belgian beer. (I went there a lot.) And although I always had my eye out for  J-CVD, I never did see the Muscles of Brussels.

Which meant I had to find a new cafe game. I did of course and called it the “Language Lip Pucker”. 

Before I explain the rules, first some background: Brussels is the capital city of the country of Belgium which lies between The Netherlands, France and Germany. The northern half of Belgium speaks Flemish (a form of Dutch), the southern part speaks French and along the border with Germany, a small group speaks German. As the capital city of two major and very different language groups, Brussels became an officially bilingual city speaking both Flemish and French. This means that street signs, buildings and menus are all written in both Flemish and French. Even the Grand Place has two names: In Flemish it’s called De Grote Markt, while in French it’s called La Grand’ Place.

In addition, Brussels is also the the capital city of the European Union, which has its own government buildings and the European Parliament in Brussels. As the lingua franca of the western world, English is widely spoken in EU offices and throughout Brussels. This means that when you go for drinks at the Grand Place, the local cafe or bowling alley you can order in English. Pretty much. 

This all boils down to the fact that in Brussels you can speak in three different languages and most people will understand you—pretty much.

With so many languages spoken in a city the size of four football fields, the protocol is for the customer to speak first—in Flemish, French or English. And depending on which language the customer speaks in—Flemish, French or English—the waiter, worker or employee must respond in the same language.

Now to my “Language Lip Pucker” game, which is the prefect cafe game to play in Brussels. First, I go to a cafe and address the waiter in English, which according to protocol means he must respond in English. 

When he returns to take my order, I speak to him in French—this language switch-a-roo throws him for a loop because in his mind he had pegged me as a dumb American. But now! He sees I’m a dumb person speaking French! I got him! Then he switches to French to say: “Bon, excellent, oui,” then off he goes to the kitchen to complain of the bilingual person at table 8.

When he delivers my meal and/or drink, I continue in French. Which is all charming, ha-ha, formidable! But wait for it. When I’m finished and want the check, I call him over and ask for it in Flemish. At this point his face is directed at me and I get so see the lips of his mouth press together and push out in a big fish-lips pucker. He doesn’t want to kiss me. Au contraire! Instead this Belgian waiter is thinking and perhaps a bit confused by me because the fish-lip pucker is what all Belgians do when they are thinking or confused. 

What exactly is he thinking?: “This person speaks English and French but is even dumber in Flemish!”

But all of that is worth it to see the “Lip Pucker”, which only switching languages can cause. Don’t knock the game before you try it! Besides, there is no other city in Western Europe where you can play this cafe game. So the next time you’re in Brussels use your English, French and Flemish and have some language fun. It’s the next best thing to seeing Jean-Claude Van Damme on the Grand Place—pretty much. 

A is for Amsterdam

“I’m in Amsterdam!” I said walking a busy thoroughfare in that city.

“Yes!” my Dutch friend said beside me rolling a suitcase.

“Look at the buildings!”

“Yes.”

“I’ve never seen anything like them!”

“Yes…”

“I feel like I’m on Sesame Street!”

“Ye—?”

Doing anything for the first time is exciting, liberating and perhaps a tad bit frightening. And visiting a foreign country for the first time is all this and more because it is often done in a language you don’t know, in a time zone you need to adjust to and with food you’ve never seen, not to mention wouldn’t put near your mouth. Yes, Scotland’s Haggis, I’m talking about you.

Luckily I was not in the land of the Scots but in Amsterdam, the economic and cultural capital city of the country of The Netherlands. I’d come from the U.S. to visit my Dutch friend Benny, and since this was his hometown, he took it upon himself to show me around. Benny was tall, thin and on this day wearing a faux red fur jacket that looked like he was being hugged by Sesame Street’s Elmo muppet. 

“800 years ago,” Benny said in a loud tour-guide voice. “The city was built on a dam of the Amstel River, which is why it became ‘Amsterdam’. Get it?” I did. Looking around, the dam explained all the water and canals that surrounded and crisscrossed the city. To me, a city inundated by so much water seemed foreign and charming. It also made me want to call FEMA. 

Together we visited the sights: The Van Gogh Museum, The Anne Frank House, the Royal Palace on Dam Square, the Rijksmuseum, the Red-Light District and the coffee shops that sold cannabis. Benny knew all the good places.

What I found more interesting was the architecture of the city’s houses. In the central part of Amsterdam hundreds of homes—some 400 years old—were built of a dark red or brown brick with decorative—but very narrow—facades. It was unlike anything I’d ever seen before. It made me think all Dutch people were 7 feet tall and 3 inches wide.

Benny explained that the houses were so narrow because the home builders—the wealthy merchants—wanted to live in Amsterdam’s most prestigious locations on the chicest canals, therefore to accommodate as many people as possible, home facades were limited in their width by a tax. Although the houses were allowed to extend their length as far back as the Stone Age. The depth of Amsterdam’s houses is one reason Anne Frank and her family could live in hiding during World War II in the back part of a house—far from the canals and streets. Fascinating.

While these unusual homes were intriguing in their differences from buildings I’d seen elsewhere, I also had the feeling I’d seen these houses before. Walking along the facades of all those Amsterdam houses gave me a comfortable feeling, as if I’d ben there before. As if I were with Sesame Street’s Elmo. And I didn’t mean Benny in his jacket. Unusual houses that were familiar: it was an odd dichotomy. But then traveling can be odd. And things are odd until they are understood. Wearing a Sesame Street Elmo jacket is never odd.

Then it hit me—actually I tripped over it—the stoop! In case your language is not up to speed on 17th century architectural features, a stoop consists of the stone steps found outside a house or building that lead to a platform that stops at the front door. Stoops were built for old Amsterdam homes, which put the entrance to the home several feet above the canal levels, thus preventing the houses from being flooded. Some houses also had a second entrance beside the stoop which was accessed by descending several steps to a lower level. In these older homes this basement area was where the kitchen and pantry were located. Today they’re rented out as separate apartments to people like Benny.

Except for their smaller size, these Amsterdam stoops looked just like stoops in so many of New York City’s Brownstone apartments. Then it hit me—metaphorically—I remembered how Dutch settlers had founded New York. Indeed, before New York City was New York City, it was called New Amsterdam after the Dutch’s most important city—and for some 25 years NAC it was part of New Netherland in present-day Manhattan. In the 1620s the Dutch created a settlement at the southern tip of the island and built a wall along the sea, which is today’s Wall Street. The Dutch came to America with their stoops in tow.

Now over 400 years later most buildings in New York City have stoops, including the one at 123 Sesame Street where Maria, Bob and Big Bird hang out. Ah, Amsterdam it has its share of foreign things:—the Sex Museum?!—and familiar things—stoops. Now I know what made me think of Sesame Street: the stoops of Amsterdam. That and Benny’s red Elmo jacket.

April Vacation

Vacations recharge the batteries, give fresh perspectives and are crazy fun!

For these and so many other reasons, my New House Girl Blog--about fixing up a house in Los Angeles while living in it--will be taking a vacation for 30 days. 

During the month of April I'll be blogging about my travels to Belgium and The Netherlands! These two countries, collectively known as "The Low Countries" because some of their lands are below sea, provide good comedy and uh, high times. 

I hope you'll join me on my April vacation!