tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-36642552313731187782024-02-19T02:38:14.837+01:00The Blogless SisterThe Blogless Sisterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09351066680712268446noreply@blogger.comBlogger626125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3664255231373118778.post-73732701640569444622017-02-15T11:37:00.000+01:002017-02-15T11:37:04.166+01:00Sære børn har mange navne<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Bjerke-knerten. Mit første kælenavn. Senere fulgte Spidsmus. Og endnu senere, Skotten. Jujeh Talai <span style="font-size: x-small;">(hvilket er farsi og betyder noget i retning af gylden kylling og ja, jeg er udmærket klar over at det lyder lidt som en grillbar)</span>. Hønsemøen. Hittetanten. Tinefix. Billetpusher.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Jeg lyder mange navne og har mange titler.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Det samme gælder min søster. Min Skumjung. Lallinen. Karjalainen. Fru Madsen. Sveske.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Men efter sommerferien, venner. Da får vi de bedste titler EVER!!!</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Kære Verden. Sig hej til (kommende) Moster Tine.</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhoN2UXT0l27majVsdaGsYp-ExA61URp48aAV66C-Rog-smCaGas8KxPynRf0vqNlYP-iiGGhR_5qG_whlKlOXHfwQvR5wd33L8EKMhS3xltYxckEeKHjQtASriJnEo_aVoypjtsrRP6dc/s1600/sisterbubble.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhoN2UXT0l27majVsdaGsYp-ExA61URp48aAV66C-Rog-smCaGas8KxPynRf0vqNlYP-iiGGhR_5qG_whlKlOXHfwQvR5wd33L8EKMhS3xltYxckEeKHjQtASriJnEo_aVoypjtsrRP6dc/s320/sisterbubble.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Kære Lillesøster</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Tillykke med fødselsdagen - og ALT det andet.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Elsker dig!!</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Kh Mørkhårede</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><i>@N ~no proper translation today (again, duh), but only important bit is is: I'm going to be an auntie. Yay!</i></span></div>
The Blogless Sisterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09351066680712268446noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3664255231373118778.post-58436795452237138512017-02-04T09:03:00.000+01:002017-02-04T09:03:19.094+01:00Siden sidst...<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">...har Viggo tabt 2 gram, men holder stadig en fin kampvægt på lidt over 1,2 kilo</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgU3KVoNVLc5_N5QdE3EOPavKDjSslucAxRC797yRQ8ERqpDTWP4OD25BpDDIgp4z4HqIKpi4L6MkqeKvzyWJHtiUwNjslzI5Fm4aoGTxxjmJnzgA5jkAIQx82-TwXGchhFvlYO2AOkHBU/s1600/viggo+weigh-in.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgU3KVoNVLc5_N5QdE3EOPavKDjSslucAxRC797yRQ8ERqpDTWP4OD25BpDDIgp4z4HqIKpi4L6MkqeKvzyWJHtiUwNjslzI5Fm4aoGTxxjmJnzgA5jkAIQx82-TwXGchhFvlYO2AOkHBU/s320/viggo+weigh-in.jpg" width="319" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">...har jeg fået en automatisk hønselem. Den åbner og lukker af sig selv til en bestemt tid morgen og aften. Den er fantastisk. Og foreløbig er udnyttelsesprocenten latterlig lav, fordi jeg troligt står og kigger på den, når den helt af sig selv kører op og ned. (Til gengæld har jeg hænderne fri så jeg kan klappe i dem, og dét gør jeg med så stor begejstring, at hønsene flygter ned i den modsatte ende af hønsehuset) Jeg gentager: den er fantastisk</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">...har jeg sat mig selv på en form for kartoffelkur, fordi især sidste halvår af 2016 i lidt for høj grad endte i en forbrugsfest. Og så alligevel - - - lad os bare sige, at enhver kontanthjælpsmodtager nok ville blive lilla af misundelse over mit "stramme" budget. Men hey, jeg styrer mig, og jeg synes faktisk selv det går ganske godt.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">...er jeg blevet uforklarligt og umådeholdent begejstret for "Lorteparforhold" med Magtens Korridorer. Det føles kun en anelse mærkeligt at skråle med på Johan Olsens pisforbandede tekster (meget højt), når man sidder i bilen på vej hen til sin aldeles udmærkede kæreste.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">...har jeg indenfor en uge taget livet af ikke mindre end 4 par uldne strømper. Hvordan kan de simultanopgive ævred i en grad så både hæle og tæer har adgang til fri luft, når de intet fejlede for bare en måned siden? Og hvem kommer lige og strikker 4 nye par til mig???</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">...har jeg haft besøg af 4 dejlige damer (kvinder? piger? gah) fra min gamle folkeskole og skudt gang i planlægningen af en 25-års jubilæumsfest. Min 40-års-krise glimrer stadig ved sit fravær, men det er mig lidt ubegribeligt, at mennesker som blev født den dag jeg gik ud af 9. faktisk potentielt har både kørekort, huslån, og børn i dag....</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">...har jeg i forlængelse af ovenstående punkt åbnet en ny dåse rynkecreme</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">- - - det var bare det, hej.</span><br />
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<br />The Blogless Sisterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09351066680712268446noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3664255231373118778.post-62824382942779109872016-12-30T17:02:00.000+01:002016-12-30T17:05:36.091+01:00New Years Greetings<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjkm98dkLqZyPseG_1FtiJevYe3nb-n9TDumrciXA0B08kNlfd3Xc916C-LgklNviRn3jHMu8AQqy7FITg9vfRBVnzDxXVisavQRslal5LgeSddm2yMgNKdpa6WHHeWwnklSlw4ZvnInEk/s1600/new+year+chicken.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="318" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjkm98dkLqZyPseG_1FtiJevYe3nb-n9TDumrciXA0B08kNlfd3Xc916C-LgklNviRn3jHMu8AQqy7FITg9vfRBVnzDxXVisavQRslal5LgeSddm2yMgNKdpa6WHHeWwnklSlw4ZvnInEk/s320/new+year+chicken.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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Fotosjåp: verdens sejeste <a href="http://klidmoster.dk/" target="_blank">Klidmoster</a> </div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><i>@ N ~scroll down for English version :)</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">I morgen, når klokken bliver 18, er det min plan at sidde klistret til skærmen og høre hvad Dronningen har at sige til os i år. Klokken 23:40 sidder jeg der igen for at se James skåle med Miss Sophie. Same procedure as every year. Visse ting piller man bare ikke ved :)</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Som resten af nationen er jeg naturligvis uhyre spændt på at se, om hun (Daisy) roder rundt i papirerne igen i år. Eller om der er mere sindsoprivende nyt om min yndlingsperson i kongehuset. Mens jeg venter på at spændingen udløses, serverer jeg lige min egen nytårsepistel, så I kan se, at bloggen ikke er helt død (men den ligger vist i respirator).