Weekend Theme

This weekend it’s dead simple. The theme is

HANDLES

How did this one come about? I have no idea at all. I opened the document to start typing this while my PC realised the 3G connector is in and needs to prompt me for a pin number. As I started typing, there was the one word theme.

So do I have a muse, a little man in my head, a guardian angel, a subconscious looking for something to cling to?  I have absolutely no idea.

Anyway (or as one of our old South African Bloggers used to put it) ANYHOO if you like the idea of playing along, you can play passively, come back here during the course of the weekend, follow the links people leave to their contributions to the fun, or better still join in actively.

It’s easy and very difficult. You use the theme to create a post, words, pictures, video, music. Any one or a combination; whatever is YOUR style. Somewhere you use the theme as the basis, or as some do, a little wrap up line. Then come back here and leave a comment with a link to your post so that people can easily reach it to read/watch/enjoy it. That is the difficult part.

Then the easy part; follow other people’s links and see the amazing variety of humans expressing themselves around a common theme.

Cravings

One hears of unusual cravings experienced by people, especially pregnant women. I have to confess most of my friends and fanmily have only told me of fairly normal ‘cravings’ during pregnancy. A spell of wanting savoury things only, a craving for Marmite on toast, a craving for ice cream with chocolate sauce, and one for prawns, but as she loves prawn even when not pregnant, I suspect some deviousness there and not a lack of iodine.

In South Africa we hear sometimes about women in rural areas who eat earth (particularly red earth) when pregnant. Apparently a craving. “But how can you crave something you have ever tasted?” I remember one friend saying when we first heard this.  Yet you hear of women craving ice cream and pickles. Surely that is not a combination you would have tasted previously?

All of this was started by the events begun by someone posting about an article over an edible thing that is a cross between croissant dough and frying and sugar-coating as is done to a doughnut.

I mistakenly went and read the blog post about it.

Then            I found myself SMELLING doughnut.

Then                   I found myself craving doughnut.

Then                             I had some water and an apple, thinking I may be hungry.

Then                                         I was still craving a doughnut.

Then                                                   I started wondering where I could get one, find someone with one who would share it with me…

Eventually after about an hour of this, I went out looking for one.

No stale copy would do. It would have to be fresh, soft inside, crispy on the outside. It would probably taste too sweet for me…..

Iwent to the large bakery about a kilometer from home. looking over the shelves of packaged goods, then to the racks of fresh delights. NO DOUGHNUTS!

The baker smiled at me when I asked. “Yes I do make them”, he said, “In the mornings. But they are all sold out now. The staff searched at the back, just in case there was one hiding there waiting for me”.

Nothing!

So I went home and had a cup of coffee and resumed working.

I wonder when that craving will again return? It had better be some morning when I can get there and have one. Then I will write it off as DONE!

Moose Jersey

I saw this a few moments ago and wanted to show you what my Moose Jersey did NOT look like.

Mine was a dark turquoise, the body and sleeves all the same shade, and the moose head was sideways so you could only see one eye.

———-

Amusing Consequences

Thinking about the subject this weekend has been odd.

Firstly I mis-managed my own electronic diary somewhere during the week. Instead of changing next Sunday’s brunch to the Saturday, I changed this Sunday’s invitation. I arrived a whole day early, m uch to everyone’s amusement. The security guard at the gate phoned her, and she was out, shopping for today. Amusing? yes I think it was.

But then I had this little brain walk-about. (I know it’s too small to be out alone without supervision, but my brian frequently just escapes and goes advcenturing)

I have seen many photos of Gordon Ramsey apparently shouting and probably using his “F” word at people in various kitchens. Having never seen him in action myself, neither in the flesh nor on TV, I really have to imagine all this.

 

I have several Chefs in the family, each of who cares for their own knives most tenderly, sharpening them before use, cleaning them carefully after use, so I KNOW how chef’s knives are also DANGEROUS WEAPONS.

Imagine the consequences of Gordon Ramsey suddenly being faced with a kitchn full of chefs he has just been shouting at, all armed with their favourite, BIG, SHARP knife.

Maybe the look of a re-think?

