Young and old enough

A little over a year ago I made the decision to write a list over things I never did, but wanted to do and which I am not too old to go through with. Yet.

It was the perfect time for making plans on my “now-or-never”… for specific things I have always wanted to do or see (or both). Most things I do, I do on an impulse (I learned at a young age that plans often fall through due to… well there are many reasons why you must put your own needs and wants aside), but some things needs planning.

My list started off very cautiously:

#1: Go to London by myself again, like I used to do. To walk through museums, streets, markets and parks. Sit on pavement restaurants with a cup of coffee, or a decadent glass of wine. Just enjoy impressions with no one tugging my arm or calling my name.

#2: Getting my house sorted. Everything to have its own place, and everything is to be put at its own place.

#3: Get a driver's license for heavy motor cycle, and buy one. And, of course, ride it.

#4: Go to Bhutan

#5 …..

…. The list goes on with quite a few more things I want to do.

Some things I have to put off a bit, but my first move was to call the driving school and schedule my first lesson and the essential theory course. I bought all the necessary equipment: suit, gloves, helmet and boots and started taking lessons without ever having been on a motor cycle before. I have to be honest with you: The reasons why I wanted to do this were not because I have reached a rebellious stage in life. And yet I do acknowledge I am in my 40s and midlife crisis do hit in the strangest ways at the most inconvenient times. Still waiting for the crisis to hit, though. So far life is getting better each and every day (but that’s another story for another day).

I was thinking that I have been a mother for 18 years. My youngest is now 6 and more independent. It is possible for me to get away now, go somewhere with only room for me, my driver’s license and my visa.

It would also be cool to have a legal excuse for wearing a leather suit at my age (that plan was torpedoed as I ended up with a GoreTex suit). I still look cool, though.

Last, but not least, my workplace is removing all the parking spots; I need to be able to get home if something happens to my kids. I couldn’t possibly wander about waiting for the next bus.

In spite of lacking the initial reason “FUN”, that is what I found when I learned how to ride a motor bike. It is great! I can’t believe I haven’t done this a long time ago. Even though I hate doing things I am not good at: Riding a heavy motor cycle is the most fun I have had in years!

Made me thinking:  As we reach certain ages, we tend to think more about the past and find joy in memories of what used to be. That is so not right. The older we get the more we know about life. That knowledge can only add quality to what we choose to do.

My grandmother was a widow for 11 years, and then chose to marry a man who had never been married before. He had a major crush on her as a teenager. She knew, and yet they had never held hands until they met again. She was 67 when they got married. He was 68. Many thought they were mad, and it was quite scandalous to get married at such an old age. They got 20 adventurous years together.

Life is not over just because of a number. It is not fair to anyone to sit down and wait for the end to come.

I think I am:

Young enough to have emotions. Too old to play those games. Young enough to try something new. Too old to have to like it all. Young enough to have faith in people. Old enough to know everyone isn't good. Young enough to laugh at myself. Old enough to not mock others. Young enough to participate in discussions. Old enough to realize when I’m wrong. Young enough to take defeat. Old enough to be well-equipped for more. Young enough to think ahead. Old enough to accept there has been water under the bridge. Young enough to be excited about the future. Old enough to remember the past. Young enough to love. Too old to carry hate. Young enough to show consideration. Old enough not to expect anything in return. Young enough to wish for more acquaintances. Old enough to choose my own friends and acquaintances. Young enough to live. Old enough to appreciate all the good things in life.

The impact of food

The other day I was reading a book which made me think about food. Not thinking about food in the sense of what I would like to eat, but more about what impact food has on our lives. Or rather: my life. I eat a lot of strange things, but there is also a lot I refuse to eat… from various reasons. I eat from different reasons, and I am sad to say most often I am not really hungry.

In parts of the world people spend their days trying to find something to eat, anything at all. In our part of the world we spend a lot of time wondering what to choose to eat, where to order it from or how to prepare it.

