About Me

Living in the Caribbean is probably like living anywhere else, with the same ups and downs. But it does have its own vibe and flavour and gives me a unique perspective on most things. I'm often sarcastic, mostly funny, always looking for a new adventure. I have not boxed myself into any one category of life. I love a lot of things and dislike a lot more. I write about them all.

(Foodie) Porn: Cure for All Cases of Boredom

So I have been sitting at home, bored out of my freakin' mind and when I am bored, I eat or I create...in the kitchen, which ultimately leads to more eating anyway. lol.

This week, there was spinach and mushroom pizza...

Veggie Pizza
This is actually a pretty healthy option - just a few tbsps of cheese, and fresh veggies on a multigrain crust

...and today, my first ever attempt at a pie, 100% from scratch. No store-bought pie shell. I must say, I was really pleased with my efforts. I made an apple pie and it was really splendid. I went a bit crazy with the cookie cutter shapes, but as I said, "bored" is the word of the day!

Not so healthy...but delicious! My first apple pie

At least tomorrow I will be productive as I start my French classes to excavate my dormant French-speaking skills from the dark recesses of my mind. I am enjoying it all now cause when I re-enter high heeled life, baking and conjugation may be the last things I wanna do.

Clean and Shiny

Pablo enjoying some scented candle lovin'
So two weeks later and I still have not unpacked my suitcases and I am living on the bare minimum. But I did do some minor cleaning and after throwing out some junk, I dug up a scented candle to seal the deal on my efforts. Nothing makes you feel like you've done some worthwhile cleaning than a scented candle!

It's been an unsettling time - unsettling in the sense that I should be in transition from student to job hunter to high heeled professional, but there are so many other things going on that I feel I am in limbo. Nevertheless, God is great. Though I could, if I wanted just a salary, stop worrying about my professional life and sit back, I won't. Though life is never as clean and shiny as my entertainment centre is today, it should bring you some measure of contentment and satisfaction and less anxiety and annoyance. So there you go! And I know and believe that I will get what I am looking for. I am owning that belief...so watch out, world.

Happy Friday, kids.

Channelling my Inner Lindsay Lohan

Li-Lo being carted off to jail today after her probation
was revoked.
Photo credit: Reuters
So Lindsay Lohan has gotten herself carted off to jail again. Shocker. Someone get this girl a spiritual advisor. At  the same time, I was myself in the dirty arms of the law this morning, being fingerprinted. And while my fingerprint session was completely innocent, it's still a pretty grimy business isn't it? What made it worse, was the sourpuss female officer who "rough up" mih hand as she ten-printed me, and then did not even offer washroom services so I could scrub off the nasty, germy fingerprint ink off my fingers. Why anyone would want to endure the trials of a police station more than absolutely necessary is beyond me. C'mon Lindsay...behave yourself.

However, I am on probation. Food probation. Since returning home, I have been a woman on a mission - an "eat everything in sight" mission. All the foods I had been missing while in London, I made it my duty to find and devour without fear or favour. It did not help that it was raining all day, every day, I have no car and no enthusiasm to do much of anything. Food was the answer.

But I soon recognised the error of my ways and have now resigned myself to food probation - healthier eating and exercise. I got some cereals, yogurt, green tea and soy milk to replace roti and daiquiris, almonds for chocolate cake and coconut drops, and today I made my very first attempt ever at hummus. I mean, you cannot go wrong with protein-packed hummus, made at home, without all the fat in store-bought versions. It also helps that I have no idea where one would get store bought hummus in Trinidad. Anyway, I had fun making my own tahini (lie...it was not fun), roasting my red peppers and garlic and whipping up my roasted red pepper hummus to have with some Crix and a cup of green tea.

It looks chunky here but it was really smooth and creamy
Foodie felon, I am. Tired.

Each Day Gets Better...Eventually

It's been a week since I have been back home and it's not been a good week. At all. Among one of the disasters of the return was a car accident on Saturday. My mum and I were going out as I had mentioned in my last post, and it was meant to be a good day. All the great plans for the afternoon went down the toilet when the clown behind us decided it would be wise to try to pick something off the floor while the car was in "Drive". Really clever, isn't he? Anyway, thank God for seatbelts.

I made this wallpaper yesterday for my desktop to remind myself that things get better.

Cheers to the Cooperative Waistline!

Too fat for the world!
I have done nothing since I have been back home besides lay in bed, watch tv and eat. This is clearly not a recipe for hotness. After another all-day binge fest of all my favourite Trini treats, I decided to see what kinda damage I was looking at it in terms of my waistline. Seeing that I am job hunting and may be called upon on short notice to put on  a suit and heels, I decided last night to ensure that I did not need to go shopping for said outfit. Nervous, I opened the door to my work accoutrements and selected a pair of pants that I know could make or break my plans for the weekend - Cold Stone Creamery, KFC, Hot Shoppe, cocktails. Nervous, I slipped one leg in, then another and then waited for the pull and tug motions around the hips.

