On a bit of a roll.

I wanted to say,  "on a tear",   but that's a tricky word.  There were no tears (weeping) involved,  but it's the same word used to rip something in two.   Sometimes I feel bad (actually, "badly" but that doesn't sound right)  for those whose Mother Tongue is not English,  and who then have to try and figure it out.   That word "tear",  is not only a homonym,  but are heteronym. 

OK,  confused yet?   I knew it was a "homonym",  but didn't realise there were different types until I looked it up.   Isn't the internet wonderful? 

Well,  mostly.

Anyhoo,  I got it into my pea brain yesterday morning to do a little maintenance around the joint,  and started off by changing the oil in the stand-by generator.  It wasn't due for an oil change,  but I wasn't keen on the look of the oil,  and I have this thing about changing oil in a machine at least once a year anyway,  whether it needs it or not. 

You can see there that the oil looks kind of gross.  I even flushed some fresh oil through the thing,  just because I could.  Oil is cheap,  basically,  and I have damned near half a case of oil left over from when I used do oil changes on the motorhome.   And no,  it wasn't about the money.  Just the inconvenience of getting the thing out of storage,  taking it to some place that had a hoist that was capable of lifting the thing.  The final straw was when the dizzy...whatever at the counter forgot my appointment,  and well,  that kinda turned me off going back there.   Bought a creeper,  a case of oil at Costco,  and picked up filters at Napa.  And that was that.

But I digress.

Oh and by the way,  yes I unhooked the negative terminal of the battery.  If it were to randomly start up due to a power outage (really?)  that would be a definite "no bueno".

As I was in the mood,  I figured I'd do the lawn mower too.  And yes,  I know,  changing the oil in the fall is kinda dumb,  but it's been a while,  and....oil is cheap.

The blue mat is for my ageing knees.

What I have done in the case of each of these thingies is,  I write right next to the oil drain plug the size of the wrench I need.  A "Sharpie" works great.
The generator is 13mm,  the mower is 10.   So much easier than fumbling around.
I think I saw that tip way back when,  in the pre-internet days of "Popular Mechanics".  You could glean a certain amount of useful information to help you do your own stuff.  After having sifted through all the flotsam of course.

Kind of like the internet,  actually.  The flotsam part, I mean.


Now I just have to use up or drain the fuel in the mower and the weed whacker,  and that'll be it for the season.  I *might*  need to cut the grass one last time.  We'll see.

And....if the weather is anything like it is today for our trip to Buffalo on Monday to see the Bills game,  it's gonna kinda suck.

We're having some sort of apocalyptic rain and wind today,  and it ain't pleasant out there at all. 

Having a bitch of a time with grabbing a screen shot with this f**king Windows 10 that I have.  Crikey.   But here's what I got:

We'll see what Monday brings.

Thanks for stopping by.

One of those miserable jobs.

I was going to use the “s” word,  but thought better of it.  Even though it had to do with plumbing.

And you know,  each and every time I’m about half way through one of these situations, I make a mental note of just exactly why plumbers charge what they do.  And it doesn’t have to have anything to do with human excrement to be a “shit” job either.

It’s that whole “lying on your back while trying to prop up your head” program that makes it a “shit” job.  At least for me anyway.  I’m utterly amazed at anyone who can lie under a car (for example) and work away without their neck muscles being on fire after a very short period of time.  I never could do it.

Anyway,  we have company coming again,  and so this time around I figured I’d change out the vanity taps in the downstairs quarters.  Up until now I had been leaving the cold supply shut off, and then turning it on once it was needed.  And just letting it drip. That tap has been leaking for oh I don’t know,  a few years now?   And since Daughter Number Two and her significant other haven’t been living down there since they bought their place what?  three years ago?  there hasn’t been a pressing need.  

Until I decided that today was the day.

Out with the old.

 

And in with the slightly newer.  

 

This Moen single lever gizmo looks all fine and dandy,  but it’s the one that I took out of the upstairs “powder room” (such a goofy name) to be replaced with a newer model.   Last year some time.

You may remember. 

OK, maybe you don’t.

 

It’s been damaged by chemicals that were a wee bit too strong for the finish.  I take full responsibility for this.  I got carried away.  What can I say?    Well,  “Don’t use harsh chemicals on your delicate little fixtures”,  is exactly what I would say.  Gah!

 

Naturally,  it was a miserable job,  since everything under there was corroded,  making it a challenge to get things undone.  I mean,  normally you just remove the entire sink and work on it with the sink upside down,  but the sink stays.   For now.

And again naturally,  one of the supply lines started to leak.   Had to do with the washer thingy being somewhat crushed.  Not worth it to go to Home Despot and try and find a little rubber washer thingy,  BUT I had a couple spare supply lines out in my box of tricks.

So that solved that dilemma.   You can see there where there’s more corrosion.  My fault.  Totally.  Had a container of the aforementioned “harsh chemical”  sitting in there.   Stupid stupid stupid.

The entire arrangement is well over twenty years old and will be undergoing some sort of reno at some point,  but not just yet.

 

Speaking of which,  we’ve declared a moratorium on ordering new stuff,  ‘cause Muggins here is getting behind when it comes to getting it all installed. 

 

Can you figure out what the next little project will be?

I’ve only been meaning to do this for like,  ever.

So, sometime before the fall I’ll get around to sorting this out.  I mean,  it’s not like we desperately need a new insert,  but anything would be better than what we have in there right about now.

And that would be this,

 

….rather sad example of a wood burning something or other.    A real POS,  unfortunately.

I *guess* it used to work.  And I’ve tried to make it function.  Trust me.  Bought a new gasket for the door, cleaned it as best I could, but it smokes and stinks.  I think there was just too much crap that got burned in there.  That ultimately never works.  I do think that that was why there was a chimney fire way back in the day when the house belonged to the previous owner. (my late father-in-law). Too much junk went into the fire. 

Soooo,  when the fire department arrived and poured cold water onto the hot chimney flue,  that was the end of the flue.  Hence the stove/insert/whatever that thing is.   Wish me luck.

 

Not sure what the rest of the day will bring.  It’s now sunny out,  and T.C. and I may go back to digging out the garlic chives,  or she may wish to do a final inspection on the downstairs.  Oh,  and there’s some talk of “Slovenian Homework”.   There’s that class on Saturday morning after all.

Right.

 

Keep those sticks on the ice.

 

Thanks for stopping by.

What to wear.

It’s hard to know.  It’s sunny,  *almost* warm in places.  HOT in the car.  Man,  it’s confusing.