I am not very good at ordering take away. I am good at ordering food at restaurants, but to tell the truth I prefer to eat at home. When going out the part I treasure the most is: I don’t have to do the dishes. I confess I’m not a good housewife; it’s not that I don’t like it, it’s just… I know it isn’t pointless, but when someone says they don’t see the point because it looks just as bad in a few hours anyway, I totally understand where he or she is coming from. The house is fairly tidy when I go to bed, though. The thought of getting up in the morning knowing the kitchen looks like a raided area is really not cool.

My kids love McDonald’s! They don’t get to eat there often, but when they do it is a treat! People and campaigns keep telling what disgusting ingredients you get served in your food there, but let’s get real: people have eaten all parts of the animal for as long as humans have eaten food.

In Scotland they eat Haggis, here in Norway we have something called “Lungemos” (= hashed lung), old fishermen around the globe enjoy to suck on a fish’s eye, oysters is a delicacy (to me it tastes like still water… and they are part of the sea’s brilliant refuse disposal service), boiled pig's trotters; the list of delicacies with not denominated origins or ingredients is very long.

Still… I leave it to my kids to enjoy the happy meals there (at McDonald’s). It is purely based on taste, smell and texture. It is nothing “personal” or a specific disliking; I am just generally not very fond of processed food.

There isn’t a lot I’m not fond of, but there are some dishes I have problems with. The thing I have the most problem with is how some use garlic to kill all other tastes in the food when they cook. I don’t mind garlic, but I don’t understand how some can make everything taste like… well, garlic.

Don’t misunderstand me; I use garlic from time to time myself, but for a purpose. Not for the garlic itself. Thinking about it, there is a good chance my cooking is rather old fashioned. I don’t really mind, though, as long as people eat what I cook.

I love to watch TV shows like Masterchef, Hell’s Kitchen and other similar shows. First of all I can’t get over how everybody seems to paw about and handle the food… I can’t for the life of me understand why topnotch chefs and cooks should break an egg in their hand, in order to separate the yolk from the egg white. Is there anything wrong with using the halves of the eggshell? And the constant breathing on the plates, from 10 cm away, when the dish is plated. Touching the hair, then back to fingering the food they have prepared… I would rather not know.

And how come the smaller the dish is, the more exclusive it is?

Do people eat in secret at home before eating out? Just wondering, because when I went to visit my parents last week, she invited the entire family to a barbeque. Then she told me she knows nothing about barbequing, so she left the planning, shopping and cooking to me. I was not very pleased, nor was I surprised; it is always like that. Every time I go there I end up cooking and baking on a large scale.

I sulked for a bit, thinking so much for being the visitor. Again. But after a while sulking is boring, so I started preparing for the feast. 20 people were coming, so I bought 3 kilos of chicken fillets, 3 kilos of salmon fillets and 2 2-kilos beef rib steaks. Along with the baked potatoes, broccoli salad, potato salad, garlic bread (yes, I bake a great garlic bread), the watermelon-/feta cheese salad, green salad and olives, I thought it would be enough food. Now, my family does not consist of heavy eaters, and yet they emptied their plates. They were full, but there were no left overs either.

It’s always like that when I cook, so how come the really good chefs insist on such small portions? Don’t they want people to leave their table full and content?

I love long meals with lively conversations, discussions and jokes. I like to gather people around a table and have meals. Most days I have two or more extra kids for dinner, but I don’t mind. It is nice. We talk with each other instead of to each other. I think it is important for kids to learn that. Having conversations, I mean… and it is important for them to learn to appreciate tastes.

Otherwise they will eat at McDonald’s while thinking they are eating a nice, adventurous meal out, or, they can be travelling around the world and miss out on half the travelling experience.

Because: “To him food was identity, culture, family, how you define home and love and who you are - all of it at once....It's not just the pie. It's the chemistry and physics. It's place and time and history and religion and music...I felt blurred by his presence, overwhelmed with double vision - the world as I was seeing it and the world as Henry would have.”
― Bridget Asher, The Provence Cure for the Brokenhearted