FRIDGE SOUP

Double Take

2012-01-25T20:12:00.003Z

After seeing the previous post by Smitonius & Sonata, I couldn't help thinking that this lady* would probably agree wholeheartedly!

* read all about her here.

A Capital Offence

2012-01-24T17:31:00.004Z

We have a lurker and she is not amused . Any further references to vegetables , root or otherwise , would seem to be deemed treasonable .

(Our lurker in an informal portrait by Mini Grey , taken from The Pea and the Princess , published by Red Fox .)

And here's his mate, Jinksy.

2012-01-15T22:53:00.000Z

Fresh Vegetables, Anyone?

2012-01-15T13:24:00.001Z

Special offer of the week HERE !

We thumb our noses at you, Kindle!

2012-01-10T17:02:00.001Z

Health and Safety Strikes Again

2012-01-09T10:01:00.001Z

I heard this story on the BBC Radio 4 News this morning at 6 a.m.

An elderly gentleman was visiting an aircraft museum in the English Midlands. He is very interested in a grounded "Spitfire" on exhibit and asked an attendant if he could sit in the pilot's seat.
"Oh no! Oh dear me, no sir. Far too dangerous!"
The elderly visitor replied "I wish the Luftwaffe had been as considerate of my welfare."

He was one of "The Few," - a WW2 Spitfire pilot who had come through the Battle of Britain unscathed.

Dad and Aunt Gertrude

2012-01-06T10:43:00.000Z

Since the photo in my earlier post didn't work, and you were all just a tiny bit curious, I thought I'd try to post the photo of my father and his sister again. So, hopefully, here it is. Taken at her 104th birthday party.

Aunt Gertrude has been living independently until about 6 months ago, when her children sort of pressured her to pack up her things and move into a home for the elderly. Where, funnily enough, her daughter had already been living for years. So Aunt Gertrude gave in and moved into an old peoples home to live with all the 'old people' who are all younger than she is. According to my father the fact that she is living amongst the elderly is the reason she's getting old herself now. Yes... well....

Aunt Gertrude is almost completely blind and deaf, but she still has all her marbles and organizes her birthday parties herself. Choosing the venue, making the arrangements, etc.

My father suffers from an eye disease, which affects his sight, but he can still see enough to ride his bicycle. At least that's what he tells us and we're keeping our fingers crossed that he's right. For reading, doing his crosswords and telephoning people, he has a cunning device that electronically enlarges everything he puts under it and projects it onto sort of a computer screen.

My mother is 80 in this photo, taken in 2010, and she doesn't know the word 'no'.
Which is why my father telephoned his sister.

Conversation at our Christmas dinner table

2012-01-05T20:02:00.002Z

My mother: "Your father telephoned Aunt Gertrude."

Me: "Really dad? Did she (meaning my mother) make you call up your sister?" (My father doesn’t like telephones and avoids them as much as possible.)

My father: "She did."

Me: "And. How was Aunt Gertrude?"

My father: "Judging by her voice she’s getting old."

Me: "Remind me. How old is Aunt Gertrude?"

My father: "104"

my father (89) and his sister Gertrude.

"Mind how you go "

2011-12-31T08:44:00.004Z

Dutch Health and Safety being its usual wet blanket-ty self , the limit on firework purchase per person has been set at 10 kilos . Hardly enough to make yourself heard over your neighbours . It's enough to make you get together with your buddies , pool your resources , and stuff the cache in a millk churn and set them all off at once , like dashing young lads do in the villages .

We 'll be at home , wearing earmuffs and circumspectly sipping a small sherry and avoiding the cholesterol -laden Olieballen ....

But wherever you are and however you'll be celebrating , I wish you a convivial New Year's Eve and a healthy , prosperous and very happy 2010 .

Be Careful What You S(w)ing at Christmas.

2011-12-22T13:38:00.000Z

It's politically incorrect in these enlightened times to refer to "Eskimos" - even though that's what they call themselves, for Goodness sake. Soooooo . . . a certain seasonal verse needs to be rewritten.

"Chestnuts roasting on an open fire

Jack Frost nips your norty bits.

Yuletide carols being sung by the choir

And folk dressed up like Innuits"

There.! That'll keep the PC Nazis quiet. Lord knows what they'll make of the picture . .

Happy Christmas and awesome New Year to all super Soupers.

(Jinksy's assistance in preparation of the artwork was invaluable.)

to kindle or not to kindle ....

2011-12-17T11:13:00.002Z

i'd been wondering about the desirability of a kindle for a while . not in a full-on must-have sort of way .... it was more a sort of vague ponder .
i thought , when i flew back from england a couple of weeks ago and watched fellow travellers with theirs , that it seemed so neat , somehow , compared to my fat , gaudy paperback *.
the whole easy-jet scrummage for a seat and legroom completed , i settled in and hauled the , by now , rather dog-eared novel out and read on . the doors shut , all gadgets had to be switched off and the up to the minute reading public had to twiddle their thumbs for ten minutes until we were airborne , when they could pick up where they'd left off .... before the life-jacket demonstration in two languages , exhortations to buy duty free and to enjoy a speedy cocktail with a toasted sandwich .....and read on until the pilot announced that we were coming in to amsterdam . schiphol has to be the airport with the longest approach in the world and we circled and meandered up and down runways for another twenty minutes , gadgets switched off , while i read another chapter or two . so , grand total kindle-reading time = twenty minutes on the forty-five minute flight and my decision was made for me . i didn't need one .
until wednesday , when i fell off my bike and comprehensively broke my left wrist . now , what i could just do with is a little tablet-form gadget with page after page of almost any book of my choice , easily scroll-downable with one hand .
*and what was i reading? i'd be mortified if you found out .... let's just say 2-for-one and "dark secrets" ... though , in my defence , it did say "well written and subtle" , too .

Party?

2011-12-12T01:30:00.005Z

I want to put on a holiday party. I want to prepare a buffet table with silver dishes set among swirls of sparkle-and-glitter gold tulle. Here and there in the artfully gathered tulle between the silver serving dishes, there would be ornaments...

I want the dishes to be filled with easily served and eaten rich foods of puff pastry and lots of spices and colors. I want there to be sweetmeats and sugarplums (whatever those items are). The table would be so full of beautiful things, edible and inedible, that there would be sighs of awe and murmured wishes not to disturb the splendor.

I would like the guests to be dressed beautifully in the kind of holiday evening attire that one wears only between the middle of December and the middle of January. I want the women [and whichever men feel so inclined] to be made up beautifully, and wearing jewel colors, and I want the [other] men to wear ties and be so freshly shaven that the planes of their jaws shine smooth. I want the conversation to be witty and intelligent and I would like everyone to drink enough alcohol to sparkle but not enough to become stupid or clumsy. I want there to be enough seating that there is none of the awkward juggling of plates that accompanies buffets everywhere, but I want the guests to be mobile as well, circulating and sparkling and chatting and being amusing and amused.
I would like background music (unobtrusive Christmas carols and hymns) and lighting with dimmer switches. And lots of white candles in various sizes and shapes and groupings.

I have never attended such a party in my life, much less hosted one. And I don't want to host this one.
I want to set it up, to cater it, and then to sit back and watch.
And then I would like to go home and let somebody else clean up.
It would be my own little stage set, wouldn't it?

Vignettes of French Life

2011-12-10T21:19:00.001Z

Even if your French is rusty, I’m sure you’ll get the gist of this this little advert, displayed this week in the local paper.

I expect that Saint Sylvester would have had something to say about being celebrated in such a fashion. Me, I tend to ring in the New Year in more conventional ways, if at all.

And the French tendency to borrow from English and do their own thing with it is always entertaining, but Fasylove takes the cake.

Hello Again

2011-12-10T09:33:00.000Z

Amendments duly made, as per Doctor FTSE's observations, and Fran's words. As promised, the closing date for captions will be Monday, but I hope the snowfall I've already sent to various parts of Blogland will just about cover it - if you see what I mean! Hehehe!

Hello?

2011-12-05T16:19:00.000Z

I Have A Feeling...

2011-11-26T13:24:00.001Z

I should hold my hand up to this! Okay, Friko - let rip...I deserve all you can give me...

No Words Necessary

2011-11-25T17:51:00.001Z

LATE EDITION. Okay - so words ARE needed. For non-Brits, an explanation may be found in the comments below..

