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82 not just yet
Yes, we have Friday. In the wee hours of the morning of 24th February two years ago, just about 4 hours from now, orcs invaded Ukraine. The evil gnom called poo in a tin figured that this is the totally ok way to proceed. Yes, if you are fluent in the language and you can read true history, not the fancy bits the orcs propaganda machine creates, you know who is right and who is wrong. Just in case you pretend to be ignorant or not invested in this topic, congratulations. To save own sanity is number one goal in life. I, however, unfortunately, am fluent in many languages including orcs and I in addition to studying USSR history I actually lived it. So you better not try to give me any crap on this. I have read history of II WW in four languages. And the easy way to understand who is liar is if 3 of the 4 tell one thing and this idiot 4th is telling right the opposite 🙂 And I am sure you know the best nation is the one who is uneducated cattle. You can feed them exactly what you want and need. In general the rule is> occupiers, intruders, forced “pleasure” is always on the wrong side. Like rapist is in the wrong side. Even if rapist thinks he is rescuing you. And trying to convince you you need to be raped to become free 🙂
Me having fun observing, the best thing I ever have done in life is perfect my observing skills. I realised there are bunch of people that look like, almost weirdly, close relatives. This must be some sort of gene error then. Take a look at poo in a tin, the guys from isnotreal netanjahu, theresalist-guy and the rest of the poor jews doing their weird announcements in public. They have all same nose, same slightly retarded features, jawline, eyes and generally just looking like cousins. Or inbred brothers. I can not be the only one who sees this. They are literally copy paste!
Yes, the names go with small letter, they certainly do not deserve ANY respect. What they deserve weighs mere 8 grams. Where, oh where, the are the eagle eyed guys.
Anyways, it’s Friday and I I just ran out of tequila so now I started mixology studies. I hereby confirm the Mauritius rum with spice infusion goes with orange juice just as well 🙂 Burning nicely! Listening to some hiihaaahoo in TikTok, pretty good stuff! It’s amazing how everything is in ones phone, culture, news, weather forecast, everything. Now coming on someone from North Carolina, mix of rock and country, nice fellas named Ace Monroe or something! An hour ago there was a lady in NY subway, perfect vocals, I listen to her every week on Fridays, she is on at about my nighttime, which should be NY right after working hours…. I was at karaoke once here on mainland. The audience actually gathered me money 🙂 hilarious! That, ofcourse, was loooong time ago, right after I worked on cruise liner as a entertainer. Whatever you call the people singing in a band. They called me entertainer. I only sang with my beau on guitar. What I now think is maybe I should go out and see some active karaoke bars here. There are a few only, found 4 in the internet with rather questionable reviews tho. So alone I am sure I don’t go. All my mates live abroad, far away. So maybe I should just start a band or somehting. Never too much cash I say!
Time for bed now, it’s 2 at nite.
Stay warm and stay cool
Just some wisdom for the road> Charlie Harper: “relationships are built on diamond earrings and Viagra”
XOXOX
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81 spring around the corner!
Had to drag myself to work on Friday. Again. Second day in a row. During lunchbreak I measured that one banana lasts just about half way down to my car. I eat when I walk. I must be the most efficient person on earth doing multiple things at once. If I was a male I would piss while I walk too. I could do four things at once. Or five even: eat, walk, think, piss, breathe 🙂
Today in the mo I woke up at about 11. Some say is broad daylight. I say I am mighty lazy and winner in competition of sleeping duration. If no beer for dinner I don’t have any need to wake up earlier! I woke up and heard the birdsong. Birds of spring! The first announcers are here! Yipppiii! I was enjoying these birds right as my window is always open. Then I realised they yelp like people, for a moment I thought I am QQ in my head as I heard the birds say: Paris, Paris, Paris! Checked the time on my phone. It again showed 11:11. Some say it’s a sign from angels. Well, I no no angels. But I see the time constantly either 11:11, 13:13, 17:17 and 19:19, sometimes also 22:22. Now, someone explain that to me. I never see the other numbers. I would like to have a chat with that angel or so.
Listening to Harry Belafonte again. Never enough.
The Valentines day went by unnoticed. No flowers, no gifts. I am nobodys Valentine either. So I bought myself a bunch of flowers and sort of Swedish Semla buns and voila! The buns we have in our traditions aswell, we just don’t have name that can be pronounced by foreigners 🙂 and I don’t want to tell you where I am. I want you to keep on guessing. If I was to say the bun name in my homelanguage all of the blog would lose the excitement. Anyways, it’s so called imported fest just like Halloween. Which jumped from Ireland to US and then back to Europe probably somewhere around 1990? Or so…. Not sure. But I am all for the extra fun in life, I would even vote for days off if that ever came to a question.
Heard a song few days back where the lyrics translate to something like that:if loving you is wrong I don’t want to be right
there is a hole where my heart used to be
junkyard of broken hearts
and so on. I kinda liked the lyrics. I am not much of a romantic as it’s difficult to be romantic alone 🙂 but I have written a few lyrics myself. No, not written, they are in my head and they are there in various languages, sometimes I play with words in my head. You know, the ones that have totally different meanings in different languages. Like we have a cussword “arse” but in Hungarian it means “devil”, then you realise that indeed, arse is devil. Or other things like that.
