Thanksgiving treatise

Katharine has written an excellent explanation of Thanksgiving and provided a cool description of our evening!

(I suppose it's about time for me to take those photos off my camera and publish them...)

Names

From one of my Korean students, I have learnt that people BUY names for their children... has this been mentioned before in this forum? Anyhoo, I could sooooooo do that. Anyone who has observed the cat naming process that happens when the little gerbil gets on his wheel in my mind will possibly be alarmed by this, but a group friend-and-family hypnosis session should prevent this from having a negative impact on my future entrepreneurial activity.

Well, today, my student told me that they are having a 100-day party for his son on Monday night! It is traditional to have a big party when the baby reaches this milestone. Isn't that interesting?

I thought you would think so. Here are some more interesting facts about birthday celebration across history and cultures.

Additionally, has it also been mentioned that in Columbia, your name serves as a sort of family tree? People keep the maternal and paternal names almost in perpetuity (within the limits of memory of course), so Diana's name is absolutely huge! And it would keep going if she remembered more, actually. This is pretty cool I think to keep in mind the people in your history instead of just being your own little spontaneously created planet.

Because, as James the Papa always said, 'The earth doesn't revolve around you, you know.' This was really upsetting at the moment, but then I sang All I Want for Christmas is my Two Front Teeth and everything was better.

*******
Tonight, E and I are invited to dinner with my Rotarian, Graham, his wife Jane and James (his son) and Claire (his girlfriend)! At The Balti Empire (which just happens to be one of our favorite curry houses in Cardiff)! (a future rant in this space will be on the lack of a suitable English word synonymous with boyfriend/girlfriend that does not bring up images of middle school or a business enterprise... or just simple daftness, as in 'my special friend' or 'my significant other'. Blech! You know, I am leaning more and more towards the African-American morpheme, 'my boo'. Hmm. Something to consider.)

Perhaps we should have a pepper-eating contest as entertainment.
Maybe I could take wagers and make a little extra cashola.

Loosyanna Lessons for Welshies

Sadly Blogger was being a putz last night and I was not able to share one last tidbit from the adventursome creation of delectable remnants of Thanksgiving food: Do not challenge a Louisiana native whose food choice involves pepper/garlic/hot$#*! components 99% of the time (this obviously excludes 1% desserts consumed) to a game of chicken involving a hot chili pepper. You will only hurt yourself.

Here is a sample of dialogue:
e: Hey, we have a pepper left over!
a: Yeah? That's good; save it.
e: I dare you to take a bite.
a: Do what?

e: You won't do it!

a: (rolls eyes)
e: You won't do it. I dare you, I dare you, I dare you!
a: Oh whatever. What makes it hot is the seeds. And this is just a sort of jalapeno, so it's not that bad anyway.
e: This is a HOT pepper! See, you won't do it!
a: Yes, I will.
e: No, you won't.
a: Oh, hush! (bites tip of pepper)
e: Okay, then... (bites next bit of pepper)
a: This is so silly.
e: Go on...!!!!!! Do it! Do it NOW!
a: (bites third bit of pepper) Sigh.
e: (pause) I don't think I want anymore...
a: Good. I will just have a sip o' this lil' ole glass o' water here...

[unspoken: ...now that i have made my point, which really wasn't my point in the first place, but whatever.]

e: ...maybe I'll put the pepper in this bag in the refrigerator.

a: I think that is a good idea. Stop making faces. It is not that bad.

e: I'm going to watch a big gun and fighting movie now...

a: Good for you.

[exit kitchen South]

and the feasting continues...

So, we have a new addition to the idea list of what the hecks to do with all that turkey (props to Eamonn and his continual success in out-performing me in the kitchen, leading me to be developing repetitive strain incapacity from the knitting I do while watching him chop garlic, flail sauces about the stove, etc.). This new fantastic idea is Turkey Pizza (homemade, naturellement). Well, it is easier if you have a ready-made pizza dough, but with some sauteed peppers, chillis, onion, garlic and separately crisped-in-butter turkey shreds, you place these on top of sauce and thickly sliced mozzarella and top the whole thing with shredded country cheddar and mixed herbs, freshly chopped. Bake for 10 or so minutes. Drizzle some olive oil over the pie about 3/4 of the way through baking process for additional crisping and YUM!

