The other side of Crepe Suzettes

When my mum was 21, she applied for a job as the PA to Frank Sinatra; and you know what, she got the job. Not for words per minute, but because of one little detail on her application form. This clever puss added her speciality was making Crepe Suzettes, a weakness of Old Blues Eyes, so she was a keeper....

The other side of this job offer was my Grandfather saying "no daughter of mine was going to work for that dirty rotten scoundrel, no matter how blue his eyes are”. So that door never opened to Gaysie.

For the first year of marriage, Gaysie cooked Scotty a different meal every night. Then one fine summers night, they dined with an auspicious guest who fell in love with her food and was offered a scholarship to the Paris Cordin Bleu School for chefs. That door didn’t open either, however, I got a French name and that is about as close as my Mum got to Paris that year.

The other side of a Paris scholarship is a world of missed opportunities in life. We’re so close to having our dreams and then we allow someone or something to hold us back. I can’t help but think what I would be like today if Gaysie had of stood up to my Father and said,
“Darling, come on, you speak Fluent French, the kids will love it, we’re going to have an amazing time together and I really want this”

I would be fluent in French, adding a tickle and vavavoom to my name and finally removing any reference to a Fleur tampons what so ever. I would have made the fantasy of being kissed passionately on a Bridge over the Sien by a bohemian artistic boyfriend a reality. And well, would I be really sitting here in this Restaurant in Singapore writing this blog right now?

All sorts of questions are flooding in like, “would we have just had that wonderful Christmas celebration?”. Would Mum’s restaurant and cooking school been in a magical Château in Avignon rather than opposite Myer in Albury-Wodonga? One thing is for certain is Mum and Dad would be divorced, and therefore instead of living in rural paradise with Wally, Mum could be living in culinary bliss with a French Chef called Gabriel. “Gabrielle and Gabriel”, move over “Julia and Julia”.

Seems so simple doesn’t it, but ask yourself, how many times have you let an opportunity slip past you because you didn’t have the courage to be honest about what you wanted or have the strength to “choose” for yourself?

The other side of that fantasy is pragmatism. I’ve spent hours fantasizing about the Prince that would come along on his white horse and save me. Hours and hours thinking through a long list of incredible attributes, talents and romantic lines used to win my heart!

These days I’ve lost my passion for the fantasy in preference for the reality. No more lists here, and as for talent, granted there will be some (generally when two people are attracted they have the same level of differentiation, so he’ll be AOK in that department!) but as for the romantic words, I’d be happy if he says, “bless you” when I sneeze.

The pragmatic in me doesn’t care to wonder where would I be if I married David at 24, or Andrew at 28, or stayed in Melbourne to have kids with Adrian, it’s a waste of time. I’m now a firm believer that each experience has brought us to where we are today for a reason, and everything happens when it should and at the right time. I would prefer to be 36 and single and being true to myself than with someone for the sake of having a handbag (or right arm) because society will then deem me successful.

The other side of the independence is a little girl and heart that still believes in the romance and having those rare moments when two people lock eyes and the air in your lungs becomes so intense you could fill a balloon in one breath and your smile climbs so high, your ears are tickled. (I just got goose bumps).

How many times has something significant happened to you when you were meant to be doing something else? How many times have you needed to turn back when you chose a path at the fork in the road? You know the saying, "one door closes, and another door opens".

The other side of “what if”, is prediction. I went to see a clairvoyant about a year ago, her name was Faren at Angels Trumpet in Brunswick Street Northcote, Melbourne. Every detail she predicted has happened so far. It is freaky how things keep happening, and still parts of the puzzle are unfolding, but she was so accurate, it’s mind blowing.

The other side of Faren’s great words of wonderment were an acknowledgment that some were missing. Whilst she talked of reaching great heights and meeting the soul mate that I had always looked for, she didn’t talk about pitfalls and the lows with settling into life in Singapore. She didn’t tell me about the colours of grey that was to be experienced that would rock my core.