Another bit of funny thing I heard and it stuck with me:
Man gave up living and went shopping instead 😉
I dread any shopping, it gives me actual physical pain if I have to go and find skies or boots or anything that you have to select, try on and it takes more than ten minutes. I get hives (? is that even a word in English) and I feel suffocating, damn, I truly hate just one thing in life…. shopping. Unless!!! Unless I travel specially for shopping to London or Barcelona or Berlin or so. This is totally strange and relieving experience. Then I have like mini vacation and I don’t have to think about work or give orders or organise something. I am thinking of southern France for this spring, maybe a bit of Monaco or Italy also. That upcoming trip is actually for future. I am going house hunting. Moving away from homeland is more and more becoming a need. And yes, it’s because of the bastard neighbour, evil gnom who for whatever reason is still alive. Why now the mighty snipers can’t get the 8 grams into each of these clowns, beats me. It is obvious we are next after Ukraine. And I don’t want to be around here sitting like a duck. So the plan is to leave before orcs attack. And once the plan is to leave to a better place then I certainly am not looking at countries with same weather as we have. What would be the point in going from expensive joint into even more expensive joint 🙂 . So the target is southern Europe. Looking closer at Portugal, Italy, France. No Spain. Been there, done that. So if all goes well I shall be raporting from sunny beach within 2 years time. With that time I am probably selling everything here and accumulating funds for the move. Fear is mighty power. But I turn it into something positive.
Stay warm and cool
XOXOX
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79 second try
I will just start with the rather bad bit that I did not manage to get into the chapter 78. I must say in advance that I have had the same experience for many times within the decades I have worked in the highly or exclusively male held position. I am the only female in this field in my homecountry and, to be honest, I do not know any females in my field in whole Europe. Which does not mean there are none in Europe, it means I have not met them throughout the years and it could be that I am the only one. However, this is just to explain the position that I am in without betraying the specific field I am working. So to spare the time and looking for the details from last post: I am the only female in my field, only local, only one who can speak local. It is physically demanding work. All my colleagues are russian speaking (yes, without capital letter, in purpose) males.
Due to the orcs war in Ukraine my workload has decreased immensly. But I have some orders that I have to now fulfill myself instead of sending some of my staff to do that. So I actually like the fieldwork every now and then. The tought part is that my work is outside no matter what time of the year it is. It’s freezing in winter, heavy winds, within two hours I could freeze to the point that I am minutes away from frostbite. The worst ever happened to me I ended up in a surgery for cleaning up my abdominal cavity from 2 kilos of puss that got there after my tubes exploded. And they exploded due to me having feet frozen for three or four days straight. I got severe cold damages and the female reproduction bits got inflammation. That was horrible. I celebrate my second Birthday on 6th of February. I also have my skin on my face peeled off many times, at least once every winter. That’s my secret beauty regime 🙂
So last week I went to work as usual. 3 pairs of pants including merino long Johns, 2 pairs of socks, 2 jackets, vest, pullover, merino body, scarves, hat, gloves. All set.
You might know the few details from earlier but just in case you are new here I repeat the vital points here once more. There is no drinking of any kind at my work. For me that is. Because there is no toilet that I can get to fast enough. I can not leave my spot at any time except smoking breaks the guys have. These breaks are 15 minutes long. I could, in theory, make it to the toilet, but I have given up on it. The setting is all male so I have no place to put my clothes that I have to take off all my jackets and pullovers and vests because I have the skiing pants on suspenders. Men have to just unzip. By the time I get all clothes off I have to hold them somehow with one hand or something while head banging on the door that is just barely 50 centimetres from the toiletseat. I can not put my clothes on floor because it’s covered with dirt and piss.
So no drinking for me of any kind on workdays.
And then the days come. The most treasured days of pink tax. For better understanding a few more details. I usually don’t use underwear. I only use it on the tax days 🙂 So I have a few pairs of grannys type. I prepare for a horror. Because I know I can’t go to toilet. I line undies with some thing I don’t know the name of. Sort of pampers for ladies. Pad or rag or what they are called. It has some glue stripes on it and it sticks to undies, and then it has also sort of a wings that supposed to keep the thingy in place. This things come in different sizes or so, I guess, I really don’t use these at all except when the workday happens to be on THAT day. Or THESE days. I despise shopping so I just grabbed some that looked suitable. They are huge, a whole foot long if not more. And it feels like pillow is tucked into your pants. And you waddle along like penguin. Extremely uncomfortable to say the least. So I have this lined and done. Last moment before leaving home I also put the usual tampon in, the biggest you can get. This is one reason I don’t use underwear – everything happens inside.
So for the last weeks horror day that took me a few days to recover. I am prepared as good as I can. I figured the tampon will only last for 2 hours because it’s stand up job and heavy physical tasks every now and then. I drive to work for about 45 minutes. So on site I have good 1.5 hours, maybe 2. After the tampon is full the magic pillow stuffed up my pants would do the job. I am all covered. And then I will use the 30 minutes lunchbreak at noon to get to toilet and do some tricks with my clothes there and change tampon and maybe also the magic pillow.