</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">På de sociale medier ser det ud som om vi over en bred kam står lidt og hepper på at få verfet 2016 ud af døren. Der har budt på lidt for meget kendis-død, krig, Brexit og Trump til rigtig at være kandidat til det bedste år i 10'erne.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">For mig har 2016 været et kjæææærlighejens år. Jeg gik ind i 2016 iført forelsket-rødblussende kinder, og jeg går ud af det i samme stil. Midtvejs i året skete der så godt nok en udskiftning på holdet, så manden er ikke den samme, men det bliver kinderne ikke mindre røde af.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Det har også været et dejligt rejse-år, med en masse førstegangsoplevelser. I foråret opholdt jeg mig for første gang i flere år i London i mere end et par dage ad gangen (i takt med at jeg er blevet en ældre landmus, er London i højere grad blevet en transitby for mig - men det er stadig verdens bedste by, med verdens bedste undergrundstog). Her oplevede jeg for første gang nogensinde at oparbejde en barregning på over £150 + drikkepenge (og for første gang i et par år at blive en anelse dårlig, sådan cirka ved 18-tiden) - og det var en aldeles suveræn dag! Jeg vendte tilbage til London midt på sommeren men denne gang kun på gennemrejse - det var der jeg var vrissen og hjertesmertende og ud fra devisen "det er synd for mig" lejede en kæmpe slæde af en Mercedes og tog på mit livs første roadtrip i England. Jeg imponerede mig selv med at styre rundt i den forkerte side af vejen som om jeg aldrig havde lavet andet, og rundede for øvrigt turen af med for første gang i mit liv at blive inviteret med op på værelset af en mand, jeg faldt i snak med i lufthavnshotellets bar <span style="font-size: x-small;">(jeg takkede dog pænt nej til invitationen. Både fordi jeg faktisk ikke lige fangede værelsesnummeret hæhæhæ - og fordi jeg dog er lige sippet nok til den slags eventyr)</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">I oktober besøgte jeg for første gang de amerikanske sydstater - det var et gammelt ønske at se Charleston og Savannah, og heldigvis har jeg en søster som ikke er svær at overtale, når man hvisker roadtrip i øret på hende. Og kun få dage efter at vi kom hjem, sad vi på et tog til Berlin - det er yderst pinligt at indrømme det, men jeg nåede at fylde 40 før jeg kom så langt. Så første besøg dér, men på ingen måde sidste!</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">(Og ja, jeg overlevede 40-årsdagen. Uden krise. Kender jeg mig selv ret, skal den nok komme, men måske er den et år forsinket. Jeg er jo sår'n lidt træg i det)</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Næste år bliver godt, tror jeg. Jeg har store forventninger til 2017. Der skal være dejlige rejser (Norge og Færøerne kan godt begynde at finde flagene frem), der skal være kys og havearbejde, der skal ryddes op i garagen (igen-igen), der skal være Dåselatter, jeg skal have vin & bøf, bilen skal til service, og dyrene skal have mad. Det bliver dejligt alt sammen.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Kontorgrisen Viggo og de uregerlige høns <span style="font-size: x-small;">(som alle har det godt, men ser meget frem til at fugleinfluenza-restriktionerne forsvinder, så de igen kan spæne rundt i hele haven) </span>sender deres hjerteligste hilsner til bloglæsere og søens folk. Vi håber 2017 bliver et venligt år for alle!</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><i>@N ~</i></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><i>Somehow we've arrived at the last working day of the year - and tomorrow it's champagne and fireworks and New Year's resolutions galore.</i></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><i>At 18:00hrs exactly (DK time) you can find me, glass in hand, glued to the television to hear the Queen's New Year speech. One of the rituals that are Not To Be Messed With :) So today I'm taking a leaf out of her book - - actually, her speech is on notecards and last year she got them all in a mess; I'll try not to do the same - - and take a look at the year that is just about to end, and the one that lies ahead.</i></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><i>2016 ..... for the world in general, it does seem that most people are happy to wave goodbye to twenty-sixteen. Brexit, Trump, waves of refugees, welfare cuts, and numerous celebrity deaths were just some of the curveballs that were thrown at us.</i></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><i>For me, 2016 has mostly been about love. I started out being head over heels with a very special person and that lasted almost exactly 50% of the year. But most good things come to an end, so most of my summer was about the absence of love, and also about crocheting furiously and drinking rum on the patio. Fortunately, also the bad things come to an end, so when autumn rolled around I was ready when I most unexpectedly bumped into another very special person - and thus, I end the year exactly as I started it: in luuuuuurve :)</i></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><i>2016 was also a good year for travelling and a good year for "firsts" (and since I'm rubbish at updating the blog on a regular basis, you could -should you feel so inclined- head over to <a href="https://www.instagram.com/tbs2810/" target="_blank">Instagram </a>where you at least get snapshots of my doings). In April I went to London - it was the first time in years I actually spent more than just a couple of days there, and it was the first time ever I racked up a bar tab of £150 + tips (but man, that was a great afternoon!). </i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><i>July saw me returning to London, but only in transit this time. I drove west - first time I ever took a road trip in England - and spent a few glorious days just driving around on my own. The night before I flew home I stayed at an airport hotel and managed to "bag" another first - first time I ever had a stranger invite me up to his room .... and no, I didn't take the invitation haha. In October I fulfilled an old dream of visiting the old east coast cities of Charleston and Savannah. Sister and I rented a teeny tiny car (read: bus-sized SUV) and drove around the Carolinas and Virginia. No sooner had we set foot in Denmark again before we jumped on a train to Berlin to see a concert - my first ever visit, I'm embarrassed to admit, but certainly not my last!