On a different topic, must say that I have no idea why people reported such negative reactions to the newest film version of Charlie and the Chocolate Factory, as have just watched it completely (after seeing a bit last week and then having to run off to shop for Thanksgiving) and found it amazing! It was definite Tim Burton, but it had essences of Hitchhiker's Guide, The Matrix and Superman. It is much darker than the original film, but has a charming realism to it that I think reflects Roald Dahl's south Wales origins. If I haven't mentioned it before, Roald Dahl is from Cardiff!

B reports that Dahl disliked the original film as it completely missed the darkness that he intended. Dahl's second wife was even one of the producers. I liked the fact that Deep Roy (also from one of my favorite films, Big Fish) was cloned to be all of the Oompa Loompas :) From the cinema trailers, I expected to find Johnny Depp really just too bizarre for the role, but he was perfect in his neuroticism and really fits. The dialogue is sharper and very quick and the bitter puns are superb. This would be a great language analysis text.

Today's rant (which I will not repeat in its entirety here) is the fact that Virgin Mobile feels it is called for to charge .79 GBP for a phone call to a local number to the bleeding postal service (who for some reason feels the need to attempt delivery at 07.15 am -- eeediots) instead of being just a regular minute usage and therefore free. It has been explained to me that this has something to do with usage of resources of satellite versus landlines, but I think this is a load of bunk. A minute is a minute and a landline is attached to the land whether it is a special 'local rate' number or a person's house. GRRRRR!!!!!

My Life of Petty Crime

Thanks to some recently acquired information, it appears that I am not as involved in life on the edge as previously thought. It is not illegal to jaywalk here. Oh, well. We can't be colourful forever.

So, as part of my therapeutic 2-step recovery program (knit, purl), Katharine and myself are venturing (on the friendly Cardiff Bus system!) to knitting tonight! This is exciting for several reasons: 1) it is cold and time to knit some warm items, 2) it will get us out of our respective hermitages, 3) we will be socialising with cool people and 4) I will finally make it to The Chapter Arts Centre.

******
To catch up on news:

Saturday -- GWCBT was fabulous! E got a free ticket (to Wales v. New Zealand -- I think he has been to every international...), so he dashed off and left me to eat Welsh Bake with B and Co., who took very good care of me during the game. I didn't wander off at all. New Zealand won. (It was kind of like the Wales players were the Canadian players. Kiwis are massive.)

Sunday -- Helped Maurizio and Kath move; their new house is v. cool. Right around the corner from E and B's and also has the original tiles in the entry hall. Think these houses date from mid 1800s -- E sent me an interesting link, which I have not used yet. There is also an archive in Cardiff where you can go check out the original house plans for all these places! But I digress. After helping them, used same truck to empty E's storage, which is an excellent financial decision. Hoorah for simplification.

Until people start throwing boxes down stairs in imitation of someone committing hari kari with heavy boxes down a steep flight of stairs, which has caused me and B to jump up from the living and dining rooms respectively and prepare to run for turniquettes and surgical equipment...

oooh, must run to bus stop!

Berkleys and Dukes

When you are anticipating venturing to the Welsh Beer and Cider Festival, a good way to pass the time is watching The Dukes of Hazzard, British boxing and The A-Team, fool. You may want to bring along some knitting and be close to a computer so as to shop online for yarn as well; otherwise, you might fall sideways into a coma.

As well, E's housemate, Rob Berkley has discovered his own personal connection to Thanksgiving (one day late, so it was not able to be included in educational discussion on the actual day). His ancestors actually organised the very first Thanksgiving one year and 17 days before the Pilgrims landed in Massachusetts! It was held on Berkeley Plantation, which also claims historical interest from a number of items, including being 'the site of the first distillation of bourbon whiskey, produced by missionary George Thorpe, who declared it "much better than British ale".'

THEN to further amuse and educate ourselves last evening, we made the discovery that Berkeley Castle is really close to Cardiff (relatively speaking), on the Welsh border, and we will be planning a field trip v. soon! The castle was begun in 1117 A.D. and is the oldest continually-occupied castle in England. YAY!!!! Who knew that we were so close to someone with such an illustrious geneology?

Now that we are in an absolute twist about the Beer Festival not including free samples, it appears that the boys are almost ready to go...

Recovery.