All works out fine. By lunchtime the magic pillow is still intact. I run to toilet, put my clothes into sink, do my thing. I change tampon which was already giving signs of leakage in no time. It’s a feeling you losing something soon, ladies will know maybe. Cleaned up, dressed up, I even had half frozen banana on the way. No stopping, no sitting, no no no none like that. I eat on the go, literally, walking and eating. Pretty pleased with myself! I was afraid of much worse. Because it has been worse many times!
But the workday was not over. I had at least 4 hours to go, maybe 5. Usually we end the day at about 16. Chill. Doing my thing. It’s fucking freezing. Not even the temperature that is freezing, just mere -4C, but the winds from the sea cut my face like hundreds of razorblades. I pray they quit at 4 as usually. This way I could get away clean. Literally clean. Because there is no more toilet for me! And today that is the flow day. The flow day means I usually just lay in bed whole day and only get up to go to toilet. It’s like Niagara. I change tampon every 1 or 2 hours. That is just one day like that. And today is that day. So I know my tampon will be good for max 2 hours. That’s til 2 o’clock. After that I count on the magic pillow to keep me safe for another 2-3 hours. And then I will be home.
Booooy, how wrong was I. The guys wanted or decided or for what ever point they took…. decided to work “until completed”. From what I could see we had yet to do it all looked like another hour worth of work. I think I was slightly grey from face by that time. Lost all blood. But I nodded in agreement because in this field of work there is no difference or no save if I would object. I mean, I would have to come back next day to complete. I don’t like to go to work for one hour only, so I agreed to complete. I knew then and there I will be in trouble. Or my pants will be.
Half an hour after we decided to complete the tasks…. I am frozen to icicle. Half an hour can make a big difference. The winds took up and were blowing so hard I think it’s called blizzard. I turn my back to it all to save my face. Water is running down my face. Probably some tears too. I hate my life. My feet are frozen. Damn, how can it be, they were ok just 30 minutes ago! Now everything sucks. Suddenly every detail is devil. I take napkin and dry my face so I can see – which is what I am paid for. I see all the guys hate that we decided to stay til the end. Well, they also know if we would not be doing it now we would have to come back tomorrow. For one hour. Drive one hour in, do one hour work, drive one hour out. 3 hours for a joke of money.
My tampon gave up two hours ago, just as I knew it would. It did not give up, it got full. I feel it’s leaking. It is not pleasant feeling. Luckily the magic pillow holds it all together. It’s leaking in waves, as I walk or as I do the pushing motion or pulling or any of the physical bits. It’s bursting out. Disgusted. I know with this rate of leakage I might not make it home. I already figure out I need plastic bag to cover my seat or that will be destroyed aswell. I have plastic bags in my car, as part of my tools for the work. So that’s covered. I keep my back to the winds when suddenly I feel tickling in my nose and before I can do anything I sneeze. Was an excellent sneeze! Opened my airways nicely! I blow my nose and think in horror that this is it. It has never been so bad. The excellent sneeze shook me so well that the uterus pushed out a gallon of blood so the magic pillow could not take it. It all slowly flooded over the edges of the magic pillow. Down the thighs. I am counting the amount of washing I have to do. Merino wool does not go with skiing pants. I figure I have to do washing today if I need to get to work tomorrow. No, I decide. These will not be dry for tomorrow. I feel the warmth running down. It’s on the left leg, already all the way down to my knees. Perfect, I think, I can sit in the car sort of sideways, so to make sure the seat remains clean. Oh no, I grab my nose but second sneeze beat me. Anothe gushing pulsing bloodstream running down in my fancy merino long Johns. Yummy! I am living my best life!
They complete at about 18. I am frozen. My feet hurt, my face hurts, my back feels like burning in pain. I have not been on field for few months, so I have not been standing up 10 hours straight outside in winter. Ofcourse my back is giving up. I have blood icycles in my pants. I nod to goodby. I am pissed of on everything. I think it shows. I rarely am angry, maybe once in few years. Now nobody dares to talk to me even. Usually they are all very chatty. I waddle to my car. On the way thinking what to do. No point to go to toilet, there is nothing to be saved. Better try to get home and deal with this nightmare there.
Good lord, it’s a crime scene. It has reached my boots. I am weak from loss of blood, take the pills I have for anemia. I am barely alive. I put some to wash, some to soak. I ran myself bath and fall asleep in the bath. Again. I know. I wake up when I snore. Drag myself out, take paracetamol, climb into bed and switch off.
I say the magic pillow ain’t no magic after all. What’t that thing that does not last a proper workday even 😦
Sweet dreams
Will celebrate one of my Bdays on Tuesday
The real Bday probably will be in Nizza, can’t wait!