</i></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><i>Viggo the Guinea Pig is happy and healthy. The chickens are healthy and reasonably happy - restrictions because of the bird flu in Denmark mean they currently do not have access to roam freely in the garden but must suffer the unbearable torture of staying in their yard (which also has to be covered). They are not too pleased with this as this means they cannot run up to my parents' house to take dust baths in my Mum's flower beds. I keep telling them they should be grateful they're not locked up inside (or dead) but they refuse to listen. In short, all is well :)</i></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><i>Oh yes - and in 2016 I turned 40. And survived. I'm still waiting for some sort of age-related crisis to hit; maybe it will come at 41...</i></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><i>So, 2017. I'm hoping it will bring more of the good stuff, and leave most of the bad stuff behind when the clock chimes midnight. I know for sure there will be more travelling (trips to Norway and the Faroe Islands are planned already, yay!), there will be more gardening, more kissing, and plenty more chicken-ing. My hopes are high!!</i></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><i>I hope for you that the year ahead will be filled with joy, laughter, good times at work and at home, daffodils, friendly dogs and soft kittens, wine, long drives, wind in your hair, and everything you could wish for</i></span>The Blogless Sisterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09351066680712268446noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3664255231373118778.post-35186554985057432912016-09-25T21:24:00.000+02:002016-09-25T21:24:39.908+02:00Uden Dig (en alternativ version)<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">(Blog post in Danish - as it is a re-writing of a Danish song, so won't make much sense in English anyway. So international reader(s), please come back some other day :-)</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Sommeren 2016 har været lidt mangelfuld på visse områder. Solskin og kys, for eksempel. En af min veninder bemærkede, at ikke alene føles det som om alting er i flux; mange af sommerens danske hits har også været sådan lidt i mol. En anden veninde introducerede mig for Maja og De Sarte Sjæle ... og så begyndte jeg at tænke lidt. For det er en fin lille sang, men her - 25 år efter at Spice Girls slog igennem - er der generelt lidt langt til "I'll tell you what I want, what I really really want" i mine højttalere pt.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Så jeg drak vin, og med lidt lyrisk inspiration og assistance fra min veninde endte vi med denne alternative udgave. Fordi, mænd. Vi kan jo godt Uden Dig. Vi <i>vil</i> muligvis helst MED Dig. Men vi kan godt Uden.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">(Og til min seneste, hvis du meget mod forventning læser med - neeeej, den er ikke til/om/pga dig. Undtagen næst-sidste linje. Dén er.)</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Så hermed, til fri afbenyttelse og fællessang. De originale tekster kan ses i videoen ovenfor, og her er den alternative. Og jeg håber det er okay med Maja.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Der er nye beskeder på min telefon</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Den ringer men jeg gider ikke tale med nogen</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Jeg vil bare sidde derhjemme og tænke på dig</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Det hele er noget lort</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Det hele er noget rod</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Det hele flyder over i mit hoved</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Nej vent lidt - det' OK - uden dig</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Jeg skipper kuren og jeg dropper at æde skyr</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Det' nemlig ligemeget hvad jeg så end gør</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Snører sko, finder nøgle, slukker lys</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Låser døren</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Jeg er lige gået forbi din lejlighed</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Det var okay i og for sig</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Jeg har spildt alt for meget tid</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Det' sgu fint nok uden dig</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Jeg gik ned ad gader hvor vi har gået</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Og haft det så sjovt du og jeg</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Jeg spørger mig selv, går jeg glip af noget</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Det bli'r heldigvis et nej</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Hurra for min arrogance</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Du fik jo verdens bedste chance</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Men du viste dig at være et kiks</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Jeg smiler bredere fra dag til dag</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Jeg ved der ik' er noget nag tilbage</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Nogle gange hjælper det at drikke vin</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Jeg er kommet så utrolig langt videre</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Mens du sidder og bli'r ældre og grimmere</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Du har lang vej hjem</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Og så det ikke engang hjem til MIG</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Jeg vil gerne gå over til din lejlighed</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Det' da okay i og for sig</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Men der er ikke noget der</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Jeg skal videre uden dig</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Jeg går på de gader vi ik' har gået</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Og ser på verden uden dig</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Har Medina monstro fat i noget?