But that’s not to say I’m complaining.

Now,  if I were complaining,  I might bitch just a little about the fact that now the printer has decided to take a cr*p.  There’s something wrong with the mechanism that plucks the top sheet of paper off the stack to pull it through the rollers.  I recall having a laser jet printer a few years (decades?) ago that I took for a repair with that malady.  That sucker was too pricey to just say,  “Meh,  let’s turf it.”

With the exception of the fact that I can’t print anything right this minute, there’s not much really to complain about.  This is a printer that we bought in 2002 in Puerto Rico at Wal*mart,  and it’s been around.  Moved it back home,  moved it to The Netherlands, then on to Vienna and back home again.  It’s coming up on 12 years old.  Or, it was coming up on 12.  *mumble*

There are a couple ironies there too.  First of all,  it miraculously worked with Windows 8.   Unlike the webcams and scanner.   Oh,  did I not mention that my scanner is no longer supported?  That was a pisser.

Then the other irony is,  I had just bought new printer cartridges.  Son of a…! 

Meh,  you pays yer money and you takes yer chances.  Especially with computer cr*p.

 

Lemme see,  what have we been up to?  Nothing too exciting,  that’s for sure.

 

Went to a “Home Show” here in Burlington on Friday afternoon.  Now,  I put “Home Show” in quotation marks here because well,  we were able to cover the whole thing in maybe an hour and a half.

It was “Senior’s Day”,  which was something that had kind of escaped my attention,  until I mentioned to Travelling Companion that there were a lot of White Hairs there,  and what the heck would they be doing at a Home Show, looking at renovating ideas?   Well, it was explained to me that quite often Seniors are just looking for something to do,  and free admission is the biggest draw.  

And,  what’s that expression?  Something about the pot and the kettle?   What little hair I have,  ain’t exactly brown anymore.

 

We got in for free as well,  which was something that I hadn’t really expected,  but it so happened that T.C. had taken along a cut out from the paper, just so we’d know where to go,  and it was a coupon.

Just as well it was free,  since it was worth every penny.

I did feel a bit bad for the vendors,  since there’s a lot of work involved in setting up those displays,  and you’re not really guaranteed too darned much.  Well, certainly not with Friday’s bunch.

I didn’t bother with too many pictures,  except for this guy,  who was peddling some little contraptions for hanging your blue bin and green bin from the wall.

OK then.

I didn’t want to tell the poor guy that I had been hanging our green cart off the fence for years in order to keep the raccoons out, so it wasn’t really an idea that was all that exciting to me.  They’re pretty clever, (um, the racoons,  not the hooks) and we’ve witnessed some pretty impressive circus acts trying to get into that bin,  but they’re thwarted most of the time. 

He also did have this nifty little latch gismo,  but I just kept on moving. 

I know, not very charitable of me.

 

Oh,  and I suppose I could have done a whole post on this subject,  but Daughter Number Two and I went to Slovenian Class on Saturday morning.  T.C. was supposed to go too,  but she had already scheduled a sewing class. She’ll be going next week.

This is kind of like mending the paddock after the horse just galloped over the hill,  but there’s always the chance that we’ll go back to Slovenia at some point,  and I just wanted to be able to connect the dots.  Doesn’t mean I’ll ever be anything more than a mute,  but at least I’ll have the straight dope on a few things. As I explained to the teacher, I couldn’t conjugate a Slovenian verb to save my life.

Besides,  there’s still too much Russian in my brain,  and I need to somehow write over those files.   I even caught myself starting to write some words with the Cyrillic alphabet.  That will never do. 

Many of the sound combinations are the same or similar,  but most everyone west of Bulgaria uses the Latin alphabet.  Except for the Serbs.  They use both.  Don’t ask, ‘cause I have no idea.

And don’t take me to task on that,  because I’d have to look up who uses Cyrillic and who doesn’t.  You’re welcome to do the research and get back to me.

Fill yer boots.

There’s only something like 10 of us in the class,  and I’m too old to worry about embarrassing myself.  Although I suppose I could embarrass the women folk who are coming too. 

“And it’s about time they came too,  I say!”

Sorry,  old family meme.  The kids learned a long time ago to never ask. “Can I come too?”

 

It wasn’t actually in that part of the building,  but rather in the Credit Union.  I know.  Seems a bit odd,  but they have a conference room upstairs.

Nice and peaceful.  There were a lot of parents and kids going in and out of that door,  so I wasn’t sure what was taking place in there.  Dance classes?  Skeet shooting?  OK,  maybe neither.  We’ll never know.

 

I don’t think our teacher realised I was taking his pic. 

Anyhoodle,  we’ll see if I manage to remember anything.  Might help if I go over my notes.   Kind of like that guitar that I need to get at at least once a day.  Gah!   There’s no getting better unless you practise.  Such a drag.

 

Meanwhile,  I continued to unpack our generator.  There was a little bit of extra room in the packaging,  so it’s not quite as huge as the box.  Still pretty big just the same.

I’d almost go so far to say it’s a thing of beauty.

Seems odd that I have it stored inside for the time being,  even though it’s meant to spend its useful life outdoors,  but it’s OK sitting right there for now.  Plus,  I have to pour a pad,  buy some conduit,  wire and stuff,  so we’re in no hurry.

It continues to get marginally warmer as spring progresses.  That’s the theory at least.  April can be a fickle month in these parts.  I try not to look at the temps in Vienna.  It’s been way too nice there. HOWEVER,  they have had some major dust blow up from the Sahara I see.  It happens from time to time,  and I recall that same phenomenon once when we were there.

 

I think that’s all I have in my pea brain for the moment. 

 

Keep it between the ditches.

 

Thanks for looking in.

That’ll get your heart going.

You probably know this,  but this:

 

..is what we woke up to.   Not that that was a surprise or anything.

It’s a winter wonderland.

Don’t slap me.

Great fun to sit and watch the knobs get stuck at that corner, by the way.  Is that mean?

 

The following will either make you feel nostalgic or smug.  Depends on where you are.

 

Then of course, after making my NFL picks for this week,  I figured I’d get out there and tackle it.

Oh goodie!

 

Um, that would be ‘sarcastic font’.   Just thought I’d point that out.

It had mostly stopping snowing last night when we came in from our grand day out,  and I thought I might have some difficulty backing up the driveway to put the car in the garage.  Didn’t happen.

We have that whole “Four Matic” program going on there,  and it does seem to make a difference in “adverse conditions”.  There are numerous explanations on the web. 