Fifteen people for Thanksgiving dinner. All went smoothly and buffet style was the order of the evening. Menu: maque choux, green bean casserole, cranberry relish, cornbread, mashed potatoes, gravy, sugar snap peas, sweet potato casserole, stuffing, chocolate pecan pie, fake mini punkin pies, cherry cheese pie, key lime pie. Explained the significance of the War of Northern Agression through the symbolism of food: Yankee dressing and cornbread dressing juxtaposed with a Mason Dixon line between. Stayed up v. late. Although am knackered, E's house is nearly clean :) (I have been allowed free reign alone in the house this evening, although have been slightly distracted by Sky TV movies, phoning the family and the effects of gluttony. I mean, one piece of cherry cheese pie can't just sit in a big Pyrex all by itself. That is just wasteful of space in the fridge.) Due to grand success of the feasting and the devouring of his glorious turkey (19 lbs = 4h 45m), E is already planning a Christmas indulgence for the rag-tag crowd who will be here! Hoorah!

This time, we will know about the fact that the oven has a safety feature that causes it to shut off after being on for 4 hours. This caused about ten minutes of panic and involved a vast amount of turkey and stuffing drippings to go sloshing all over the floor and interior of the oven. Once the oven rested and gained awareness that we weren't trying to burn the house down, it allowed the resumption of cooking endeavors. Appliances that try to direct the actions of people annoy me. Maybe that is just the only-child in me coming out.

Magic tricks and Christmas songs from The Chipmunks rounded the evening out nicely :)

******
Georgia and I participated in a psychology experiment involving knitting this afternoon! AND our reward is £10 worth of product from Fyberspates -- run by the researcher, who is also in the Knit'n'Bitch group (which I am so excited about going to next Tuesday!). V. cool yarns on this site (also distracting me from cleaning endeavours).

Turkey Day.

Just a couple more hours til the feast!

Turkey stuffed and in oven. Supplemental dishes were prepped last night. A lot of imagination went into them, and a couple of things completely forgotten about. I have no earthly idea why cooking sherry was purchased. But whatever. Perhaps a little nip in style of Julia will make everything okay.

It is my studied opinion that butternut squash in no way resembles the texture of yellow summer squash and some nonsensical thing called a carnival squash is just a pumpkin in disguise. E kindly agreed to be emmisary to veg shop for zucchini (courgettes, whatever) and returned with flowers and wine as well. Cooking proceeded nicely. Since there was not pumpkin pie filling available in the store, I made the commanding decision to create my own version of it combining a recipe from Oma and an online one. E thinks it looks like some undesirable leaking from an infant. Heh heh heh.

House has been tidied by E (how swell is her to have taken day off work and helped me? Also toodled me from uni to his house and, by chance, Katharine to big Tesco to find cranberries -- he is just fab). All of the to-go menus that get shoved through the door in ever-increasing numbers are in the rubbish bin. Movies are all in their appropriate shelving units. I am about to light candles (this has been called unmasculine, but then, I don't think that really is such a bad thing if i do the lighting).

Turkey was stuffed by a happy elf. It has been cooking for four and half hours now and the floor is coated in a convenient layer of grease from the several basting events. Thanksgiving is supposed to test people's balancing skills, right? Maybe we should go a bit slow on the sherry...

B has come in from work fainting from hunger and hintingly hoping that Thanksgiving involves hors d'oeuvres. I explained that there would have been a cheese ball except for the fact that chipped beef in a jar is not to be located. He thought briefly about licking the kitchen floor because the smell was too fabulous. E has has pity and fed him cheese on toast (his own inimitable recipe that people really should whine until they are privileged to have this prepared for them).

...from the latest basting. Oooh, it's GOOORgeous!

It is pouring down rain outside... but that makes it cosier, I think.

The Carpenters are good to listen to for cosiness effect as well. Someone appears to have allowed Louis Armstrong into the house as it sounds like he has decided to sing along with The Carpenters. This is just wrong.

Turkey day is almost here!

The turkey is thawing on the table in the back garden. It is v. cold, so this should be safe and a nice slow thaw.

Cornbread pan is ready for the first batches (for the Southern dressing. Katharine is taking care of the Yankee dressing, Auntie Karen) this evening!