 

 

Weekend Theme

Friday, weekend theme time. This week I actually have one ready (almost). The consequence of sleeping early, waking in the pre-dawn dark, having a cat to cuddle under the duvet and enjoy the purring.

I had planned just one word, but then I decided that maybe I needed a little extra, hopefully to steer the posts into something a little more light-hearted.

Originally I planned just ‘Consequences’ as the theme, but as there are so many dire consequences out there, I realied it needs another word.

Therefore the theme is

Amusing Consequences

As usual, if you would like to play along, create a post using the theme as the basis. Then come back here, leave a comment with a link to your post so that others can go round and read them all.

The only rule, as always is HAVE FUN!

Steps along the way, in a jersey

Jersey, pullover, cardigan many names for garments made of (originally) wool, and knitted or crocheted.

Although I hate winter and being cold – South African buildings are created in the weird belief that we have summer all year and that winter is a nasty piece of bad weather to be handled as an emergency disaster, I LOVE jerseys. Particularly hand knitted ones.

Unfortunately for someone with this liking, I cannot knit.  It isn’t that I am totally useless with my hands; I can sew, embroider, quilt, and crochet. Somehow two needles, a dangly piece of knitting and a string of wool to manage is all just too much for me.

Therefore when I get the chance to have someone knit for me, making me something specially for me, pattern, wool, colour all chosen by me I am so happy.

Some (actually many) years ago I was waiting in the sandwich shop queue at lunchtime when I noticed a girl in the queue, wearing a jersey with an animal knitted into it. I had always wanted a fun jersey like that, but as it was my mother or grandmother who knitted for me, and as they would not ever have imagined such a thing desirable, I had never managed to get one.

A discussion, the exchange of a precious piece of paper, a phone call. Then some waiting and we met. I handing over money, she handing over the pullover.  A street transaction at lunch time. Oh how I wish I could have afforded more of those.

Back home I happily took it out, and stared in delight. A lovely dark turquoise colour, exactly the right size. And there in the front a moose in black! With an eye looking at the world.

I wore it winter after winter, till it became so worn and matted that the moose was more like a bear.

I have never had, or really desired another like it.

I suspect we all have some childhood desire we need to live out in order to start growing up.

“I think I can” or “A cell phone named Icarus”

Once there was a cell phone, quite the rage when it was bought, but which quickly discovered its owner was not in love with it. It spent all of its time either repressed and at the bottom of her handbag, on a coffee table in the sitting room, on the bedside table.

It did come out occasionally to take photographs, to be used for phone calls, or to receive and send messages. Most mornings it faithfully chimed at the time set by the owner to remind her not to sleep.

But the poor little thing realised it was missing out on so much. Occasional spells on a table side by side with other phones and it discovered there was so much more to life. Being carried in the hand,  snapping every occasion and immediately uploading these photos to something called Facebook, Twitter or “the blog”. Occasionally its owner did these things, but the phone realised it was only living a half-life. For example other phones could tell of trips out on the dashboard of a car, watching the world go by. It decided being forced to communicate via the car’s Bluetooth system while being kept in the bottom of the handbag was an insult to its own capabilities.

The phone had developed a bit of a complex. Unloved, underused. It began to dream of escape to someone addicted to its capabilities, someone who would carry it around in their hand, let it show off all the time how smart it was.

Then came Sunday 12 May 2013. A day the phone would never forget. After the usual, stuffed into the handbag, jostled around in the dark, out into the sunshine.  Then pictures were taken, and suddenly the table surface where the phone lay was moving slightly. The phone was raised again and again, to take photos. “Sky Dining” was the name of what was going on. People eating, drinking, taking photographs, and when the phone found itself held to take a photograph of feet, dangling 40 meters above the ground a new idea took hold.  If only the phone could get to the edge and leap off, it could FLY. Zooming around filming the scene, swooping and looping in the air. Freedom at last.

I think I can, I think I can it chanted. Waiting for the opportunity.

FINALLY, being passed from hand to hand around the table (apparently it was expected to take pictures of the owner from the other side) the chance came. There it was; a gap in the table top.  Without thinking it twisted sideways slipping through the gap.  Free!