Love and all
XOXOX
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78 winter in the end of the world
This bit now will be bad, readers discretion needed. This bit will cover nasty bits of being a woman doing mans job, a load of bodily functions and/ or actual dysfunction. It will be all sorts of yikes. So you know. Or, in case you decide to continue reading – you certainly will know 🙂
In case you are new here or just normal person minding own business I start from the fact that I do work a few different jobs. Sort of. I run businesses but every now and then I have to do actual fieldwork myself. For instance now due to the orcs’ conducted war in Ukraine I have lost 90% of my income and hence I have no means to keep the staff on payroll. So I let them go quite some time ago. That again turns into me being the actual worker because nobody is much interested or able to come for two or three days off from their new post to help me out. You know, common sense. My work is heavy physical work that is outside, by the sea usually, open in fierce weather, devastating temperatures. I usually have all my nordic gear on, but the winds in winter are so strong it feels like someone is cutting your face with hundreds of razorblades. I am thinking of smearing my face with sealfat because I suspect that’s what inuits do. Though no proof. I might try geese fat first for a test if that will keep my face not frozen. The situation is so harsh I am ready to sign even blank paper to get away from there but I can’t. They pay is good, and in fact, the pay is almost the only income I have now, mind you, it’s just 10% of what it used to be. So I have to keep going. Blody orcs. And mind you, adding to the constant conflict around me and within me I am the only non-russian in this field, and I am the only woman. I fight inside me every fucking day to keep on neutral face with these russians. I know part of them are supporters of the ol’ fart called poo in a tin. Luckily they know I am “guilty” of deporting a few comrades of theirs. So they keep shut now when I am around. But the tension is exhausting. Especially when they have promised to rape me many a times within this 25 years of working together in the same field.
So. Outside, freezing cold, from 8 in the mo to 17. Straight. On feet, outside, no place to hide, no place to get warmed up. I dream of the oilrig job – must be norwegian tho – maybe one day when I grow up. There at least they get paid better and have food and housing taken care of. I do have 15 minutes breaks twice during the day when the machinery operators go for smoke, and one 30 minutes break called lunch. I say called lunch because within 30 minutes I am not able to go for lunch. It takes me 10 minutes to get to my car, another 10 to get to labourers cantene, and you already see I am late :). I can not leave. I stay outside, dig out my pie or a half frozen banana as a lunch and avoid drinking at all costs. I avoid it because there is no toilet near. One toilet is 1 kilometre away, hence I can get there within 15 minutes but I am not able to be back on time. So no drinking anything at work for the last 25 years or so.
Yesterday I had to go to work. Alpaca tights, thermo underwear, skipants, thermo socks, woollen socks, metal nose boots, bra, thermo blouse, t-shirt, wool pullover, feather vest, silk scarf, wool scarf, Helly Hansen feather jacket for severe weather, hi-vis jacket that is blinding yellow with reflecting stripes. Hat, gloves. Tools into pockets – I have sharp spear, permanent pen, knife. Then paperwork, handful of usual pens in case one of them decides not to work in freezing cold. Tissue paper for nose. If I actually feel the snot running 🙂 ! Because it can freeze in an instant…. you might just brake off the icicle 🙂 So I am set. I can barely move but better to have problem being a tad too warm or even hot than freeze to death within few hours. Been that, done that, thats how I say this. I kid you not! Few years back I ended up in surgery for being too long in freezing conditions. Not a pretty sight but lucky to be alive, it was close call!
So we start work. Boring. Not that cold luckily! I feel warm and can even open up zipper under my chin. Working outside in north the vital bit is shoes. My mom already said that every disasterous illness creeps into you through your feet. That’s how people died in Gulag. What she meant is even tiny cold turns into horrible fever if you get your feet cold, physically, not metaphorically. Feet must be kept warm. My feet are good today because it’s only -4C. For my american friends that’s about 24F. I used to work in -25C, which is -13F. Have vivid memories of surviving this. Horror, supreme horror. It was so bad I ended up in hospidal for my guts to be cleaned because I managed to get severe inflammation of my ovaries and tubes and it all turned into 2 kilos of puzz and it exploded in my abdominal cavity, and I lost consiousness and switched off totally. I liked it “there” tho. It was warm and subtle light, I heard someone calling me. There is a tunnel, I can confirm, but I did not see the light in the end of the tunnel, more like the light, soft light was all around me. I remember it well. Very pretty and comfy, no pain! The incredible excrutiating pain I felt right before just disappeared! That pain was when the tubes exploded. It was beyond the level of pain a human can withstand so the brain jumped into action. I read later that this is survival mode that the brain swithces on to in order to save you. You faint of pain in order to survive. Coma is the same kind of survival mode of body. Fascinating. When I woke up the medics were here, three nicest men I have ever seen. I was shaking on the floor uncontrollably, I could not stop my legs. Could barely speak. They asked me some questions they needed so they can choose the right action – one they asked if I am on some drugs, probably because I was shaking on floor so mad they had to sit on my hand to keep it still for injection. Morphin it is! That was incredible! Morphine started to work literally within seconds! No pain!!! I was so amazed I said no more need to go to hospidal, let’s all go to dance! I mean, these guys were like from the firefighters calendar. We had good laugh. I really did not want to go to hospidal, but let me tell you, I am glad I went because the abruption in abdominal cavity would have killed me within a day. So they took my tootbrush, some pajamas, put them into some bag, wallet, phone, charger and carried me out to their fancy red and white van. Thanks to morphine I felt nothing but joy. And sadness once they gave me over to hospidal where the staff was only russian pissed off chicks moaning on me being brought to their station. I always wonder why they think I don’t speak or understand russian if I am local. They can see from my name that I am local. And I am not teenager or 20 years old who today maybe don’t speak russian. Anyways, I was put to waiting room which is like a hall with 7 or 8 beds that are separated with the white bedsheet kinda things. Like curtains. I got to bed with someone helping me. It started to be weird numb feeling in my legs. Climbed to bed, someone took blood, then waguely remember one guy came took me to MRT pushing me in wheelchair just in case. I would not been able nor permitted to walk. They suspected something, and were all surprised I was not drugaddict. With me in the waiting hall behind the curtains was one teenager and behind another was homeless guy. God damn how stincky he was. And covered with maggots. Horror.
