Tag Archive: dotage


Finally, I Crashed

Yup, just after midnight fireworks which lasted about a half hour in our neighbourhood, I made my excuses and toddled off home. I was ready for bed. Midnight hours are a thing of the past as I advance in my dotage.

My native NZ was the first to see the New Year in. Although news services make more fuss about Sydney, NZ merely gets a mention. Some news services even classify Sydney as being the first; they’d better get the atlases out, or today it would be more appropriate to check Google Maps. They also get their facts wrong, a news item yesterday mentioned 1.5 million people in Sydney. but only 1 million in Copacabana; in fact there were more than 2 million in Copacabana this year.
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NZaheadAuckland’s Sky Tower gets the honours of being the most publicised.

Sky Tower, Auckland

Sky Tower, Auckland

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Anyway, I’ve never seen it. In fact, I never even saw the celebration in my home town. I always thought that people were fools to rush into the Square and much preferred private parties with friends.

It’s all over now, the world can return to normal and continue on its course of destruction.

Today promises to be hotter than yesterday, which was bloody-hotºC, so the temp today could reach very-bloody-hotºC and mean a lot of chilled beer to stay sane.

I went to the neighbour’s for BBQ, just a few friends there. Way to much food, which I made an earnest effort to reduce. Watched the fireworks at midnight and that’s where I came in, read the first paragraph

Watered the plants, checked the passion fruit vines; flowers again yesterday. If they don’t start producing some fruit I may have to pollinate the flowers myself. Because the bees don’t seem to be doing their job.

Time to poke my head out the gate. I know the botequim is open, I may have a beer before lunch.

Later.

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A Reluctant Start

Wish I could train Lixo to do this... I would make Labor Day perfect

Wish I could train Lixo to do this… I would make Labor Day perfect

Yesterday my excuse was procrastination, today reluctance.

Today is 1st May, Dia do Trablaho (Labor Day). I have coffee and am fully prepared to do nothing all day. May is a weird month to have Labor Day, I grew up with Labour Day in October, oh I get so confused.

I have just taken the meat out of the freezer, going to have BBQ all day. Big juicy hunks of pork and beef. Well, they’re not juicy at the moment, sort of hard and crusty, but give them a couple of hours. Good thing this is not my beefless week.

firefoxaddonI am wary of all this modern technology. I don’t have ad ons and apps. I don’t like them, I don’t trust them.

But I discovered that Firefox has a useful one, so cute and fluffy.

I am talking about the ad blocker. I got frustrated one day, and it happened to be the day that I read a post on a techy-type blog about FF ad-on that blocks annoying advertising, so I installed it and am mildly pleased with the results. It doesn’t block all ads, but my frustration level has been reduced by half; the rest I reduce by adding more coffee.

The padeiro (breadman) has just been, a BBQ isn’t complete without garlic bread sizzling on the grate. The way people cook garlic bread has always amused me. It has been my observation that people always toast the butter side first. This is just plain stupid, and indeed belongs in the annuls of stupidity. If you grill the butter side first the butter and garlic all drips off on to the coals; sure smells wonderful, but what a waste. Grill the off-side first and the butter permeates through the bread and stays there when you flip it over.

*Need more coffee*

caixa_leite02Here’s a random thought.

When you open a box of milk, it has instructions ‘abra aqui’ (open here), you can see it there on the box.

What happens if you don’t obey the law and open the other side?

Does the milk come out backwards?

You see, although I am fast approaching my dotage, I still have an alert and inquiring mind.

There is so much in the world that needs to be examined.

With that, I will blog along. This has been a three-coffee post, no cats were injured writing, but that could change if I find cat hair on the clean black shirt that I left on the sofa.

Later.

Want one

BBQ

Yes, want one!

Saw this while I was browsing yesterday. Although grill plates on left would probably be replaced by pizza oven…

Who needs a garage anyway? I don’t have a car, it only serves to dry my washing on the line when it rains like yesterday.

Actually, it could be built and not encroach on the car parking space. Have to think more about that.

Fourteen bloggers ‘Liked’ my post HungWon-on yesterday, now I’m not complaining, I liked getting so many ‘Likes’ a good half dozen more than my posts normally attract. It has, however, left me grappling with the horns with a dilemma; did they like in sympathy, or were they chortling about an old fool. The latter was reinforced in a letter I got from my younger brother (I am 60+, he is 60-, will be 60 this year) when he referred to “my dotage”.

FalseTeethMy dotage… I was always under the impression that one was in their dotage as they became a little dependent, a little wobbly on their pins, forgetful where they put their beer, unable to spell certain words (I just had 3 attempts to get ‘forgetful’ right, but that was a typo – OKAY?) and mumbling when they speak because they forgot their false teeth.

Couldn’t resist that image… LOL

And, and… use a walking stick. Okay, so I use a walking stick, that’s only 20% of the way to dotage. I’m not there yet!

banhaMoving right along. I almost committed a heinous crime. This is my second ‘beefless‘ week of the month in my resolve to limit the amount of beef I am responsible for. I planned lunch, a lovely pork roast that would warm the cockles of my heart today being coolish, cold sliced pork to go with a salad on a day not cool like today and at least two days of pork sandwiches for nibbles. Then I realised I was going to use beef dripping to cook it in the roasting dish. See how easy it is to fall into little traps. Yes, I buy my dripping, because I don’t roast enough to collect the real McCoy. I used to buy pork lard, but I just recently discovered that the green pack was beef dripping, much preferred because of the flavour. So in the spirit of the ‘beefless‘ week, I will dry roast it and save the lard produced.

stopbelievinginsantaMonday, so far it has been an unMondayish Monday, but there’s plenty of time yet for it to be a Mondaylike Monday.

I’ll leave you with a thought for the week.

Ever wonder why you get socks and underwear for Christmas as an adult?

It’s because you grew up and  adults lack imagination.

I am NOT Old

I am not old.

I don’t feel it.

I don’t act it.

I don’t think it.

Some say, I don’t look it. But they’re just being nice.

I am sixty. I use a walking stick.

Which raises an interesting issue. At what age does one become old?

Is there an arbitrary age?

Everything else in life has an arbitrary age.

You have to go to school at 7.

You can leave school at 15.

You can smoke at 16, but you can’t buy cigarettes until 18.

You can’t vote until 18.

You can’t drink until you are 18.

You can’t drive until you are 18.

You are not criminally responsible until you are 18 (Latin America), but 10 in England.

You can’t have sex until you are 16.

You can’t get married until you are 18. (Which makes a mockery of sex only in marriage).

You retire at 60-something.

So at which age do you become arbitrarily old? Sixty, seventy, eighty… some point in between.

Kids today don’t understand the value of offal like tongue

The day before yesterday I was in the supermarket and saw tongues. I haven’t eaten tongue in years. I bought one. Hell, they are expensive now. Yesterday, I covered it in water added some black peppercorns and cloves and set it to simmer for a couple of hours. After peeling it, giving some tidbits to Lixo (he liked it) I made a sandwich of thinly sliced tongue and Dijon mustard. Instant nostalgia!

Kids today don’t know what tongue is, they have never experienced the delight of tongue. Does that signify ‘old’… when you begin to like tongue?

Maybe I am old, but I just don’t know it; I refuse to bow down before it, I refuse to cave in to the premise.

Maybe one day I’ll wake up and discover that my dotage has arrived; that I am old and feeble.

People ask me how I am each day. I always reply, “I’m out of bed, so the world is good.”

In the meantime, I will continue my innings, 60 – not out! Americans may not understand that, but then they don’t understand cricket either.

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