Tag Archive: normal

Paraskefreakin’ what?

Image: found on 500px.com

Paraskevidekatriaphobia, is one of the words which talk about fear of Friday the 13th. There are some others, but less impressive, check Wikipedia for more info.

The word “paraskevidekatriaphobia” was devised by Dr. Donald Dossey, who told his patients that “when you learn to pronounce it, you’re cured!”

Not sure what the image has to do with the subject, but it cropped up in Google and I just thought it was awesome.

So does this Friday qualify for a TGIF?

For me, yes. Because it’s the end of the week, tomorrow (should the world continue on it’s present course) will be Saturday.

AAaaaah! Saturday, no classes, I can just blog the day away, oh, and drink coffee. Apart from that I have no other plans, so it should be the beginning of another successful weekend. The weekend should always be a success. If you can’t make the weekend successful when you don’t have to do anything, how the heck can you be successful during the week when you ARE required to do something?

My sink NEVER looks like this

It’s 3pm, I should really be thinking about lunch. Actually, I should be more than just thinking about it, I should be making it. If I was a normal person, I would have washed the dishes already.

I had a strange thought yesterday, after a concerted effort I washed all my dishes, as I realised that the sink and the surrounding area were empty, dirty dish-free, “Wow, the sink does have a bottom!” flashed through my mind. I am trying to put some importance to that idea, and wonder why I should have suddenly thought it.

OMG I couldn’t live in the same house as one where the sink looks like this, even after a party.

Well, now that I have disturbed you all, I’ll blog along…

Oh, the good news is…. *drum roll* There won’t be another Friday 13th for 14 months. Apparently that’s the longest the calendar can go without one.

Precautionary Measures

Indeed. Sometimes it is necessary to take precautionary measures. It is deemed an essential  military tactic and serves well in Civvy Street. For those of you who are not in-the-know Civvy Street is where you go after military service, or in my case a career; I feel that 21 years dedication to the military to be a career. Most of you would simply call it ‘Life.” Civvy Street then is anything NOT-military, or ‘normal,’ if you like. Although, I maintain my stance and defy you to define ‘normal.’

So today I took precautionary measures. I opened the ‘new post’ here before I went to play. Playing today involved several of the more leisurely aspects of life. I walked to the local mini-market which is good exercise when one’s buttons tend to fly off their pants and hit the opposite wall; a sure sign that one is suffering from a condition known as over-weight. It was during said perambulation, which takes about a half hour that I formulated a dastardly plan: lunch.

The original idea was to get some mincemeat (ground beef for our American cousins) for Lixo, because he has been rather a good kitteh and didn’t complain when I got him puppy food instead of kitteh food. The good news is that he didn’t begin to bark, and although he didn’t complain, he certainly let me know he was a tad miffed.

As I was saying, dastardly plan. The mini-market has a small butchery department, hence I was able to purchase freshly minced meat, it also has good quality contrafile (rump steak), today it was beautifully marbled with a rich edge of fat; two inch-thick slabs fell across the scales at my bidding, along with ½kg (about a pound) of  liver and a kilo of chicken wings.

My dastardly plan was taking shape.

Gulf Fritillary on my passionfruit

On my arrival home Lixo was in the process of antagonising a Gulf Fritillary butterfly, which he duly ate.

Passionfruit have such beautifully stunning  flowers and one insidious pest. the Gulf Fritillary butterfly whose caterpillars destroy the vine.

He deserved a reward, a dollop of fresh mincemeat.

He watched with interest as I prepared the BBQ, having never seen this before it was a life-learning experience. It was as I was waiting for the charcoal to take that he lay in the middle of the kitchen floor, which he has discovered is the best place to observe the toings & froings of the kitchen; and provides an excellent chance that the staff will trip over said cat.

NOT traditional Garlic Bread

The rump steak was salted, garlicked and soyaed. The extraneous feathers plucked from the chicken wings (oh, how I hate them) before the garlic and salt treatment. The liver suffered chopped onions and rock salt. More garlic was chopped and mixed with parsley before being mashed into a slab of butter prior to making garlic bread from my old bread.

Now garlic bread is normally made form some type of roll or other, but I had sliced bread going to waste. I try not to waste.

BBQing done, lunch was served. I took my tray to the botequim, got my customary Bohemia beer and shared my lunch, complete with homemade pickled onions with the other freguês (patrons, regulars).

Three bottles later (one more than my normal two) I waddled off home replete. Good company, good lunch, great beer, what more could one wish for on a very hot Saturday afternoon. And Lixo… oh, he’s happy, he’s got leftovers and his happily snoozing on my our his bed.

Now it’s time for the news.


Split Days

I hate shit, ah split days. No, I was right the first time, shit days. They give me time for nothing. Yesterday was another of those ‘canceled’ days, one that just seemed to slip off the calendar. I managed to do justice to a CTWW post and throw a video up on my Nether Region, but that was it. I had to go into town before work and check with the rental agency, then I went to get some ground white pepper from the only place that I know that has bulk ground white pepper and guess what, NO freakin’ ground white pepper, and no idea when they will have it again. Van to work, work, bus to supermarket for some therapy, therapy… Oh, I love shopping, all those bottles of wine I can’t afford, home, put away my therapy. Eat turkey salad sandwich made in  half a French roll for lunch, watch news. Nap, deal with diarrhea from damned sandwich  and back to work…..

All the above was done in 35+⁰C (about 95F).

The forecast was for tropical storm in the afternoon. Weather forecasters never get it right. Tropical storm clouds gathered, then went home. Today the forecast is again for said tropical storm in the afternoon, let’s see if they can get it right this time. Looking out the window (I haven’t opened the front door yet), it appears as though it will be hot enough to generate the clouds again.

Then I saw this… “Normal is just a knob on the washing machine.” I love that.

One of my students sent me this:

The four bottles if life… I figure that I am still somewhere between 3 & 4. Like I haven’t finished three yet, but I see 4 looming on the horizon. Actually, that’s not totally true. Yesterday I did a test from the exercise book with the same student. It was a body age vs calendar age thing. Despite my being 60 and my debauched lifestyle, my body is only 53… Okay, so maybe I lied with one question, should be 54. But that’s not too bad for a lad of my age. I had to laugh at his result, he is 28 but his lifestyle dictates that his body is already 31. So I had the last laugh.

Time for shower and see what the day brings.


%d bloggers like this: