Got change?

Call me obsessive. My kids think that I'm borderline obsessive/compulsive with certain things.

Yes, I tend to be organized. I carry my trademark Man-purse (more like a bag across my chest) where I carry everything: from my wallet to my cell phone, including my money bag (or "chacarita" as my father used to call it). There is a compartment for bills and one for loose change in it.

All that is great. It helps me keep everything at my fingertips.

The problem is when I go to the supermarket and I pay cash. The cashier is trained to put the receipt, the bills and the change right on top of it all and hand it to you with the left hand while starting to scan the merchandise of the next client right behind you with the right hand. The "bagger" on the other end holds the bags in front of your nose with a big smile encouraging you to hurry up and go.

That means that I don't have time to pull out mi "chacarita", put the bills in its place, the change in its pocket, the receipt in the trash can and get the bags, all in twenty three seconds

Where is the inner peace and the harmonious rythm of life?

Ohmmmmmmm!
The supermarket and I are not the best of friends!

And now what?

A few days ago I had a business meeting with three ladies. We met at (where else?) Starbucks. Believe me, I'm not being sponsored by it! Unfortunately!

As the trained gentleman that I am, I offered to get the drinks for all of us. I'm not embarrassed to say that my knowledge of Starbuckisan language is very limited. I get all confused with the alto's, latte's, etc.

I any case, part of the order was a small hot chocolate. All the drinks were small (or alto) as they call it.

Everything was fine until the "barista" (i knew that one) asked me if I wanted whipped cream with the chocolate.

Now, I think that most women are very much aware of the calorie intake and such. I'm also aware than many people are very self conscious about hidden messages in someone else's attitude.

So here I am, suddenly, debating weather adding whipped cream to the chocolate and risking being considered insensitive to women's concerns or not adding the cream and having the lady think that I'm thinking that she has a weight issue and shouldn't add more calories. Total confusion and the barista is pressing for a decision

What to do?I finally decided not to add the whipped cream. I later explained to the lady that I made my decision based on general health concerns. A polite smile and many thanks put my conscience to rest (or did it?)

Say what?

Getting exposed to other cultures is an exciting experience: new ways of thinking, different foods and foreign languages.

Nothing better than learning to speak a foreign language because doing so we learn to understand that there are different (not necessarily better or worst) ways of doing things.

But learning a language doesn't come without its doses of annoyances.

I had been living in the States for a relatively short time when I realized the importance of some phonetic nuances that a foreigner's ear doesn't distinguish easily.

I was starting in a new job when I was assigned to inspect the work in some new homes being built. I was presenting my oral report during a morning meeting with the entire office when I was asked the status of the construction. I told the group that they were installing the sh*t rock (I meant sheet rock) and to my surprise everybody burst out laughing. I felt totally embarrassed and not because of what I had said, but because I didn't know why they were laughing. I couldn't hear the difference between "shee" ans "shi". Actually I didn't even realized there were two different sounds.

The same thing applies to beach and b*tch, and some other difficult sounds

What a pain. It can be very embarrassing!

Handshake

A handshake is a ritual way to greet people. Said to be in use by the Greeks in the 5th Century BC it is no wonder that for as long as I can remember a handshake is ....well...a handshake. It seems to have originated as a gesture of peace, showing the other person your unarmed hands.

Now the handshake has evolved, like almost everything else. There are cultural and generational variations that add interest and make hand shakes somewhat challenging.

When I came to live in the United States I didn't know, for example, what a Hi Five was. Someone I knew used to greet me like that and I didn't know what to do with it or how to respond to it until someone pointed it out and explained it to me. Awkward!

These days people touch fists in different ways and have developed all kinds of handshake-like greetings.

The one that annoys me is the Thumb-wrap. A new friend of mine uses the thumb-wrap. I haven't been able to manage it quite yet. The idea is (I think) to end up with your hand wrapped around your counterpart's thumb (see illustration).

