from The First Third by Will Kostakis:
' I was fourteen when my grandmother taught me about love and the difference between moussaka and lasagna. The two were apparently related. She called me into the kitchen where she'd laid them side by side, the moussaka made from scratch, and the lasagna, store-bought and still in its aluminium tray.
"This," she explained, pointing to the lasagna, "you buy. Easy. But it no special. You get five, ten. No hard. You just pay more. Moussaka," she pointed to the home made dish, "is different. The tray keep lasagna together, but the moussaka, look - it break easy. Because it fresh. Less cheese, more eggplant, more oil. It better for you and you make with 'agape', love. Yes? This," she pointed to the lasagna, "is Australian girl."
It wasn't the fairest comparison, but YiaYia moved on quickly.
"This," she pointed back to the moussaka, "is good Greek girl. Hard to find and sometimes messy, but better for you." '
from a Harry Dresden novel by Jim Butcher:
"Once you begin to mass-manufacture anything, by the very nature of the process, you lose the sense of personal attachment you might have to something made by hand."
A recent post by Jackie K was about hair, in particular the hair she has and how to get an 80s hairstyle. Think big hair.
It got me thinking about my own hair, which I am mostly satisfied with, but have always wished it was thicker and longer.
At the moment it's about 10-11 inches long, except for the fringe bits which are growing out, (but still only about 5 inches long), at that annoying stage where I clip it back and look silly or spend the entire day brushing it out of my eyes. It's good hair, with a bit of everything, curly bits, wavy bits, straight bits. I spend a fair amount of time wishing it would make up its mind and either curl properly or hang straight, then I tie it back into a ponytail and forget about it.
What I have is similar to Kirstie Alley hair:
but mine isn't as thick or as long. And mine is mostly grey. All things considered, nothing there to complain about.
I've begun reading a book I read about on Elephant's Child's site; titled 6 Ways To Die, by R MacWheeler. It's a young adult fiction novel and from the beginning it is fairly fast paced. Kind of took me by surprise, then the story hooked me and I began to appreciate the pace. That's how a lot of teenagers live, rushing through life wanting to be grown up, although that's not the case in this story.
In 6 Ways To Die the kids are being chased by unknown assailants who quite possibly are out to kill them.
I'm about a third of the way through it.
I spent most of yesterday working at the sewing machine. I don't do much sewing anymore. In the past, I've made clothes for myself, and clothes for the kids when they were small, then it was mostly curtains, (nothing fancy) and turning sheets sides to middle to get a few extra years wear from them.
But I mentioned to my older daughter that I wouldn't mind a curtain rod across my small entry, to help keep the warmth from the airconditioner in the lounge where it belongs.
Until now it just blows straight out towards the front door where it then dissipates through the kitchen opening and sort of gets lost.
Last weekend T and her hubby came to put up a curtain rod for me and surprise, surprise, also brought a length of medium-heavy cream coloured fabric that used to be part of her Roman Blinds.
You know those fabric blinds that draw up in folds when you pull the cords?
She'd made her own years ago, in a different house and took them with her when she moved, but now has a different look, so I have a piece of that old fabric.
I made the curtain to hang across the entry, then decided to finish the room by making another to put across the bedroom doorway.
The doorway where I had black and silver string curtains that Angel used to play with.
I didn't have any more of the fabric from T, but I did have an old cream coloured queen sized bed sheet. I held it up to judge the length, took up a 16 inch hem and hung it where the strings used to be.
Daughter and son in law also brought me their old living room rug for my floor.
I'm sitting here now feeling quite toasty. Winter won't be so bad after all, as long as I don't have to go out in the frosty air (*~*) before 9am or after 4pm.
Anyone else annoyed by that advertisement where the doofus husband comes in and says, "honey, I've accidentally laminated the cat" and 'honey' sighs and says "another vet bill, how will we get the money for that?"
It really makes me cringe.
Firstly I don't see how it's remotely possible to 'accidentally' laminate a cat.
Secondly, what wife would calmly stand there and wonder how they will pay the vet bill?
Wouldn't you expect her to at least yell at him for being careless?
Wouldn't she wonder how on earth he got that cat stuffed between two sheets of laminating plastic without noticing, and kept it there long enough to feed it through the laminator? Where of course it would be squished beyond recognition............urk.
Missed Marks To Make You Go NOOOOOOOO
12 minutes ago