One of my favorite trophy H holiday pastimes is to wander along a beach letting my mind drift off to sea while the sounds of the waves relaxes and soothes my city mind. Boracay is my place for getting away. I was spending a wonderful afternoon strolling along the coast minding my own business when I felt something like a light kiss on my ankle. It turned out to be a slight nudge from a black banded water snake. What this young devil was doing on the beach I didn’t know but I was glad it was too small to get its fangs into me. “Very poisonous,” grinned two sailors who sat watching. Fortunately I did not scream and or faint but just stepped away and admired the serpent in its camouflaged splendor.
The snake was only about a foot in length. It was clearly a baby. Its parents were likely a meter long. This sea krait has a flattened tail like a fin that enables them to swim. They are most comfortable underwater where they can stay submerged for 15 minutes but this hansom specimen was exploring the sandy shore of rocks and sea weed washed ashore on this lonely section of beach on the island of Boracay in the Philippines. I had seen a large cousin of this creature the first and only time I went snorkeling around the island some years ago. I am a fan of snakes but prefer them to be behind glass in a sealed terrarium or made into a nice belt.
I watched this young fellow slither over the volcanic rocks at the water’s edge. I managed to get out my video camera and take a short film to show my snow shoveling friends back in Canada. The two sailors kept up telling snake stories. In the olden days I might have grabbed a long stick and smashed the serpent into paste but I happily let this beauty continue on its slinky way. I did not mention the scene to MrD and MsH, my travel companions who would likely have insisted we leave the island immediately for the city.
When I returned to Manila I showed the video to my staff who oohed and awed at my luck to see the most poisonous snake in the Philippines. They explained it is worse than a cobra bite because there is no anti venom. You have 8 hours to live before the paralysis in the toxic venom stills your heart. Not a fun way for a trophy H to spend a holiday.

Time flies when I am too.

It is great to be back home in Manila. The last week or so has found me sitting at airports awaiting long, long overdue flights or finally on board, stretched out, with my feet up and a glass of champs, earphones on and flipping channels trying to forget just how long the flights from Vancouver to Sydney, Australia really are in actual hours. The added comfort of having my sister along for the ride made it all bearable but it has not been easy.
First Cathay Pacific’s flight from Vancouver to Hong Kong which originates in NYC was delayed from 2 am until 5am because of snow storms on the east coast. That meant that after the 12 hour flight across the Pacific we would miss our connecting flight to Manila. They transferred us to an afternoon flight 6 hours after our scheduled takeoff time. Fortunately the Cathay lounge has shower facilities so we could freshen up a bit. If you have to get stuck in an airport lounge then Cathay Pacific’s Hong Kong Wing Lounge is as good a place as any.
MsH and I finally made it home to my home in Manila to rest for the night but it was back to the airport the next day for another flight back to Hong Kong with connections to Sydney, Australia. This time the flights were on time but when we arrived in Sydney at our hotel about 9:30 am the following morning. Our hotel room was not ready until 1:30 and I had my first appointment at 2pm. Trophy H was not in a very energetic mood and had to dig deep for any signs of my good humour.
The rest of the time spent in Sydney was as wonderful as always. I introduced Sis to old friends and we both made a couple of new ones. In between alternating rain showers and heat waves we patted the kangaroos and got our photo with Maggie the Koala at Sydney’s Taronga Zoo. MsH and I supped, sipped and shopped some of Sydney’s sensational offerings. Busy friends invited us to fabulous picnics, delicious dinners at their houses and guided tours of the sites of Sydney most tourists would not get to experience.
All too soon our short visit down under finished and we flew back to Manila to meet up with MrD who arrived from Vancouver after a stay in Tokyo. Now we can relax at home and put our tired feet up in the heavy heat. Tuesday we three will be flying off again to my favourite Island of Boracay that readers remember from my previous blogs.

A trophy H's guide to Aussie slang for MsH.