Travelling Light

2011-11-18T15:23:00.004Z

A lot of Dutch people have a rail card , which , for about 60 Euros annually , entitles them to a 40% discount on all off peak travel by train . Recently it has been possible to change it into a Smart Card for public transport with an inbuilt electronic purse ( rather like an Oyster card , but country-wide) .
Take up has been good but a few diehards , like Husband , haven't got round to it . Hence various ad campaigns , extolling the carefree ease of being able just to hop on a train without queueing for a ticket . This morning he got a card from the train company , reminding him just how an OV-chipkaart would simplify his every journey ....

He's not convinced .

The Saturday Snicker, two days late.

2011-11-14T11:00:00.001Z

To the citizens of the United States of America from Her Sovereign Majesty Queen Elizabeth II

2011-11-13T23:05:00.001Z

Email from the Queen - an important announcement regarding the USA

In light of your immediate failure to financially manage yourselves, your constant warmongering and also in recent years your tendency to elect incompetent Presidents of the USA and therefore not able to govern yourselves, we hereby give notice of the revocation of your independence, effective immediately. (You should look up 'revocation' in the Oxford English Dictionary.)
Her Sovereign Majesty Queen Elizabeth II will resume monarchical duties over all states, commonwealths, and territories (except Kansas, which she does not fancy).Your new Prime Minister, David Cameron, will appoint a Governor for America without the need for further elections.Congress and the Senate will be disbanded. A questionnaire may be circulated sometime next year to determine whether any of you noticed.
To aid in the transition to a British Crown dependency, the following rules are introduced with immediate effect:
1. The letter 'U' will be reinstated in words such as 'colour,' 'favour,' 'labour' and 'neighbour.' Likewise, you will learn to spell 'doughnut' without skipping half the letters, and the suffix '-ize' will be replaced by the suffix '-ise.' Generally, you will be expected to raise your vocabulary to acceptable levels. (look up 'vocabulary').
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2. Using the same twenty-seven words interspersed with filler noises such as ''like' and 'you know' is an unacceptable and inefficient form of communication. There is no such thing as U.S.English. We will let Microsoft know on your behalf. The Microsoft spell-checker will be adjusted to take into account the reinstated letter 'u'' and the elimination of '-ize.'
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3. July 4th will no longer be celebrated as a holiday.
-----------------
4. You will learn to resolve personal issues without using guns, lawyers, or therapists. The fact that you need so many lawyers and therapists shows that you're not quite ready to be independent. Guns should only be used for shooting grouse. If you can't sort things out without suing someone or speaking to a therapist, then you're not ready to shoot grouse.
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5. Therefore, you will no longer be allowed to own or carry anything more dangerous than a vegetable peeler. Although a permit will be required if you wish to carry a vegetable peeler in public.
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6. All intersections will be replaced with roundabouts, and you will start driving on the left side with immediate effect. At the same time, you will go metric with immediate effect and without the benefit of conversion tables. Both roundabouts and metrication will help you understand the British sense of humour.
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7. The former USA will adopt UK prices on petrol (which you have been calling gasoline) of roughly $10/US gallon. Get used to it.
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8. You will learn to make real chips. Those things you call French fries are not real chips, and those things you insist on calling potato chips are properly called crisps. Real chips are thick cut, fried in animal fat, and dressed not with catsup but with vinegar.
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9. The cold, tasteless stuff you insist on calling beer is not actually beer at all. Henceforth, only proper British Bitter will be referred to as beer, and European brews of known and accepted provenance will be referred to as Lager. New Zealand beer is also acceptable, as New Zealand is pound for pound the greatest sporting nation on earth and it can only be due to the beer. They are also part of the British Commonwealth - see what it did for them. American brands will be referred to as Near-Frozen Gnat's Urine, so that all can be sold without risk of further confusion.
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10. Hollywood will be required occasionally to cast English actors as good guys. Hollywood will also be required to cast English actors to play English characters. Watching Andie Macdowell attempt English dialogue in Four Weddings and a Funeral was an experience akin to having one's ears removed with a cheese grater.
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11. You will cease playing American football. There are only two kinds of proper football; one you call soccer, and rugby (dominated by the New Zealanders). Those of you brave enough will, in time, be allowed to play rugby (which has some similarities to American football, but does not involve stopping for a rest every twenty seconds or wearing full kevlar body armour like a bunch of nancies).
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12. Further, you will stop playing baseball. It is not reasonable to host an event called the World Series for a game which is not played outside of America. Since only 2.1% of you are aware there is a world beyond your borders, your error is understandable. You will learn cricket, and we will let you face the Australians (World dominators) first to take the sting out of their deliveries.
--------------------
13. You must tell us who killed JFK. It's been driving us mad.
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14. An internal revenue agent (i.e. tax collector) from Her Majesty's Government will be with you shortly to ensure the acquisition of all monies due (backdated to 1776).
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15. Daily Tea Time begins promptly at 4 p.m. with proper cups, with saucers, and never mugs, with high quality biscuits (cookies) and cakes; plus strawberries (with cream) when in season.
God Save the Queen!

Learning to bake a cake?

2011-11-08T16:30:00.000Z

Forget it! Or take your Mum to the shop.

West Mercia Police will crack down hard on any youngsters seen with a box of eggs or a bag of flour. And if you try to plead ignorance and say you don't know what they are, they've even drawn you a helpful picture!

Still giving it the eye at 89

2011-11-05T18:51:00.000Z

Conversation with Granny in hospital this afternoon:

Hi Granny - oh, they've moved you down the end of the ward! Looking forward to going home next week?

No, I'm not. I like it here.

Oh, that's strange. Thought you said you wanted to go home. You were desperate to get home last week. What's changed?

Nothing. Nothing's changed.

FIVE MINUTES LATER.

I can see through that window now they've moved me to this bed. I can see straight into the male ward.

Ah. Things are a little clearer to me now, Gran....

The Saturday Snicker

2011-11-05T09:09:00.001Z

"Sit" And "Heel" Is No Longer Enough

2011-11-02T15:28:00.006Z

Already on the warpath over the non-payment of dog-tax , our Town Hall has found another jokey photo . This time for its anti-dog-poop crusade

So , if you're planning a move to Leeuwarden , please first make sure that Rex , Buster or Missy-woo can wield a rake and shovel . After all , if they get really handy at it , they can get a job with the Parks Dept. and pay their own tax .

A Sister’s Eulogy

2011-10-31T08:54:00.001Z

The posting of a link to this wonderful piece may be redundant. After all, her brother was known to many and her eulogy will be flashed around the world millions of times. But if you haven’t heard of it, you really should read it.

http://www.nytimes.com/2011/10/30/opinion/mona-simpsons-eulogy-for-steve-jobs.html?_r=2&pagewanted=all?src=tp

On The Other Hand…

2011-10-29T09:01:00.001+01:00

Vignettes of French Life (#12)

2011-10-24T12:55:00.001+01:00

On the A8 south to Hyères, near Toulon.

You might think that these old things can’t cope with the autoroute, but we had only just passed one tootling along in the slow lane.

Furthermore, I am convinced that anyone who drives a 2CV is eminently trustworthy.

Flowers!

2011-10-17T22:10:00.003+01:00

I think most of us live in the northern hemisphere,
so this (click it!) will be oh-so-welcome about this time of year.

It certainly raised my spirits!

Flowers!

Born to get shot...

2011-10-12T00:30:00.001+01:00

I used to work with a woman who acquainted me with the saying, "If you're born to get shot, you won't get hung." It fit, and possibly somewhat formed, since I was in my early twenties at the time, my own fatalistic outlook.

And then there's the exception that makes one question the rule:

Gunshot victim crashes car

Updated 08:22 a.m., Monday, October 10, 2011

A car crashed into an iron fence on Union Street near the intersection of Nott
Terrace in Schenectady around 12:15 p.m. Oct. 9, 2011 and it was found
the driver had gunshot wounds from an altercation on Close Street
a short time before.

VANDALS!

2011-10-10T16:07:00.000+01:00

Puffball

Isn't it a wonderful specimen?

It's as big as a football.

In fact, when I saw it yesterday, I thought it was a football.

Puffball smashed to Smithereens

When I came the same way today, this is what I found.

