Just a Thursday.

Almost.

And anytime when the day passes,  and this space remains empty, there’s a very good chance that I’ve been here and there. 
This morning Travelling Companion and I had to go to the M.A. 35 (that’s the immigration office,  for those of you who misplaced your notes.  Keep up!)   to drop off the forms for the renewal of her “Aufenthaltsgenehmingung”. 

OK fine,  that’s not fair,  you needn’t know what that is,  it’s her Residence Permit.   I think somehow her work visa was already renewed for a period of time,  but I’m not entirely sure, nor do I really give a rat’s tiny behind.   We’ll then go back together in a few weeks to pick up our new cards.  Seems to me Lawyer Dude said I’d be good until March. 

Goodie.

So here’s the slightly “sad” part.  I no longer need the navigation system (GPS to you North American types)  in order to first get there,  and then to take Travelling Companion to work.   This is perhaps another sign that it’s time to move?  Of course,  me telling the cab drivers the best way to get us home from the airport is really kind of old news,  and if I had used that as a benchmark,  we should have left a couple years ago.

Oh,  and by the way,  there was a question put forth the other day from some high mucky-muck from the Ivory Tower of the Company that Cannot be Named,  asking if T.C. would consider staying “Another 18 to 24 months”.   The silence on her end of the phone was deafening.

 

Below, you will see (I hope) an image of a type of plastic box from IKEA.   I stole that image from the net,  since the ones I picked up from IKEA are still in the trunk of the car.

You can probably guess,  in light of yesterdays little missive concerning bedding,  just exactly why we suddenly need more storage?  I bought four.  I thought there were even bigger ones,  which meant I would have bought only two,  but that wasn’t to be.  If you’ve never been to an IKEA (and they’re all the same no matter where you are in the world) let me just tell you that,  certain things start to get mighty heavy and hard on the finger tips after the first few hundred metres winding your way through the entire freakin’ store in order to get to the cash!  

Somehow every time I go there,  I have this uncontrollable sensation that I’m a lemming about to jump off a cliff.   Just following along,  trying not to fall down,  waiting for the merciful end.

The reason they’re still in the car is quite simple,  and it doesn’t just have to do with the discomfort to my fingertips.  Since I have to actually venture out onto Mariahilfer to get from the garage to our front door,  all the while squinting into the sun,  trying to avoid tripping over all the shoppers,  I just figured I’d wait until later tonight.   I’ll have to go out again to fetch T.C. anyway,  and by then that little trip won’t be quite such a challenge.

She might even help.

 

One of the little routines that I do indulge in,  and this one really goes back many,  many years and has nothing much to do with living here in Vienna and having to break up the boredom from time to time,* is to sit and leaf through all the different flyers that either arrive at our door or get planked into our mailbox.   Once in a very long while there’s something in there that jumps out at me,  and I make sure to try and take advantage of either a savings or a find.

*Did you like that subordinate clause?  Wasn’t it awesome?

 

Anyhoodle,  case in point:

 

 

Yes yes,  I know,  it’s only shaving cream.  But YOU can probably find it at Shoppers, Walgreens or any number of other places, and probably get several different “flavours”.   I like to mix it up once in a while.  Or at least I used to.

Not here!  No sir.  I gave up looking for this stuff years ago.  It was only by virtue of seeing it in a flyer from Zielpunkt that I was even aware of its existence.  AND it was on sale.  Only €1,79.   I probably would have paid even more,  since the stuff I’m using now,  and have been for several years,  sucks.    I don’t know.  I just don’t like it.  I know what I like.  I like *that* stuff.

And it was right around the freakin’ corner all along!  Geez!  I’ll probably end up shipping one tin home with me.  I can accept that.

If I find Miracle Whip in the first week of the New Year,  I swear I’m gonna hit somebody.   As it is now,  I’d have to drive to Germany, to some shopping centre just outside Nuremberg, and hope to find it.  I can’t see how that’ll happen.  Drive almost six hours for Miracle Whip?  Right.