We (the royal we. Or the schitzophrenic we.) have discovered that people here do not know what graham crackers are. The confusing thing about this is that Golden Grahams are familiar and available here... hmmmm. (and I insist that this word -- graham -- does have two syllables, not one! and it may even have three...) Since graham cracker crust is not an option, I am going to attempt to make crust with crushed tea biscuits for one pie and crushed shortbread for the other. Other things we have found: Carnation makes condensed milk (and it is sweet even though it doesn't say so); corn starch is the same thing as corn flour; 14 oz. equals 405 g; it is annoying that recipes call for portions of 'sticks of butter' when butter is inconveniently not sold in stick form; am not positive that will be able to locate yellow summer squash -- various people keep suggesting butternut squash, but this does not sound right to me; I may have to make some sort of attempt at pumpkin pie filling myself. Alternatively, I will not make tiny pumpkin chiffon pies at all. I don't think we are going to be short on food for the next three weeks.


In preparation for the beginning of the Feasting Season, E created (as usual) impressive dinner

last night of free-range chicken breasts, stuffed with garlic and butter and wrapped in streaky bacon (v. much like American bacon), pan cooked eggplant (aubergine, yeah whatever) with a mixture of worcester sauce, mushroom ketchup (amazing stuff!) chilis, olive oil and some other stuff that I missed, beans, potatoes AND a starter of giant mushrooms stuffed and baked with Brussels pate. I washed dishes in preparation for the beginning of the three-day cooking endeavour.


This evening (which begins at 4.23, since it is nearly dark at that time), I may make excursion to purchase Pyrex baking dishes and some pie plates...

Vexation and beaching

When one's computer crashes due to spyware from MySpace (that filthy spy-riddled site) after one has written quite a long blog entry, this really has an amazing effect on one's psyche. And this is generally negative and should be avoided in company.

Yet, this happened last night and made us late for a very important date (with the Italians). I am only now able to look at Blogger without reproach after almost 24 hours, even though this time it does not appear to be Blogger's fault.

So, this entry will not be as spicy and fun as the other one...

Anyhoo, after E finished squiring his mam, Katharine and myself around the craft show (during which he wasn't entirely miserable since he had 9,745 songs on his Walkman to drown out the sounds of 48,298 females voices whittering around our path through the booths. He also managed to amuse himself with purchases of whiskey and cheese. I am v.v. proud of self since I bought no yarn; although some chic little stitch markers caused me to fumble and are now part of my brilliant collection of objets de knit), the sun had come out. Although it rained about three times yesterday, and had hailed twice in 15 hours, the sun between was just gorgeous! (Apparently, yesterday morning, there was SNOW in the valleys! Oh maybe we will have another White Thanksgiving! And I will write a song.)

Anyhoo, since it was so lovely, it was decided that a trip to the beach was in order. After all, we missed a whole weekend last weekend... On the way, though, we stopped off at Cosmeston Lakes, an old limestone quarry, which is now a park. We ventured into a large mass of bird life, clamouring for food of any sort: cameras, buttons, small dogs. When children appear with bags of bread, chaos is unavoidable when 40 swans are about. Swans are saucy and like to pose for pictures.

Then to the beach, but a different beach than the last pictures. The Captain's Wife is a pub on the mainland just past Penarth and right across from Sully Island; we have been there before, but sadly minus camera, rendering this return really crucial. The beach here is all pebble, no sand, and Sully Island is a tidal island only connected during low tide. This island has the second highest rate of tidal rise and fall in the world, rendering it a bit dangerous to risk staying out on the island too long. I have not ventured there yet, but, oh yes, I fully intend to do so. There is reportedly a track of dinosaur prints there, the only one of its kind in Britain!

Amongst the detritus of the beach, some cool bricks with the maker marks readable seemed to me to foretell a presence in my room as bookends. This process quite bemused E, so he pretended that I was just a crazy stranger following him. When this didn't work, he attempted to shame me into leaving these grand finds behind by telling me that people in a van were watching me, but this technique did not work. I have three bricks :)

It was bitterly cold and blustery, and following the photographic and masonry excursion, we went into The Captain's Wife to recover with some mussels in white wine sauce and a Guinness. During this respite, E managed to discover within 15 minutes features on my camera that have escaped my skill over the past 15 months. This embarrassed me slightly, and so while he returned to the beach to try the settings changes, I got my knitting out and busied myself :)