Why do people have to do this? It was probably an adult who stuck his stupid heel or walking stick into this beauty, there haven't been any kids round the castle for a few days; they're all back at school. I was looking forward to watching it ripen, hopefully intact, become overrun with a vast population of creepy-crawlies, its insides turning to dusty brown spores and exploding eventually. Now they've deprived me of a very simple pleasure. (I know, I know, I'm pathetic, but even the simple-minded like me must be allowed to take their pleasures where they find them.)

I could understand if somebody had cut it down and taken it home to fry in butter and eat it. But this is just wanton destruction. I am cross. Vandals!

Accident or Design?

2011-10-04T19:24:00.000+01:00

A friend was telling me about a wonderful harvest festival he had attended, with contributions from the pupils of the local church endowed school. The vicar gave a lengthy reading about God's creation, and made it clear that the earth was little more than a ball of mud before God set to work.

The same friend then proceeded to promote the fact that the school had just enjoyed a very successful 'science week'. I'm guessing that for some children, the business of evolution remains as clear as, well...mud.

A Gentle Reminder

2011-10-03T19:04:00.003+01:00

A gentle reminder , in the form of this card , was dropped through our letter boxes today . The Town Hall would really appreciate it if dog owners remembered to pay the local Dog Tax .
I think they'd have more luck if they sent this chap round in person .

What's in a Name?

2011-10-02T09:47:00.000+01:00

The picture here is of some potatoes. They are of a variety that we have not grown before. I lifted them yesterday. I presented them to my Infinitely Better Half, who said . .

"Ah . . . I see why the variety is called APACHE."

Do I need to spell it out? Hope not!

Perhaps Not

2011-09-29T21:43:00.004+01:00

Since I know that my fellow Fridge Soupers are always ready to give it a whirl ..... gastronomically , that is .... here is an amuse gueule from the Michelin-starred Ivy restaurant in Rotterdam

A cornet made of tomato and licorice , filled with picalilli ice-cream and topped with this year's Big Sensation , knettersuiker ( which is supposed to be a lot like that Moon Dust stuff that crackled in your mouth) .

Apparently , if you order the 11 course menu , you can expect little treats like this to pop up from time to time . Though , if you work your way right through the whole eleven courses , one or two other things might pop , too .

I had to, I’m sorry.

2011-09-27T04:33:00.001+01:00

Better Than A Pea Brain?

2011-09-25T12:39:00.000+01:00

Maybe scientists will one day come up with a Robot Blogger Brain, and we can all go away and live our own lives while the robots blog in our stead...

Is it just me?

2011-09-24T18:40:00.000+01:00

I read a lot. This week I read a novel(*) passed to me by my Infinitely Better Half who judged it "quite a good story, but some of the plot contrivances strain one's ability to suspend disbelief, and definitely too wordy." (She's good at that sort of thing.)

In a scene where one of the female leads is submitting to love-making with her second husband for who she has no real affection, the author says - "Caroline noticed . . . the way her husband fought for breath, the way his eyes crossed as he neared his climax."

Now, perhaps it's just me, but I was incapacitated by hysterical laughter for a good 10 minutes, I kid you not, after reading that.

What do other Fridge Soupers think? Ladies?

(*) "The Legacy" by Katherine Webb. Orion Books. Available from A**Z*N. Pretty good reviews.

Vignettes of Canadian Life

2011-09-22T17:37:00.001+01:00

Somehow when I think of a restful, meditative withdrawal from everyday life, this is not what comes to mind.

Language

2011-09-18T11:20:00.004+01:00

Just as some people are good with numbers and some (me!) are not, some people are good with words and some are not. I think it's genetic.
I know a woman who recently retired from a long professional career, who pronounces some words in oddly creative ways. They're words she's seen written on a page, but somehow she sees, and says, things that aren't there.
She perks up peridot with not only an extra vowel, but an extra syllable, pronouncing it pair'-ee-o-do'. Something about the sound of it makes me want to square dance while wearing lots of pale green gemstones: Periodot and do-si-do!
Applying the same rule, the screening test for breast cancer becomes, in her mouth, mammy-o-gram, a pronunciation that thrusts into my mind a vision of Al Jolson on his knees delivering a singing telegram to me while I stand with part of my upper body clamped in a vise operated by Hattie McDaniel.
My acquaintance is not alone in her use of "unthaw," as in, "Oh drat! I forgot to take the turkey out of the freezer to unthaw. Now Christmas dinner will be three days late."
I've recently heard that from so many quarters that I predict that unthaw will become part of the language and will mean . . . thaw.

Vignettes of Canadian Life

2011-09-18T05:56:00.001+01:00

Your best guess at what kind of a business this is, and no googling it first!

At the Doctor

2011-09-17T23:54:00.000+01:00

a pass along story that showed up in my email -- hope it will be new to you all

   I was due for an appointment with the gynecologist later in the week. Early one morning, I received a call from the doctor's office to tell me that I had been rescheduled for that morning at 9:30 am.

   I had only just packed everyone off to work and school, and it was already around 8:45am. The trip to his office took about 35 minutes, so I didn't have any time to spare.

   As most women do, I like to take a little extra effort over hygiene when making such visits, but this time I wasn't going to be able to make the full effort.

   So, I rushed upstairs, threw off my pajamas, wet the washcloth that was sitting next to the sink, and gave myself a quick wash in that area to make sure I was at least presentable. I threw the washcloth in the clothes basket, donned some clothes, hopped in the car and raced to my appointment.

   I was in the waiting room for only a few minutes when I was called in.

    Knowing the procedure, as I'm sure you do, I hopped up on the table, looked over at the other side of the room and pretended that I was inParisor some other place a million miles away.

     I was a little surprised when the doctor said, "My, we have made an extra effort this morning, haven't we?"
I didn't respond....

     After the appointment, I heaved a sigh of relief and went home. The rest of the day was normal. Some shopping, cleaning, cooking.

     After school when my 6 year old daughter was playing, she called out from the bathroom, "Mommy, where's my washcloth?"

      I told her to get another one from the cupboard. She replied, "No, I need the one that was here by the sink, it had all my glitter and sparkles saved inside it."

Never going back to that doctor. Ever

Equal Rights

2011-09-13T18:24:00.005+01:00

A Dutch Do It Yourself chain is moving with the times and to prove this they've stuck this folder through our letterboxes .

Neither of us is naturally handy , so I was delighted to see that they were holding workshops . Marvellous ! I've always wanted to know how to put a washer on a tap or install a doorbell that rings . The possibilities for self improvement were , to be honest , endless so I quickly checked on line . Well , I don't know what our local branch has planned but others are already tempting the ladies with "Decorate A Letter With Wallpaper" , "Make Garlands With Soap" , "or "Make A Wooden Frame Yourself" . Not a spanner , slide rule or plumb line to be seen .
But rest assured , we won't feel neglected . There will be stalls with chocolates and jewellery , a beauty specialist and a stylist ... and everyone gets a goody bag to go home with . Can I have a How To folder and a couple of washers in mine ?

Oops!

2011-09-08T07:26:00.000+01:00

did you hear the one about . . . . .

2011-09-06T15:56:00.000+01:00

Two paddies were working for the city public works department.
One would dig a hole and the other would follow behind him and fill the hole in.

They worked up one side of the street, then down the other,
then moved on to the next street,
working furiously all day without rest,
one man digging a hole,
the other filling it in again.

An onlooker was amazed at their hard work,
but couldn't understand what they were doing.
So he asked the hole digger,

"I'm impressed by the effort you two are putting in to your work, but I don't get it -- why do you dig a hole, only to have your partner follow behind and fill it up again?"

The hole digger wiped his brow and sighed,

"Well, I suppose it probably looks odd because we're normally a three-person team.
But today the lad who plants the trees called in sick."

Any Irish readers who are now mortally offended may retaliate with a joke about any other nationality they care to choose.

I Thought It About Time...

2011-09-04T15:03:00.000+01:00

Somebody lowered the tone...(if not the bar)

before this blog becomes too serious...

...... Or This One?

2011-09-02T15:17:00.000+01:00

Never Argue with a Woman.

One morning, the husband returns the boat to their lakeside cottage after several hours of fishing and decides to take a nap.

Although not familiar with the lake, the wife decides to take the boat out.

She motors out a short distance, anchors, puts her feet up, and begins to read her book..

The peace and solitude are magnificent.

Along comes a Fish and Game Warden in his boat.

He pulls up alongside the woman and says,
'Good morning, Ma'am. What are you doing?'