That was the place where we found it a year ago last May when Nephew Boy was here.  Remember the trip to Bonn?   As we were coming home,  we realised that the next day was going to be a holiday, *ulp* so we stopped for some groceries on the way.  It was a lucky find.  I’d never find that store again if my life depended on it.

Oh,  and did you know that Miracle Whip was presented in 1933 at the Chicago World's Fair?    That’s right kids.  Bob knows sh*t.  And you know why?  Because I thought I’d be super smart and track it down “on the line”.  Oh lookee,  it’s available in Germany.   Well Hell’s Bells,  I already know that.  *Gah*  So much for the “internet search”.

And no,  don’t even suggest mayonnaise.  It tends to make me gag.  Not sure why,  maybe I had some once and it was starting to turn?  We’ll never know. 

 

 

Now I just wait for the call from T.C.

Cue the Jeopardy tune.  Although…I’d probably have to play it over and over again a few times.  I think once will do.

 

 

Keep those thinking caps on.

I just hope Merv's estate doesn’t expect to get paid for that one.

 

Thanks for stopping by.

 

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Being a bad influence.

Well,  not “bad” like in a smokin’, drinkin’ or shootin’ drugs kind of way,  but perhaps just an “influence”.

See,  for any of you who might have ever gone across the pond to Europe,  you may have encountered a somewhat different way of putting sheets and blankets on a bed.    And even then, it would depend on where you slept,  and I’ll briefly mention the hotel situation later.

Here’s the thing. For many years, I have been known to immediately take hold of the blanket and sheet on my side of the bed at the slightest indication that my sleeping partner was about to make any kind of move.  This was a “learned skill” (that eventually can be done on a subconscious level) that was necessary to avoid waking up a little later on,  shivering in the cold with nary a blanket in sight.  It happens, believe me.

For my part,  I can ease under the covers,  lie there virtually motionless for the entire night,  wake up in the morning,  make one or two minor adjustments to the bedding,  and the bed is made.   This may very well be, because as a child our blankets were so flippin’ heavy,  I could barely move anyway?  It’s a theory.

I’m all alone when it comes to this notion of being able to lie virtually motionless throughout the night,  with the added skill set needed to quickly defend every inch of blanket whenever the need arises.  

Well actually no, I do hear that my son-in-law has a similar ability,  as he too has been known to suddenly clutch at the bed covers when faced with the impending threat of having them ripped off so fast he might end up with burn marks.   There’s some sort of genetic predisposition going on there between Travelling Companion and Daughter Number Two methinks?  Yet another theory.

So,  you can imagine my delight when we first arrived in Europe and was introduced to the idea of each of us having our very own set of coverings, (hazzah!) which then meant that I no longer needed to defend myself against the cold.   It was truly a bedding miracle! 

If you haven’t experienced this European way of making the bed,  you are indeed missing out on something remarkable.  I just want to say that.

There are a couple things going on here.   First of all,  there’s the “duvet”,  which is slipped into its own envelope-like sheet arrangement.  That’s the part that gets washed.   It’s a sheet.  It just happens to be a big envelope.

Each person gets their own,  so it can be lighter or heavier,  depending on ones own preference.  Additionally,  they can be switched to heavier ones for the winter months.  This was particularly useful when we lived in the Netherlands,  where the house we rented had damned little heat upstairs,  and we needed some serious covering up to keep warm at night. 

The second thing that’s going on,  involves these honkin’ big pillows.   Oh doggies!   They be nice.

 

 

Here’s what I’m talking about:

Click on that sucker.

That is only a double bed,  and the duvets and their covers are 180 cm,  so they’re meant for anything up to the size of a king.   That’s why there’s some overlap.   Note the big pillows.

The pillows and duvets can be had in either foam or feathers,  and they’re all equally comfortable. 

So for example,  when Daughter Number One was over here a couple years ago,  she was smitten with the big pillow program,  so when T.C. and I went home for Christmas two years ago,  I managed to scrunch up two pillows,  fit them into a suitcase, (there was some plastic bags and packaging tape involved) and we took them home for her.    They do take up a lot of room.  Even when scrunched up.  She’s a happy sleeper.