Then it was sunset (picture courtesy of E). And time to get back and try to Blog before going to dinner with the Italian contingent (but we know how that turned out)

Dinner was at Y Mochyn Du (The Black Pig). This is a genuinely Welshy pub on the western side of Bute Park, by Sophia Gardens. Excellent atmosphere and a great combination of Welsh and other traditional dishes. Pate is irrestistible at any time, so we definitely got that, and then also split laverbread and cockles (delish!!!!!) and Welsh Rarebit (which is an admittedly good but overrated dish. It is toast with a mixture of cheese, ham and onion -- woo hoo). There was a piano, which proved too irresistible to a certain showman (it is my studied opinion that we will perhaps have musical entertainment at Thanksgiving...). Rugby was on, and France was beaten by New Zealand, and, finally, knitting was discussed by nearly everyone, with varying degrees of interest.

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Today, I have visited the big Tesco (ick) and purchased a v. massive turkey; found that corn syrup is not available in this country nor is cherry pie filling; joined the Cardiff Stitch'n'Bitch group online and made plans to attend their next knitting night at The Chapter on the 28th; received confirmation that Lindsey Cousine will be visiting the week before Christmas (oh, hoorah! Planning and entertainment! Christmas Markets, castles and cousines!); met Kath and Katharine at Shot in the Dark for some knitting and therapy; and planned to make Mexican for dinner... (pause) But have just realised that I have no avocado.... bloody vexation.

Wales v. Canada, eh?

Oh, you betcha! So, last night's international game had a crowd of 74,022. Millennium Stadium capacity is 75,000. Two seats next to Ciara, Mark, E and me were empty for the first half, so we had Maurizio come down from 6 rows up to sit with us; and guess who decided to turn up? Idiots. Oh well. I think it might have been Mauri's first rugby game! We sent E down a row to another empty seat so he could have a chin wag with more people as his temper had been a little OTT during the first half due to Welsh team's slow start :) The second half was much more coherently played and since the end score was 61-26, everyone was much more pleasant to be around than they were when Canada was first on the board.

Even though the score had such a big spread, it was actually a really good game and I think part of my companions' disgruntlement was due to the Canadian team putting up a better fight than expected. The Canadians made a valiant effort, but the Welsh players just massively outclass them in size and so a common sight was one Welsh player with the ball continuing to run ten yards with three or four Canadian attempted tackles flailing behind like flags in the breeze. At least one of the Wales' tries was due to a scrum just being shoved over the line from about 5 yards out. The Welsh players pretty much bowled through the Canadian line like a platoon of tanks. There were two really close tries that required much monitor replay and thought -- it was a well-played game (says the girl who really hasn't a clue what she's talking about).

The flood of humanity in the closed off streets after a game is really cool. Maurizio thought it was impressive because there is such a family atmosphere and people can take kids to games. This is not possible in Italy at football matches because there is so much violence. He maintained this thought calmly until he ended up in the middle of a small pack of 8-year-old boys who were practicing their rugby tackles on each other as someone's mom tried to herd them down Castle Street :) No, but seriously, there is a strong family atmosphere in the stands at rugby matches, where people actually interact with their kids instead of just hauling them along like so much baggage.

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Dingy-boingy!

This is the word of the day (today, Saturday). If you substitute this for anything you want to say, whilst using normal inflections, it sounds like Caveman talk.

Today (Saturday), E is collecting myself, his mam, and possibly Katharine, and taking us to the Creative Stitches and Hobbycraft show! I have just one word: YARN! Well, there is this Knitted Garden exhibition, which I think will be a bit Over The Top, but whatever floats people's boats.

WoD

Well, there are actually two words for us to learn today.

It appears that in British culture, there are two camps of tea drinkers: Miffers and Tiffers.

Miffers put milk in the cup first and then add tea. I have myself read that this is to scald the milk slightly, giving a smoother flavour. The correct setting in which to be a miffer is when the tea is made in a pot (posh), NOT when one is using a tea bag (pleb), as the cold milk tends to prevent the proper brewing of the tea bag. (British tea drinkers are quite convinced that American tea is horrid because Americans do not boil the water enough before beginning the brewing process.)

Tiffers (as one may have already cleverly realised) put tea in their cups before adding milk. I have no personal knowledge of reasoning for this.