'Reading a book,' she replies, (thinking, 'Isn't that obvious?')

'You're in a Restricted Fishing Area,' he informs her.

I'm sorry, officer, but I'm not fishing. I'm reading.'

'Yes, but I see you have all the equipment.
For all I know you could start at any moment.
I'll have to take you in and write you up.'

  'If you do that, I'll have to charge you with sexual assault,' says the woman.

'But I haven't even touched you,' says the Game Warden.

'That's true, but you have all the equipment.
For all I know you could start at any moment.'

'Have a nice day ma'am,' and he left.

MORAL:
Never argue with a woman who reads.

It's likely she can also think.

Have you all seen this one?

2011-08-31T20:26:00.000+01:00

After Quasimodo's death, the bishop of the Cathedral of Notre Dame sent word through the streets of Paris that a new bell ringer was needed.

The bishop decided that he would conduct the interviews personally and went up into the belfry to begin the screening process.

After observing several applicants demonstrate their skills, he had decided to call it a day.

Just then, an armless man approached him and announced that he was there to apply for the bell ringer's job. The bishop was incredulous.

'You have no arms !'

'No matter,' said the man. 'Observe !'

And he began striking the bells with his face, producing a beautiful melody on the carillon.

The bishop listened in astonishment; convinced he had finally found a replacement for Quasimodo.

But suddenly, as he rushed forward to strike the bell, the armless man tripped and plunged headlong out of the belfry window to his death in the street below.

The stunned bishop rushed down two hundred and ninety five church steps, when he reached the street, a crowd had gathered around the fallen figure, drawn by the beautiful music they had heard only moment before.

As they silently parted to let the bishop through, one of them asked,

'Bishop, who was this man ?'.

'I don't know his name,' the bishop sadly replied,

( scroll down )

' ................ BUT HIS FACE RINGS A BELL'

WAIT ! WAIT ! There's more

The following day, despite the sadness that weighed heavily on his heart due to the unfortunate death of the armless campanologist, the bishop continued his interviews for the bell ringer of Notre Dame.

The first man to approach him said, 'Your Excellency, I am the brother of the poor armless wretch that fell to his death from this very belfry yesterday.

I pray that you honour his life by allowing me to replace him in this duty.'

The bishop agreed to give the man an audition, and, as the armless man's brother stooped to pick up a mallet to strike the first bell, he groaned, clutched at his chest, twirled around, and died on the spot.

Two monks, hearing the bishop's cries of grief at this second tragedy, rushed up the stairs to his side.

'What has happened ? Who is this man ?' the first monk asked breathlessly.

'I don't know his name,' sighed the distraught bishop, 'but..'

(. . . Wait for it ...)

(.. . . It's worth it.. ..)

'HE'S A DEAD RINGER FOR HIS BROTHER.'

Fun for Lexophiles

2011-08-26T12:30:00.000+01:00

* A bicycle can't stand alone; it is two tired.
* A will is a dead giveaway.
* Time flies like an arrow; fruit flies like a banana.
* A backward poet writes inverse.
* A chicken crossing the road: poultry in motion.
* When a clock is hungry it goes back four seconds.
* The guy who fell onto an upholstery machine was fully recovered.
* You are stuck with your debt if you can't budge it.
* He broke into song because he couldn't find the key.
* A calendar's days are numbered.
* A boiled egg is hard to beat.
* He had a photographic memory which was never developed.
* The short fortuneteller who escaped from prison: a small medium at large.
* Those who get too big for their britches will be exposed in the end.
* When you've seen one shopping center you've seen a mall.
* If you jump off a Paris bridge, you are in Seine.
* When she saw her first strands of gray hair, she thought she'd dye.
* Santa's helpers are subordinate clauses.
* Acupuncture: a jab well done.
* Marathon runners with bad shoes suffer the agony of de feet.
* The roundest knight at king Arthur's round table was Sir Cumference. He acquired his size from too much pi.
* I thought I saw an eye doctor on an Alaskan island, but it turned out to be an optical Aleutian.
* She was only a whisky maker, but he loved her still.
* A rubber band pistol was confiscated from algebra class because it was a weapon of math disruption.
* No matter how much you push the envelope, it'll still be stationery.
* A dog gave birth to puppies near the road and was cited for littering.
* Two silk worms had a race. They ended up in a tie.
* A hole has been found in the nudist camp wall. The police are looking into it.
* Atheism is a non-prophet organization.
* I wondered why the baseball kept getting bigger. Then it hit me.
* A sign on the lawn at a drug rehab center said: 'Keep off the Grass.'
* A small boy swallowed some coins and was taken to a hospital. When his grandmother telephoned to ask how he was, a nurse said, 'No change yet.'
* The soldier who survived mustard gas and pepper spray is now a seasoned veteran.
* Don't join dangerous cults: practice safe sects.

Patty-Cake Pussies

2011-08-25T09:42:00.001+01:00

Fridge Soupers and cat lovers everywhere might enjoy this video

The voice-over was added after the video recording was shot. Over 11 million views on YouTube, apparently.

Pilling the dogs

2011-08-20T07:52:00.001+01:00

Medicating dogs is a variable business.

Some dogs will happily take and swallow anything that comes from a human hand.

Some dogs, I hear (I've never lived with one of them) will scarf up a pill that is simply dropped on the floor in front of them. Maybe it's good I have never lived with one of those dogs: I drop a lot of things, pills of every description included.

Some dogs require peanut butter as a buffer. They love peanut butter so much that they'll lick up a whole glob of it and get so interested in removing the sticky goo from the roofs of their mouths that they don't even notice the pills.

For those who believe that specially made products

are the answer, there are Greenies Pill Pockets ...

. . . and something called Medi-Crunch...

. . . and any number of other gimmicky items that Other People use successfully. I've heard the happy stories. It is my opinion that if a dog likes a Pill Pocket or a Medi-Crunch, they'd like any old thing that one could smear over the medication, but then . . . after, lo, these many years, I have become jaded about the whole topic.

My dogs were quite easily fooled, for months, by dabs of butter. Then we moved on to a liverwurst disguise.

No more.

Ground beef seems to be working these days.

At $3.99 per pound.

But thank God they aren't spoiled.

Pieces of a book

2011-08-14T16:53:00.003+01:00

I read this book months ago, and made notes of some of its descriptions. I have had these waiting for a post on Aging Gratefully and I haven't done it yet, so this qualifies as Fridge Soup material.

I don't know that I think the descriptions are mellifluous (the first one makes me think of those lists of students' similes . . . "her teeth were straight and white as a picket fence..." that are just . . . unfortunate) but they strike me as so creative!

For book review click here--> Deceit by James Siegel

page 91

Staring at me with those muted features, as if he'd somehow missed his final trimester as a fetus.

page 97 This struck me as a useful bit of free psychotherapy.

I'm perpetually famished for love and approval----this according to Dr. Payne, who tried mightily to delve into the underlying reasons for my sociopathic behavior.
You had an absent father and an alcoholic and abusive mother, he concluded, so what else would you do but seek massive and extreme pats on the back?

Sounded sensible to me.

page 102 I think this one's kind of . . . awful...

I'd woken up with what felt like a stupid grin on my face. It was confirmed when I stared in the shower-fogged mirror and didn't see Mr. Dour staring back.

page 119

There was a brief silence, as if her allusion to sex had consumed all available air, then I asked her how her father was doing.

page 141 What? How does this happen?

Luiza's little body followed her head through the door.
She averted my eyes...

page 218

"Right," Nate said, "That's going to be easy," exhibiting a sarcasm rare for him. Maybe it was his newly wounded heart----there he was skating through life, and he'd gone and taken his first tumble. He was all skinned innocence and bloodied optimism.

page 237

"The doctor says Nate's going to be fine. He was very lucky. The bullet went right through his rib cage----it missed his major arteries."
She kept nodding up and down, up and down, drinking in the news in big thirsty gulps.

This Needs Sharing....

2011-08-12T13:11:00.001+01:00

I discovered it a moment ago thanks to Don't Feed The Pixies and thought how well it describes namby pambies the world over...

Direct From London

2011-08-10T12:23:00.003+01:00

Seen in London's Evening Standard on Tuesday:

At least some Londoners are keeping their sense of humour in the face of adversity . This from @Punbelievable: "Reports from Hampton Court Palace suggest a small quartet of men in heraldic costume have just begun luting" .