 

Well,  of the two of our most recent visitors,  only Rudy had ever been over here before,  and he probably never really gave his pillows or bedding a second thought,  so I’d imagine that whatever he had in his hotel room to crash on at the end of the day was perfectly fine.  

But just hold on there.  For Margaret,  this was her first time coming to Europe,  and I would dare say that,  even if you were to stay in a hotel,  instead of at “Chez Caretaker”,  you might not get the full “honkin’ big pillow” treatment.   Most hotels we’ve stayed in have pitifully small pillows,  and we usually have to go to the cupboard and get down the additional pillows that one hopes are stored there.  One hopes.

 

Of course,  you know that our visitors have already left the country, right? 

 

 

I’m not sure how else to say this,  but for Margaret I think there was some sort of “bedding overload”?   She was not only so smitten with the pillow program but the whole bedding arrangement was playing on her mind to the point where she just HAD to go shopping on Saturday.   I’d say it was “keeping her up at night”,  but it was actually the opposite.

 

So….. here we have,  sitting in our front hallway, the results.

 

 

I haven’t bothered to poke my head into either of these two huge bags,  but I understand there are duvet covers,  pillows,  the whole works.   She might get them next year some time?   They flew economy,  and already had one bag each,  both of which were full.  

We (meaning “I”) have to figure out where we’ll keep these bags until the day comes when our stuff gets shipped to North America.   She was willing to wait.   I think I understand.

Of course,  I’m not sure I could wait that long.

 

I suppose we’ll know at some point in the next couple months just when Margaret will get to use her new pillows.

That’s a bit of a hint,  but that’s all I’ll say.  Can’t divulge anything about “The Company…”

 

Keep those skates sharp.

 

Thanks for poppin’ ‘round.

 

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When you eat your desert first.

I suppose that could be construed as some sort of metaphor.  In that respect, it’s never been one of my little “life philosophies” either,  since  I’ve never quite understood how you get to play first, and work later.  But that’s just me.  Once in a while though,  one needs to make an exception. 

I’ll have to fill in a couple blanks here,  since the whole “travelogue”  aspect of the blog more or less fell by the wayside.  You may file your complaints with our complaints department.   It’s the little box up in the corner of your screen.  Click on it.

That should do it.

 

Plus,  now that I’ve managed to shed the two pounds that I took on as the result of driving for four days AND being the only one to snag a fine looking and tasting piece of Kremšnita,  I’m just about ready to broach the subject.  I swear I didn’t eat as much as I do when I’m here at home in Wienerland,  but somehow I still managed to put on a couple pounds.  I’m sure I don’t quite understand.  Doesn’t it burn some calories to drive?  Why do I get hungry?  *sigh*  If I try to fill up on coffee or water I just have to go pee,  so that doesn’t work.  It’s a conundrum I tell you!

 

So let’s back up here.  A week ago Sunday found us in Bled,  Slovenia.   This was after we had been more or less criss-crossing the country,  since we really and truly didn’t plan our overnights as well as we could have,  but you have to understand, Slovenia isn’t all that big,  so if you happen to back track,  it’s not a huge deal.

By that I mean,  we went to Bled,  and then back to Piran (on the coast),  after which we went on to Spittal an der Drau,  up in Austria.   I don’t recall at which point one of us said,  “Um, I think we did that wrong?”, but by then, it didn’t really matter.  Not like if,  oh I don’t know,  you forget something in Wisconsin, and don’t happen to remember it until you’re somewhere in Idaho.

 

Before getting to Bled though,  on the Sunday afternoon,  we thought we’d stop for a “quick bite” in a restaurant in Žužemberk.  There was a slight miscalculation when it came to portion size,  since we all should have shared two pizzas for the four of us,  but instead ended up having enough food for about nine people.  I don’t like leaving food on my plate, but I could not finish what was in front of me.  It’s a sad, sad thing to admit,  and I can still see that bit of unfinished pizza sitting on my plate.  Mocking me.