My standard story to people back in Australia on this trip was; I spent the first three months drunk, the next three wondering what the fuck I was doing here and now I’ve turned a corner and was finally happy. A flippant description, but for the sake of sobriety, a day came at the end of that second three months of isolation that I hit rock bottom. One Sunday, broken from a series of events that exhausted my resolve and was blinded by so many more colours than had the capacity to process. A broken woman, I wept, I wondered aimlessly, unashamed of my tears mid Orchid Road, I was numb.

The other side to having choices is the consequences of what they bring. I had left my support network, my family and friends that all knew me so well. Special people that would have caught my fall, seen it coming, and reminded me that my petals were still a magnificent a deep red and I was still on track. I just needed to see it.

I came across a passport photo booth, the kind you normally pile in with loved ones or friends to capture a moment of warmth or love. Sadly, I wanted to capture the feeling of rock bottom. There was no victim here, it was call of strength, a shot to remind me that this was as low as I could go and there was only up from here. The photo is dreadful to look at now, but yet liberating to know I was right in my thinking. It’s amazing that a photo like this can become such a powerful measure how far I have come.

The other side of this mug shot is choosing a new attitude to life and geography; extricating the victim in replace of the woman I knew. I have turned a corner; all with a little reframing of the things I want in my life.

There is a wonderful scene in a movie called “Under a Tuscan Sun” with Diane Lane. It’s about a writer that leaves her life in New York and buys a house in Tuscany, she bought a house for a life she didn't even have. She is confused by her impulsive choices, she has writers block, she’s miserable from a divorce and she’s just stuck. (For the record I did have that idea before I saw the movie). Frustrated by her anguish, her eccentric friend Catherine tells her a story catching lady birds in a field, and when she tried and tried so hard, she would never catch any. Yet after laying down in the field for a nap, she woke to find there were loads of lady birds, everywhere, all over her. It’s an analogy of getting on with life and life will just happen as it’s meant to.

There is a wonderful scene were she reports back boasting, “lots of lady birds Catherine, lots of lady birds” (a great shag with an Italian Marcello will do it for most of you). The real story of this movie is that she gets everything that she has wanted and asked for but not in cookie cutter from her list. In other words, he desires her dreams came to her in other ways, new forms and experiences that brought with them more happiness that she had ever hoped for.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=G7t_gCfTPlM

There comes a time when you just need to get out of what you're doing.....

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XNoqHJ_UZMo&feature=related

That is probably one of the only Movie Sound tracks I don’t have. I wonder why?

Mum didn’t work for Frank, nor have a lover called Gabriel, but she has achieved more than most in life. Even though Dad didn’t let her do things, in the end she did actually get on do it in her own way. I think she still adopts that attitude with Wally too. Patterns, we can’t get away from them, only if we chose too.

The other side of being single at 36 is the utter pleasure of getting home on Sunday night after returning home and catching up with mates. I choose put on “Hoppipolia” by Sigor Ros, LOUD and dance around my condo naked. (With the curtains closed of course).

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qmXMA34CeoQ

I often ask people “what do you do behind closed doors when no one is watching, and don’t say masturbating”
Brian thinks that is too personal to ask, but I think it’s a great question, especially when you want to get to know some one. Rarely the conversation swings back to what I do, so now you know.

My point is, you decide, you choose what happens to you, and if you say “what if”, when you look back on your life, you’ve only got your self to blame. Grab hold with both hands, because in my books, it’s a bit like,

“Lead, follow, or get the fuck out of my way, this is my life”.

Let’s face it, times have changed and if when I was 21 and Bono loved the way I did a Duck Curry, I’d be saying, “Whatever Scotty (Dad) I’ll send you a post card”.

Choose your attitude. Make a decision and strap in for the ride. Unthinkably good things can happen, it can be such a surprise.


Fleur

TBS

p.s
Oh, and please let me know how you go. I’d love your comments, debate, idea’s or thoughts. This is only my way of thinking; there is always the other side.

We all need to touch and feel don’t you think. It’s all relevant.