Everyday, raising the bar

After being on a business trip for three days last week, I was glad to finally get home. It had been a few days of overly indulgent hotel dinners, lack of exercise, and just general grumpiness about being away from home. The previous night's dinner still hadn't settled well in my stomach. I can only assume it was e-coli in the food, because surely it could have nothing to do with the appalling nature of my own gustatory habbits.

I started feeling somewhat queasy on the flight home, always a dubious sign at the best of times. And the Bourne-Identity-style taxi ride from La Guardia into the city did nothing to quell the nausea welling in my stomach.

By the time I skulked into the apartment, I have to confess, I was a bit of a mess, a volcano waiting to erupt, the Mt. Etna of the Upper East Side.

"Hi, Ficali!" Delta exclaimed, getting up to give me a warm welcome hug. Poor chap had no clue.

But I held up my hand signalling for him to stand back. Dumped my bags in the middle of the living room. And rushed past a dumbfounded Delta into the bathroom, green in the gills, one hand covering my mouth. Hanging my head over the toilet, I proceeded to heave my stomach contents of the last three days into the toilet. Kept going. And kept going. And kept going.

I realize this makes for quite unappealing reading. This wasn't what you signed up for when you started reading this post. But wait - don't stop - you haven't even gotten to the most amazing part yet.

The truth is, I set a new record. This time, my body truly rose to dizzying new heights. When I was done being sick, I leaned weakly against the sink, trying to catch my breath. But something still wasn't quite right. I couldn't breath straight. So gabbing a tissue, I blew my nose, long and hard.  And what do you know, out popped a sliver of tomato. Out my nose. That's right. You heard me correct. I had thrown up so long, and so hard, that I actually caused a tomato to blow out of my nose.

Is that even possible? That's ridiculous. Not even sure how that works, biologically. Say it ain't so.

But alas, it is. The retching had built up so much pressure in my body,  that I blew a freaking sliver of tomato right out of my nose. Beat that if you can.

Goodbye, sugar, my dear friend

I'm not yet sure where I stand on Mike Bloomberg's stance re: the government's right to prohibit the sale of sugary drinks.

But I know this: I absolutely agree with the spirit of his argument. Obesity is a problem. For the entire society, not just the individuals themselves. Our collective addiction to sugary food poses a huge risk to the country. And inactivity is not an option.

This is not a political issue, we all need to come together do something to change the trajectory of the demise of our own making.

And for this reason, today I take a stance. It's time to cut out desserts after dinner each evening. Yes, even the Pepperidge Farm Soft Baked Dark Chocolate Chip cookies. Even those, my last bastion of sinful pleasure. (Oh, Tummy, I hope you will enjoy the dried figs with equal levels of passion and daily commitment.)

Whichever way this policy ends up going, MB, I want to thank you for bringing this discussion to the forefront of the conversation.

Kauai: an entirely different world

Our vacation Kauai didn't start out quite as idyllic as I'd imagined it in my mind. In fact, after a couple of last minute flight changes thrown our way by our friend the standby system, we arrived in Kauai late on a Friday evening. It was already dark, and we still had to shop for supplies in the local Walmart and drive 2 hours up into the Canyon where we were planning to camp. So all we had time for by way of food was to gulp down a  barely edible sponge-like burger from the McDonalds right in the Walmart. 

There you have it. Our first meal in paradise was scarfed down in the McDonalds in the Walmart in Kauai. It makes me cringe to type it as much as we cringed to actually eat it. 

But when you start a vacation like that, the only place to go is up, right?

Wrong. 

We drove cautiously, with a snail-like hesitance, for 2 hours to our campgroupd, up the narrow, twisting canyon road enshrouded in fog which afforded us really no visibility at all.  Made it there, set up tent and pretty much collapsed into our sleeping bags immediately, exhausted by the preceding 12 hours of flying. 

And woke up the next morning in the midst of a rain storm. A deluge. A huge big unfiltered gush of water as far as the eye could see. Still. Hardy campers that we are, we didn't think much of it at first. But when, after a while, it didn't show any signs of letting up, and the thunder and lightning were rather increasing in frequency, we asked a kindly person at the neighbouring lodge what the weather forecast was like. Turned out there was a huge unseasonal weather system hovering ("stuck", as describe by the weather service), over the island of Kauai. They didn't expect it to change for a few days. 