Sadly though flying wasn’t quite as easy as the birds made it seem. The first few meters were quite fun, but then the phone realised the ground was coming up towards it quite fast and nothing it could do helped.

Thump, all went dark.

A while later it felt power returning, the pin code entered. Light, action. Being asked to phone someone. However something wasn’t quite right. Try as it may, the phone realised the shock had made it dump all photographs, its memory in that area, lost, gone for ever.

Sadly, the phone realised it would never fly, its abilities now reduced, its once musical voice now more of a croak.  The owner chatting was talking of its replacement, due any time now. Yet the owner didn’t seem to realise just how amazing the phone really was. HUH! If the owner had tried flying like that, they would have been a rather mangled mess. Those soft bodies aren’t really made for impact, are they?

Inconsistency

I suspect inconsistency is the nature of human existence. Everyone has mood changes, driven internally or externally. Exposure to new ideas, facts, experiences and people’s ideas and outlook can and do change.

Then again there are people who claim “I am always the same”. Yet anyone who has seen some scary movies knows that under an unchanging exterior lurks the darkest of forces. Anyway, reacting to all circumstances in only one way is somewhat inconsistent with ongoing survival. Learning and adapting our is how we ensure our survival in an ever changing world.

Some of my inconsistencies embarrass me. As I wrote in the lead up to the theme, I get vertigo and also love flying. Others are just a bit quirky.

I love the idea of dessert, but usually find them too sweet for my taste, yet knowing this I continue to try them. Then I think of those with digestive system problems who continue to load their plates with chilli and other hot foods guaranteed to create the reactions they bemoan. Consistent, maybe?

I love each season for different reasons, yet like so many humans moan about weather being the same for too long. 2 days of rain and I begin to be depressed. 2 weeks of just sunshine and I am out in the garden, doing a rain dance. Summer is sometimes too hot, winter too cold, and spring and autumn, well they are just too unreliable for my taste.

I quite like being short, but hate the fact the world is definitely designed for adults several inches taller than I am.

I believe everyone is entitled to their own opinion and should be allowed free speech. Yet I have absolutely no patience with racists and bigots. Hardly consistent, am I?

Weekend Theme

This weekend I have 2 events.

One a memorial service for an aunt who spent the last years of her life with her brain “in a fog”. Not recognising people, not remembering recent events, feeling angry at what had happened to her. We all hoped that her release from this ‘non-life’ would be swifter to free her from the constant anxiety and anger. However that was not to be, and sadly the family had to witness her deterioration over the years. Her grand-daughter called her death a “joyous sadness”.

The second event is to be more pleasurable, I hope. “Sky dining”, not to be confused with sky diving (I hope). Eating a meal suspended high above the ground. Rather a difficult choice for me as I suffer from ‘variable vertigo’. Going near the window in a tall building makes my stomach churn and my head feel dizzy. Three steps up a ladder and I’m hoping it’s time to get down again. yet I LOVE flying! Ballooning has given me so many happy hours above the ground. I am only too happy to climb into an aeroplane (where I generally request a window seat) and watch the earth happily for hours and hours. Inconsistent, yes. After all vertigo is all in the mind (despite my tummy feeling some of the effects).

I am wondering which side will win?

So deciding on a weekend theme was fairly easy. It is

INCONSISTENCY

 

 

Swings and Roundabouts

I am often quite confused as to the reasons for some themes I propose. I often wonder what in my subconscious gets these odd ones to surface. However without extensive and costly analysis, I am sure the answers may elude me.

Thinking over this Theme for this weekend a memory surfaced of this as a common saying in one company where I worked. It was a computer bureau. For those too young to remember, we rented out computer time to companies, small and big. This was obviously way back before PCs and cheap servers became available. Sometimes a deal we had been working on did not go as we hoped, a customer may buy their own computers and stop using our facilities. Yet other times new customers would approach us, or existing customers suddenly require a whole lot more.

What you lose on the swings, you make up on the roundabout. The phrase implied that there was some kind of cosmic balance working there. It was a treat place to work, so maybe there was…