Not So Cheaper by the Dozen
making groceries shopping this morning at our local Waitrose, and I was a little plucked at the cost of eggs ... £2.15 a dozen (that's about 4 bucks stateside). I ended up with the least expensive I could find ... StoneGate Straw Bedded Eggs, which came in at 12.5p apiece.
According to the copy on the inside of the carton, I'm in for one cracking good omelette.
Straw Bedded Barn eggs from Stonegate are laid by hens housed in barns, in which there is plenty of space for them to roam and run around. Hens enjoy scratching, preening and dustbathing and the deep straw covered floor encourages these social activities.
The hens have easy access to clean food and water at all times and nest boxes provide a safe private place in which to lay their eggs. Straw Bedded Barn eggs are produced to the British Lion Code of Practice.
This makes for happy hens and tasty eggs!
I'm off to a henhouse of another sort in a few hours. In a valiant effort to earn extra pink stars on my gay card, I'll be seeing this tonight (which is so much more 'mo than Kelly) ...
Truth be told, I'm not a big fan. But when in
Rome London, might as well embrace the moment and see what the old bird has to offer.
She'll be wearing the feathers, and I'll be dancing with chicken.
April 27, 2005
Zen and the Art of Paper Training
Whenever I go back to my writing books ('cause it's always better to read about writing than actually do it), I end up pulling Bird by Bird off of the shelf.
Looking at one of my new favorite blogs today ('cause it's always better to read about getting organized than to get organized), I see an Anne-ism that I had forgotten about.
I haven't thought about Anne or Bird by Bird for awhile, now I'm gonna have to go back and revisit. I'm sure it will be like catching up with an old friend. Anybody remember when she used to write on Salon? Oh wait, I see she's back. Maybe it's me who strayed away.
Putting the puppy back on the paper. It's a secret we already know about, like trying to tame the monkey mind that Natalie Goldberg talks about.
Simple ... like learning to meditate. Just sit and count your breaths. 1, 2, 3, 4. And then repeat. Do that for 15-30 minutes a day. And when you forget what number you're on, go back to one and have a do-over.
Focus, lose focus, refocus.
Or as Samuel Beckett said, "fail again, fail better."
Now, where did I put that
Do what you love, and you will find someone who loves the same thing. Don't look for love, beg for love, or suffer for love. Just live.
This and other gems in Dan Savage's advice for 15-year old girls.
I'm often accused of being a 13-year old girl, so this might come in handy in a couple years.
April 26, 2005
Mind the Yap
You know what the best thing about cycling to work is?
Is it the feel-good way I start my day, getting into the office with a baby endolphin rush? Um, no. †Maybe itís using the showers at the gym instead of getting cleaned up at home ... more spacious stalls, I donít have to wash towels, and I see more naked strangers than in my flat. Nope. Itís not the sense of freedom or speed. †Itís not even missing being squished into rude/stupid/lazy
wankers commuters who wonít move into the center of the train, even when thereís plenty of room.
It could be all that and more, but itís not. †The best thing about cycling to work is the panicked look on pedestriansí faces when they think theyíre about to be run over by a simple cyclist in a helmet that looks like he put a pineapple on top of his head (or so I was told at the office today). †
These idiots just pop out of nowhere ... darting into my path from in between stopped buses and taxis like a giant whack-a-mole game turned on its side. And then, once the fear passes, seem incensed that a peddling passerby might be sharing their space.
For instance, this chubby chavette on todayís morning trek, yapping on her
cell phone mobile, dodging across the street between stopped cars (that didn't stop too close to each other, otherwise she clearly wouldn't have fit), pops through a break between vehicles, not paying a lick of attention to me (or others) coming down the road in a designated cycle path.
ďDing, ding.Ē †I hit the
gay little bell that came with my lindo locomotion. She jumped, then looked at me with a combination of disdain and disbelief ... still blathering into her Nokia, ďyeah but no but yeah but no, Iím gonna get run over by this git with a pineapple on his head.Ē
Alas, I didnít run her over. †Didnít want to run the risk of bending my rim so early in the morning (because twisted rims are so much better in the middle of the night, right?). But I did shake my head, muttering, ďcareful, dearĒ as I zipped past.
Maybe tomorrow Iíll carry a mallet and see how many points I can get.
April 23, 2005
Why on Earth?
I know, I could be out and about taking advantage of life outside my
apartment flat, doing one of the million things listed in my version of Time Out London (in which, I sadly found nary an eating contest.
But no, I'm having my own night of me time (altough not quite as
militant adamant about y'all being uninvited.
So it's me and the PowerBook, catching up on old friends (see links above ... and they're really not that old), and finding myself wondering how the geeks at Goooooogle choose their banner links.
I know, I've been asked before ... "just how does your brain work to come up with these questions??"
Case in point .... here is today's Google banner.
I'm only a little confused, because what do cartoonish inhabitants of the woods have to do with the anniversary of Shakespeare's birth *and* death (btw, Happy Bardsday, Bill) or the oft-debated celebration (or lack thereof) of St. George's day (still waiting on the "I killed a dragon and all I got was this random non-bank holiday" t-shirt).
Much to my surprise, I learned that today is also Earth day ... an event not widely advertised here on the little island we now home. Even more to my suprise is that Earth Day is 35 years old. That's almost a generation of tree huggers hurtling towards obscurity. Bless.
Do you think that the Earth Day folk new that it was Shakespeare's birthday? If so, wouldn't they have called it Globe Day?
The only Earth Day I can remember was more than a decade ago, standing in a crowded, sun-drenched Central Park, watching a free B-52s concert, thinking, "how cool would it be to live in New York?" (a quick Gooogle teaches me that said concert was in 1990, which was in fact a few years before I moved to New York).