It has been reported to me by a life-long tea consumer that there is great debate between these two camps, although the subtlety of the need for argument escapes me. Perhaps as a group we could have some input from readers revealing a bit of self-analysis and their personal reasons behind their decisions. I have diagnosed myself as a Moderate in this debate, as I do both due to my unwillingness to be bothered.

Rainy season

Perhaps it is time to figure out how to use the dryer that we bought from E, and which is just sitting in the middle of the living room collecting magazines and dust. Dust, anyone? Dust? It appears to be time to do some linen wash...


It is now back to the time of year when it is completely dark dark at 4.30pm. This is fine, although it inspires hibernative qualities in myself. Esp. when a certain kitty happens to come to my window and mew pitifully to come inside for shelter from the rainy season. We have to hide this from Diana...


Really ought to have written more recently as life has involved such excitement as: knitting, seeing Dawny, going to lectures, a large mold patch growing on my wall, tutoring online English students from Korea (am now up to four students! Hoorah!), listening to Christmas music, introducing Wirish persons to The Chipmunks (this web site, though, annoys me, because this is the new, modern Chipmunks. NOT the same...), interpreting the lyric: '...thister Thusie thittin' on a thisthle...', knitting, venison dinners (this was the basic spawning of the idea, although there was no cherry sauce and some further additives were included in the marinade -- gin and organic whisky -- and an absolutely perfect mushroom sauce was created), planning Thanksgiving with Katharine, watching Steffi make penguins for a clever Advent Calendar for Alex (they are made out of loo rolls and will be living on an iceberg), knitting, venturing to the BIG Tesco with the great unwashed, surviving this (it is rawther like going to Wal-Mart at 2.30 in the afternoon on Memorial Day Saturday-- not to be undertaken by anyone with a short temper or an aversion to people acting like milling sheep.), taking a native Cardiffian to Riverside Real Food Market when that person had never been dragged there before, and, oh, knitting.



Very proud to have a new sign to share. This is from journey to BigTesco. HAHAHAHA! Someone calm the poor door down. (I whined and begged and stamped my foot until E took the picture for me with his phone; this had the effect of making him look very touristy instead of me, as is usually the case. I didn't really stamp my foot. Thank you, Eamonn.)

Excellent chat and coffee during Dawn's mid-semester visit from Hudders. Georgia the Greek has a new haircut and it is charming; she is on a health kick and I feel like a slothy sloth right now. Katharine is becoming frustrated with job search, although a remarkable chocolate pecan pie is planned for Turkey Day! Dawn is amazed at how it is like being on a different planet in Yorkshire; she can't understand what people say and everything is just foreign. She feels like perhaps she knows a bit of what it was like for Katharine and myself to move 5000 miles away from our homes last year, and she is only 5 hours away.


Culture shock is a cool and totally unanticipatable phenomenon, even if it is anticipated. It is cool in the way that your brain has to make all of these slight adjustments and actually manages to do this. Everybody finds a different way to cope or else they hate life and the new culture and everyone they meet, except other whingers. But if you are open, your brain is so adaptable and allows you to survive without going mad -- even if you feel you might cross over at any moment. That moment, too, shall pass. For the first three months, I felt in a total daze, although mostly a confused, happy one. It was just like things were just really bizarre like in a film when they put that lens on that makes the edges go fuzzy (no idea what this is called, though am sure that someone techy in my acquaintance does know this and can leave a comment for us all to learn something.). Then one day, it was like life started to be real again, maybe Christmas or Lisa and Ben's visit, and everything was normal and had edges again. And then I began my dissertation -- hahahaha.


Okay. Must now stop introverted analysis of self.
And get back to knitting!!!!


(Oh, and guess what! Since Google has meshed interface -- or whatever. I know I am failing to sound clued in. -- with Blogger, it seems to allow pictures to be posted. Hoorah! AND, there is a handy-dandy link to my blog login from my Google page, thereby saving crucial kilocalories and needless key strokes.)

Slugs

They are not cute like snails. And snails are not really cute unless they are in a fish tank serving a purpose or in a cartoon and happen to use meowing vocalisations.