I didn’t kill myself shovelling.  Not this time anyway. It’s surprising how quickly I had to first briefly come inside and take off a sweater I thought I needed,  followed by having to remove my hat. It’s a helluva thing when you start to overheat at -7°C.  

Is that a “Canadian” thing,  or just an “Old Dude out of shape,”  thing?

I think I’d go with option two.

 

My neighbour asked me if I had a blower,  and I had to admit that in fact,  I *do* have a blower.   Sitting out back under the snow.  It would need many things to get it running again I’m afraid.

It hasn’t been run for a couple of years (remember that whole living overseas thing?)  and the last time I took it in for a “going over”,  the small engine repair Dude quite frankly told me that he’d get ‘er going,  but doing much more than replacing the drive belt would just be a waste of money.   I might just look into buying another machine one of these days.  I’m not overly keen on paying the price of a new one though.  You know me.

“Oh, heated grips, that would be awesome!”.   Then of course I realise, it would just be one more thing to break.

What we need is one of those winters when we have NO SNOW (hey, it happens!) and then there’s an abundance of used blowers in the classifieds as the winter winds down. Not that I’d want to take advantage of anyone or anything,  but if it’s taking up room in your garage and the word is, “get rid of that thing”,  I’m willing to help out.   You know, ‘cause I’m so “helpful”?  

 

I reckon that’s all I got for today.  A Sunday post is a bit of a rarity for me as it is,  so this’ll have to do.

 

I think I’ll go watch some football.

 

Keep it on the hard pack.

 

Thanks for looking.

 

 

.

Welcome to Canada, here’s your toque.

‘Cus baby,  it’s a wee bit nippy outside.  I know this.

First of all,  there was the recycling thing,  which is every Thursday in these parts,  so that was my first introduction to frigid temperatures, and then I had to hoof it down to the drug store for a little conflab.

It just occurred to me that I’m the only one who might know what a “conflab” is.  I think it might be an East Coast term.   But I included the link above for your edification.

You’re welcome.

One thing I made sure of in the recycling department, was to cut up the box from the TV.  Have you ever seen this?  Right after Christmas,  folks will put out boxes from their recently acquired nifty new novelties.  What a perfect opportunity for anyone looking to steal a new TV.  Or X-Box, or whatever.

You’re throwing out the box anyway, just take a minute and cut it up. And preferably place the pieces in such a way that none of the fancy bits are showing. 

If anyone of lower moral turpitude drives by and thinks we’re still using oil lamps,  I’m OK with that.   “We got nothin’ here.  Keep on moving.”

 

Going to the drug store wasn’t exactly my first choice of “what to do”  this morning.  Trust me.

However,  Travelling Companion is running out of these “test strips” that tell you just where you are in terms of your blood sugar level. 

I thought I’d stick a picture in there for you.  These suckers are expensive.  The price that was next to that image that I stole off the net was NINETY-FIVE BUCKS.  

The box that I took with me to the drug store had €55,00 on it (from Vienna), so that’s pretty close.

Anyhoodle,  the mission was to “call the doctor’s office and get a prescription” because,  you know,  they’re NINETY-FIVE BUCKS.   Well,  I didn’t check on the price at the drug store, but I’m sure they’re not *free*.  If there’s a prescription,  at least then we only have to pay the dispensing fee.

So why go to the drug store?  In the cold?  

Well,  unless T.C. can go in for an appointment,  and the nice lady on the phone at the doctor’s office said chances were slim,  the drug store needs to send a fax to their office,  the doc can look at it,  sign it and send it back.  Then they’ll call me. 

They said.

I suppose I could have called the drug store, or tried to,  but I find that doing the face to face thing much more effective.   Plus,  I need the exercise. 

No, really. 

 

 

OK,  I have to talk about this next thing because well,  it’s just plain amusing.

 

Did anyone watch any of the Nelson Mandela memorial?

T.C. and I watched snippets,  and the one thing that really caught my attention was this guy:

 

The “sign language Dude”.  

I even said to T.C. “what’s he doing?”   I mean,  I don’t know my ass from a hole in the ground when it comes to sign language, but whatever he was doing didn’t make any sense to me.  He was just kind of repeating himself and swaying back and forth.  I first noticed the swaying back and forth because you know, interpreters are supposed to sort of blend in back there,  aren’t they? 

I mean,  shouldn’t you be able to listen to the speech and then go, “Oh, that’s the sign for that?”   Right?

Nope,  turns out sign language is much easier than I thought.  Who knew?

Sign me up!   Is that a pun?  Maybe not.

OK hang on.  I just have to stop here until I can clear the tears (of laughter) from my eyes.   Oh the humanity!

 

He says he was “hallucinating”.   Due to his schizophrenia.  Wow.

*Awesome*.

Oh the questions.   How did he get this job?  Was it a referral?  Whom is he related to?  Where did he buy that suit? 

OK fine,  it’s a nice enough suit.  Never mind.

Feel free to talk amongst yourselves.

 

 

I could have easily let this go I suppose,  but I figured I’d be sure and take a picture of my nipple.  Oooh, that didn’t sound right,  I’ll be getting hits from creepy guys.  (or gals?)

You can see it there between those two boxes.  I realise I could have run 12-2 wire for the new washing machine, since it only draws 10 amps,  but that wasn’t going to happen.  So all of you electrical critics can just go pound sand. 

The next big challenge will be getting rid of the old machine.  Annoyingly,  it still works.  It just makes that clunking sound when it spins.  *grumble*

My preference would have been to run the thing until it absolutely refused to work anymore,  but T.C. didn’t want to run the risk of being without a machine.   Or something,  I don’t know.  Before I could turn around twice,  we had a new machine.

I do realise that the last time a machine crapped out on us it wasn’t the best situation,  but we had a house full of bodies.

These days there’s only the two of us,  and I’m pretty sure we have enough socks and underwear to last at least a few weeks.  But hey,  I only get one vote.

 

I think that’s it for today kids.  I’ll be here by the phone,  waiting for the call from the drug store.   Oh joy.

 

Keep it between the ditches.  Bundle up if you have to.

 

Thanks for lookin’.

 

.

Well, that was a fun afternoon.

Not.

But first, here’s some fluff:

I couldn’t quite understand why Travelling Companion was so willing to give some of our bedding away to Daughter Number Two.  I mean not that I care, it’s just that I thought the cupboard would end up being a little bare.  Can’t just keep putting the same sets back on week after week because I mean, that’ll never do…

*ahem*

Little did I know.

See,  they got the “old” stuff,  because she wanted to break out a new set. 