</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Musikken den er kun for mig</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Jeg ta'r en taxa ind til Andys Bar</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Og ser hvad København nu har</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Der skal drik's mange mange flere drinks</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Muligvis på Bobi Bar</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Og tiden er gået</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Og dagene er gode</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Og jeg ved det ikke kan undgås</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Pludselig står du der med en anden som så si'r</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Øv, du er hende den seje </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Jeg ku' godt gå over til din lejlighed</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Men hva' fa'en skulle jeg der</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Der er så mange andre mænd</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Så jeg tror bare jeg la'r være</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Der ligger en verden for vores fødder</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Den venter faktisk kun på mig</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Jeg spø'r mig selv, hvad venter jeg på</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Nu indta'r jeg den uden dig</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Du må selv gå over til din lejlighed</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Den er ikke noget for mig</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Vi to var ikke spild af tid</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Men jeg ka' sagtens uden dig</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span>The Blogless Sisterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09351066680712268446noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3664255231373118778.post-75273063167233124012016-09-14T22:28:00.001+02:002016-09-14T22:28:50.969+02:00Gardening with chickens - another guide to (decidedly moderate) success<div>
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">All summer long, the chooks have been <a href="http://tbs2810.blogspot.dk/2016/04/gardening-with-chickens-beginners-guide.html" target="_blank">cruelly denied access to the kitchen garden</a>. Because stuff was growing there and all that.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Well. In reality what happened was that the whole achy-breaky-heart thing spiralled me into an abyss of laziness, which in turn spiralled the kitchen garden into an abundance of weeds. I know it's supposed to be good for you to get off yer bum and <i>do</i> something, especially if you've got a lovely garden to do it in, but I much prefer whining to counting my blessings.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">So let's just say that I've been unusually careful with the angling and cropping of the pictures in this post. Keeping up appearances is, as you know, of tremendous importance on this blog.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: trebuchet ms, sans-serif;">Anyway, last weekend the time had come to do.something.about it. So the chooks were let loose, and so was I (and my weed wacker). They're very skilled at scraping the surface, though not exactly methodical. And they add fertilizer at the same time, so all in all they're a valuable asset when it comes to clearing out the sad remains.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: trebuchet ms, sans-serif;">And lookie here, how decorative chooks&flowers are - you can hardly see the weeds!!</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEggPOIMcAUUERIhsxCPaiaelQPYKulhGe6mmwAY8MJw3N22eC8wJ7Uw19ttzZ8v0eAHAdiG-V3K2ecT0ou_Z2pd0F0eY1BpLtdo2y6pOOYX9iwpsvYa-XoCsdTprKjuGlnthcGKae1VVwg/s640/blogger-image-32056197.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEggPOIMcAUUERIhsxCPaiaelQPYKulhGe6mmwAY8MJw3N22eC8wJ7Uw19ttzZ8v0eAHAdiG-V3K2ecT0ou_Z2pd0F0eY1BpLtdo2y6pOOYX9iwpsvYa-XoCsdTprKjuGlnthcGKae1VVwg/s640/blogger-image-32056197.jpg" /></a></div>
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It took them no time at all to carve out a tunnel :-)</div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">The saying goes that "the early bird gets the worm". Round these parts, it's more like "the reckless bird gets the worm". Signe, the brown hen, knows no fear and digging the earth takes <i>forever</i> when she's around because she likes to sit on top of the shovel to get first picks at whatever crawlies that might appear. Nevermind that she sometimes topples over when I lift up the shovel...</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdiW3fgRz5vBI2bo-IGEAj91sRIyS9InbXu8-YN0mmDyvXcLL2Fw_WZyUeGfPj6vHv5_UQN0dLDos9RM7tqujpPPy2aPuLvJVn_25W3trsTeaGcyozmxLvwwvBAM_svap8A3FgyfhsUGU/s640/blogger-image--685120010.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdiW3fgRz5vBI2bo-IGEAj91sRIyS9InbXu8-YN0mmDyvXcLL2Fw_WZyUeGfPj6vHv5_UQN0dLDos9RM7tqujpPPy2aPuLvJVn_25W3trsTeaGcyozmxLvwwvBAM_svap8A3FgyfhsUGU/s640/blogger-image--685120010.jpg" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbVmtYpbBmW2CQQsqhcG-GQ34d-zpHCetIVHe_J6WJmVv5u_kjhZctaj__4ZA5A0ZAwNxko-SdXvFzNBNVzRkLw_8EgtuBCdm2d3-2jb14ax7oDN7tOysAW52rNHIqPWbV9dC9TC10bEU/s640/blogger-image-1187475550.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbVmtYpbBmW2CQQsqhcG-GQ34d-zpHCetIVHe_J6WJmVv5u_kjhZctaj__4ZA5A0ZAwNxko-SdXvFzNBNVzRkLw_8EgtuBCdm2d3-2jb14ax7oDN7tOysAW52rNHIqPWbV9dC9TC10bEU/s640/blogger-image-1187475550.jpg" /></a></div>
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I feel the earth move under my feet</div>
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I <strike>feel the sky</strike> see the worms tumbling down</div>
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(what song is that again??)</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgsst-M75IDfrikVcdnaugFsxPynrV54xdcs5YnPjxQ6IMDzJ7WU5BZBqAyb6KLGrq8X1ObiTbRsxTKZxCJG5-ahq-7WEQvciRfpZ1FDF28XfHcjZxkKuxaJR7LDINQxjc5NwYblXXg384/s640/blogger-image--1510977833.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgsst-M75IDfrikVcdnaugFsxPynrV54xdcs5YnPjxQ6IMDzJ7WU5BZBqAyb6KLGrq8X1ObiTbRsxTKZxCJG5-ahq-7WEQvciRfpZ1FDF28XfHcjZxkKuxaJR7LDINQxjc5NwYblXXg384/s640/blogger-image--1510977833.jpg" /></a></div>