I can speak a little trophy H Australian slang thanks to spending several debauched afternoons down under with one or three of our lovable Aussie neighbours. In less than two weeks time, the day before the Vancouver Winter Olympics begin, I will make tracks down under to Sydney Australia with my older sister MsH. (I am hoping she will meet an Aussie sheep farming surfer type bloke, fall in love, get married and move to the other side of the planet away from what's left of her dysfunctional family.) Sis is a saint, lives in the frozen Canadian mid north taking care of very old people inside an old folk’s factory. Sis wants to pet a roo before she karks it. We are flying on Cathay Pacific, not Qantas, because business class is really so much better on CX. I will have about 24 air hours, to teach MsH Australian. My teacher was a lairy wharfie with an Irish accent. I met him in a seedy bar on Oxford Street in Sydney, Australia. He was all smiles and reddish blond hair. He began to fire away that he hadn’t got a zack, but was easy. I offered him my xxxx in exchange for a language lesson. He sat down all of his 6’8” workman’s blond self beside me for a yabbber, told me I looked a tall poppy, a dag and a galah to boot all lairs and not some naff, lamb brained, Joe Bloggs sitting at Maccas, giving mates an earbashing, over some barney with the boss. “Onya!”, he grinned and leaning down low towards me, begged me for a pash.
I thanked him for his kind observances and reluctantly declined his offer, but I surely didn’t rack off about it.
MsH is packing and preparing for our CX veg out and ear bashings. I never fill up my suitcase early. You, silent reader, know that the trophy H packs well. Tune in next week for more travel ideas about packing and fashionable updates. I’ll have three
trophy H helpful hints on how not to appear to be nouveau trash when you fly business or first class. I will also explain when and where and with whom to perform properly, the upgrade eyelashes flutter... Have a good week.



. Aussie Slang Phrases from “A” to “Z”

A over T verb:- to fall over, from "arse over tits".Barney noun:- an argument or fight cark it verb:- to die. dag adjective:- bits of manure that stick to the long wool around a sheep's bottom forming small dangling balls. Also a term for a funny person, nerd, goof, loser. In this respect it can have either an endearing or disparaging meaning, although is usually used for a likable fellow. Earbashing noun:- to talk to, or be talked to, for a long time. Generally implies a reprimand. fire away verb:- used to tell someone to begin speaking, usually to begin speaking their mind. Galah adjective:- an endearing term for a fool or silly person. Also, and from, a particularly noisy parrot coloured Pink and Grey. have a burl, have a crack, have a go verb:- to attempt to do something considered a little difficult. I'm easy adjective:- not worried, not concerned, or has no preference to the outcome of a choice. Joe Bloggs noun:- the average person in the street. Although the term is male, it is non-specific and therefor signifies a person of either sex. kark it verb:- to die or cease operation. Lair noun:- a flashily dressed young man, or a lout. Lairy adjective:- flashy, particularly appearance. lamb-brained adjective:- some one who is stupid or impractical. Macca's noun:- McDonald's make tracks verb:- to leave, depart or head off. Naff adjective:- useless, low quality, ridiculous. Onya misc:- an expression of encouragement, short for good on you. Pash noun:- a long and enthusiastic kiss. QANTAS noun:- Australia's national air carrier. QANTAS is an acronym for Queensland and Northern Territory Aerial Services Ltd. rack off misc:- go away, used when very angry with someone tall poppy noun:- a successful person or achiever who, as a result, is the target of jealousy and grudging remarks. up a gum tree noun:- confused, in a quandary about a problem. veg out verb:- to relax and think of, er, nothing. Waffle noun:- nonsense wharfie noun:- a dockside worker. XXXX noun:- Four X, the brand name for a popular Queensland beer. yabber verb:- to talk too much zack noun:- a Sixpence. Pre decimal currency used before Feb 1966. The term is still used today, but to indicate that someone is broke. "I haven't got a zack".

