Ever just want to tear your hair out, or someone else's? If you cannot restore a sense of balance, you will run away from home? Just want to say some things without the constraints of staying on topic? Well, this thread is for you! If you just need a short break to let it all hang out, be a brat, then come on, you can do it. No holding back! Go for it, you can do it.
I'm part of the awkward in-between generation, CW - I can cope with metric, if I have to, but I think in imperial (250g of tuppenny rice, 250g of treacle doesn't quite have the same swing to it, somehow, does it?). As, I might add, do even most young Brits when it comes to their height and weight or distance from home or shoe size... But almost all recipes get published in just metric nowadays, there's probably an EU regulation about it. Cups I never did get the hang of properly, though.
I actually prefer weighing honey and syrup to using a volume measure, because so much of it clings to the spoon or cup that I'm never sure how much is going in the bowl and how much gets "rinsed off" (i.e. eaten) before I put the spoon in the dishwasher. It's easy, anyway - you just put your mixing bowl on the scales and keep adding.
But any system is better than none. There was the new bride trying to learn how to make lokshen noodles by watching her grandmother:
B - Now go slow, and I'll write it down.
G - Oo-kay. Ready? So you take your flour...
B - Flour, how much flour?
G - ??? As much as you'll want lokshen.
I found a whole discussion about "why" we refuse to learn to use a kitchen scale in north america. I think the answer is incredibly simple, the recipes aren't written that way. And the thought of converting old recipes... not gonna happen.
to further confuse everyone.
It's not you Countrymouse.
We have jars of marshmallow creme here in the U.S. and easily make our fudge out of that without any softball stages. heh heh.
But thanks so much for your efforts to pass on that evil recipe!
The dmv will have to wait-I am procrastinating on purpose, but the smog passed ok. I cannot put my hands on the bill yet...it's here somewhere. zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz:)
Scowl.
(petrol boutique?) to buy her liter and carry it home to her car.
Here is a real expedition for ya:
Make a documentary (via I-phone selfies) of gas prices across the country by riding your bike. You can take a bus back home if you get too tired. Lol?
Be sure to stop at scearze to get your bike tires filled--before they close.
Was going to say something, but forgot what it was.
Sears dear, and have a good night?
Coupons-I brought coupons. But then, just for fun, I handed the other coupons out to their other customers, saving the customers a total of $15.00, U.S.
People watcher that I am.....
A couple-the man wouldn't speak to me because of cultural differences, so I had to give it to his wife. On their way out, he turned to catch my eye and gave a brief thank you nod. Reminded me of several scenes in "Under the Tuscan Sun" where the writer went out every day, waved at a neighbor passing by as he put flowers on a memorial, but he would never wave back due to cultural customs. Then, one day, he looked up at her on the balcony, and tipped his hat. She was ecstatic.
Only problem was, I accidentally gave our $5 coupon away and kept only the $2 one. It was still too too much fun.
But, I think the restaurant wants to ban me now.
She might still have sorted it properly beforehand, tsk. But good for that clerk, deserves a pat on the head.
The cynical view is that the counting coins lady at SEARS was
another one of those elderly scam artists who make people feel sorry for them and then pay their bill.
Those scoundrels then take their money and buy a candy bar, or something extravagant.
We've got a situation bubbling up locally that's making me more tender-hearted than usual: there's an elderly man who goes to the same newsagent as I do, and he was in there this morning with the new cellphone that his niece bought for him when his old one died. T, the shop owner, was helping him work out how the charger works; but T and I started exchanging worried glances when the old man got puzzled over the standard 3-pin electric plug on the charger. The only socket he could think of at his home was the two-pin shaver socket in the bathroom, and he seemed pretty sure that there weren't any others, and he was trying to work out how to break the earth pin off so he could charge his phone in the bathroom. Er... let's not do that...
T promised to go round to his house later and show him what to do. After the old man had toddled off, T told me that he and wife had been round to the house before and his wife was in tears over the state of the place. The man never married and has no children, and his wider family is some distance away. Time to call social services, we think.
He's very active, this elderly man, and always well turned-out; and he has a standing order for Camembert cheese to go with his Saturday newspaper (in spite of the rest of us customers complaining about the smell, which is verging on nuclear). It's awful to think he might be terminally losing the plot.
One man used his taxi driver to take him and his wife to the casinos, he could not pay his caregiver he said, because he loaned the taxi driver $300, and had to wait to get paid back. At the same time, he is shuffling down the street in too small slip ons, the neighbors giving him shoes, food, treats, rides, and lotto tickets!
Your story tells it all-these are the elderly that refuse help when social services calls and nothing can be done, until they fall.
Veronica,
Muah ha ha ha. We will be keeping our doors locked.
He was given 6 birthday cakes by well meaning neighbors.
Another time (UTI) he was confused and was left on his porch to sit by another do gooder. When a neighbor said, "Oh he's fine, I just saw him go inside this morning"....
at noon he was found on the floor, ending in a NH to die 3 weeks later.
Your guy might appear ok later, but all the signs are there.
Someone could help program the cell phone and take the family's number to call, report your concerns to family first, imo.