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Look at my assistants, getting down to work :-)</div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">So. The garden wasn't a tremendous success this year. In fact, only the parsley and lettuce produced bumper crops and even they were bedevilled with weeds. But that's the wonderful thing about gardening - there's ALWAYS next year. Needless to say, I've got grand schemes and plans, half of which won't come to fruition, but that's beside the point. There's always next year ...</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Oh, and the achy-breaky heart? Pretty much done and overwith. Yay!</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjfs0esxNKVzP4e6iOo0dTJMbl5jrs6hfQplWVgccWvtwNfll7Sgcn2QrjeLph4IECYmG0eWMyWI0CJQZTMV6kcDtu_aiQemd0N6wrrRt6fXzW1r_lOlFDzVaxT6AFgHpaDoDACjWqBJfc/s640/blogger-image--261113214.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjfs0esxNKVzP4e6iOo0dTJMbl5jrs6hfQplWVgccWvtwNfll7Sgcn2QrjeLph4IECYmG0eWMyWI0CJQZTMV6kcDtu_aiQemd0N6wrrRt6fXzW1r_lOlFDzVaxT6AFgHpaDoDACjWqBJfc/s640/blogger-image--261113214.jpg" /></a></div>
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The Blogless Sisterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09351066680712268446noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3664255231373118778.post-81213359784095101272016-09-09T22:11:00.000+02:002016-09-10T10:53:35.065+02:00US presidential election hits Øster Starup. Again.<div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjRZ0hFCiOZb6fOUdT_r80bMNzP804tqbXp_CAa041-mCcRu7qPhpTjP9YgtPrSSGew25CVvqrFH95xhMqlbl1GQPUCqNo7knzh-DzXrfY9TohPoWcYFkjlhh_IROy6XQGRXUi2ioFkids/s640/blogger-image-276656850.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjRZ0hFCiOZb6fOUdT_r80bMNzP804tqbXp_CAa041-mCcRu7qPhpTjP9YgtPrSSGew25CVvqrFH95xhMqlbl1GQPUCqNo7knzh-DzXrfY9TohPoWcYFkjlhh_IROy6XQGRXUi2ioFkids/s640/blogger-image-276656850.jpg"></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Right, folks. After yesterday's heroic yet somewhat unimpressive efforts of <a href="http://tbs2810.blogspot.dk/2016/09/us-presidential-election-hits-ster.html" target="_blank">Mrs Trump</a> (represented by moi) in the baked goods department, I know you're all just dying to know how Mr Clinton fared in the <a href="http://www.familycircle.com/recipes/desserts/cookies/family-circle-2016-presidential-cookie-poll/" target="_blank">Family Circle 2016 Presidential Cookie Poll</a>.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Bill Clinton has temporarily (?) eschewed his cigar-smoking, White House intern-arousing merry ways in favour of a very homey recipe:</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">CLINTON FAMILY'S CHOCOLATE CHIP COOKIES</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">It goes a little something like this (and again, I was most fastidious about not deviating from the recipe)</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">If you're in Denmark, start by chopping up around 340 grams dark chocolate. If you're in the US, just take a 12oz package of semi-sweet chocolate chips. We're not quite as spoiled over here; most shops don't carry chocolate chips (or am I missing something), so Danish readers have to do the hard work themselves.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Mix together</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">1½ cups flour (DK: 185 gram)</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">1 teaspoon salt</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">1 teaspoon baking soda</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">-and set aside</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Mix together until creamy:</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">1 cup solid vegetable shortening*</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">1 cup firmly packed brown sugar (DK: sorry, didn't weigh it, but 1 cup is 2½dl and make sure it's packed)</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">½ cup granulated sugar (DK: 100 gram)</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">1 teaspoon vanilla extract</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">*vegetable shortening.... google has reliably informed me the best substitute is <i>palmin</i>, and you use about 200 grams</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Add 2 eggs and beat well</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Then gradually beat in the flour mixture and add</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">2 cups of rolled oats (DK: sorry, didn't weigh the <i>havregryn</i>, but it's 5dl)</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">And finally add the chocolate chips</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPlv9l4ab2GC_qFaLv8qKTzCz7p834yIojtHgyyAn9IO0J2TImprDZQdC5DFKMzMjyKGJFnJGp4YNILT7px8cUQeBgi0q8kOZE3JFi_TNAwqSb9YY-3CE68sp3wq_wbHlrvul8_BjwMtY/s640/blogger-image-565046258.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPlv9l4ab2GC_qFaLv8qKTzCz7p834yIojtHgyyAn9IO0J2TImprDZQdC5DFKMzMjyKGJFnJGp4YNILT7px8cUQeBgi0q8kOZE3JFi_TNAwqSb9YY-3CE68sp3wq_wbHlrvul8_BjwMtY/s640/blogger-image-565046258.jpg"></a></div>
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I didn't take any pictures of the prepping, but</div>
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rest assured that I did sample the raw cookie dough.</div>
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Instead, here is a picture of chickens & sunset.</div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Bake at 350 degrees F (or in DK, the less furnace-sounding 180 degrees C) for 10-12 minutes, until the cookies look the way cookies should.</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNb2oMIRO9WBW52olNwaATirhuPOVlyElFQDotCRw6QnqvwbWBfGsIyZxQPO788Hca9Nfc5hg4epOV0_1BED4vYovgjw7VU7w6QyLw2dJqpIQKUFNc0eD_FLt1bpNU1Fkm_-vB5DqDtA8/s640/blogger-image--1299424084.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNb2oMIRO9WBW52olNwaATirhuPOVlyElFQDotCRw6QnqvwbWBfGsIyZxQPO788Hca9Nfc5hg4epOV0_1BED4vYovgjw7VU7w6QyLw2dJqpIQKUFNc0eD_FLt1bpNU1Fkm_-vB5DqDtA8/s640/blogger-image--1299424084.jpg"></a></div>
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I could see on twitter that many people were out</div>
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having a beer that evening. So I tweeted this pic, as</div>
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a way of saying "HAH, I've got cookies <strike>(and didn't get</strike></div>