Our hearts sank. We had had our minds set on hiking in the canyon, we had flown 12 hrs to get here, only to be stuck in an unseasonal weather system. Not even a passing storm. A weather system. Definitely no way to hike the treacherously steep canyon slopes. So there was little else to do but jump back into our car and head down off the mountains, towards the beaches. 

Through the dense cloud cover spread across the island, we could see glimpses of sun breaking through near the southern tip, so we headed down to Po'ipu on the southern coast. Here we explored the Makewehi lithified cliffs, built over hundreds of thousands of years from fossilized sand dunes. Here, a narrow trail tracked the coast for miles along the cliffs, offering stunning views of the coastline. We'd been walking for about an hour, when Delta suddenly grabbed my arm and stopped me in my tracks. 

"What's that?!!!" he gasped, pointing out to sea. 

Far out in the ocean, almost to the horizon, there was a disturbance in the water. Spraying, splashing, flailing. It was there for a second, a big old hubbub out in the ocean, and then suddenly it was gone. As if it'd never been there at all. A boat in trouble? A trick of the eyes? We continued to stare at that spot in the ocean with concentration, to see if anything more was to transpire. Nothing. And just as we were about to conclude we had imagined it after all, there it was again! A huge splash, followed by another, followed by a couple sprays of water. Whales!! And just as we realized it, there appeared a magnificent arch of the distinctive tail, just to reconfirm our realization. All around us, in the ocean, were hundreds of whales. It turned out it was breeding season in the Hawaiian waters, and the whales continued to be our faithful oceanside companions for the rest of our vacation. 

The next morning, when we woke up to a second day of storms and downpour up in the mountains, we decided to call it quits and packed up our tents and checked into a hotel. Our clothes were all wet, nothing was drying, everything was starting to smell, our lovely Hawaiian adventure was beginning to turn unejoyable.

As it turned out, a day in the hotel waiting out the storms was exactly what we needed. It was like chicken soup for the soul. A hot shower, a clean bed, a beachside bar, a lovely pizza dinner, a leisurely buffet breakfast, and Delta and I were good as new. Like two shiny new pennies, ready to take on the world once again. The sun started breaking through the clouds, all indications were that the storm had passed, and we shook out our tent and headed towards the beach campgrounds on the north. 

A view of Kilauea lighthouse. 

 Everywhere we turned, we were greeted by stunning views of the countryside around us.

The campsite was right on the beach. Just what we needed after a couple of cold nights up in the stormy weather in the mountains. 

With the weather having turned for the better, Delta and I decided to spend a day walking the famous Kalalau trail. The storm had thwarted our hopes of backpacking the entire trail, so instead we decided to go in as far as we could before time constraints forced us to turn back.

At every turn, every corner, it was easy to see why the trail is one of the most famous in Hawaii. And in the distance, in their own merry, splashy way, the whales kept us company as we trudged the cliffsides.

Kauai was one of the most beautiful places we had ever seen. The beaches, the reefs, the cliffs, the rainforests - all of it, out of an entirely different world.  The untamable nature, drawing us in, and yet always warning us of it's absolute power. The thunderous storms, filling the sky with flashes of brilliant lightning. The fiercely ominous waves, curling over us as they broke, pummeling us into the sand: the blue oceans welcoming, inviting, irresistable; and yet, signs everywhere warning that raging currents frequently take human lives each year. The giant tidepools, seemingly benign, and then suddenly gushing with ferocious bursts of ocean tide that threaten to pull you out to sea. And, of course, the whales. Always, the whales. 

Ready for the new job

It occurred to me the other day that I don't really have an attire suitable for the corporate world, lulled as I have been for the last six years into a sartorial sinkhole of jeans and sneakers.

Actually, I lie. It didn't occur to me. And it probably would not have occured to me at all. It was pointed out to me by a gently chiding Delta: "I want to point out, that you don't really have clothes to wear in your new job."
I blinked in panic. Holy crap, he was right.
I ran over to the closet and looked at my sweaters. Yup. Confirmed. Only two that were acceptable to wear anywhere outside of an IT firm.