I bet...

2011-08-05T11:51:00.003+01:00

I bet this will be the first time you've ever seen a post box wearing a brick hat...
.

or a hat as glamorous as this one!

Both were spotted in Havant this morning, at 9.30 a.m. What sights a gal can see when she's out without a gun, but with a camera....

Guilt

2011-08-01T15:23:00.003+01:00

He stood in the checkout queue just before me . With a big , goofy grin , stubbly and simple , he glanced about , laughing to himself and jerking . Like everyone else , I avoided eye-contact .
His turn came , the girl asked for 60 cents , he turned over a few coins in his hand and held them out . She took three 20 cent coins , rang it up and thanked him, wishing him a pleasant weekend , and off he shuffled .
I paid for the couple of last minute bits and pieces I'd picked up and went out to collect my bike .
He was perched awkwardly on the bike rack , opening the packet of cheap luncheon meat he'd bought . He sniffed it nervously and peered at the label .
"Mevrouw? Can I ask something ? What day is it ?"
"Saturday". Then I realised that he needed the date .
"It's the 30th ." He peered again at the label .
"Can I help you? ", I had to ask and went over .
The sell by date was in August so I could reassure him it was good . But what was he going to eat it with ?
"Wouldn't you like some bread with it?", offering him the only thing I had that roughly corresponded .... raisin bread .
"Oh , no . I have bread "and he smiled happily . He opened his tatty plastic bag and showed me two curling slices of the cheapest supermarket bread , resting on top of some old clothes .
I wished him Bon Appetit and left him tucking in to his feast . But I should have taken him home .... he was just a not very bright three-year old , lost until the homeless hostel opened again at 6.

Today , while waiting in our accountant's reception area , I noticed a defibrillator on the wall .

Perhaps Pandas Need Friko's Help...

2011-07-30T10:12:00.005+01:00

As this photo suggests...
plus the following article I read online recently. I quote...

Breakthroughs in captive panda breeding herald new hopes for wild populations. Researchers employed methods ranging from sex education videos to Viagra in order to stimulate natural behaviour.
Rare interactions between aroused pairs often ended in disappointment, however. Male pandas have proportionately short penises meaning pairs must adopt a very exact position in order to mate. During their observations, researchers found that pandas demonstrated poor knowledge of this position.Most techniques failed, and many encounters between pandas turned aggressive and violent.Scientists therefore had to rely upon artificial insemination, but their efforts were again subject to the pandas' peculiar reproductive cycle.Panda pregnancies can last anything from 11 weeks to 11 months and can remain undetected until shortly before birth.

Who deleted my cattle in the field post?

2011-07-29T22:28:00.000+01:00

Where did it go?

I am seriously cross with whoever did that, and would like an explanation, please.
Actually, I wasn't aware that anyone else has the means to do that.

Sorry Jinksy, for bringing the comments on your post to an untimely end.

No Reason Or Rhyme

2011-07-29T10:15:00.001+01:00

by jinksy

Other than to wake somebody up...anybody?

Divorce 19th Century Style

2011-07-23T23:57:00.000+01:00

A remarkable superstition still prevails among the lowest of our Vulgar, that a man may lawfully sell his wife to another, provided he delivers her over with a halter about her neck.

Brand - Observations of Popular Antiquities 1813

They came into the market between ten and eleven o'clock in the morning, the woman being led by a halter which was fastened round her neck and the middle of her body. In a few minutes after their arrival she was sold to a man of the name of Thomas Snape, a nailer of Burntwood. The purchase money was 2s 6d, and all the parties seemed satisfied with the bargain. The husband was glad to get rid of his frail rib, who, it seems, had been living with Snape for three years.

The Wolverhampton Chronicle 1837

ANNOUNCEMENT

2011-07-22T19:55:00.001+01:00

Doctor FTSE has just been honoured by Carolina joining his Very Silly Blog as his 99th follower.

On yer marks!

Get Set!

GO!

(The position was filled, folks, within minutes! HEHEHE!)

The Evolution of Language

2011-07-20T00:34:00.000+01:00

I just received a thank you card from a (well brought up) young woman who lives in Santa Cruz. In her note she excused herself for being "Skater-brained". Whether or not this was a spelling error, I found it a brilliant modern, surfer dude take on scatter-brained. This one's a keeper.

This England

2011-07-17T23:53:00.000+01:00

Blowing Hot and Cold

How can the French expect to attract our tourist trade? This year, at five different French hotels, the tap marked 'C' turned out to be 'H'.

Letter in Evening Chronicle

(This England, when it still cost two shillings and sixpence)

2011-07-14T09:59:00.001+01:00

Serious Fridge Voyeurs should look HERE . . .

What IS the deal with Montreal truckers?

2011-07-14T06:36:00.002+01:00

Wednesday. 4:30pm arrives (that's 16:30 for the Europeans among us) and I leave the office. I get into my little tiny maroon Mazda and creep out of the village and onto the interstate highway. I check my rearview mirrors and see that the traffic behind me is moving over; I will be able to enter the traveling lane without getting squashed.
So far, so good.
I accelerate to the speed limit and set my cruise control.
There, suddenly beside me, is a monolith of a tractor-trailer. It seems to be traveling at nearly the same speed as I. It is only a two-lane highway. I feel a little crowded, with him there just next to me, the trailer's tall wall-like side towering over my little sedan, blocking out the daylight. Usually, traffic, particularly of the large heavy truck variety, sails on by.
Ah, he's moving ahead a little now. Good.
The end of the trailer is a mere ten feet ahead of me when I see the directional signal come on. He's moving back into my lane with bare inches to spare. If he touches his brake pedal or if some mischance lessens the distance between us by a few inches, I'll be right underneath his axle.
Cruise control: off!
I fall back a little to give him plenty of room, thinking: Gotta be a Montrealer.
Et voila! Je suis correct! Le nom de la société sur la cabine du camion est canadien, basé à Montréal.

Quel surprise...

Husband used to travel to Montreal every week. He came home with tales of traveling on St. Hyacinthe highway: everyone traveling at eighty-five miles per hour, and all six inches apart.
Those guys need to understand that here, there's LOTS OF ROOM.
No NEED to nestle up against any available vehicle.
Maybe they just don't *get* the concept of adequate personal space for vehicles.

The article that accompanies the photo above includes this line: "Provincial police are still trying to determine what caused the 16-metre trailer to flip."
Well, hell! I can tell 'em.
The guy was traveling at a ridiculous rate of speed, four inches from every other moving or stationary object. Case closed.

Beat The Jam

2011-07-13T19:49:00.002+01:00

Ten past eight this morning , and cars blocked the road into town . As I cycled west , a smartly dressed middle aged man with horn rim specs and a briefcase whizzed east on the opposite bike lane ..... on a skateboard .

Don't Look!

2011-07-08T23:34:00.001+01:00

Hey, big boy!

Interesting!

Voyeur!

What do you want, should I not go for walks any more? Leave my camera at home, maybe? Or would you want me to waste these snaps?

Anyone For Tennis?

2011-07-03T13:02:00.000+01:00

Lottie Dod

1871-1960

In the Special Sporting Edition of Lilliput of June 1950, Denzil Batchelor wrote:

She is the greatest English all-rounder her sex has produced up to now. She began her career of pre-eminence in several sports by winning the Wimbledon singles in 1887 at the age of fifteen. She went on to win the title five times before retiring unbeaten in 1893. Next she turned to golf, at which she played in international matches and won the national championships in 1904. There was also hockey; she twice played for England against Ireland. She was also in the first flight as an archer, as well as being one of the most accomplished skaters of her day.

Well done, Lottie.

PS: Does that mean Victorian ladies had legs ?

A Lament....

2011-07-01T21:03:00.000+01:00

I'm so tired;
I'm so sore.
Ain't gonna do it for a nickel no more.
Fifteen cents is now my price.
Gimme a quarter and I'll do it twice.

Shine, mister?

My contribution to the Butterfly Effect

2011-06-26T12:54:00.000+01:00

I have recently had moments of Omnipotence.