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<strike>any decent invitations)</strike>"</div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">The verdict:</span><br>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Ohbuttheywasgooooooood. They won't do your waistline any favours (but that's hardly the point of cookies) but they will definitely reassure you that America is still great. I'm sure this (and not his way with words) was how the young whippersnapper from Arkansas lured the feisty Miss Rodham into his <strike>bed </strike>study group at Yale.</span><br>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiUDKiMVHFIZ82MM9I8hC4oLgZ11IVYS-i6xDcGUmQApnOH1ZuhlrnYPdiIspXMbWuvfL3ojys54MZ9U9WvpiHOMeYOwnBvWI7v17DS_yMMdyIJkzIJ7__QtrptkSw2gouluqrfysP6TtA/s1600/clinton.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="239" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiUDKiMVHFIZ82MM9I8hC4oLgZ11IVYS-i6xDcGUmQApnOH1ZuhlrnYPdiIspXMbWuvfL3ojys54MZ9U9WvpiHOMeYOwnBvWI7v17DS_yMMdyIJkzIJ7__QtrptkSw2gouluqrfysP6TtA/s320/clinton.JPG" width="320"></a></div>
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<i>I knew she didn't stand a chance against</i></div>
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<i>my husband's (cookies)</i></div>
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<i>and yes, I saw what you wrote about his</i></div>
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<i>cigar, but he didn't inhale</i></div>
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The Blogless Sisterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09351066680712268446noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3664255231373118778.post-50732633312071141872016-09-09T21:26:00.001+02:002016-09-09T21:53:37.843+02:00US presidential election hits Øster Starup<div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJi1-pdPHxIfvqpO36IxVZXz-Lntk_cYAt_D1ddggQxG21kwRU47jGrsc1-qM-n6wqHBTuZl33co_1dUBmYKy3SUslAIgGKztNY8AOtqhByj-TRSD54-CYW3pqXHjm6REkXmO-NEPvTN4/s640/blogger-image-527826789.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJi1-pdPHxIfvqpO36IxVZXz-Lntk_cYAt_D1ddggQxG21kwRU47jGrsc1-qM-n6wqHBTuZl33co_1dUBmYKy3SUslAIgGKztNY8AOtqhByj-TRSD54-CYW3pqXHjm6REkXmO-NEPvTN4/s640/blogger-image-527826789.jpg" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Much to my surprise, my newly acquired visa did not come with a voting slip attached. They must have forgotten somehow, but rest assured - ze vorld shall not miss out on my Opinion about who should take over after Obama.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">I like Obama, by the way. He seems like a genuinely nice guy <i>and</i> if a very naughty dream I once had is anything to go by, he's a great kisser (I hope to god I never have that particular dream about whoever wins the election this time around...)</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">ANYWAY. How to decide who to vote for? I decided to give both candidates a fair chance and thus have spent two evenings slaving away in my kitchen, trying out both recipes in the F<a href="http://www.familycircle.com/recipes/desserts/cookies/family-circle-2016-presidential-cookie-poll/" target="_blank">amily Circle 2016 Presidential Cookie Poll</a></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">How this particular competition has previously escaped my attention is beyond me, but there you go. And seeing as how election year is peak season for crazy peoples, this seems to me a totally legit way to decide where your allegiance lies. Because cookies.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">I tossed a coin (a quarter from Ohio - very appropriately a swing state and also a state I've never set foot in; see how impartial I'm being here), and Mrs Melania Trump won the right to have her cookies baked first.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">The recipe is in the link above - and also here, with a Danish conversion thrown in.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Without further ado - tadaaa:</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">MELANIA TRUMP'S STAR COOKIES</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Mix together:</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">2 cups flour (DK: 250 gram)</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">1 teaspoon baking soda</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">- and set aside</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Mix together:</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">6 tablespoons soft un-salted butter (DK: 85 gram)</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">1 cup confectioner's sugar (DK: 120 gram flormelis)</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Then add:</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">2 egg yolks</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">1 egg white</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">2 tablespoons sour cream </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">and mix well....</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">add flour mixture until the dough just comes together - flatten and wrap in cling film, and refrigerate for at least 30 minutes.</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhfeNv3jwJIYNWuvyIlElJ4ebV1Rs3Vpr3rfY1klE2o4j5qehhektW9vxxYYkpYkJAI-5AD3yDO38n1rxyqgEq6I87UkMh-EqP6_eE0557vWsWiXDyFR5-boF-hxyYL-72GeBq037TAFjs/s640/blogger-image--1786473404.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhfeNv3jwJIYNWuvyIlElJ4ebV1Rs3Vpr3rfY1klE2o4j5qehhektW9vxxYYkpYkJAI-5AD3yDO38n1rxyqgEq6I87UkMh-EqP6_eE0557vWsWiXDyFR5-boF-hxyYL-72GeBq037TAFjs/s640/blogger-image--1786473404.jpg" /></a></div>
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<i>Always</i> remember to sample the raw cookie dough</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0yF5JF-Sz29LGa-Jo-LGlnCeB2Vzqlryq8-RUj7JhWg3pTHa2lMLPiaKPgwzaZ6YCx4JsFCaiM41TE6bxEi-nAFWiN56VJJv24wXOd3DPmwHpTTXo9CEwlbsXO3eOY21Bu-X8qoQPtek/s640/blogger-image-1338683400.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0yF5JF-Sz29LGa-Jo-LGlnCeB2Vzqlryq8-RUj7JhWg3pTHa2lMLPiaKPgwzaZ6YCx4JsFCaiM41TE6bxEi-nAFWiN56VJJv24wXOd3DPmwHpTTXo9CEwlbsXO3eOY21Bu-X8qoQPtek/s640/blogger-image-1338683400.jpg" /></a></div>