A visit with MsC

The trophy H has returned to MrD from a one day trip to Toronto visiting the fabulous MsC whom I have known for more than 30 years. We have been friends; competitors; hormone focused teenage mutant high school classmates. In our twenties, we shared a basement apartment in Rosedale for a couple of years. We were estranged friends at the worst of times but up close and personal about it all. We share a story. It's all fodder for the fire.
This recent chapter MsC and I are writing seems to involve, no one’s favourite topics, cancer and dying. MsC is writing from her hospital room where family and friends juggle visiting hours or some kind hospital staff fetches her for another rousing round of radiation. (If you have not yet found your way to her honestly heroic blog, “The Clothes Line Saga”, then you must read it.
I only managed two opportunities to visit with MsC this trip. I did not want to over stay my welcome or wear it out. I spent the morning perched at or on the side of her tiny bed talking far too much about needless trifles while MsC could only whisper. Her illness has affected her vocal cords. She promised me it was not painful for her to talk but she can only whisper. Staff interrupted with important questions about bowel movements, oatmeal or cream of wheat and offers of more pain altering medications. I did massage her bum leg for a bit but in case MsC’s mom reads this I did not rub above the knee. I got to fetch MsC ice chips from the “Nourishment Room”, down the hall on the other side of the nurse’s station. She finds it hard to swallow water but the ice chips can easily melt on her tongue and also give her something to occupy her wretched time. The errand gave me a moment to feel that I was actually doing anything useful in this nightmarish setting.
I had brought, what I thought, were totally useless gifts like a hand painted Japanese cocktail dress and a tiara. The diva dress was put on hold to go with martinis some other time. MsC had recently lost the use of her left dancing leg when the cancer had taken a tacky taste of her spine. However the tiara was found useful and went into immediate use and fit MsC perfectly.
I had fashioned a fragile crown from a bent silver wire, an off centered beaten looking heart between two lumpy loops, where huge diamonds or emeralds, should, but did not glimmer. All too soon my exhausted friend had me hang up her tiara in the sunny window and shooed me out the door so she could actually get some real work done.
I returned in the afternoon with a small bag of fruit in my hand. I entered the room and found my friend asleep, her thin pale white face on her pillow, slightly uplifted in her dreams, like I had remembered it thirty odd years ago. I was ten years old,hiding outside in my fourth grade school yard, in the bushes; either from the bullies, or doing them. I recalled watching MsC’s mother help her across the street from their house to our school. Msc was born with scoliosis.
MsC was nine. I was ten. We have been more or less friends ever since and always will be until death do us part and one day more.
I did not awaken MsC. She seldom gets any rest with the pain and discomfort her body is going through. I stood quietly in the corner of the hospital room. I let a few fond memories run by while I watched my poor tired and wasted ill friend sleep in comfort. MsC, as usual, looked rather grand, noble and at peace, all things considering,
It was hard to leave my sleeping pal without saying goodbye in words. I left the fruit on the bedside chair with a hurried note. I blew one more air kiss to MsC. Her new tiara hung on a framed photo of her with her real family.
Outside, the cold afternoon Toronto sun shone upon us all. I drifted back to my hotel, did a trophy H pack up, checked out, grabbed a limo, did the airport thing and flew home to MrD without my usual shopping or stopping.

Thirteen true truffle tales.

Last week’s MATH’s, (middle aged trophy husband’s), report on easy quick food recipes, brought requests for ideas with more exotic ingredients. Here are some truffle dishes I have prepared for MrD.
But, first, let me present the good and bad news about our humble smelly friend the truffle. One small jar of truffle paste can cost anywhere from 10 to 100 dollars. That is the bad news. The good news is a little truffle goes a very long way.
Here is a quick list of a few of my simple food favourites made fresh again with my funky fungal friend.

MATH’s thirteen terrific truffle temptations.

Truffle cream cheese spread
Truffle pot stickers
Truffle, tomato and wild rice bruschetta
Grilled cheese sandwiches with truffles
Smoked wild salmon omelettes with truffles
Truffle pizza
Pasta with truffles
Tuna steak with a truffle crust
Roast chicken with truffles under the skin
Pork chops stuffed with sauerkraut, goat cheese and truffles
Ham with truffles, pineapple and Swiss cheese
Baked sweet potato fries with dill and truffle paste

Truffle ice cream? Okay maybe not.

Don’t let our friend the snobby truffle’s reputation ruin your dinner. A truffle is just a mushroom that never grew up.
Contact me if you want any of the recipes.
I am off to Toronto later this week without MrD for a quick visit with the fabulous MsC and will report back next week end. Have a great week.

Breakfast, Lunch and Dinner ideas.