I’m pretty sure I did all the unpacking too.  Where did this come from? 

I honestly don’t remember when she bought this set,  but I do know it was in Vienna, or somewhere over there.  The price was in Euros and the directions are below.

 

 

Did you get all those instructions?  Doesn’t even matter whether or not T.C. can read it or not.  Not part of her deal.  I’ve been doing laundry around these here parts for neigh on 30 years,  so it’s just as well I can read the German.  Glad I got that degree.

Far be it from me to get all that excited about bedding, but let’s just say, once you go with the “good stuff”, you’ll be hard pressed to go back.  That’s all.  You can keep your hundred thread count, cheap-assed cotton with the little lumps. 

 

Anyway, about yesterday…..

 

Well, it turned out all fine and dandy.  But it was one of those times when there’s at least a moment or two when I came close to committing some sort of “computer crime”.  I don’t mean the kind where the RCMP show up at the door either. 

No, I’m talking about putting my fist through the screen.

 

 

Or worse.

 

But hey, it’s always best if cooler heads prevail.

 

As you may be aware,  we had an entire day of rain yesterday.  It becomes a challenge to get in and out of the house without making a huge mess,  so the choice is to simply stay in.

Well,  Travelling Companion did have an appointment with her doc in the morning, so we had to brave the elements.  We have plenty of umbrellas. 

She’s having something done about her knees.  But I’ve been reminded on more than one occasion, “Don’t be talking about me in your blog!”, so that’s all I can say about that.  I’ll maybe briefly touch on it in a few weeks.  Treading lightly here.

Anyway,  it rained and rained.   Could have used it back in July,  but that’s the way she goes.

So here’s my little tale of woe.  Well as I said,  it turned out OK,  and judging by the fact that I’m using the computer,  that’s kind of self evident.

See,  I was looking for a particular media file,  when the P2P program that I was using came up and said, “Hey, there’s an updated version, here you go…”   Or something like that.   And “P2P”  stands for “Peer to Peer”.   You’re welcome to read up on it here if you need to.

And you’re probably thinking, “Oh that looks dangerous!”, and I suppose it could be,  but unless you’re running decent anti-virus software, you’re open to most anything,  even if you only click on the local Church website.  There be bugs out there!   So the idea of “safe surfing”,  is overrated.

I’ve used this particular program for a few years now,  and there have been a couple updates,  so I thought nothing of downloading the latest/newest version.

Big mistake.

Well,  there was no way of knowing that I was getting a little “will not” right along with the program. 

I’m not sure if you’re familiar with a “will not”,  but it’s a turd hanging off yer ass, that refused so go the way of its buddies.  Hence,  a “will not”.

I think the preferred computer jargon is something like “malware”?   That sounds more appropriate.

I noticed right away that I had another icon in my tool bar thingy down at the bottom of the screen,  and I certainly didn’t put it there.

Then when I went to open Chrome (web browser,  for those who don’t use it),  that’s when the fun began.

See, this little gem is called,  “Search Protect”,  which is a huge misnomer,  since it hijacks your browser and tries to send you to another site.   Well,  I was having none of that.

 

The thing is,  trying to remove the program wasn’t working.  Tried it,  and the computer froze. 

Dang.

So, we punted out Chrome,  since it was attaching itself to Chrome,  which then took me to the web site of the Mother Ship,  who wanted to know why oh why I was getting rid of Chrome.  Like they care. 

But still,  the “will-not” wasn’t going anywhere.  

Fortunately for me,  I still have good old IE as a back-up,  and as is the case with most of these little dilemmas,   the answer is out there on the net. 

Turns out if it’s “running”,  which is what it’s always doing,  there’s no getting rid of the little bugger,  which is what brings us to the next screenshot.

 

 

Anyway,  long story short (well,  shorter) you have to go in there and unclick that little bugger,  and THEN you can remove it.  Yessss!

Piss off, little bastard program!!

 

Took me a while,  and I lost count of the number of times I had to restart the computer,  but it’s all good.

We’re back to using Chrome,  and I was delighted to discover that the Mother Ship had nicely stored all my bookmarks/favourites or whatever you call them,  up there in their cloud.  Or big shiny computer farm. Or wherever.  Who knows?

 

Of course,  T.C. was completely unaware that I was in here trying not to pull out the rest of my hair,  which is probably just as well.  I prefer to suffer in silence.  I wasn’t about to give up though,  dammit! 

 

Meanwhile back here on earth,  it’s more of the same.  You know, “what shall I fix next?”  

I do have pictures, but really?   Once you’ve seen one window taken apart,  you’ve just about seen enough.

 

Enjoy the rest of you weekend.  Careful what you download.

 

Thanks for stopping by.

 

.

I accept!

The challenge,  that is.

 

Now, before I continue,  I should mention that this brainstorm popped into my head way back on Saturday night.  But I thought, “Meh, I’ll just hang onto this.”  since it wasn’t going anywhere by itself.

But I did some clicking here and there on the net,  and I’m not letting all that “hard work” go to waste,  dammit!

*If I think of all the time we spent as students in the library at McMaster,  looking at actual….books!  Man oh man, how the times have changed.*

 

 

 

It must be some sort of left over from getting that, “Liberal arts education”,  but when challenged about something I’m pretty sure that I know to be a fact,  I just can’t leave it alone.

 

I had to put that one in.  Sorry.  Just makes me chuckle.

 

 

Of course,  you CANNOT believe everything you read on the net.  Just saying!  You have to put things in context.  Look at various sources.  You know.  Do research??  That’s really what it’s all about.

This was true way back in the dark ages when we had to read these things called “books”,  and try and glean information.  Some authors were out there in left field.  (what’s so wrong with being in “left field” anyway?  That’s where most hitters hit the ball.)

 

So here we have it:

Vegans look away.  Those are cuts of beef.

Of course,  since this is something that I stole off the net,  it’s not a terribly good picture or anything, since it won’t get that much bigger if you click on it.

However,  for the full story (it’s in German,  sorry) we do have a website at our disposal.

 

I give you,  all the cuts of beef.

Here you go.

 

I do wish I had stumbled on this one a few years ago,  since I used to stand at the counter at Radatz,  (the butcher/deli) wondering just what the hell I was buying.  Or should buy.

I mean,  I do the same when I’m standing at the counter at Denninger's, but at least I’ve picked up a few snippets when it comes to cuts of meat over the years,  and whatever they’re offering is in English.  It does help.