More later,
the gross bits about bodily functions did not fit even 🙂 so I will do one more soon!
Gotta go fill up car and feed the cats at cottage.
XOXOX
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77 no laughing matter
In order to remain sane humour is probably the number one tool. Just cruising around finding funny bits in every situation. I am pretty sure that humour is the best medicine. It is clear that people who can laugh over themselves hold better selfpicture and cure better from various illnessess. Or even cure faster. I was once very ill, ended up in the hospidal, nobody understood whats wrong with me because all the tests sort of showed that I am totally healthy. Yet I could not move, my skin was dark grey and all my body was in excrutiating pain. There were strange ulcers on my face and hands. Even breathing was painful. I vaguely remember laughing about it when chief surgeon came, sat on my bed and said they can’t sort of keep me in there if I have nothing wrong with me. So I asked if I am officially the best actor they have seen. We laughed. Then they ran some more tests and in two days she came back and said they have narrowed down the diagnosis to two possible cases and now is only one more bloodtest to be done to be sure which one is correct. I asked what are the two options then, maybe I can already tell you the right one. Because I know my body and each corner of the hell I have been to with this body. So she said the tests results indicate the two possible diagnosis have identical symptoms but cure is totally different. So I asked what are the two possible diagnosis and she hesitated for a long time. First option, she said, is that I have endured very long time very high level of extreme stress. Well, that was, indeed, correct that time. I had been working full time in a position of high responsibility and studying in university full time too. My days started at about 6 in the morning and I got to home at about 22 in the eve, full day only go-go-go, no mistakes, no slowing down. That had been going on for years and my body started to give up on me. I did not want to agree with it though because I had to be tough. I could not be loser like that. In hospidal for stress. It sounded about right, but I had to be tough. In hospidal for stress sounded like Looserville. She stared at me when I sort of fought the diagnosis. I asked whats the prognosis for cure. She said I have to give up one of my main things, either no work or no university. I was not allowed by doc to do both. Or actually, my body was not allowing. I asked for how long and from what time on. She said immediately and by the looks of it for at least a year. I felt she could hear the thoughts pacing in my head and I swear there was smoke coming 🙂 from my ears. I asked her if she saw the smoke, she said, no but I can hear the galloping thoughts in your head. We laughed. No laughing matter, but we laughed. I was devastated of the prospects of slowing down, losing my academic progress and probably re-doing some of the courses.
I asked whats the second option of diagnosis they suspect. And she said HIV. I bursted to laugh because that for sure, for me, was not the option. We did the bloodwork to be “officially” sure. I was right.
To cure the stress my doc said she has her novice idea of how to cure it. That time the diagnosis was not widely spread. She had seen just one case before. And the patient died of it. We became free not long ago and people were new to the capitalism and she said not all people understood how to live with new rules. Business, gangs, maffia, killings, that was common. And stress. We had long talks and she suggested, as a chief, that I accept her new way of curing for me. I was to be at nights at home and come in back to hospidal in the morning at about 7 or 8. Like work. The idea was that at home among own people the patient gets better faster. She was right. We laughed that me being sick is like a work! First week or two was difficult because I was exhausted and in pain. Then started to be better and better, skincolour changed back to normal bit by bit, the ulcers disappeared one by one.
I had to pause the university for a year. Obviously. I could not quit work because I had no other means of income, as all the commoners that time. Nor had I family who could feed me. So surviving alone was nothing new to me. Very hard, when thinking back to these times. Very unfair too. This doc saved my life by telling me if I don’t change the workload I will die. Even if my head refuses to believe it my body parts will give up on me. Just like my skin started to give up. Next would be heart.
I was some 2 months going every day to “work in hospidal” and then she said I can go back to either university or work and that I no longer have to come to hospidal. Unless I collapse again. I went back to work.
Many, many moons later I had stroke. Because of overload again. But that overload was not caused all by myself. That must have been the stars.
Anyways, the weird and partly illegal (she faked the documents as to show that I was in the nospidal 24/7, otherwise I would be considered non-obidient for the treatments) sessions in hospidal proved that humour is vital. Mental health was not considered healt issue at all in soviet union and thats why we did not even have boxed to tick in documents 🙂 So during the hospidal days she always came to my room for her lunch, when it was her shift. We chatted away and laughed about things that happen in life. I don’t remember any jokes, but I remember the feeling of getting literally better within hours.