That stupid slug is still sneaking in and poodling about my floor at night. If anyone has any additional suggestions for having him suffer either a horrible death or be repelled from my room permanently, I would appreciate them. He is not trapped by bowls of beer. He is not impeded by a trail of salt around the area of access... I just don't know what to do!

Like mother...

Several characteristics been noticed by my hyperactive mind this morning that lead me to believe that I am turning into my mama:

• I have begun wearing houseslippers.
• There is a packet of tissues in my purse.
• Lists have become a necessary part of my life.
• I vacuum more than once a month.
• Dirty dishes annoy me.
• A dirty stove should be punishable by flogging.
• There is the uncontrollable urge to phone people and be overly cheerful at them very early in the morning when I am fully aware that they are still sleeping.

...dear me :)

Love your bum.

And we are not talking about persons who may try to make your acquaintance in the street, although admittedly I have had that happen from time to time... Just today, in fact, I met a nutty little old lady in the Post Office named Christine... but I digress :)

So, in our continuing analysis (or maybe just observation -- I don't really have time for analysis right now, and it's not going to help me make any more money at the moment) of British signage, we may also want to include product packaging. Today's exhibit is a result of my refreshment of the loo rolls (aka, toilet paper, etc.). In my most recent cost saving excursion, I lowered my standards and went to a store with a 'funwithwords' name, Kwik Save (just the typing of it gives me chills), where I purchased nine (9) rolls for like a pound ninety-nine (hoorah). This brand is quilted and is 'available in a range of great colours designed specifically to match your bathroom' and is the Velvet brand -- it is actually pretty good. The amusing part comes when you read more of the writing on the back.

Their motto appears to be 'love your bum' -- this being my guess because of the little TM which immediately follows this phrase.

And then there is this little offer of concilliatory action in case the product is not acceptable:

If you feel that this product doesn't care for your bum enough,

please let us know by sending this pack and its contents FREEPOST to:

Velvet (R) Bum Care Department

SCA Hygiene Products UK Limited

Freepost ANG 5856

Dunstable, LU6 3YY

... blah blah blah.

Maybe I can get a job in the Bum Care Department. I wonder what your business cards say if you work in the Bum Care Department. Do you get letterhead? I will chuckle now.

Frosty McFrosterton

This would be as both a literal frostiness of one's fingers due to one's gloves (not one pair, but two) having been stolen from one's panniere bags, one thinks whilst one was at church yesterday, and as a psychological frostiness of soul towards the flipping t'ieving heathens who stole them. This has put me in a rather difficult mood.

Hopefully, we will see an end to the fireworks tonight as well (Bonfire Night, aka Guy Fawkes Night was last night and so the weekend was rather explosive). I must agree with Dawny at her weariness in two night of solid fireworks in one's living space. Although it seems to me to have been at least two weeks here...

So it is a good thing that I am sitting here listening to Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix and ripping a hem out of some pajama trousers that are too short.

On a more humourous note (and a slightly disappointed note, as I thought it would be a hoot to go), I seem to have missed the record-breaking Jones's Family Reunion here in Cardiff this past Friday. It had rather been a hope of mine that my own Jones-ish family members might select this prime opportunity to visit Cardiff, but I am afraid that I would only have been a surrogate Jones representative had I been able to go. Oh well :)

Had a new student join me today online -- now have three students, two of whom I meet five days a week. It is really rather fun, although it might be more fun were payment in GBP rather than USD.

Steffi has gone to Germany for the week. She awoke deathly ill yesterday, so we hope she will not have a miserable trip.

We also have yet another reason to either not visit Paris or else hire large handsome personal bodyguards if we should. My friend, Kneece, who is teaching English to French children in Cherbourg this year, and her sister were beaten up by some North African French teenagers in the middle of the street on Saturday evening right after having dinner. This adds to my frostiness of soul towards mean-spirited 'human' imposters. Let us throw peas at them.

It has now been established as a result of a rather extensive scientific experience that the cleaner a duvet and set of linens is, the more flakes will fall off of chocolate bars and establish themselves as part of the decor.

The Rugby

One becomes aware of the fact that the adult male of the species is really only a little boy with more money and a larger clothes size when a phone call allows for two tickets to a game involving a ball and lots of blood. Actually, this is a bit simplified of an explanation, because the game really is quite important as it is an international, and a crowd of 76,000 people is expected. Katherine Jenkins will be recording with the largest backup crowd or something...