But voila, the pants fit. Perfectly. Well, they could be looser but I am not going to complain. I have been really remiss with the healthy eating in the past few weeks. Cocktails like water, great dinners. Ridiculous. But the pants fit. Cold Stone, here I come! lol. I promise to work out next week.

I have just been in a bit of a funk though. Not a full-on funk. It's hard to be funky when you have not seen your family in months and there is sunshine. But there are so many negative feelings around certain events that have left a really sour taste in my mouth and I just don't have the energy to deal with them. Maybe next week.

Cheers to the freakin' weekend though. Gonna slide into some Caribbean friendly outfit, some platforms (yes, heels are back!!!) and turn it around with another round! Happy Saturday, guys!

Home is Allegedly Where The Heart Is

Tired airline passenger
So all I could think about yesterday as I sat on BA 2159 was my bed, with my pillows and my stuffed dog, Muffy. I was totally exhausted and even with the cat naps on the flight, I got home just wanting to take a long, hot shower and sleep. So why am I awake at 4.05am??

So yes, I am back in Trinidad. The flight was not uneventful. From start to finish, there were the moments which make my life such a comedy treat.

1. The taxi ride from home to Gatwick. My cousin uses the guy all the time and trusts him. Turning up late did not inspire confidence, but he was wearing a full suit, so I forgave the slight time casualty. Yes. A suit. To drive a taxi. I was not sure whether to be impressed or amused. In any event, I was also warned that he is a devout Christian and before we could turn the corner, he asks, "Do you love God?" I do love God, friend, but I did not want to talk about it. The sermon was short thankfully but in hindsight, I needed it. To face the day. And the traffic. I sat stewing in angry juices for a while as we sat in London traffic, but somehow by God's grace and by some rather un-Christian driving, I got to Gatwick International safe and sound and without missing my flight.

2. The seat. So I have a habit of using online check-in to get myself a comfortable seat and in my opinion, with my budget, comfortable does not mean first class or whatever fancy name they call the posh sleeper seats. Comfortable means...the bulkhead seat.

The bulkhead seats

I have not had any bad experiences in the past. I crave legroom and also the convenience of either not having to get up to let my seatmate with an overactive bladder jam their backside in my face as they try to get out, or me jamming my backside in theirs. Also, when you're tired and want to sleep, you don't need people waking you up so they could go get their pee on. The bulkhead seat is my answer to convenience. I will open the exit door, no problem. I do not even mind sitting near the washroom - once I can stretch my legs and not be bothered by silly people.

The thing about the bulkhead seat is that they are right next to the seats typically reserved for passengers travelling with small children. Again, never a problem in the past but these 2 babies yesterday, while very good babies, hardly crying, very cute and happy, seemed to have some serious intestinal issues. lol. I mean, how much can a baby shit? Apparently, a lot! After a while, the cute chubby cheeks and goo goo gah gah sounds were not enough to save them from getting a face.

3. The delay. Add a delay to the rank smell of baby poo, and you get an irritable traveller. While I appreciate the airline's deep regard for my safety and I am glad the plane did not have to crash land anywhere, sitting in St Lucia for 2 hours when all I wanted was to get to my house, after already sitting on a plane for 7 or so hours, was not fun.

Blame it on the Henny
4. Immigration and Customs. The fault did not lie with the officers themselves but with the passengers. Why dear Lord, can't people fill out the forms on the plane? Credit to the immigration officer who told the lady to step aside so he could process my form and send me on my way, as she filled out the landing card. But why, lady, do you have to be argumentative and keep me back?  I don't understand it. Why could you not move like a nice old lady and let other people get out of there while you filled out your landing card? It's not hard!

Then the special lady in the Customs line. The customs declaration clearly states that one is allowed 2 bottles of alcohol and anything above that, you have to declare. It's not hard. Hiding 9 bottles of alcohol in between your panties and sweatpants is not going to change that. This, in addition, to the 2 bottles picked up in Duty Free. What? Is a bar yuh running?? Of course, when the suitcases containing the undeclared goods go through the scanner, the form is handed over to the Customs officer where she sees that the passenger has dishonestly ticked "nothing to declare" next to the spirits box, I sucked my teeth, rolled my eyes, and knew I would have at least another 5 minutes of waiting. I already looked like death warmed over, but really??

And after all this, getting home, taking that shower and crashing like a stone out of absolute exhaustion, my eyes were open at 4am? What's the deal here?

Leaving on a Jet Plane - The Sequel

It's been a rather hectic couple of weeks. I have been here, there and everywhere, both physically and emotionally. I spent a few lovely days out of London, some lovely afternoons in and about London, and embarked on the painful process of packing (I am surely the Imelda Marcos of clothes) and saying goodbye. Many curse words were uttered (packing) and many tears were shed.

But the adventure carries on. See you on the other side of the Atlantic.

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