Bottom line ... today is the anniversary of a whole bunch of stuff. So go kiss the earth, or brush up on your Shakespeare, or go slay a dragon. Roam if you want to.
I'm gonna go enjoy what's left of "me time."
April 22, 2005
So Much Culture, So Few Petrie Dishes
Just when I thought it was safe to have a productive Friday afternoon, this pops into the bobzyeruncle inbox ....
I know you don't know Eurovision from a hole in the ground, but in
preparation for the onslaught, I will endeavour to educate you in the
ways of the EuroGay Vietnam.
First thing you must know: It's (almost) all about the key changes (NB ... scroll to April 17 entry).
Thirty nations doing pop songs (none of which can be any longer than
three minutes) and sending their campest and occasionally most (frankly)
disturbing 'turns' out for our entertainment.
We've had everything from Post-Op transexuals to drag Queens dressed up
as Flight attendants. Three years ago, Greece sent these boys,
which was nice. The leather and rubber outfits were completed by black
leather traditional boots with the pom-poms on, and they did that
traditional Greek shuffle-Dance thing. it was like Zorba the Greek goes
to Strictly Leather night at The Hoist! For the entire three minutes,
all I could smell was Amyl, Sweat and Cheap Vinyl.
In summary, It's like American Idol, but with less cultural pretension....
Apparently one of the hosts of the main event in Kyiv keeps a microphone in his pants.
Either that or he's very excited about the stiff competition in this year's event.
April 21, 2005
Psychic Office Services
in the email this afternoon ...
This is to inform you that all of the soda machines will be temporarily out of order. Machines should be fully operational by 3:00pm today. Sorry for the inconveniance.
April 19, 2005
This is the schnitzel of Christ, take eat.
Blanche, did you know we got Ratz in the Vatican?
Pennance is now four Achtung Marys
According to Reuters, "Before the conclave door shut on Monday, Ratzinger made a final appeal to his fellow electors to protect traditional teachings and to shun modern trends." And he's a real bridge builder, having "branded other Christian churches as deficient -- shocking Anglicans, Lutherans and other Protestants in ecumenical dialogue with Rome for years."
And wasn't it just this afternoon I read an email from someone very dear to me stating the pious were annoying her and they should be destoyed ... but she's going to do it in the name of God, so it's all okay.
Speaking of pie-ous, I'd like a slice of Bill Knapp's custard pie.
Bill Knapp's. Where in heaven did that come from??
April 11, 2005
I Know Why the Caged Cat Sings
We ventured out to the country yesterday to check in on the two newest Meowschwitz inhabitants.
It wasn't as bad as I thought, or at least not as bad as it could be, but it's certainly not ideal. They're each in a fairly roomy
cell caged-in area, all cement, lots of fresh air, with a view of a big field. The "bedrooms" are about 3'x4', and there's a metal door to a "run" area, which is a about 4' wide and 10' long. So they have room to walk around, lounge, etc. There's a wooden platform in the bedroom area, which has some blankets and a heat lamp overhead for when it's chilly (which, hello, it's London Surrey, so it's chilly most of the time).
I really couldn't tell if they recognized us. They were friendly enough, but was it because it was us or they were just wanting some human attention?
Cab was really chatty ... in a sad, nervous kind of way. Either that or he was reading me to filth. The girl who's helping to take care of him said he was all about the hissing the first couple days. In 6 years, I've never heard him hiss. He must've been really pissed or upset. Poor guy.
Gypsy is fat and friendly. I've asked if we can turn this into a spa treatment for her and perhaps have a little liposuction while she's there. She sat on my lap and I got a little purr out of her. Which made me happy, and sad. She should be home, happily ignoring me.
She passed her rabies titer test at the end of December, so we get her back at the end of June. Cab's ensconced until October 6. Totally sucks. I chatted with them a bit, told them I was sorry, and had a little cry with each of them. Sometimes I'm such a girl.
I'll go back soon (it's a schlep) and bring them toys and things from home that might make them more comfortable. And I'll make sure the camera battery is charged. Oops.
I told Larry that it probably wouldn't be too hard to sneak in and break them out. I've been thinking about it for a couple weeks, ever since I knew they were coming. He thinks I'm crazy for even having thought up the idea ... apparently it never crossed his mind. Such a Canadian banker ... always playing by the rules. I, however, thought the rebel way was only natural. Of course, the cat police would come looking for them at our place, so I'd have to move and go underground. But it'd be worth it.
Me and Harriet Tubman.
April 8, 2005
toy vehicle ....
Richmond Park, here I come (well, when the weather gets nice, that is). And next week begins the commute-via-cycle to work.
April 6, 2005
I Have One Thing To Say
I would expound, but I'm just too vexed, it's 11:20pm local time here in Dublin, I've had a really long day (this would be the 3rd country I've been in since 7am), and I'm sure there is a pub calling my name.
April 2, 2005
Skating Into History
I had a lovely blading tour of Hyde Park and Kensington Gardens this afternoon with my friend R. It seems that not too far from where we were, there exists a special area where you can throw balls at tiny drag queens ...
After more blading and discussing which superpowers we'd like to have, we found a grassy knoll ... perfect for resting our legs, enjoying the afternoon, sharing a chat, and ripping to shreds the
annoying twats passersby who offended our sensibilities.
"I need a good novel," I told him, expressing my concern that nothing has been holding my attention lately and it was starting to get on my nerves.
"I can't read novels." R tells me. Not for the fact that there seem to be a lot of words and no pictures, he assured me, but because he's creative enough so he needn't waste his time with other people's fictions.
He'd rather read histories and learn about important things, "like who designed the Nazi's uniforms because they're just so sexy."