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The recipe actually says "form into 2 disks", but I'm lazy...</div>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">When the 30 minutes are up, you roll out the dough, and cut out star shapes.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">I'm usually a bit haphazard when it comes to recipes, but in the name of fairness, I stuck religiously to the recipe here and did not take my chances with any other shapes...</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Bake at 350 degrees F (DK: 180 degrees C) for about 10 minutes, until golden</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEglQf2u742IailrZGzxW0Tv2dMB5KS6-f7FEXthl__mTi7Jwk6UDLPWd7_WSqmC96tcRXi2rynrmzAwl-KZ7zysYUymnG6iKXq5Ka6WM7zwLTaWlLiAYE6rJGHrRVkH7eUJi-aeeDUP8P8/s640/blogger-image-314029521.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEglQf2u742IailrZGzxW0Tv2dMB5KS6-f7FEXthl__mTi7Jwk6UDLPWd7_WSqmC96tcRXi2rynrmzAwl-KZ7zysYUymnG6iKXq5Ka6WM7zwLTaWlLiAYE6rJGHrRVkH7eUJi-aeeDUP8P8/s640/blogger-image-314029521.jpg" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">The verdict:</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Hmmmm.... I will say that the raw cookie dough was decent. But the cookies themselves -oh, they were decidedly <i>meh</i>. Incredibly boring in fact. Certainly much more boring than watching Donald Trump on stage.</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEggKrHwZSx-2HFaUSlMQhhRzixG_L_cUsN904xLP-cOd2ReITxtfjjtiaX13erUrqcBDjjZw-4BZCFEZ8NCtnWZauu7UKwDPdN3Sse62-aJ9FlmZbtM_ybVtOOsU0h6ucnwMq7rl9hDIdw/s1600/trump.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="234" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEggKrHwZSx-2HFaUSlMQhhRzixG_L_cUsN904xLP-cOd2ReITxtfjjtiaX13erUrqcBDjjZw-4BZCFEZ8NCtnWZauu7UKwDPdN3Sse62-aJ9FlmZbtM_ybVtOOsU0h6ucnwMq7rl9hDIdw/s320/trump.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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<i>What was that you said about my wife's cookies??!??!!</i></div>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">But stay tuned. Do not lose faith, Melania. We've still got to see what the wannabe-First Gentleman has in store for us.</span></div>
The Blogless Sisterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09351066680712268446noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3664255231373118778.post-21394266778025191182016-08-26T22:54:00.000+02:002016-08-26T22:54:38.926+02:00Finest moments (a selection)<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">My day got off to a brilliant start when, about 7 minutes into my working day, I managed to spill a glass of water all over my desk (for those of you who are wondering how much water an average drinking glass will hold, I'd say about a pint and a half).</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Fortunately I'm a sloppy housekeeper, so I had a pile of unfolded laundry on the chair next to me and was thus able to mop it up without even having to leave my desk. <span style="font-size: x-small;">And to think I sometimes wonder why the laundry cycle seems never-ending.</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Then I had to call a hotel where the receptionist spoke the most endearing slurvian imaginable. Endearing, but virtually incomprehensible, so when I mentioned that the arrival date on the booking I was calling about was to be changed to two days from now and he said, "yeah, it's sunny, right?" I was puzzled but ever so politely answered "yes, but also a bit windy."</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">He meant Sunday...</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">But we got there in the end, and I said thanks, and he said "hey, dimension".</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Later in the day, a guy called XXX called to book some travel. There's more than one person by that name at his company, but what <i>I </i>said when doublechecking which one he was, was "there's more than one XXX in my life, you know". Total silence at the other end of the phone. And then "hee hee hee....". </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">It's now 930PM*. I've just been to the shops - I've got some friends coming over tomorrow and they might appreciate being fed at some point. I was wearing a pair of fairly loose cotton trousers that I haven't worn in a while, and when I came into the supermarket and put my phone, my housekeys, and my car keys in my pockets, my trousers graciously slid down and allowed me to flash my (not particularly sexy, unfortunately - had that but been the case) undies at a family of four plus two sniggering teenagers.</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEirefblrVaL8nqmqJs8TFTiQm5Tot7T4eeN-Wejmso0stluFMkJVchkTdG0a9kLzNovgMdzkkRGCUOMb_wuGoe3BWj0-SVdndnPDv-kAPNeUmWGzuJnqSk-0qX25BD0NCx5_pyh8cWZzi4/s1600/its+friday+stay+classy.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="271" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEirefblrVaL8nqmqJs8TFTiQm5Tot7T4eeN-Wejmso0stluFMkJVchkTdG0a9kLzNovgMdzkkRGCUOMb_wuGoe3BWj0-SVdndnPDv-kAPNeUmWGzuJnqSk-0qX25BD0NCx5_pyh8cWZzi4/s320/its+friday+stay+classy.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">To combat the inadvertent weight loss, I have now consumed half the chocolate biscuits I had purchased for my friends kids....</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">*it was 9PM at time of writing. It's now 10:40. I've spent an hour on the phone with one of the coolest, arrogant as f, made-of-awesomest ladies I have the good fortune of knowing. Time well spent indeed </span><span style="font-family: "Segoe MDL2 Assets";"> </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">And now, if you'll excuse me, I have to go drink some wine and start re-writing the lyrics to a Danish pop song. That, amongst other things, was what came out of that phone call.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Merry weekend, folks!</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span>The Blogless Sisterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09351066680712268446noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3664255231373118778.post-33251971814903026222016-08-25T21:06:00.001+02:002016-08-25T21:07:40.651+02:00And that was my ThursdayIt was a quiet Thursday. I went to work. It wasn't busy. And the sun was shining so after work I spent some quality time on the lawn with The V<div><br></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjnZcZo7xDa-nSDl7ibAXZCz4Cr_cCr8Dxo2o7ULGMR8CYED7i4l97WrXf8f_mfsDo3IT9L3lZh62F1WknZmWXYMimb41oiRdGr2rkRaPwm2N60PsDPs0i_bZ8ISMlpvKzW1vf1k1Hh9vE/s640/blogger-image-1563556918.