 

In the meanwhile of course Bea,  way over there on Campobello Island,  had pointed out that well,  I might be “mistaken” (my term) about my recollections about buying meat in Vienna. 

Chances of that being the case are extremely high.  I’ve been known to “make up sh*t”,  but hey,  I did win that Trivia contest a few months back,  and have the windbreaker to prove it.  I thought it was a bit of a miracle,  but once in a while there’s a glimmer of synaptic activity in my pea brain.

 

So, having my confidence in my recollections utterly shattered (you can insert the sarcastic font in here, by the way)  I thought I’d have to see if I couldn’t find some sort of proof of what I saw,  and bought.  Or, *thought* I saw?  Was it all a dream?  Did we ever live in Vienna? 

 

Whether we want to call it “malapropism”,  which is an awesome word by the way,  or just gibberish,  the bottom line is,  the Viennese speak “Wienerisch” ,  which I will attempt to put into some sort of phonetic version thus: Veenerisch.   Got that?

I’m sure there are all kinds of two dollar words to describe “Viennese”,  but it’s sort of a German version of “Newfie Speak”.    I’m not sure what the equivalent would be south of the 49th,  but perhaps trying to understand someone giving you directions “down in da bayou”,  would be close?

 

I’ve engaged in brief conversations with those who spoke to me in Viennese,  and I’ll just emphasize that it was indeed brief.  My internal language processor was working overtime,  let me tell ya. 

Even the Germans in the Company that Cannot be Named, listening to those of Austrian origin who were trying their best to speak something that was understandable, would point out that, The German Language was in fact, not really being spoken. 

Kinda tough to carry on business too,  by the way.

But hey, languages evolve, which is probably why they try to get everyone to use English….

 

So I think we can put it to rest.   I did in fact,  buy “Lungenbraten”,  which was a totally made up word by those darned Austrians. 

 

Meanwhile,  on the home front.  I have a couple pictures of some food,  and something close to food.

 

This was from Saturday night,  I just liked the way the vapour was coming up off our pasta meal.   Oh, and it was quite good too. 

   

On the other end of the spectrum of all things edible,  we have (had) these abominations that had been passed off as “cookies” or “biscuits” or something.  I think the *thing* was that,  they were “gluten free”.  OK, whatever!

Well,  I’ve had stuff that’s gluten free,  but that didn’t mean it was free from taste,  or so nasty that you couldn’t even take another bite.

 

I left them out last night for the Raccoons.   They cleaned them up.

 

There we go.  Took care of that.  Note all the paw prints.

Man, those guys will eat anything!

For those of you unfamiliar with this little green bin,  we have a means of disposing of our compost here in our municipality.  This includes meat, fish, bones, plus the usual stuff that you’d put into the compost.  We do have a garden composter as well,  so it’s not like all of it goes out. 

The beauty of this concept is,  we no longer have the issues with vermin in the garden composter that we’ve experienced in past.  The rats don’t give a rat’s tiny behind about grass clippings or weeds.  Plus,  I’ve suspended the green bin in such a way that it is difficult to get into.  Difficult,  but not impossible.

Them Raccoons are a cleaver lot.

Daughter Number Two told us a little story about some sort of trapeze act?  Didn’t get any photo evidence,  but she was so impressed,  she was almost willing to take the two circus performers out a nice tray of goodies.

Almost.

 

We’re supposed to get another short heat wave,  so I’d best get busy.

 

Keep it between the ditches.

 

Thanks for stopping by.

I wouldn’t have been heartbroken.

If it had just stopped raining maybe a bit earlier?  It just makes it hard to get in and out of the house without creating a huge mess.  For myself, I should add.  But that’s probably a given.

It’s just a wee bit muggy, but thankfully not any hotter,  since I’m already sweating buckets and my glasses keep steaming up.  I think that’s the part that bugs me the most.  Sucks when everything is a blur.

 

Of course,  all I have going on at the moment is window installation,  so that’s pretty much it for my big excitement for the morning.  Hey, I might actually go to the store later.  Oooo.  Gripping.

 

 

There we go,  that should do it! 

Probably not the best idea to just leave it that way.  Not if I want to stick around.  There was a bit of a breeze coming in though.

 

I made sure I shoved in some of the pink stuff before getting too carried away.  There was just a big space up there. 

 

I just wish it was as easy to DO,  as it is to show pictures of?  I feel like I’ve had my workout for the morning.  And it’s not necessarily getting the window set into place either,  it’s getting that damned “operator” back on. (the part you crank open)

It’s together though,  and works just peachy keen.

Matter of fact,  last night I gave a little demo for Travelling Companion.

“Look Honey!”   *crank crank crank*

“And now I can close it.”  *crank crank crank*

“Watch,  let me open it again.”  *crank crank crank*

 

And you know,  she watched the whole time.  It was indeed a thing to behold. 

Hey,  if you’ve ever had your fingers pinched between those old “sashless sliders”,  *grumble*,  you’d completely understand.  They’re just two panes of glass that slide against each other,  quite often pinching your fingers.  I don’t miss them one bit.

 

Anyway,  there we go.

 

 

 

With the exception of the big monster window that’s going in the front of the house,  I think this corner arrangement is just about the most challenging little endeavour I’ve had so far on the window end of things.

I ain’t kidding.   Them suckers had to match up perfectly at the corner there,  and I didn’t have much to spare.  I don’t just “measure twice”.  I think I measured about 19 times before I sent off the request for the quote, and even then I was kind of nervous. There wasn’t going to be a “do over”.   It’s never a good thing when you have to actually cut into a wood window.  *shudder*.   I think I’d just hang up my tool belt,  not that I wear one that often.   Sell all my tools,  go sit in a rocking chair somewhere and drool…

 

So I still have to replace the stool (rhymes with drool,  did you notice?)  and the trim that goes under it (not the “sill”,  that’s on the outside),  but you’ll notice that there’s no trim around the outside edges?  That of course means the new windows have to go back exactly where the old ones came out.  You can’t really just be “close enough” and then hope to cover it up with some trim.  No sir.  

But that’s part of the ‘fun’,  right??

 

OK,  lunch time approacheth,  and I’m getting hungry.

 

There may be an update over the weekend,  but you know what I’m like. 

Have a fine “Canada Day”,  for those of you north of the 49th.   Keep that umbrella handy. 

 

Thanks for stopping in.

 

.

Kinda stoked.

Doesn’t happen very often, I realise.  I’m just not a very excitable boy.

I may have mentioned that I’ve been ‘in talks’ with a window company up in Sundridge, (here in Ontario) on the subject of completing the set of replacement windows I’ve been working on for just about the last decade or so?