When I greet him with a regular hand shake he manages to move his hand up around my thumb and move it all up to chest hight (!). I have tried to go straight to the chest-height-thumb-wrap but it doesn't work. I think that part of the pleasure is to create in the other person a sense inadequacy . The greeting starts with the hand at waist height and a forward movement like a hand shake but then, surprisingly, the hand slides up your palm and grabs the thumb.

Hmmmmm. I miss a regular, standard, safe and predictable hand shake

Belts

Getting dressed in the morning is easy. My size 32 pants fit me perfectly well. I feel full of energy, ready to conquer the world...I'm a morning person, what can I do.

As the day goes by, especially after lunch (no matter how light lunch is) my waist seems to grow a couple of inches. Size34 pants would be great now, but I'm still wearing my size 32ones. The belt constrains me, especially when I seat; but letting it go a notch or two doesn't help unless I unbutton my pants. Not a pretty picture to see a man with unbuttoned pants!

By Happy Hour time I'm starving, needing size 40 pants and a stretching belt. I'm fearing dinner by now, especially if I'm in the company of strangers.

After dinner my name changes to balloon man. Not because I sell balloons at night, but because I feel like I swallowed all the balloons I could be selling.

So I rush home, change to loose fitting, soft cloth old rags, sigh and start the decompression period.

Wouldn't it be nice if fashion designers would take the daily waist metamorphosis into consideration?.

What ever happened with elastic waist pants?

Boinnngggggh!

Food

Food can be a great source of pleasure and joy. When I think of it an image comes to mind that connects with my taste buds and the aroma of that meal...

Driving along the coast road on a chilly and breeze Mid-october afternoon in Bretagne, France, we stopped along the road in one of the simple restaurants in front of the ocean.

Simple indeed in its architecture the restaurant is where fishermen bring their seafood catch every morning. The infinite assortment of oysters, mussels, shrimps, lobster....you name it, was impressive. This bounty was displayed in big, thick baskets and garnished with the gifts of the ocean. The smell or the sea and seaweed made the seafood look even more apetizing. Our selection was placed in a large tray on crushed ice with slices of lemmon. A chilled bottle of crisp white wine complemented the feast. Even today I can recreate in my mind all the wonderful sensations I experienced.

Today I'm at a client's house in Miami waiting for some deliveries. It was lunch time and I went to one of the chain restaurants that sell sandwiches, etc. nearby. I ordered (and eat, which is even worst) one of the worst-tasting and looking panini in my life. Described as a grilled chicken Tuscan panini (it should actually be panino in correct Italian, no panini: one panino, two panini) it was a microwaved piece of plastic chicken, a slice of melted Kraft "cheese", two slices of rubberized bacon and a cup of BBQ sauce, pressed between two pieces of pale and depressing imitation ciabatta bread. I guess it was, in its own way also a memorable meal.

So much so that I'm writing about it

Ughhhhhhh! Annnnnoying!

The dream machine

The dream machine

We all dream. Not all of us remember what we dream but we do dream.
I dream in technicolor and high definition! How about you?

The issue is what comes next. Let's say I'm having a great dream ...I'm on an island, at the beach, with turquoise warm waters......you get the picture, right? I wake up with a beatific smile on my face and a sense of peace and happiness and I want to stretch those images for a while. What annoys me is that the fabric of my dream starts unraveling in my mind as I regain consciousness and after a few seconds I can't remember what I was dreaming.

It gets even worst when I have a "serious" dream. The type of dream that I know has a meaning, that moves me, that has a connection with something deep inside me. I want to remember it. I want to come back to it and analyze it, find the meaning.

Sometimes I remember it when I wake up but the images are so fragile that fall like sand between my fingers.

why, oh why...

I have made a point to have a note pad next to my bed to write my dreams, but ever since the dreams elude me. I'm starting to reprogram my mind so that I remember. In the meantime dreaming has become... another little annoyance