A ladybug trapped in a puddle of condensation on the picnic table. On its back, legs working, wings trying to flip it right side up. I lowered my finger, its legs latched on for dear life, I raised it out of the water and flicked it into the grass.
I was near the open front door. A bee flew inside. A honeybee. Honeybees need to be outdoors doing their jobs so that the vegetables will flourish. I held up both my hands in a pushing position. The bee turned right around and flew out again.
A bumblebee caught between the glass and screen of the livingroom window. A water glass, a piece of paper: a bumblebee released to freedom.
A tiny spider rappelling toward the kitchen counter from the wall cabinet above. I caught her thread on my finger and took her, swinging in the breeze, to the shrubs outdoors.
A tiny green Jiminy Cricket in my sink. Caught in my hands, transferred to his natural habitat, the Great Outdoors.

If the Butterfly Effect is real, I might have played havoc with the entire universe this week.

Image source

Tanka Time

2011-06-23T18:11:00.001+01:00

In a grey landscape
bright colours lift the spirits.
Paint on a brave face,
and all who come in contact
with you, the artist, will smile.

Blame all this on a strange lady called Penny, who likes playing games!

Makes A Change From Cod And Chips

2011-06-23T16:26:00.005+01:00

Rosary .

A rosary of jellified Jerusalem artichoke bouillon surrounding king crab , crab salad , caviar and a cream of Jerusalem artichokes , it's described in yesterday's Volkskrant restaurant review as a culinary performance . The combination of lemon and hazel nuts , artichoke and crab was faultless ... the rosary itself rather bland apparently .

So given the distance , the length of the waiting list , the possible cost and my urgent need for supper now I might settle for something more plebeian .

But , if you're not in a hurry , Oud Kluis is the place and Sergio Herman's your man .

Car Salesmen Are People, Too

2011-06-20T21:54:00.001+01:00

From: Bob B*****

Sent: June-20-11 9:20 PM
To: debs@shaw.ca
Subject: Your car may need servicing

Dear Deb?,
A couple of months ago you were working with our Sales Department, but ended up purchasing your vehicle?at another dealership.??Even though we weren't able to provide you with your new vehicle, we would like to help you keep?the vehicle you did buy running the best that it can.? I am Bob B****?, the Service Manager here at CMP Automotive Ltd. ?.? I manage an award winning?group of service specialists.?
I would love the chance to show you why we are the best Service Department in the area.? Please call us at (403) 207-1011?and schedule your next oil change with us.? In fact, if you mention that you received this email when you schedule your?appointment, we'll give you 10% off our normal price.
Thank you for your consideration,
Bob ?
(403) 207-1011?

From: Deborah S [mailto:debs@gmail.com]
Sent: June-20-11 10:43 PM
To: 'Bob ‘'
Subject: RE: Your car may need servicing

Dear Bob,

Thanks for your note. I thought I’d just let you know that you didn’t miss out on a sale, and that no one else got one from me either. I decided just to keep the car I had, as nothing else seemed quite as right for me as it is.

But the real point of my writing back is to let you know that you need to check the formatting of your emails, as the punctuation seems firmly stuck at the question mark. It made me laugh, but I’m sure you don’t want that reaction from all of your prospective customers.

My son recently gave up his job in sales at a car dealership after a valiant effort, and thanks to his experience I can appreciate how difficult and sometimes dispiriting a job it is. I wouldn’t like to think that your apparent uncertainty might lose you a potential sale.

I wish you, quite sincerely, every success in this creative endeavour to bring in customers.

Deborah

Payback's a....

2011-06-19T11:52:00.000+01:00

I used to work with a woman who was grossly overweight. In her absence, to amuse my coworkers, I would, cruelly, do an impression of her, waddling up the aisle between desks, making steamboat horn noises.
And then I myself grew . . . large.

This is not my eye. My eyes are brown.

A few weeks ago, I noted the abnormal swellings on Fridge Soup's mascot's eyes. Now I have a puffy eye.
I suspect Friday's inordinately heavy application of eyelash primer and mascara as the culprits.

But I'm not ruling out Karma.

Look! Lorries Mating

2011-06-15T18:52:00.000+01:00

and that in broad daylight in the village square.

Quick, somebody throw a bucket of water before they rear up.

Rainy Sunday

2011-06-12T11:06:00.000+01:00

The Guardian newspaper has a Blind Date column; you can apply to feature in it, have a meal with a complete stranger and afterwards give your date marks out of 10.

Last week's couple:

she: 42, development manager
he: 42 advice sector deputy manager

What are those professions? Any ideas?

How about vicar for her and vicar's wife for him?

Rainy Saturday

2011-06-11T14:21:00.003+01:00

The gardens are loving it.
I think the raindrops tickle the leaves and make them giggle.
And the giggling makes them grow.

With that in mind I took all the hanging (and other) plants off the screenporch and put them outside. These are the plants that survived my lack of care over the indoor winter, so we know that they are strong specimens.

I can hear them tittering and chuckling from here.

Keeping The Peace In Europe Gets Trickier

2011-06-07T17:35:00.003+01:00

Naturally you won't be surprised to hear that a return trip from Amsterdam to Leeuwarden on Saturday night involved a lengthy detour and a spell on a German Intercity ( again ) . I should really start Twittering my travel plans .... it would be kind to warn others of my intentions so that they can , at least , choose another day to venture on a train .
But , be that as it may , there we all were , standing four-deep on Amersfoort platform as the Schiphol to Bad Bentheim train drew in . And in we all streamed . In the last couple of months , the line north undergoing extensive repairs , we northeners have become remarkably used to this little diversion . The occasional German traveller less so .
We now all feel thoroughly at home . Refreshments are eaten , shoes are eased off , jokes are shared . Gezellig, hoor !
But this time there was a slight frisson . There was something unspoken in the air ....
Till one Dutch woman joined in a conversation about menu plans for the following day . They , she announced , were going to eat lots of salad . Cucumber salad . "So HEALTHY !! ".
Fortunately the train drew into Deventer at this point and we all got out , leaving the German passengers in peace .
Anyway , now it's Tuesday and it's BEAN SPROUTS that are the culprits . With any luck , now the outbreak seems to be subsiding and Dutch cucumber growers ( who don't diversify but have placed all their bets on that one vegetable) can begin to harvest and sell their produce again .
But when my favourite little cucumber , origin unknown , will reappear , Heaven knows .
But I wished the rather nervous couple left in "our" carriage a pleasant journey before I fled .

Jonathan Franzen’s 10 Rules for Writers

2011-06-05T10:25:00.001+01:00

The reader is a friend, not an adversary, not a spectator.
Fiction that isn't an author's personal adventure into the frightening or the unknown isn't worth writing for anything but money.
Never use the word "then" as a conjunction – we have "and" for this purpose. Substituting "then" is the lazy or tone-deaf writer's non-solution to the problem of too many "ands" on the page.
Write in the third person unless a really distinctive first-person voice offers itself irresistibly.
When information becomes free and universally accessible, voluminous research for a novel is devalued along with it.
The most purely autobiographical fiction requires pure invention. Nobody ever wrote a more autobiographical story than "The Metamorphosis".
You see more sitting still than chasing after.
It's doubtful that anyone with an internet connection at his workplace is writing good fiction (the TIME magazine cover story detailed how Franzen physically disables the Net portal on his writing laptop).
Interesting verbs are seldom very interesting.
You have to love before you can be relentless.^[3

Jonathan Franzen, author of The Corrections and Freedom, among others.

How Times Change

2011-06-03T22:23:00.000+01:00

Everybody has now seen - or at least heard of - the film 'The King's Speech'.

How about this little episode for an understanding of the king's speech:

Between coming to the throne and the outbreak of war, sometime between 1936 and 1938, George VI and his Queen visited Canada. Getting off the train on a whistle-stop tour to go walkabout they were greeted by enthusiastic crowds of people.

One horny-handed son of toil shouted: " Hi ya, King".
To which the King replied: "I'm fine, thank you, how are you".

Mantra Dancing

2011-06-02T16:06:00.004+01:00

Sonata:

I saw this poster on the notice board in the supermarket

Tempted? No dance skills required , apparently .

I wonder what mantras are chanted . Do you think they begin in a circle , cups of chamomile in hand , and throw it open to discussion ? Or does the leader choose ? Perhaps , as the dance develops and they're all weaving about , it grows organically .

But , if you get to pick your own , I think mine might be "this too will pass" .

( Hands up all those who , at first glance , thought it said Mattress Dancing . Just me , then ?) .