Today is the Wales v. Australia game, the air is crisp, and the sky is a gorgeous sunny blue.

I have been brought appropriate attire, instructed to wear it and am about to leave my house in a big red rugby shirt to meet the rest of the posse, who have been at it since 11am.
(Rugby shirts make you look fat.)

Frost!

This morning, there was frost on the grass. Or at least I think that is what that white sparkly appearance intimated... Skimble was perched on the patio/yard barrier step in a most puffy-kitty-who-needs-warming manner. There was a little trail of darker green tracks through the grass leading to the hunched kitty. Steffi would not let him sit on her computer on her lap to warm up and so it was left to me to emerge in my pajamas and give him a nice long cuddle (until my toes began to feel numb and more tea was required).

Cold makes people in a silly mood :) Or it just inhibits their ability to think and walk normally due to large puffy jackets muffling their awareness of those around them or perhaps the stricture of scarves diminishing aural perception of items in near proximity -- such as cars or cyclists.

Today's seminars were enjoyed by one group and absolutely NOT by the other. So disappointing. Was very proud to get all names correct in first group; second group attempt was not so hot, perhaps 40%. They are a little surlier, though, and so not so memorable. One task was to invent a nonsense word, create a dictionary entry for it (complete with IPA transcription, inflections, part(s) of speech, definition(s), etc.). Then create two nonsense definitions for it and try to get the class/studio audience to guess the correct definition. I kind of agree with the second group that it was senseless since the 'definitions' were nonsense in the first place, but still, kids -- suspend some belief and let yourself have some fun! The first group had so much fun and came up with the words:

• frun (v. -- which means 'to run in a funny manner')
• scrynge (n. -- which means 'a small amount of something')
• shiress (v. -- which means 'to scrimble up a piece of paper and make it crumply')

The second word is a term actually used by one girl's family in the East Midlands, but is not officially a word :) I told her she should document it and go on Balderdash and Piffle to have it added to the OED. But she should get that host to wear a bloody different coat -- that pink pea coat got on my everliving nerve.

Our second task was to think about prototypical words, along the lines of the question of what makes some birds birdier than others (or fruits fruitier, or weapons weapony, or vehicles vehicley, etc.). Readers should try to think of some of your own and be prepared to present them to the group at our next meeting (or on the comment section as the case may be).

Linens and Things

It has come to my attention (as things so rarely do in a timely manner) that there is a darn good reason for having two duvet covers and two sets of sheets and pillow cases in this country. This is especially true if one does not have a dryer and the sun is not predictable in shining. On the positive side of having a sole linen set is the discipline that this tends to instill in planning ahead and doing one's laundry around http://www.weather.co.uk/, but that can really only get you so far in the approaching rainy season whilst allowing you to remain within civilised and olfactorily-aware society. And I have never been much of a gambler (although I do like the song). When it is rainy, one may try to make do with two-week old laundered bed linens, but something deep inside my mind tells me this is not good practice when one considers the veritable army of microbes in our world. And I think there must be even more invisible creatures here, because I don't think I have ever seen a house spontaneously create dust as the Golden Girls' House does (Steffi came up with this one!). Dust, anyone? Have some dust.

The verdict from this rant in my head is that I think it is a good idea to go and find another linen set. Today it appears to be thinking of being sunny, so I am doing my linen wash. We shall see if all is dry by bedtime...


Addendum: How has a comment instantly appeared on this post from someone I do not know? Why do they want to promote my blog? Are they going to steal bonnieblue's identity? Why have I just been notified of a comment sent on Sunday by Katharine? Snoop-Dogg has just walked past my house. AM out.

Addendum ad nauseum: (Think that is how you would spell it -- this reminds me of letters I would write when I was little and I would keep forgetting things to put in the letter and the end of the letter would have all of these post-scripts, up to ridiculous numbers like p.p.p.p.p.s.) But it would be a travesty not to note the Injury of the Week: This week's injury has been brought to you by the IKEA IDEALISK Grater (£2.49). When this handy kitchen implement flies off a hook towards a person not wearing their padding and that person attempts to catch the missile, it can be unfortunate. Especially if the injury is sustained by the pinky finger, right on the corner of the side of the fingernail. This causes one to type with one's pinky in the air and does not exactly improve speed or accuracy.