So one day I now came across a real life story about Brisbane couple who drove their car to the shopping centre only to have it brake down in the shopping centre parking lot. He told her to carry on with the shopping while he fixed the car. Wife returned later only to see small group of people gathered around the car. On closer inspection she saw a pair of hairy legs protruding underneath the chassis. Unfortunately although the man was in shorts his lack of underpants has turned his private parts into glaringly public parts. Unable to stand the embrrassement she dutifully stepped forward and quickly put her hand up his shorts and tucked everything back into place. On regaining her feet she looked across the bonnet and found herself staring at her husband, who was standing idly and silently watching. The bloke from the AA who was the mobile mechanic on site however had to have three stiches on his forhead.
One of my neighbours is 90 years old man who suffers from Alzheimers. So every day in the morning at 9 he knocks on my front door and asks if I have seen his wife. I am doomed to explain every day to him that his wife passed away a few years back. I have been thinking about how to avoid him coming over, or maybe just not answer the door for some time so he would quit coming. But it’s worth it. I will keep answering the door and explain him his wife is gone because it’s just worth seeing his smile.
Love and all,
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76 my lucky numbers!
Everyone who has some co-excistance experience in life sure has received the mighty silent treatment. Or is it correct to say silence treatment? I got it. However its correct name is. I still remember the bliss! Nobody bothering me, nobody wants nothing, nobody talking shit or no shit. To this date I do not understand why some folks think the silence treatment is some sort of punishment 🙂 …. I loved it and I have fond memories of that time. Or these times. First time it happened I felt weird but then I remembered this very same silence was in my childhood home. Sometimes. But I remember it was just a few days because you can not really run a farm in silence. So the minimum words were something like that: “horses done?” or maybe just “mkmkm” as in “no”. Our people do not talk much anyway, so it did not feel awkward at all going days without any communication. I did have contacts outside home too, work and school for instance. Or even shop. That is why this silent situation went on for weeks and once even for three months! I took it like always needed vacation, chilled, had movienights alone, went to disco or for a beer, whatever I needed to be done I could do. Independent women were and are scary for men. I guess. I learned from childhood that if something needs to be done the way you want it to be done it is better just to do it yourself. This way it sure gets done the way you want AND it gets done more or less the time you need it. That is why I am not useless dandelion. Not only do I have to do all “women” stuff I also do all “man” stuff. I set up furniture, fix plumbing horrors in bathroom, set up electrical connections, can tell by the sound whats wrong with my car or its engine, build a house (3rd!!). I also do all the gardening and cooking and the desserts and baking for cafeteria. Also hairstylist. And seamstress. It all started out of need. Now I don’t even bother looking for help. Just pick up tools, find materials and do it. I like to have all things done in my terms. Can not stand ordering some plumber who comes and starts complaining about covernment instead of fixing the problem. Those bastards charge by hour. I know politicians suck big time, I sure don’t need to pay for listening this shit.
So. Ok, I am impatient. I am fast minded and free. That is how I can just decide in the morning that I shall drive to home island and go to the restaurant there…. and back the next day maybe, maybe not. I love this freedom. You actually can not have this kind of “outbursts” if you are common 9 – 5 worker, employee. This status is the worst you can have. All capitalists and communists of course love to have a lot of workforce who have just about enough means to survive, work hard and have zero ability to break free from this vicious circle. They teach this stupid stuff in schools to, even today: learn good, become someone and work hard. Probably parents repeat this mantra also, as coming from the same vicious circle. I tell right the opposite. Plus they see that I don’t work like “normal” people. They know I run few businesses, they see I work hard but I do that on my own terms, they see I usually do not work from 9 – 5. The concept of work is pretty vague for the young people, or kids actually. I think I will have 2 more businesses soon, ran by me only partly because someone has to be legal age to open bank account at least and sign contracts or so. I will be silent partner. You will be notified if and when the businesses will take off 🙂
Found myself a new closing line.
CUNT!
C U Next Time!
What did you think, silly!
off to editing my book
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75 Buon Giorno!
Remembered suddenly a concert of Chris Rea, the concert I must say. He had just written a song that he then decided to sing for the very first time. It is in internet ofcourse, look it up. I was, as always, in first row, right in the middle, seat 16 or 17 is always mine. Or both of those seats in fact. The song is Two lost souls. If you can find it live then that is, ofcourse, always better then the studio version. Well, at least in my opinion. For the artists who can sing that is.
I came to the two seat thing quite some years ago, some think I am just hopeless. I take two tickets to all the concerts I go. Yes, you got it right. I hope to have a date or a companion to go with me. Sometimes I have my girlfriend or even sister in law with me. But many times I end up going alone because everyone I know lives far away, hours of driving if not a daytrip away. So I go alone for the most of the events. Especially in winter. Nobody bothers getting out of the house in freezing cold. And in this endless darkness.