I would have kept soldering on, except for that whole, “say, let’s go and live in Europe for almost five years” program. 

Hey, you take what comes along.  So everything in the house department came to a stand still.

Anyhoodle,  the lady running the place has very kindly submitted a quote for the four windows that I’d like to install,  and the price is actually right around what I thought we’d be paying for just the front window!   Maybe we were daydreaming or something,  but I thought it would be way more.

I spoke with her on Friday,  and she was complementary on my drawings, which was probably the only thing I ever learned in grade seven and eight shop,  so that was nice.  Plus of course,  it doesn’t hurt to know a bit about window jargon, so as not appear as a complete noob.   Manufacturers hate noobs, as near as I can figure,  so it always helps to speak the lingo.  Yes kids,  learn the language!

I’ve replaced roughly fifteen windows so far,  and all I want to do is get it done.  I say “roughly”, since it depends on whether you want to count the individual windows,  or the openings.  I suppose it would be 12 openings.  So we’ll leave it at that.

I was describing the concept of cedar windows to one of my pub buddies on Friday,  and he really and truly didn’t get it.  But here’s the thing.  With the exception of the fact that window technology wasn’t quite up to snuff back in the fifties,  the existing cedar windows in the house have faired very well.  The wood itself is fine.  Cedar is like that.  It’s a wood that has a lot going for it in terms of resistance to rot.  It’s also very dimensionally stable.

Of course,  the only downfall is,  the latest technology in 1958 was something called “sash less sliders”.   So ya,  just glass on glass.  R value?  *pfft* Damned little.   Plus of course,  the thermo panes in the big front window failed years ago.  R value?  Only marginally better than damned little.

 

Meanwhile,  I have other irons in the fire.

 

Looks pretty bad, I realise.  But there was a leek there,  and I *believe* the problem has been cured.  The east side of the chimney is another story.  The jury is out on that side.

Anyway,  I’m down to the scratch coat of plaster there,  so I might go over to Home Despot and pick up a bag of plaster,  rather than just go with drywall compound.   Drywall compound will take forever.

Then there was another thought that popped into my pea brain,  and that was to check the oil in the compressor.   I’ve had this compressor for about twenty years,  and it’s still running like a trooper.  The main thing is not to neglect it I suppose. 

You can have your “oil-less” compressors.  I’ll take the old fashioned kind that take oil.  I suspect they last longer.

 

OK,  off I go.  Gonna go chat with all the “knowledgeable” folks over at Home Despot.  Ha!

 

Happy Mother’s day to all you Mudders out there.

 

Keep those sticks on the ice.

 

Thanks for stopping by.

 

 

.

Why do I have to find the horseradish?

I don’t even really like the stuff either,  but it’s something that Travelling Companion and certain brave members of her family like to sample at Easter.  Just Easter dinner,  not the whole weekend.  That would be just wrong.

I’m thankful that I put that “search” function up there on ze blogue, as it allows me to surf back in time and see where we were and what we were doing.  Otherwise I’d just be makin’ up sh*t.

It was two years ago that we were in Rome for Easter,  so I guess it was three years ago that T.C. asked me to see if I could find some horseradish in Vienna.  Before that I guess we had done without?  Who knows? 

The thing is,  there’s an actual German word for Horseradish (or at least the only one I knew up until that time) and that is “Meerrettich”,  or something like that. Whether that’s the right word or not,  it doesn’t matter,  since that’s not what they say in Austria. 

Go figure.

No, they use the word “Kren”.  Don’t try looking that one up.  Unless you have some sort of funky “Austrian-English” dictionary,  you’ll just have to take my word for it. 

So,  trying to find a stalk of horseradish was a bit of a challenge.  I wasn’t asking for anything they could recognise.  After about the third store,  one of the produce clerks (who apparently spoke *actual* German) knew what I was trying to say, and gave me the proper word.  Such fun.

See,  here’s the thing.  If I had asked T.C. what the word in Slovenian for Horseradish might be,  then I would have maybe had a hint.  It’s “hren” in Slovenian.   Remember how they were part of the “Austro-Hungarian Empire”?   They have been sharing words with the Austrians for a while it seems.  With a slight Slovenian twist here and there.

Anyhoodle,  that was the nastiest horseradish I had ever tried,  which is why we subsequently, quietly decided that we’d give the Horseradish program a pass last last year. 

So, to recap: 2010,  horseradish up the nose.

                    2011,  Easter in Rome.

                    2012,  passed on the Horseradish program.

 

But now that we’re back in the land of lame, weak-assed Horseradish,  T.C. decided she’d like to try that game once more.  She wasn’t happy with the specimen she found at Longo's on Saturday.  “Too soft”.  

So on Tuesday when I had the car, (Doctor’s appointment,  no big deal) one of my tasks was to try and find “the good stuff”.  Something like that.   Had to go to two different stores.  It turns out that the specimen that I chose met with approval.  *phew*

We haven’t tasted it yet.  The jury’s still out on that one.  If it’s already been “approved”,  then it’s no longer within my purview.  It just might taste like horse *whatever* for all I care.

Now you might think that running around and then successfully finding horseradish would be the end of my pre-Easter tasks?  Well, no.   I mean,  I did.  But I was wrong.

Today I had to grind some nuts. 

 

 

 

Gripping stuff!  Man, I know you’re just on the edge of your seats.  Probably best not to use “gripping” and “nuts” in the same sentence though. 

The curious thing is,  that grinder there is made in Austria.  Belongs to one of the sisters-in-law.   I think she just might have brought it over with when they landed at Pier 21.  ( ←  Interesting article there on Pier 21 by the way)

It’s well…old.   Maybe older than muggins here.  And that’s old.   Does a fabulous job though.  Sure wish we could find a newer version,  or at least find one so we don’t have to rely on borrowing this one. 

You can buy ground up walnuts and pecans,  but they’re not fine enough.  Bonus points for anyone who can guess why T.C. needs ground up nuts?   Starts with a “P”? 

If you nodded off during class,  then I’m just sorry.  No hints.  OK one hint,  go up to “last year”.  You’ll see.

 

 

So….Happy Easter everyone.

 

I’ll be back.  Promise.

 

Thanks for lookin’.

 

.

Waging those tiny battles.

The vehicle hunt has more or less ground to a halt.  Friday’s snow storm didn’t help.  Well, Friday’s snow storm put the whole program on hold.  There’s not a lot of point looking at vehicles on a lot if they’re buried in a foot of snow. 