I started “middleagedtrophyhusband” two months ago aimed at some tips for food highlighted with my photography. Since then, you, faithful silent reader have gotten to know much about my fashionable traveled married life with the small but powerful Asian mogul MrD but, you haven’t had as many food ideas. So, this week while I clean out the refrigerator from yesterday, you will get three easy MATH’s (middle aged trophy husband’s) 15 minute recipes for breakfast, lunch and dinner (pictured above) to keep you satiated, soothingly satisfied and still ready for the runway.
Breakfast? After his morning gymnastics MrD prefers either a bowl of granola or a sandwichio. (Remember MrD speaks to me in foreign languages.) Today, was sandwichio's turn.
To make your own MATH’s grilled cheese you will need 1 slice of good chewy bread, 2 slices of strong cheddar cheese and 2 slices of my fabulous MATH’s last night's chicken roulade. (Okay use whatever protein you have.) Zap this puppy in a microwave for a minute or for the more “Julia inclined” bake in a preheated 350 F/225 C oven for about 7 minutes until the cheese starts to melt but not flow like a weepy drag queen’s mascara. Chop a green onion on diagonal slices, thinly as your knife skills allow. Crisp slivers of green onions set off our visual taste buds before the bumpy ones on our tongue take their turn to taste.
Cast a few over the warm sandwich nestled next to a handful of micro greens and a few tomato tots. Lunch? For this simple, delicious and elegant open face sandwich, use a baked thin pizza crust from your local grocery. I sourced flat Persian bread in one of the Middle Eastern markets. Spread a slice with hummus, sun dried tomato pesto and some fresh or dried oregano. Pop this in your microwave for one minute (being sure to remove any cats or poodles first). Then simply arrange generous slices of smoked salmon around the edges or the warm bread. Fill the center with as much salmon caviar as you like or your budget allows.
Dinner? One cup of pork sausage is used here as a flavour ingredient for the dish rather than the main event. Chop all your choices of vegetables into bite sized, ready when you are pieces, before you start to fry anything. Brown in a wok or frying pan one cup of pork sausage in some olive oil and a little duck or bacon fat. Stir in vegetables starting with the ones that take the longest. When you have fried all the veggies, leaving them still crunchy, mix in 2 cups of leftover pasta, heat, eat and enjoy.
The trophy part, my silent reader, other than remaining calm, looking gorgeous and unfazed during all this, is to plan the menu, shop, prepare the food, serve MrD his portion, photograph your share, eat the tasty offering, download the photos, Photoshop them, write about it all, edit the writing with MrD, post it and still have a life for more important things like shopping for groceries and more shoes but that’s a whole other MATH story.
One last thing for you my silent reader. There is a comment box if you scroll down. Please feel free to make comments, suggest topics or ask MATH questions.

Happy. Happy. Happy 14th.

Fourteen years ago on New Years Evening I stepped off a flight from ten years theater work in Denmark and into the role of Trophy H for MrD. This was Bangkok. 1996. New Years Eve was my choice. I am so bad with remembering anniversaries. There is usually a party in which ever city we find ourselves. Bubbles to make toasts at each other. Forty years old was time for me to settle down. I usually lie about my age. Its cheaper than a face lift and takes less time. I am a truly greatly inspired liar but have an equally true lousy memory. I always add on exactly ten years when asked my age. People usually then compliment you on how well you look. This trick doesn't always work. These can be fun times too. Over the years MrD and I have celebrated our anniversary nights in Thailand. India. Singapore. Brunei. Taiwan. The Philippines. Canada. I don't remember the other destinations. MrD no doubt has an alphabetised list. We seldom stay up for the twelve o'clock countdown. We go to bed early. We sleep early too. The last time we stayed up to twelve midnight was the 1999-2000 year change. MrD is up early to run the empire. I am up even earlier to become the trophy H. Our lovely newly paid for palace in the Vancouver sky this year was the venue. Lots to make toasts about this past year and to the new year. MrD's immigrant visa is in final days this year. He can apply as a Canadian citizen in 269 days of staying in the country. (MrD has a special calender with the days numbered off when he is in and out of the country.) I am not going to reminisce about the past. You know who you are and you know how we each suffered all the bumps and grinds up the path of light. Thank you Shirley Maclean. I forgive us all for everything. All the nooks and crannies. All the lightness and darkness of being in a relationship. It is work. But like a farmer ploughing a field or an artist capturing tomorrow's sunset. It is good work. MrD takes care of me and the empire. I take care of MrD and the details. The luscious details. How did the trophy H celebrate fourteen years with MrD? Matching silver eagle rings by the ever so talented Don Lancaster. Mine baked inside Mrd's favourite creme caramel desert. MrD's ring, which fits perfectly, of course,... in a small red velvet snapped lidded box. I also surprised him with the news that we were having at least three guests and maybe five for luncheon tomorrow when the trophy H had challenged the Porsche guy to a meat loaf cook off. But that's another story. Happy. Happy. Happy. Here's to celebrating the 15Th. That is my only New Year's resolution.