President? What president. There used to be a clown, but he really made me frown What was his name Rump, Tump I cannot remember, but he got me down Presidents come and go Look at the figures, they are all now a no The Russians have them, so do the yanks The Brits do it to They all meet the ranks The Swiss have one, new every year They exchange it regularly So there is nothing to fear
So many chickens, just wandering aimlessly and clucking together. And then the rooster arrives. He does not cluck like the others, but crows with his Cock-a-doodle-do and then there is silence. The hens listen , they pay attention. The rooster goes back to his crowing on his own and the chickens now gather together and begin to peck what they find and return to their clucking in unison. Unfortunately they do not have the gift of thinking it all over but what the rooster says is law. They might lay a few eggs, but they are now busy doing what the rooster required. The rooster sees it all from his high place and looks on. He is the one that thinks for all. Reminds me of someone.
There is nothing better than the smell and taste of fresh bread. I am sure you will agree. As I am no longer as mobile as I used to be and order groceries on line, it is now becoming a problem to have fresh bread daily, so I freeze it. Here you can see my supply in the deep freezer which would last about a week if necessary. This is a good solution, although frozen bread is frozen. After a week it still tastes as fresh as when you froze it, but a month or two later it will be begin to crumble when thawed for eating. It leaves a trail of crust remains on the bread board when cutting. My No. 1 autistic son will go to the store to fetch bread daily, that is no problem. He has his excuse to get out into town.
I have now made the decision to bake my own bread: perhaps not daily, but definitely a couple of times in the week. We are confronted with a pandemic, I am handicapped with my MS and so I decided this would be the best solution. Me being me and wanting to know it all, I have been doing some research on Aunty Internet examining various recipes and how to do it. I have discovered that the actual process of making the bread pastry is no big deal, it just need a little time to rise. We can organise yeast from my store delivery and flour is no problem, so what could possibly go wrong?
I also discovered that a baking tin would be a good idea for baking the bread in the correct form. I investigated my online supplier of various goods and discovered the ideal baking tin. The price was right and delivery will be made next week. At the same time I realised that my supply of plastic packing for my vaccum sealer for freezing groceries was at a low level, so that has also been ordered – 8 rolls, which should keep me going for part of the next year.
Yes, my home will soon be full of the freshly baked bread aroma – I hope. I have baked bread before, but it was many years ago, and only as an experiment and not a necessity. However, at the age of 74 you are never to old to learn. Next week the experiment will begin. After all the president and president elect of the states are my age, even older. If they can be president, I can definitely bake bread.
I have memories of visiting a friend in her farm house. Apparently farmers always bake their own bread and she was well equipped with her special bread baking oven. I visited her on Saturday when she baked our special platt bread for her family (she had 5 children) and her relations. However, I do not think I will begin to bake bread for the neighbours, but who knows.
In the museum a brotosaurus standing to be seen A model, not real, something out of a dream Life goes on, they belong to the past Humans disappeared and that was a blast Future generations would see how we were Coronus with legs and feet began to occur It was their aim to take over the world Changing their shapes, their appearance unfurled Their sticky hands clinging on to each other They would laugh at the humans, which they learned how to smother Brontosauraus died out, we do not know why Humans we conquered by a very small fry.
This year I postponed everything to do with Christmas, no that is not true, I cancelled Christmas. Procrastination is a nice word, sounds good, and not a word that was ever in my vocabulary. Christmas has got too much for me. I gave the cancellation of any Christmas presents a few years ago. Most people were sure “you cannot do that”, but I did. I now get no presents and do not give presents. It got to the point when I realised that I no longer knew what to buy for the special person in my life because he had it already. Otherwise I noticed that just buying for the sake of buying was no longer a big deal. I make the exception for my grandchildren, they are so small and are embarking on their way through the customs in our daily life and that is fine with me. If I really need something I get it myself.
So in my procrastinated existence our Christmas decorations are a plate in the living room with various seasonal items. If I want a nut, I crack one and if I feel like a tangerine I peel it and eat them. There are supposed to be a few Christmas ornaments on the plate, but I have not yet been in the cellar to get them. I should perhaps get some yule twigs from a fir tree, but cannot be bothered to drag them home from the store. In other words I have given up with the extra work, but I am happy and Mr. Swiss is not even missing it so much.
I have made one exception, because it is easy to freeze meat and supplies and cook it for the celebrations. There will be good food to eat. Yes I have become the Christmas Grinch. I did not even bother to steal Christmas, I just enjoy it without all the trimmings.
And if you think I might enjoy a white Christmas, then the answer is no. The streets are almost impassable, everything is cold and frozen and I will have to live in isolation until the white stuff melts.
Scrooge said Christmas Bah, humbug. I would just like to postpone it, procrastinate it.
I had 3 cats, but Nera was the big black fat cat, although she insisted it was fluff and not fat. I had a blog site for my cats so here is one of my stories featuring Nera.
This photo shows her in one of her typical regal poses.
Nera once had a paw problem. It was one morning after her early walk in her territory, she returned with a definite limp in her left front leg. She was holding her paw in the air and limping along using the three legs that were still working.
I was in the middle of cleaning, but dropped everything ready to call the vet. She had not had a fight with the ginger tom next door. I suspected a wasp sting, but Mr. Swiss said it is too early in the morning for wasps. Slowly her limp was accompanied by a whining meow, so things were becoming urgent. The next stage is hiding, but as we left her in peace, she did not hide and eventually fell asleep on her nice red wool cover on the leather settee. She prefers luxury, is not a nomal alley cat, although her origins are doubtful.
We decided to wait until she was awake and rejudge the situation. She was still limping so I phoned the vet. The vet said bring her along in the afternoon. Mr. Swiss took her to the vet and returned without Nera. I was already imagining a broken leg, she has already been there and done that. No, he said, they need time for a proper examination. Nera was throwing her usual diva fits at the vet, so it was decided the examination would take place under anaesthetic. Mr. Swiss was told to fetch her an hour later.
When he returned with Nera she was still sleeping off the effects of the examination. She was in a feline Nirvana condition, so we left her to sleep out the effects. The result of the examination was two ingrown claws. They had grown so long that the were growing into he paw. Poor Nera, but she survived. She is still sleeping off the effects. Now and again she takes a few steps, sits, collapses where she is, and again falls asleep. At least we will had a quiet evening..
Just a typical event in the life of a chief cat. Since then she has long been living her 10th life in the eternal corn chambers, keeping it mouse free.
You would think we are the great wine conoisseurs when you see our wine cellar. In the meanwhile the bottles are reduced to just a few and no-one bothers to open one and drink it unless we happen to have visitors to dinner, which we very rarely do. The wine cellar has now been reduced to two large bottles, one red and one white, which I buy in the local supermarket and only use for cooking.
My drinking days were in my teenage years and early twenties and really just to join in and show everyone I could do it. I never really did like wine. White wine was two cold and not a friendly drink (my opnion, tends to excite too much) and red wine is something to enjoy and savour, but there again I never really got the idea of it.
So now my white wine goes into the veal and pork dishes and the red wine into the beef dish and naturally no spaghetti sauce is complete without a red wine.
This afternoon I was in town and on my return journey scootered through the center. Lo and behold the Christmas spirit has returned. The hanging lights were now lit up. It can only get better. I did not have to ascertain that Christmas is coming, it was a certainty.
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