As $ signs skimmed in a blur of motion past the glazed panes of my eyes, I tried to do a quick mental calc on what I'd need to buy before starting my new job. New sweaters. At least a couple pairs of trousers. Socks that were not in all the bright shades of the rainbow. Shoes. Blacks, browns, colours, boots, pumps, flats. A lot of shoes.

If you must do an extreme makeover of your wardrobe, there's no better time to do it than during the post-Christmas sales. Although be warned: If you do take advantage of those post-christmas sales, be prepared for a wardrobe bejewelled in red spangles. As I learnt.

Which brings me to where I am today. A few new sweaters ("at least have enough clothes for two weeks," Doobie had urged, and Doobie is my Official Advisor on All Things Corporate), a couple new trousers, several new pairs of shoes, a book about project management and a book about M&A.

Bring on the new year!

The turn of the year

I'm ready for a few changes in my life. And what better time to usher them in than at the turn of the year.

Early in the new year, I start my new job.

Yes. After more than 6 years at my beloved Avanade, I'm ready to forge a new beginning. Avanade's been home to me since I moved to New York. It's been the place I grew up, and graduallly metamorphosed from general HR comic relief to professional(ish) HR bod. It's been years of good friendships and technicolour memories.

But now, at long last, like a baby turtle plunging into the ocean and hoping it can swim, it's time for me to see if I can survive in the world beyond this little tidal pool of Avanade.

The change has, of course, caused me no small amount of consternation. I'm not the most adept at change (as evidenced from Delta and my 'Friay night is Sushi night' - always the same restaurant, always the same sushi). For instance, in my new job, I'll no longer be able to just roll out of bed and turn on my laptop still in my pyjamas. To think I'll actually have to do something as revolutionary as getting dressed and turning up at an office everyday. Imagine! The horror. My life to date has ill-prepared me for such kind of extreme early-morning activity. But all the same. It was inevitable that I had to try something new at some point, and all of a sudden, that point is upon me.

But that new job is still a few weeks out, like a distant light at the end of a long tunnel. And  you know what it's like in this crazy world of Family McDelta; a few weeks can be an eternity. Before I even get to that new job, I still have more pressing and dear events to look forward to: an evening at the comedy club tonight, trying desperately to blend in with the furniture and avoid the comic's beady eye; a Christmas brunch with Dr G, her hubby and their little peanut; a New Years party (at ours, as always, because we're too scared to leave the building on New Years and face the inebriated youths outside) and most importantly - a week of camping and hiking out in Kauai. Kauai! Adventure abounds.

The clock ticks on. A year draws to it's end, and a new one grabs the baton and plunges onwards. Needless to say, regardless of the passive role I continually strive to play in my life, the story continues to unfold around me, sweeping me with it. And just as I did on the rollercoasters as a young whippersnapper, I don a brave smile and hang on for the ride.

Honey number 2

When we returned from our camping trip in Minnesota, we had to dive headfirst into a flurry of cleaning and washing. Delta and I stood side by side, trying to sort through our packing.

"Here, why don't  you take this, unzip the sleeping bags, and load the laundry," Delta told me distractedly, handing me an armful of stuff to sort through.

And then in the next moment, he turned to Queen Jaffa as she strutted past, and his tone melted instantly.

"Hi, honey," he said, his voice caressingly loving, "how's my sweetie pie doing?".

To the cat. I pouted.

"Hey. When did Queen Jaffa become honey, and I'm just the person who helps you with the laundry?!" I demanded, hands on my hips.

Delta gave me the toothy grin of a kid caught with his hands in the cookie jar.

"Oh don't worry, she's just Honey number 2," he tried to reassure me. "You're the real Honey number 1."

"Hmmmph." I was not convinced.

I with a jealous pout as Delta gently picked up Queen Jaffa, gave her a cuddle, and scratched her behind her ear. QJ for her part preened, stretched and yawned, proffering Delta her belly to get tickled. As she rolled over, I caught a glint in her eye.

Yeah, right, she seemed to say. Wouldn't you want to be Honey number 2 like me.

Boundary Waters, a fairytale experience

Last week, Delta and I finally went canoeing in the Boundary Waters, a trip we'd been planning to take for a couple years now.

We'd known we were going for a few months now, but I'd put off the whole canoeing thing until the trip was almost upon us. And then, a few weeks before our vacation, Delta turned to me and said pointedly, "you know a canoe trip is going to involve portaging, don't you?"