P.S. I'm not deliberately ignoring everyone else's posts . Fridge Soup commenting is a privilege I seem to have lost .... Blogger is such a bundle of surprises ! And Google Chrome is definitely a step too far for my 9 year-old computer that was , granny-like , so proud of its Windows XP prowess .

Sweet relief.

2011-06-01T10:58:00.000+01:00

We have gone from March weather to July weather here. From too cold to be able to do anything outdoors to wanting to be outdoors every minute, and not wanting to miss a minute of it all in sleep.
In the Cold And Dark Time my world shrinks to house, barn, work and the drive thereto and therefrom. Every bit of it is work: stoke the fire, bring in wood, listen and feel the car on the icy, snowy roads. I need to be in control of my environment for safety and comfort.
In the Light And Warm Time, Life goes on without my contribution. Birds dart and sing, leaves and flowers grow, I am physically comfortable without any effort.

It's such a relief to let the world take care of itself!

The Genderless Baby

2011-05-28T15:08:00.000+01:00

Have you seen this?
When I read the article this morning I thought, yet again, that there ought to be licensing required for parenthood.
In a country that requires helmets for just about everything, licenses for just about everything and in which doctors are promoting the idea of a tax credit based on one's BMI, it is still seen as perfectly alright for anyone and everyone to have a child and then visit any sort of strange upbringing on the unfortunate little one.
The parents want the child to be judged by more than 'what's between its legs', yet have set up a situation in which that will be the first thing on everyone's mind.
Just when you think you've seen it all..........

Not shy, but retiring

2011-05-28T12:01:00.003+01:00

Yesterday at lunchtime, we had a gathering in honor of the court clerk's retirement.

The court clerk is a miserable woman.

Miserable.

Complains all the time.

About everything.

If you say, "It's a beautiful day!"

she'll mutter, "Oh! I'm so far behind in my yardwork! I'm gonna have to work like a dog now that the weather's finally good."

So we mostly steer clear of her. How can you have a conversation with somebody who's never . . . ever . . . happy about anything, but always looking for the cloud in front of the silver lining?

But the judge told everybody three times a day for a week the time and place and came and rounded us all up at the appointed hour. So we all went.

It was like a wake.

She didn't want to be there.

We didn't want to be there.

Every attempt at conversation ended after one exchange.

It was awful. Like a wake. But less fun.

Has it occurred to anyone else

2011-05-27T02:05:00.000+01:00

...that our Fridge Soup mascot has terrible styes?

I Was Just About to , Honest ....

2011-05-26T20:03:00.002+01:00

I was on the point of posting , Friko . It had just taken slightly longer to rework Prothalamion in 16th Century Friesian for the delight and delectation of my fellow Fridge Soupers than I thought .
But now that you've posted Ogden Nash's delightful ode to a duck , I can put Spenser's silken swans back in the drawer for another time ....
P.S. Deborah must have super IT skills I can only envy . Blogger won't let me comment at all .

Cluck Cluck?

2011-05-26T10:25:00.000+01:00

The Duck

Behold the duck.

It does not cluck.

A cluck it lacks.

It quacks.

It is specially fond

Of a puddle or pond.

When it dines or sups,

It bottoms ups.

Ogden Nash

Quacking or clucking, a sign of life would be nice?
Is everybody on holiday, gardening, looking after grandchildren?
Any excuse will be fine, so long as it's printable.

Vignettes of Life in France (#10 in a series)

2011-05-16T22:20:00.001+01:00

As you might have heard, things are hopping in Cannes. The last time my Favourite Belgian and I made an impromptu visit to the festival, we failed to see a single famous face and went home, only to find out the next day that U2 gave an impromptu concert on the steps of the Palais des Festivals moments after we left.

A friend persuaded me to give it another chance this year. We spent the day strolling the Croisette but missed Brad Pitt(who looks more and more like Johnny Depp) drumming up business for The Tree of Life (which was booed), and could only speculate who was in the helicopter that made the 30 second flight between a rather large yacht and the rear entrance of the Palais des Festivals. I doubled-checked all the tall blondes for signs of being Uma Thurman but they seemed mostly to be Slovenian wannabes.

But the day was not spent in vain! Here’s what we did see:

Mere steps from the red carpet were these two insouciant fellas. That’s their boat in the background.

And this could only be a famous French film director, blending in with the locals at a sidewalk cafe. Or was he actually the man my friend’s Monday horoscope meant when it exhorted her to :’ Head for a beautiful seaside resort. You'll meet someone with a sexy voice and attractive build!’? We’ll never know – his hair put her off.

The Rue d’Antibes, one street in front from the Croisette. While Armani and Dolce and Gabbana have prime seafront locations, there are way more people on the Rue d’Antibes, mainly because the shops there have stuff you can actually afford. I came home with two bathmats for 15Euros and had a 3-hour lunch with the blonde in black-and-white.

My first car

My next car

Oh! My double – on, or near, the red carpet!! No wonder she looks happy, with her very own bodyguard to muscle autograph seekers out of the way.

That’s it, my celebrity stalking is over for this year. Although, if I run into Helen Mirren at the supermarket (she’s got a house just over the road) I’ll be letting you know.

New adventure

2011-05-05T23:48:00.000+01:00

If one is to have a tire blow out...it is best to have it on a sunny, if windy, day . . . on a highway where there is a good shoulder to pull over . . . where the view is forever of greening fields and trees of bright green, chartreuse, gold, and the hawks stand still overhead looking back at their observer.
It is good to have roadside assistance on one's cellphone service so that the truck shows up in twenty minutes and one is back on one's way within a half hour after the "pop! rumblerumblerumble."

And it is good to come home safe, not having been blown over by passing eighteen-wheelers.

True Story

2011-05-03T18:42:00.001+01:00

I've posted about the weekend's May Festival at Valley's End at my blog. One of the attractions was a stall with a man who had all sorts of small animals to show. As you might imagine, he was very popular with the children.

With each animal he had a few bits of information, something about the creature's nature, its natural habitat, etc. When he held up a gerbil, he explained that this particular one came from the Andes. To involve the children, he also asked them questions.

"Does anybody know where the Andes are", he called out.
"At the end of our armies", came the instant answer. I kid you not, I swear it's true.

The old ones are still the best.

Tidying Up

2011-04-27T16:56:00.004+01:00

As instructed , I've just cleared the back of my fridge of recent scraps :

I parted with nearly seventy Euros at the DIY shop and spent Easter weekend up a ladder painting the outside of our kitchen window frame. I'm now going to find out what a housepainter charges per hour.

The pre-schoolers were asked today what their favourite fruit was . Most liked apples and bananas , the odd one liked grapes . The really odd one said " Mine is pears because they taste like bananas ."

There is such a thing as being too diffident . An extremely polite friend was told last week on the 'phone that there was no need to see the doctor about her sprained ankle . Today she finally asked again and ended up spending the rest of the morning in A&E . She'd actually broken it .

Double Dactyl

2011-04-25T08:17:00.000+01:00

Happily drinkily,

cheekily tiddley,

here's to the toper with

bottomless pit.

Boozily tippleing-

multihysterical-

after the wine has gone,

who gives a s**t?

N.B. This was inspired by the name only, not by anything enclosed in a bottle!

Good luck sis

2011-04-18T17:44:00.002+01:00

My parents live in an apartment that is actually ours and they have bought new flooring. It’s something that looks like wood, but isn’t. And it’s not laminate flooring either. Nor is it vinyl. Oh no! Dare not say that it’s nice vinyl flooring, because my mother will kill you with her eyes! It’s PVC (I think). And it was very expensive. So there!

My mother turned 80 last month, my father is 87, or 88, I’m not quite sure. Anyway, they are at the age that their friends tend to exchange earth for eternity. With that thought in mind, my mother said: “When we die, and you’re going to sell the apartment, you’ll have to remove the flooring and lay it in your house. You can easily remove it and it wasn’t a cheap floor (we know mom, we know), and other people will perhaps not appreciate it and throw it in a skip. That will be such a shame!”

“We have to lay it in our house?”, I said.

“Or don’t you like it!”, she snapped.

“Yeah. I like it here. But not in my house”, I carefully tried to soften the blow. “Besides, you’ll be dead. I don’t think you’ll be that interested in what happens to your floor when you're dead. You’ll have other things on your mind.”

And then she gave me that look that I always get. The one in which she suggests I’m not all there upstairs. If you know what I mean.
I just think I’m funny. In the ‘haha’ way.
She’ll probably try to convince my sister next that she needs a new floor in her house somewhere, when they can’t enjoy their NOT vinyl floor themselves anymore.