In my playlist this song is among Tom Waits’s “Hold on”, all the Leonard Cohen songs, all AC/DC, Metallica, Richie Sambora, Rammstein, and all the best blues songs on earth. “Tennessee whiskey” and such. Time flies. Last year I added a few favourites like “Sad motherfuckin’ parade” and “Let it be me” to my list. I put my endless list to play when I write. That actually slows my writing down because I have to sing along loud and wrong 🙂 Many many moons ago I had a stroke after which I had to learn to talk again. I did not even know I had a sideeffect or talk-impairment (not sure if that’s the word in English)! I did not know my mind was thinking one thing but mouth was telling totally different words!!! I realised it some four months later when at work the ladies did not understand me. I was telling about work, so I thought. I was telling about shiploads, forklifts and discharge speed, but out came some blur about horses, rainbows and bunkbeds!!! And all that happened in Russian language. The ladies looked at me in shock and distress, you know, the look like “wtf is this chick yapping about”…. My speach did not make ANY sense but they did not understand that they should somehow adress it. Because they did not know I have had stroke so they did not know I am in trouble. Or, probably they did not realise this situation needs to be adressed.
Went home thinking what the hell just happened. Started to put one and one together. I thought I told proper words. But out came totally wrong words. I started to hear myself, thinking back the audio what I heard myself telling. I sure felt I am dumb!!! Huge confusion! Asked around if anyone had noticed my speach being strange. Answers were not pleasing. I asked eveyone to alert me if they hear and see that I am talking nonsense again. Boy, it was every day. In addition of blurring nonsense out I lost letter “S” aswell. Took me some 1.5 years to have brain and mouth cooperating again. I still have sort of a blackouts but they are similar to what “normal” people have – you know, when you want to say something but you have lost every single word. As if you just don’t know the words. I have it in every language, which makes it slightly confusing if I tell something to my kids in Russian and they have no clue what I am talking about. My work is 90% in English or Russian, none of which are my languages at home. Today. Used to be English for many years, then Russian for not so many years…. Many times I start to talk at home in Russian after work, as throuhgout the days that the language I use and think in. The strange thing is I did not even realise I use wrong language. So all in all I think I have not totally recovered from the stroke effects on my brain.
The side effects or leftovers of paralysis are more or less gone, only rarely feel the difference. I also started to work more with my left hand. Probably initially I subconciously chose left hand to get over the paralysis. So I kept my left hand busy with everything I needed to do. Except writing or brushing teeth. Everything else I can do with left hand as far as I can think of. However, people around me think I am not right in the head because I laugh all the time. With or without obvious reason. I can confirm I have not been that happy camper all my life. For obvious reasons. But I do not remember being that jolly. I suspect it is the result of stroke. People ask me quite often what drugs am I using 🙂 and when I tell that nothing more but occasional Paracetamol or Iboprofen then they just look at me with suspicion in their eyes.
Singing was one thing that got me back to normal. I actually still don’t know if I am all normal again because nobody here knows the difference 🙂 of before and after. So I just hang around and be myself. Always laughing,
Sunrise. I see it coming through fog. The heatwave is over. Had a week of zero degrees outside. Now promises another round of freezing cold, some -25C. I love to look up what it is in Fahrenheit. It’s roughly -13F. We used to go to school with this freezing weather. One reason being we did not have thermometre nor phone or any other means of knowing that school is closed. So we went anyway and as many other families were poor as fuck as our family then their kids came to school aswell. So the schoolhouse itself was open because nobody ever locked the doors…. until one day the teachers realised someone on 5th grade had changed the grades in the “book”. The Book was the main book for the whole class’s grades, everything in one for every subject including sports. The Book was usually in the teachers room but sometimes the representative from class had to carry it from one classroom to other. While doing that every now and then someone realised how easy it is to better the grades. Usually “3” became “5” and “1” became “4”. If you failed and got “2” that was difficult if not impossible to “better” without teacher noticing. Changing the grades was pretty naive thought in our tiny island tho. Teachers knew not only everything about every student but also every parent, every grandparent even. So if you dumb enough to get “1” or “2” then this struck out and stayed with you forever. The first inventor of “bettering” grades got away with it mainly because the teacher of geography was a heavy drinker and she was not sure if she really put bad grades or were the kids suddenly all excellent in geography. Her 3-s an 5-s were both chubby and roundy, very easy to mimic. I know it because I had red ballpoint pen. Not one kid in school was allowed to use red pen. I also did not use it every day, because of fear of it getting confiscated. That was the rule. Only teacher write in red. So when my classmates came to me with that Book and asked me to write some numbers for a test paper I knew what they wanted. Oh, yes, giulty I am! No harm for me because I only had best grades, straight A student as they say. In our time the grades were 1 – suck at max, 5 – exellent. I turned some of the 3-s into 5-s. Not all, ofcourse, because that would certainly be strange – our boys were not all the brightest.
Storm is picking up. Time to close the windows I guess.
Stay cool and hot!
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74 was a good year?
Who would have thought that this blog turns out like that. Not the way it was intended but interesting nevertheless. You see, if you have read all the masterpiece from the beginning, or bits that were put up earlier, you maybe noticed I put up the email address for particular person to get in contact with me. Somehow on the way that created a bit of confusion in some peoples heads. It could be one person, it could be a few, I really don’t have sure way of knowing.