 

We sat outside.   That would be the place there,  taken from the castle.

Travelling Companion and I had been to this place before,  last year some time (was it?),  but we only had coffee (I think?),  but we knew it was a good place to eat,  since we had seen some of the food that came out of the kitchen.  Maybe we did eat something there?  I don’t remember.  I’m sure she’ll tell me.  She always does.

 

So obviously,  there was no room for desert.   Besides,  the *plan* was,  to eat in this particular “Pension”  that’s within walking distance of the hotel where we were staying in Bled.

We could see if from our hotel room.

We’ve never had any great ambitions about staying there,  we just eat the food.

 

The thing is though,  their restaurant is closed on Mondays,  (I know!!) which was why I had this grand scheme to get there to eat on the Sunday night.   Like I said,  that was the *plan*.  

What I didn’t quite plan on though,  was filling my face earlier in the afternoon with pizza,  and not being able to even think about eating a whole meal later that evening.  None of us could. 

 

But you know,  along towards six o’clock,  you start to think,  “Well, I could have some little thing,  just to fill in the void”?   That’s where the desert came in.

So we sauntered down to one of the local restaurants where we had had Kremšnita in the past, (many times, by the way) where I saw that there were only three pieces in the display case.  *ulp*

I spotted that on the way in.  I have a keen eye for that kind of thing.   I figured before too much time had passed,  I was going to order a piece right away,  you know,  because,  they might run out!   And that would really, really suck.   (I’m starting to hyperventilate just thinking about it!)

The ladies ordered salad or…something.  I don’t even remember what Rudy ordered.  Did I care?  I didn’t care.

 

Well.  (as he chuckles maniacally)  It turns out,  those were pretty much the last three pieces in town.

There was some talk amongst the others of “Having some tomorrow”,  or some other such silliness.  But sadly,  “tomorrow” never came.

And you know,  there have been a few stupid assed mistakes I’ve made in my life.  Eating that desert first,  was not one of them.  I just wanted to say that.

 

This was the little sign that greeted the “tomorrow” crowd when they thought they’d buy a few pieces “to go”.

You need to click on that one to get it to the *original* size,  and you’ll see what I mean.  Try not to mock the poor English.  Probably written by one of the pastry chefs.

In spite of the number of times that we’ve been to Bled,  I guess there was a whole chunk of information that I had been missing in the desert department,  since I didn’t realise that ALL of that particular desert comes from one place,  and one place only.  Hey,  I just eat the stuff,  I couldn’t care less how it’s made or where it comes from.

They even have a handy little display outside,  showing you just what you’re missing.

 

 

Well,  not what I was missing,  since I had had a piece the night before.  Did I mention that?  *snort*

 

So…that was the “catastrophe” that I had alluded to.  I guess some piece of equipment broke or something?  They had to send a driver off to the nearest kitchen supply outlet for a spare part?  Hopefully they weren’t closed on Monday too!

I suppose it was a good thing this had happened in the “off season”  in the tourist end of things, or it could have been worse!   Riots in the streets?  Man, it coulda got ugly!   We might have had to run for our lives.

OK fine,  it’s only desert,  but still…

 

 

By the way, back in August,  on another one of our little excursions,  we stopped for lunch just outside of Villach (in Austria) where we were told that the Kremšnita that we were about to order,  was “just the same”  as the original article that could be had in Bled.   

Ha!

Not true.

First of all,  it never comes with chocolate on top.  And I like chocolate.  Don’t get me wrong.  But there’s a place for everything,  and that’s not one of the places for chocolate.  It’s a hard thing to try and describe just what that particular taste is, or should be,  but you’ll just have to go to Bled to find out.  Sort of a light custardy …..oh hell,  I don’t know.  It’s good,  that’s all I know.   And….I got the last piece.

 

I’m getting hungry here.  Trying not to drool.  Gotta go.

 

 

Thanks for stopping by.

 

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