Look around you and see the things. They hint to where you are. The shape of four walls, the color of carpet, or things on a shelf, they all give you clues to where you are.
I have an office, and many things in my office tell me that I am in my office. Unlike most rooms in the world, this tells me nothing of where I am on the planet. This same office can be virtually any where on 2/3s of the planet.
Likewise, as I wander through accounting and sales, rarely are there any clues to where in the world Mika is.
Then the other day, like something out of some strange commercial, these little bright yellow boxes seemed to pop up everywhere. They were on virtually every desk.
They were made of heavy-weight high-quality paper with beautiful gold script adorning the top. They were not a proper square box, but rather maybe eight inches by four inches and maybe three inches deep. The bottom was just slightly narrower than the top.
And they were scattered askew, on virtually every desk.
So I asked where they came from.
Apparently, these fine Belgium chocolates were being given out as people left the ship.
Had I known this, I would have left the ship, a lot. I mean many many times. And then again. And some more.
But, anyway, now I know; yellow boxes are the clue that I am in Belgium.
OK, end of that story.
Beginning of next.
So I am sitting on Deck 12, on the aft terrace enjoying a lovely dinner with my co-worker when the ship gets a fly by from an F-16. (I was told it was an F-16. I personally wouldnít know an F-16 if it was sitting in front of me with tall letters on the side saying, "Hi. I am an F-16.") This much I know for shore, um, I mean, sure. It was a jet, with a glass enclosure, wings (which I am sure the pilot appreciates) and it was amazingly fast.
(I mean, they were giving away chocolate in Belgium, of course I would have gotten off the ship!)
Apparently we were cause for some fun at the near by base because they circled us quite a few times. (There were two.) One fly by came amazingly close. The lag between the physical location of the jet and where our hearing would place it was exceptionally long given how close the jets were. The time lag emphasized, and indicated, their significant speed.
So let me recap my dinner. I had turkey, salmon, a lovely cucumber dill salad, a refreshing cold mandarin soup, in Scotland, on the terrace of a six-star cruise ship complete with F-16 air show.
I live an amazing life and am thankful for it everyday.
(And to provide the full genuine Scottish experience, it was 55 F, windy, gray and cloudy and started to rain.)
It was amazing.
End of story.
Brief interlude, who wouldnít get off a ship for Belgium chocolate?
Beginning next story, though, it is not really a story so much as a comment.
Shaving in the bow of a ship on moderate seas takes considerable talent. Just thought you would like to know.
End of comment
Next story.
I attended my sisters wedding this weekend, which was perfect. (In case you are unaware, I feel the specifics of my personal life are not for my blog, so no further details of her incredible wedding here, except for humorous story bits.)
So, as I live on a ship, shopping for the appropriate wedding wear is a bit difficult. (Though apparently all you have to do for chocolate is get off in Belgium.)
I sent an email home to my sister requesting black sandals, size seven and a half, with a 1.5 inch heal or more.
What I got was three inch stilettos, patent leather, and a style any dominatrix would appreciate.
Now, as a married woman, I somewhat expect that my sister will try to marry me off.
I thought she would at least wait until she was married. I had to walk up the aisle with those shoes on, and even the groom noticed them and comment on them. (You know something is up when a man notices shoes.)
It is not quite the image I would choose to give potential suitors.
I feel bad actually. My sister busy planning her wedding, ran out and got exactly what I said, "sandals, size seven and a half, with a 1.5 inch heal or more." I am sure they looked great in the box. (We are different sizes so she did not try them on.) Everyone laughed about the shoes, and I donít think she took it in the good humor way it was intended.
I got a great story out of it though, so I very much appreciate the dominatrix brideís maid shoes.
Stupid:
o 3 hour security lines at Heathrow, this is nothing like a free box of chocolates
o Lost luggage, especially when the actual suitcase was not yours
o The airline saying they have no record of your tickets and requiring you to pay again
o Your credit card getting mysteriously declined when forced to pay again for tickets you already paid for, twenty minutes after the plane was to leave.
Cool: Fortunately the second card was accepted, the plane was delayed an hour, and my luggage with my brideís maid dress made it on that plane. (It was the return journey the luggage was lost.)
And a recap:
Cool:
o A mysterious rash of yellow boxes which indicate we are in Belgium
o An F-16 dinner show
o My finely honed shaving skills
o My sisters amazing wedding and, the humorous dominatrix brideís maid shoes
This entry is dedicated to Kathy De La Cruz, who inspired me today, and also to all those bright yellow little boxes in the world, especially near Belgium.