Actually,  it was more than a foot,  but you get the *drift*. 

That was bad,  I know.

One of the tiny pleasures of having a shed, (note complete change of topic for no apparent reason) is also having tiny visitors.  I might not even mind the tiny visitors if it wasn’t for their tiny droppings.   And yes,  I know about the dreaded Hantavirus.   I go straight to the respirator when it comes time to clean up. 

But man!  There is mouse cr*p freakin’ everywhere!  Could they not just cr*p in one spot? 

So I started waging a tiny battle last week some time.  We have the technology.  By that I mean,  we had some traps lying around.

But here’s the thing, if you’ve ever noticed how the bait has been mysteriously cleaned off the bail of a mouse trap,  then I have a little snippet of info for ya.   Thread.   Better yet wool.  And I don’t mean knitting them little poison filled sweaters either.  No see,  you have to wrap the thread around the bail,  put on your bait (peanut butter is irresistible to meeces)  and then they get their tiny teeth caught on the tiny thread and *wham-o*  

Do you need a photo tutorial?

 

Note thread:

The other “trick”,  if you want to call it that is,  mice like to stick close to walls,  so try to put your traps as close to a wall as possible.  If it’s out in the middle of a counter or cabinet,  they might not even want to venture that far out in the open.

 

This is usually the result.  

Note mouse:

Quick and painless.  Really.   I won’t get into the specifics of parts of a mouse brain,  so just go with me on this one.  He/she (didn’t check, really) is number four in as many days.

 

On other battlefronts, Travelling Companion tells me that our “air shipment” needs to be cleared of customs,  so we’re off to the airport on Friday to sort that out.  I truly have no idea where we need to go,  but she says she’s been given some detailed directions from the moving company.  OK then. 

No word on the other stuff.  Presumably it’s in a shipping container somewhere out in the Atlantic.   We’re not in a hurry for it.  The bulk of it will end up sitting in the garage until we get the transition sorted out.  Daughter number two and her hubby have found some digs in Oakville close to where they both work, so that end of things is coming together.  For the entire time that I was a Caretaker, I tried to make sure I was no more than 15 minutes from any work location.  It makes a HUGE difference when it comes to fuel outlay,  as well as the overall stress (if you want to call it that) of getting to work.  They can both walk if they choose.

 

First thing yesterday morning I registered the letter that I sent off to the LCBO.  It has to do with importing wine.  You can hardly tell there’s wine on the list,  but we do have a whopping 13 bottles that got sucked up in the moving vortex,  so the proper authorities had to be notified.  Feel free to roll your eyes.

 

The other little snippet was a letter this morning from the Austrian postal service forwarding our mail.  I went and paid for a “Nachsendungsauftrag”,  at the local post office before we left,  and for a mere €12,  they’ll forward our mail until some time in March.

So the parking garage did in fact cancel our account as of the 31st,  but I gather that they hadn’t received their cards back at that point,  so I suspect we’ll get another letter.

You can brush up on your German. 

Our Relocation Lady said she’d drop them off on the Thursday evening, which would have been the 31st.   We’ll see.  There’s a €15 deposit that they’re supposed to return to us.   There’ll be another envelope next week I assume. 

Um,  that’s about it for today’s (this week’s?)  missive. 

I’m still going through the filing cabinet and putting our new shredder to work.  Once in a while though,  I do find something that should have been pitched a while back.  Not sure why I keep some things. 

1996?  Really? 

I’m pretty sure our four drawer filing cabinet will be half empty by the time I’m done.  It’s easier to be ruthless when you haven’t looked at something for a number of years.  That’s the theory anyway.

 

So thanks for moving your eyes back and forth.  I’ll check in in a few days.  Promise.

 

Later.

 

.

The joys of moving in the wintertime.

 

But first,  this is from the “Well now, would you look at that!”  file.

On the first leg of our journey,  we were surprise to find a few little gems in with all the “stuff”  that had been shipped over from Canada.   The movers who were sent to pack us up,  consisted of a team of three,  two of which were brothers.  My suspicion is that, one of the brother was perhaps not the sharpest knife in the drawer?

See, we didn’t move the entire household (oh Gawd!)  so it was important to set aside all the items that were going to be shipped so that the rest would be left behind.   Well, the brother was upstairs, and I had been checking on him, but apparently not often enough?  I suppose he was setting things out in the upper landing which would then be inventoried and taken down to the truck.  The thing is though,  there were a few items already on the landing,  and it never occurred to me that I should somehow hide them from him.  I mean,really.

So we ended up with a few extras.  No biggie.  It meant that we had some Christmas ornaments for the tree last year when we stayed here in Vienna,  so that was cool.  There are three brand new door knobs that I had up there to match all the ones I had replaced up to that point.  (they’ll get shipped back home now,  finally)  and there was also a small box of books.   I’m pretty sure I had set the books out in the hallway because I was going to turf them out,  or at least take them to some place like the “Reuse Centre”.   

Well,  they’re here too.   And they’re finally going.  We had a little issue with some water back in the spring of 2010,  and they didn’t fare so well?  

However,  since I have a problem with parting company with books in general (have to break that little habit) I did take some time to flip through a couple just to,  you know,  remember the good times?   Something like that.

These were all from courses I took way back in University.  Um ya,  I’ve been hanging onto some books for a while?  So sad.

 

There were the usual suspects from Flaubert,  Goethe,  Thomas Mann.  There were a few others too,  but who cares really?

Oh,  and I did discover a copy of “The Nose”,  by Gogol.

Can you imagine I used to be able to read this stuff?  Hurts my head just to think about it.

 

Click on the picture,  you’ll see.

Anyhoodle,  when I was flipping through the copy of Madame Bovary,  a post card popped out,  and I just thought it was kinda cool.  It was sent from England, and it’s a picture of Lloyd’s Avenue,  in Ipswich.  The cost of postage was 8p.

 

Once upon a time I had a couple “pen pals”  (remember that idea?)  with whom I would correspond from time to time.   One was in Gmünd here in Austria,  and the other person was from Hamburg.  (I think…memory’s dim.)

Well,  here’s what she wrote.

Dear Bob!

Hope you have received my first card from England. This is now the second and last ‘cause in a week’s time I’ll be back in Germany (HORROR!)

We aren’t very lucky with the weather this summer. It’s raining all day long.

Write soon,

Love Gabi.

(Note the slightly stilted grammar?)

Um yes,  “Gabi” was a young lady.  Just makes you wonder where this person might have ended up.  The card was post marked Ipswich, 2:30 p.m., August 28, 1977.