So the story is that someone in the magical wast internet figured that this email address is of Johnny Depp. On the contrary, that email address is not of JD. But someone is writing me thinking I am JD. It is, ofcourse, flattering! Grey boring chick from north Europe vs hottest ever superstar 🙂 Even tho all the blog posts are clearly written by a woman. Or, maybe my writing is so bad that the fact is somehow not obvious. I really don’t know. If you, dear reader, feel the need to vent off to JD some of the problems you have please feel free to write me. However, I confirm you I am not Johnny Depp. I also confirm I am not qualified to offer any advice nor recommendations on how to act, live, proceed in your life. Sorting out your life is up to you. I don’t mind listening (or reading that is) what you have to say until it does not include threats towards me. Please consider the fact that I have never suggested I am JD and that misunderstanding is purely your own error.
Now that’s done.
Crawled out of home today to do some flowerarrangements as a sidehustle. A few hours of smell and beauty therapy that is! On the way back driving on the coastline it was a pure magical view. Sea was calm and it was slightly foggy, sky was pinkish and sunrays were playing through the fog. Calm. Freezing yet pretty. Shimmering snow, bright white, blindingly white. It will stay white until the weather gets warmer, then they have to sprinkle some sand or salts on it to keep traffic safe.
Hoping for smoother weather from now on. That would keep our costs down. We are heading for bancruptcy if this goes on…. Well, the freezing cold winters has been going on years and decades but now with the wars just few metres away takes its toll.
Gotta go now, its way past midnight.
Stay warm,
Stay cool,
And Johnny, that email is for you 🙂
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73 a lovely number
It is a dark day when conversation with meth addict makes more sense than that with your family member or co-worker. I just realised the modern world just ain’t worth the bother. It’s no point in explaining your view on anything. Just leave. They will learn by themselves if lucky. Or, they will not learn. Either way it’s none of my business and they can do as they see fit. To each to their own.
I figured I only have to hold my own hand. Nobody will hold mine. Except me. I can be perfect at wifing, but still have to cook for just me. To not waste produce. Haha, in fact, sometimes going to restaurant is, in fact cheaper. Considering the electricity, water, time and cost of wine and candles it might aswell be cheaper to have yourself a merry little evening. A date for one. I am pretty good at it except the talking part. And being alone at the table in restaurant I thing probably would be weird if I laughed out loud alone. I am good at entertaining myself and with todays mobile entertainment centres a ka phones I can fulfill hours! If you go to market and take duckbreast, today 1 kilo is roughly 25Eur. Then you get some asparagus to go with it, 10Eur a bunch. I love asparagus with bacon and drissled over with butter, real butter. Butter butter as one might say. So I take two bunches, 20Eur. Now butter, last I saw was 3Eur. Now maybe a good rose. Or two. Then you drive home. And, it could be that you fuck the duckbreast up as you were opening the bottle or something and it all got burned. Theoretically that can happen. Never happened to me but it could! So you do have only asparagus and wine 🙂 and bacon because I always have bacon in the fridge. That’s the most constant diet I have! Wine and beer (beer is mostly part of my summer diet or a must when time for sauna) bacon, butter, carrots, brokkoli and califlower, asparagus if lucky, always real farm eggs, and a lot of milk. That’s the basics in my kitchen. When in mood then I always have seafood and fish too. My favourite is real trout or salmon caught by friends on island. Really thinking of getting my fishing gear again. Last I went fishing probably some 20 years ago :).
So yesterday I went to my cottage and re-designed the cats feeding house to accomodate them during winter. It is a small kennel that I made few years back just to keep the food for them. Now I saw, obviously, they were freezing in -18C, shaking and starving. So I got the polypropylen or whatever the white stuff is called that is used for insulation and that used to be around all electrical devices. You know the white stuff which you can break into small roundy pieces and looks like snow. So I got few sheets of this, a electrical flooring mat and some nice mats. Opened up one side of the kennel, lined the walls from inside, put up a curtain for the door to keep the snow and winds off a bit more, lined the flooring and closed the wall up again. It is now officially in better living conditions than my own cottage which can be used only in summer! The kennel now keeps warmth, the cats moved in but are not liking the fact that they can not see anything because it is closed house and they are wild homeless cats. The floor is +22C at all times, which also keeps the canned food not frozen. It used to freeze within a minute or less even. Now I put food to the floor and it’s just about right. They will eat it anyway within a day. Which means I have new challenge – how to make it so that there is food all the time so I don’t have to drive there and spend minimum 2 hours every time I go there. I realise the canned food is impossible to put somehow to come out by portions. But the dry food could run from the silo-looking bottle down to the feeding bowls. The same way we used to feed our chickens, you just need to top the silo up. I need to go to the building materials shop for some inspiration :). Is it me turning into that dreaded catlady? 🙂 Or is it already “done” with no return….
I just thought about one of the best comedians ever – Carlin. I am pretty sure it was him who said: “opinion is like asshole, everyone has one”.
We here, in dark and cold bit of Europe, don’t have therapy.
We have wine, tequila, beer, vodka, rum, seaside, endless forests, blues and rock. And dark cozy nights.
With those two thoughts I shall leave you all,
Good nite to everyone
Good nite JD
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The Mad Hatter 