Wisitors and weekends and wonderful food

Germans have funny accents. I am German, I'm allowed to say that. Although I sound slightly 'North American' or as the British Boy likes to call it 'Pseudo Yank German', I have difficulties with my 'v's and 'w's - especially if I am tired and or had a couple of drinks. So, vodka turns into wodka (that's interestingly also how it's spelled in Germany - hah, betcha didn't know that! Right? I mean, this is a useful and informative fact... it is, really...) and visitors turn to wisitors, especially when she's from Germany.

 

But first things first. This whole week was a German week. Firstly, my trip back home to the fatherland. I thought it would be my dad who would drive me up the wall, but it turned out to be my mom that made me cry this time.

 

Here is my check in for the day of the drama:

I am thankful for spending a productive day at work, for having a great conversation with my dad, for feeling loving and non-obsessive about food and for having had a fantastic eve with my friends.

At the moment, I feel very sad, because my mom is sad and I cannot help her. I tried to fix it, but I cannot control or force her to do what I think would be right. I want to accept that what I think is right might not be what she needs and more importantly that it's her stuff, not mine.
I also feel extremely full after a day of big eats, big portions, hefty food and I feel pressure to work for work.

I am a commitment to balance. I will finish  one task, then stop and be kind to myself.

 

In the end, I managed to keep that balance and the fact that I have awareness around that is great. Upon my return from Germany, I managed to see my German friend Christin and we had dinner at Thai Square in Islington. To be honest, I am not too impressed with that chain, it is quite pricey for food that just lacks a bit of oomph and vibrancy.  

 

Thai Beef Salad

The very next day, my oldest friend Heidi arrived from Germany. Now, I don't mean oldest as in age, because Heidi is only 1 week older than I am. I mean she is the first friend I ever had and can remember. From age 3, we have been to kindergarten together, to elementary school, lived on the same road, went to grammar school together and have been in touch through her marriage and her giving birth to a little boy named Max (like my brother and my husband - they have the same name, are not the same person, that would be weird and incestuous and just plain wrong), who is now 7 years old already. Funny side note, Heidi's older sister, who never could stand me and I couldn't stand her either, named her daughter after me. She must have forgotten all about not liking me or must have liked the name A LOT, because I sure has hell won't name my child after someone whom I can't stand. True, that rules out quite a few names already, and I guess it will make it easier once I have to choose. :)

Either way, with Heidi here for 5 days and we spent quite some time catching up and talking about our lives, our ambitions, our dreams and perspectives. Food was yummy too - for breakfast we had fruit salad, yoghurt and oats with toppings. By the way, I am so proud of the lilacs I took without permission from a public park - they remind me of spring and with the shitty weather I needed every possible crutch to remind me of spring.

 

Cappucchino, fruit salad, yoghurt & oats

The British Boy treated us to a brilliant Sunday roast of pheasant and loads of veggies. I feel very lucky and had a wonderful weekend with wonderful wisitors.

Roast potatoes, carrots, parsnips, onions and asparagus & peas.

Pheasant breasts, protected from drying out by bacon, and the vegetables.