Surely I'm far too young to be saying 'in the old days', but here I am, saying it

2011-04-17T23:03:00.000+01:00

Jinksy's typewriter post made me all nostalgic. I learned to type on a bangy-bangy old typewriter when I trained to be a medical secretary in the late 1970s, and in our classroom were two brand-new up-to-the-minute wondrous machines called (awed intake of breath) 'electronic typewriters'. We secretarial students were on a rota to use them in lessons as there were only the two and it was seen as a special treat. If you were naughty in lessons (as in, you brushed your hair before the bell went), you could forget your treat and you were kept on the old machines.

Now, I yearn for the days when just about the only thing that could go wrong with your typewriter was that the ribbon needed changing, and it was something we were all taught to do. And my typewriter never hated me in the way my computer seems to even though I bashed hell out of it ....

One I Wish I'd Written!

2011-04-17T19:59:00.000+01:00

My Typist
by Anthony C Payne

My typist is on her vacation
My typist’s away for a week:
My typist is on her vacation,
and these dam’ keys plau hode and seek.

On Minday I tride to wrote letyers
To sOme if our clietsn in Spain’
On Tuesday I hid to detroy th%m,
An write THem all ou7 once ag3in.

On WeenndsewesdaoiOy the office was busz
And I rell6 didn’t habe tome,
In Thrusdat I had to trpe faster
TO wr9t3 up “he min&tes in time.

On Frid9ay the pikles of blink papapaer
Which had to br trped wer@ immense.
Think ggodneses she crems bacle next Monda
And all WILL Aga9n mak3 godd sense.

With thanks to the KRAKX MAGAZINE, c/o 63 Dixon Lane, Leeds, LS12 4RR, UK

WLTM

2011-04-15T16:25:00.005+01:00

Seen today in the local shopping center :

" The Bilgaard Shopping Center Seeks Bicycle Shop "

Presumably for a LTR , not to mention ASAP . And , since the recently revamped center still has lots of empty spaces , ACA .

Brave New World, by Google

2011-04-13T06:25:00.001+01:00

After a donation made via Google some weeks ago, I received this email tonight. Not even joking.

Dear Deborah S,

Thanks for your recent purchase from Japanese Red Cross Society.

We'd appreciate hearing and sharing your experience. Please take a moment to tell us about it by filling in the form below. We will publish your review online so that others can learn from your experience. Your review will be linked to your Google account.

( )		Excellent: I would definitely buy from this store again.
( )
( )
( )
( )		Poor: I would discourage others from this store.

How was your overall experience with this store?

Review by Deborah S

By publishing your review, a public profile on Google will automatically be created.
You can change the nickname associated with your account at any time. Anyone who knows your email address could discover your Profile. Learn more

[Publish this Review]

De-scent

2011-04-09T17:35:00.000+01:00

I am currently on a tear with scented lotions from Bath & Body Works. After every shower, I emerge from the bathroom wafting behind me a different citrusy or watery or flowery scent.

Husband is often not complimentary about scented things. I used to ask him if he liked this or that perfume, and he would always say, "It smells good." A pause. "It smells like angel food cake." Angel food cake was the only thing that ever came to his mind if he liked a scent. So I don't ask anymore. He doesn't like scent for himself either, which just boggles my mind. "I don't want people smelling me!" he remarks with great disgust.

A related story: I went to a Jafra Cosmetics party once and came home all made up in "cool" colors...blues, purples, pinks. My skin was white as Snow White's.
"How do I look?" I asked my husband.

"You look good. You look dead."

Yeah. I don't ask anymore.

High Art

2011-04-05T20:47:00.000+01:00

Willow's Magpie No. 59,

The Mona Lisa in the Louvres.

Not funny? Ok then, I'll blame others: Beloved came up with the original idea and Jay did the artwork.

Apres-alarm dreaming II

2011-04-02T03:33:00.001+01:00

I was meeting with my shrink in a huge huge auditorium size office.

"Do you have a copy of ...[some paper, a form for health care or something]?"

"Not with me, but it's in my employee file in Jane's office."

"You stay here and relax; I'll go get it," and he was out the door.

I sat in the chair my cheek atop a pillow that I was hugging. I dozed off. His secretary came in, looked around for him. I opened my eyes and said , "He'll be right back."

"Pardon me?"

I raised my voice as much as I could while half asleep: "He'll be back in a few minutes."

She left.

An official of Small Pond opened a side door and came into the auditorium/office. He greeted me with his faux bonhomie, stood looking around at the space for a minute and left. Other people came and went and eventually gathered as if for a meeting, a presentation of some kind, judging from the way they sat facing one wall.

The doctor came back, and strode the twenty feet from the door to my chair, leaned over and spoke softly to me. He's asking for [something] from your file, and what he's trying to do is completely illegal. Take this paper and go straight to the legal department."

I left the office and found myself in the big state office building where I used to work. I knew my office and the legal department were on a different floor but I couldn't remember if it was the fifth or sixth floor. I kept getting off the elevator and wandering around, getting lost in nooks and cul-de-sacs. I found the legal office and the attorney said to me, "Do nothing until you know what he's going to do. Do nothing until you have a piece of paper from him stating what the issue is." That made a great deal of sense to me, and I was relieved.

Then my sister was there, all in a righteous huff about what "they're trying to do to you." I wanted to concentrate on what I had to do and she kept asking questions and being angry and I hardly spoke to her, but just let her rant. I found another office and explained to the secretary what I needed to do to head off the threat (I think it was a threat of retirement on disability) before the official had gotten well started on his action. She handed me a black plastic object with labels on it. It was oblong, shaped like a shirt cardboard. "Write me a 'Joseph Lieber' letter and put it in an envelope and stick it right here." She pointed to the labeled spot in the middle of the object. "...and bring it back to me."

"I don't know what a 'Joseph Lieber' letter is," I told her.

She smiled and said, "I think I can remember..." She clasped her hands at her waist, tipped her head back and rolled her eyes up to the ceiling. "It's fifty-eight purely factual sentences, stating your case."

My sister and I rode up and down on the elevator for a while, she inanely chitchatting at people who wondered what in the world she was talking about. It was a Friday afternoon and they just wanted to get home. The elevator doors would open and I'd get out and she'd be in the middle of some monologue and miss the doors, so I would have to wait for her to realize that and come back. We finally got to the first floor and the exit doors and walked out. "No, this isn't right," she said, and turned to get back on the elevator.

"C, it is right. There are the doors right there."

Shrugging and giggling: "Oh."

She had come to give me a ride home. She couldn't remember where she had parked her car but knew it was in front of a real estate office. She stood still, gazing over a big parking lot full of vehicles. I looked over my shoulder, saw a realtor's sign on the building and asked if that was the one. "That's the one!" she said, and instantly saw her car.

We got out on the road. I was thanking my lucky stars that I would soon be home where I could mull over the day's developments.

"How about this! I'll treat you to a leg massage before we go home! Wouldn't that be nice? We can stop at the salon on the way and you can get all relaxed..." She wore her bright, tense, I'm being determinedly cheerful to take your mind off things face. Always, with her, the extra length added to any excursion.

"I don't think so. Not today. I have a headache and I want to get home."

And then I woke up. I did, in fact, have a headache, and needed a cup of coffee.

I Googled Joseph Lieber. I don't know anyone by that name and wondered where I had come up with it.

It's In The Bones

And "Joseph Lieber letter" brought me this: Swallowed Up in Space. It's only six sentences.

Things Seen ....

2011-03-29T19:46:00.003+01:00

Things I've seen this week . The woman , who lives round the corner , taking her parrot for a walk along the river . She in a long floaty dress , the parrot in neat grey feathers , perched on a stick . A young woman in thigh-high boots being pulled along the pavement by two Huskies .... and the green car , music chakkabooming , slowing down alongside . Young lads leaning out of the windows yelling and whistling before driving off with a screech . Her quiet giggle . A plump little girl , fat plaits sticking out either side , stomping along the street carrying a huge tabby cat lying on its back purring , paws in the air . The man cycling past with a long ladder under his arm . I do like living in town ..... ( This is appearing as one long paragraph , for some reason , despite my attempts to leave a line between each "thing seen". Blogger has a mind of its own . You'll have to edit it as you read . )