"Yeah, of course," I tried to nonchalantly brush it off.

"You know portaging invovles actually carrying the canoe, right?"

"Right..." my voice had lost it's edge of self confidence now.

"Do you think your arms are strong enough for that?" Delta pressed on.

We both looked down at my arms, which have been used for nothing more strenuous than typing over the past ten years. These ladies were meant for nothing greater than washing my hair. They hung limply down at my sides, like a couple linguine strands from my neck.

Suddenly, I was full of panic. "Delta, what do I do? I'll never be able to carry a canoe!"

"What do you mean?! Go to the gym!"

And so started my new routine at the gym. Arms, core, legs & cardio. Arms, core, legs & cardio. Until suddenly the day was upon us, and we excitedly caught our flight to Duluth, MN. 

As it turns out, portaging can only be done by one person. So Delta was lumped with carrying the canoe after all. 

But enough about portaging, which ultimately turned out to be a relatively small part of the whole experience. If there are just a couple things I took back from our Boundary waters experience, it would be the absolute solitude in nature. And the heartmelting views, simply uncomparable.

A moment of respite, before we launched from one lake to the next.

 Gathering firewood to cook our daily dinner.

 A sunset view from the campsite, drying off on the shore after our evening swim.

 A view of the cove where we had our morning swim

 Ultimately, Delta carried the canoe on his head. I'm still happy I worked on my arms, though.

Each portage point was unique and spectacular in it's own right.

A lazy afternoon reading on the beach

A sudden mid-portage crisis of "I quit! I'm hungry! I'm tired!"

I knows someone famous now

This June, Rohinton played on the Bermuda badminton team for the Island Games 2011. That's right, suckers. I NOW KNOW SOMEONE FAMOUS.

For my American readers - yes, in the rest of the world, Badminton is actually a serious sport. Not just hitting around a birdie in a backyard picnic. I expect that you'll  treat this announcement with the appropriate level of gravity.

So family McDelta, father, mothing, sister, wife, husband, and uncle, all bumbled kit and caboodle to the little known Isle of Wight to cheer for Rohinton.

I dont' blame you if you're scratching your head at the Island Games. I hadn't known what they were before this year, either, before Rohinton's foray into fame. It's basically like the Olympics, or the Asiatics - a large international sports meet that takes place every two years, specifically for island countries. That's right. Not only do those people have all the clean beaches, good weatger and beautiful oceans. They also have their own olympics.

And there he was, our very own Rohinton, representing the country of Bermuda on their badminton team. Delta and I couldn't have been more proud. And so it was that we found ourselves on the flight across the pond to London, the coach to Portsmouth, the ferry to Ryde and the little train to Shanklin, which was to be our home for 4 days while we dove into an intensive international tete a tete in badminton.

A couple of the islands there were decidedly dodgy. Like Aland and Gotland. Delta and I were convinced that some of these were made up - a group of people who had made up an island, flag and national song of their own so they could participate in the Island Games. So we did some nifty googling to confirm the credibility of our oponents. I mean, seriuosly. Aland? Gotland? But as it turned out, they do exist, mere dots on maps though they be.

Family McDelta, taking in some sun at the Island Games parade.

The Island Games parade, not to be underestimated for it's pomp and grandeur.

 Badminton. A real sport, fyi.

The prodigal child returns

In stealth, I slip back into the room. Somewhat horrified. Somewhat frustrated. But mostly just mortified at my own lack of fortitude. Really, has it been three months? Has it taken me three months to revisit this blog, to come back home?

Like a child caught with their hand in the cookie jar, I slink back to the table red-faced with embarrassment.

Every week, just a few minutes of creativity. A few minutes of introspection, and self-mockery. And yet, for the last three months, I have proved myself to have time for neither. In the same way, frankly, that it seems I never have time for cleaning. Or laundry. Or the dishes.

There is no reason. There is no excuse. And more importantly, I've missed my dear blog terribly, so it all really doesn't make any sense. In typical fashion, I've foisted myself again.

And so this, here, is my mid-year resolution. A coy homecoming.

A month of travel

In the Wit Hotel in Chicago. Lovely little place, they gave me cookies as a welcome present. I was excited - until I found out they were orange flavored. Seriously. Who gives orange flavoured cookies??! I ate them anyway.