I never met this person, and if she had ever sent a picture, that image is long gone from my memory banks. 

I wonder if I ever did “write soon”?   We’ll never know.

 

Now back to the main attraction.  Not much to say really.  It was just warm enough yesterday that I was able to get the snow off the patio table and get it inside.

Of course, that means there’s going to be water.  Not the best thing on hardwood floors, so I shoved the frame in the kitchen before taking it apart.

This is the other reason for trying to clear off the balcony.  There used to be a table there.

And then of course there’s a continuation of the usual.

I’m sure you’re thrilled.

 

Keep it between the ditches.

 

Thanks for poppin’ ‘round.

 

.

If the snow keeps up.

We won’t be getting out of Dodge tomorrow,  that’s for sure.

I think I mentioned a plan to tool down to Slovenia for the weekend, but we’re supposed to get 40 cm today (that’s around 16 inches for you metrically challenged)  and my impression is that it’s going to continue….

 

I know it’s just a boring picture out our balcony door,  but that was at eight this morning.  Right after I got home from driving Travelling Companion to work.   We’re at opposite ends of the stress spectrum when it comes to driving in the snow.  She’d be nearly in tears by the time she got there if she drove,  whereas I’m more concerned with whether of not I might need to go to the bathroom.  The driving conditions are nowhere near the top of my list of “concerns”.

 

The traffic wasn’t all that bad, but then again we did head out at the crack of crazy time.  Something to do with someone waking up way too early?  It’s a gift.

We did encounter one slight mishap on the way,  where a hapless fellow was going a little too fast on one of the underpasses and pranged into the concrete barrier.   He started to skid out and managed to avoid hitting the right side,  but then went perpendicular and sort of wrinkled the front end of his Saab.  I think it was a Saab,  it was kind of covered in snow.

My guess is he didn’t have all the bells and whistles that some of the cars are equipped with,  since Travelling Companion mentioned how she nearly wiped out in that very spot one morning but,  “the car made some funny noises and I stopped skidding.”   The “funny noises”  were actually a combination of ABS and Traction Control.   Something that can easily be poo-pooed as unnecessary, until that one time when it saves yer ass.

Even after he extricated himself from his little dilemma,  which was a darned good thing too, as he was blocking the only way onto the highway,  he still managed to drive fast enough to disappear into the traffic ahead.

I just said to T.C. “Well,  you can’t fix stupid”.

We saw him parked at the side of the road not too far from the office of The Company that Cannot be Named,  and I was quite willing to take a photo for you on my return trip, except he was still in his car on the phone.  Didn’t think it was prudent. He was quite likely calling the cops to file a report.  Or maybe he was talking to his Mom.  

 

This is just outside the Museums Quartier,  not that you’d be able to tell.  I know that second word looks like French,  but it’s a German word that they borrowed, and so it’s pronounced ‘kwarteer’.  Rhymes with ‘steer’. My phonetic spelling is nonexistent, so that’s the best I can do.

You won’t see those streets looking like that in the brochures.

 

I actually did see someone on a bike this morning.  I suppose there’s some sort of thought process that sees riding in that stuff as a challenge.  It’s not a thought process I’m familiar with.

If it snowed that hard in the Netherlands,  where the bike was my primarily means of transportation,  I would either be driving somebody to work,  and would therefore have a fine set of German engineered wheels to tool around in if need be,  or I’d simply stay home.

 

The “story” that I was going to relate will have to wait for another day.   It was just something that I started spewing out a couple days ago,  and all I need do is check it over and hit “publish”.  It’s one of the reasons I kind of like this Live Writer program,  since I’m not really then dependant on having a working internet connection to blurt things out from the tips of my fingers.  Plus, all the spewing is saved right here on this computer.  Of course, it never hurts to hit the “save local draft” thingy once in a while,  as well as do regular back-ups of the whole shootin’ match.  Don’t ask.

 

I highly recommend it, and by that I mean the program,  but I may very well be preaching to the converted.  Oh,  and do the back up thing too.  So far so good on that front.

 

This is now at 10:00 o’clock. 

There’s a ball of bird seed under there somewhere.

OK, enough of that. 

 

Oh!   We do have a moving company.   It’s going to be Interdean,  and they’re the same bunch that moved us over the Atlantic back in 08.  I suppose as moving companies go,  they’re fine. 

Late yesterday afternoon Travelling Companion got a call from someone in Canada (quel suprise!)  going over the expectations.  It seems that the very smart people in Texas somehow thought we wanted out of here in the second last week of the month.  What?  Not sure where they got that idea.  I don’t want to talk about them any more. Just hurts my head. 

This time around we’re going to be doing an “Air Shipment” in addition to the regular move,  which has been an option for each of the moves over the years,  but one that we didn’t feel we had the need for.   We get something like 62 square feet.  At first I wasn’t quite sure what that meant.

So this morning I’m trying to decipher what the heck they mean by “sixty-two square feet”,  and as near as I can figure,  they’re trying to say it’s a cubic metre.  That makes sense,  but maybe someone forgot (again) that we’re Canadian,  and we can in fact do that metric thing. 

OK, that sounds fine.  Enough room for some extra clothes, and maybe a sewing machine.  Not sure about the guitar.  It might have to go with the regular dog and pony show.

 

I realise I’m at that age where I still use feet and inches when it comes to building materials and such, but it never hurts to be bilingual on the measurement end of things.  If you’ve never tried it,  you should.  Measuring by TEN instead of 12 is so simple even I can do it.   It’s just something you learn and get used to.  Not unlike driving on the left in the UK. 

OK, maybe that’s a bad example. 

 

Once upon a time I had to install an entire kitchen that had been purchased at Ikea and of course it was all metric.  It took a couple goes with the tape measure to figure out what was what,  but it wasn’t too long before I knew exactly what a “70mm cabinet”  looked like,  for example. 

I think that’s the part about measuring in metric that seems to scare the bejeepers out of those unfamiliar.  “Twenty centimetres?  What’s that?”   Well, try this.  Hold your (reasonably normal sized) hand up and spread it out so your thumb and pinkie are as far apart as possible.  That’s close enough.   Can you measure out eight inches without looking at a ruler?  Maybe.  But maybe not.   So if the snow is going to pile up to 40 cm?   Well guess what?  You just figured it out.  See,  it’s not that hard.

End of lesson.

 

And….it’s….still….snowing.

 

Have a fine day. The jury is out on ours.

 

Keep it between the ditches.

 

Thanks for stopping by.

 

.