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjnZcZo7xDa-nSDl7ibAXZCz4Cr_cCr8Dxo2o7ULGMR8CYED7i4l97WrXf8f_mfsDo3IT9L3lZh62F1WknZmWXYMimb41oiRdGr2rkRaPwm2N60PsDPs0i_bZ8ISMlpvKzW1vf1k1Hh9vE/s640/blogger-image-1563556918.jpg"></a></div><br></div><div>And the chooks</div><div><br></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgi1qc7Wr3tAcvxrSz6yTTTpNh93FbViEvOwvi3icc84z1vykigzn8p3gvg3uLiuc5LvAD2iKTrgkVPi4xz-7Rm6QrFvpmNGYMy22ZFdgu878SSd0xmSosyZ5O651st9Ccrv0CG4ASSusQ/s640/blogger-image--630368257.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgi1qc7Wr3tAcvxrSz6yTTTpNh93FbViEvOwvi3icc84z1vykigzn8p3gvg3uLiuc5LvAD2iKTrgkVPi4xz-7Rm6QrFvpmNGYMy22ZFdgu878SSd0xmSosyZ5O651st9Ccrv0CG4ASSusQ/s640/blogger-image--630368257.jpg"></a></div><br></div><div>Who then joined me on the patio, hoping I might be persuaded to share my wine with them. Despite this one looking decidedly off-balance, the answer was noooo</div><div><br></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgY6BUlnnMmN5Z53X5DCpd0DY-maBualEBG7lrB_D7KsSPf-VJrivBD7ZYLf_6cjSwB6sNQpg3mqj_qomnFinTdj8ls3bJ27fdV4IrtbaUIsOlL6oGRaMPWDECXxIMkm04sIP4Gbtgia7k/s640/blogger-image-812404197.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgY6BUlnnMmN5Z53X5DCpd0DY-maBualEBG7lrB_D7KsSPf-VJrivBD7ZYLf_6cjSwB6sNQpg3mqj_qomnFinTdj8ls3bJ27fdV4IrtbaUIsOlL6oGRaMPWDECXxIMkm04sIP4Gbtgia7k/s640/blogger-image-812404197.jpg"></a></div><br></div><div>Then I had a tiny meltdown but cured it with copious amounts of pasta, and THEN I cleaned out the chicken coop from top to bottom. </div><div><br></div><div>Now I'm back on the patio, wine in hand, listening to Air's 'Moon Safari', and pretending all is well with the world. Which it is, for the most part. </div><div><br></div><div>Cheers :)</div><div><br></div>The Blogless Sisterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09351066680712268446noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3664255231373118778.post-3617410438485835572016-08-21T22:43:00.001+02:002016-08-22T07:14:50.183+02:00Train-induced excitement<br>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhG4l9P1MgkLsLA9Ny6ZCLoCKr-rFMhH7QKnMWCcWoHe9ubvVhr9IkHoXGXDE4-BwAspZdkgNEQG3olLC9pEcCRk8QDaihjrI1nchQGvHg12AQFHSuGbz6ttGSvB0Q0CcM4NFok7RhIQHM/s1600/excitation+limit.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="275" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhG4l9P1MgkLsLA9Ny6ZCLoCKr-rFMhH7QKnMWCcWoHe9ubvVhr9IkHoXGXDE4-BwAspZdkgNEQG3olLC9pEcCRk8QDaihjrI1nchQGvHg12AQFHSuGbz6ttGSvB0Q0CcM4NFok7RhIQHM/s320/excitation+limit.jpg" width="320"></a></div>
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Mine: limit exceeded :)</div>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Recipe:</span><br>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Take two sixty-something year old train <strike>geeks</strike> enthusiasts.</span><br>
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Pour into a Dodge RAM.</span><br>
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Add a thirty-something year old who is exceedingly fond of waving at trains.</span><br>
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Sprinkle with a liberal dose of highways, byways, and railroad tracks.</span><br>
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Chuck in as many trains as you possibly can.</span><br>
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Stir.</span><br>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">That, in short, is how you cook up an <i>awesome</i> road trip.</span><br>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Rewind to September 2015:</span><br>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFSj-NNc46IIYjxnOLMasO3k30rUho0zmpZ4hfanf3UVMNNZdO18ATNMj75UxZfJ4e6qeWzSfts-RqMw_rLs7QAuB9VNUh-zWdvDIq1s8xzUIzM6vHdgRtjCezmtRf1__YMnTD6nQlqAM/s1600/DSC02612.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFSj-NNc46IIYjxnOLMasO3k30rUho0zmpZ4hfanf3UVMNNZdO18ATNMj75UxZfJ4e6qeWzSfts-RqMw_rLs7QAuB9VNUh-zWdvDIq1s8xzUIzM6vHdgRtjCezmtRf1__YMnTD6nQlqAM/s320/DSC02612.JPG" width="320"></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEipxuSDUkJXGtelzy3BvmMDGETUyT4w1tqIF2MsfkMcCt2SENor-mVlZeeGzebNwXT3v36B9mjig3SCmwqLsKFm5Dh39GJSTjs6WtphbfKYSpgd0NB84IdP9rE9n4cyhzAWV6lCZs_8ks8/s1600/iphone+21mar16+014.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEipxuSDUkJXGtelzy3BvmMDGETUyT4w1tqIF2MsfkMcCt2SENor-mVlZeeGzebNwXT3v36B9mjig3SCmwqLsKFm5Dh39GJSTjs6WtphbfKYSpgd0NB84IdP9rE9n4cyhzAWV6lCZs_8ks8/s320/iphone+21mar16+014.JPG" width="240"></a></div>
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Have passport,</div>
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will travel</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYpTUw2DflwkICXHchQ9sp-FurvtNxK-qF4tkcmi0nYOKlSmOmiHAXzE-D3lSAjyEe8Aga4APfaT2nH7QFL5Rz4AQBbheHucxPgyRKm3Rcs5IlxYiE9DxmUmHbpW2bgIW-z6pLq6FfvUA/s1600/DSC02648.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYpTUw2DflwkICXHchQ9sp-FurvtNxK-qF4tkcmi0nYOKlSmOmiHAXzE-D3lSAjyEe8Aga4APfaT2nH7QFL5Rz4AQBbheHucxPgyRKm3Rcs5IlxYiE9DxmUmHbpW2bgIW-z6pLq6FfvUA/s320/DSC02648.JPG" width="240"></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Sometimes you hit the jackpot. And make friends with a person who has a "drivers license" to this beauty.</span><br>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiE8_CuNcp-96gAiwUPWShWTDgZvEPpBvR_KB6urMbgI5xGxV7tKUIX_2xIT6VI9tULRADCLmNNXe_zpSufv9RQVPVuav1UVYZwnfbTm80VmWQ8Y2yf8K1vEip7cyuu7RKv0yGpgDgbBbM/s1600/DSC02665.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiE8_CuNcp-96gAiwUPWShWTDgZvEPpBvR_KB6urMbgI5xGxV7tKUIX_2xIT6VI9tULRADCLmNNXe_zpSufv9RQVPVuav1UVYZwnfbTm80VmWQ8Y2yf8K1vEip7cyuu7RKv0yGpgDgbBbM/s320/DSC02665.JPG" width="320"></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">And you get to see a railway bridge from this angle:</span><br>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhkjZeCuu1PK18DxaPoGJb_qfUHxO9gM9Xq_U0wdfo-5YKRnPsbNUeAzQQqdRtD4V_I1c2HC4TmCE5uz-Q8YxjrJhv69m8xZ9JE1HswLjSLYb9SUf8OcsXWb0CJqADBsaQZpwzw74npMng/s1600/DSC02658.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhkjZeCuu1PK18DxaPoGJb_qfUHxO9gM9Xq_U0wdfo-5YKRnPsbNUeAzQQqdRtD4V_I1c2HC4TmCE5uz-Q8YxjrJhv69m8xZ9JE1HswLjSLYb9SUf8OcsXWb0CJqADBsaQZpwzw74npMng/s320/DSC02658.JPG" width="320"></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">I'm not saying I wasn't totally cool about it. Of course I was. Cool af. </span><br>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Merely suggesting that I sort of melted into a little puddle of giddy happiness.</span><br>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJ_dh16O7qTlLqugaOmmO9cHPXb3tTqYdq_5gpOWApc7Ed81cSkZ_FZsUT0qg2M6UtTXF7bD2Zy5-XQcX41r443Z0oUukjR91JGEk9F6yIRas2tsKA2LdVtrFLUUY-pd7CjNVP0bZm9fo/s1600/DSC02706.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJ_dh16O7qTlLqugaOmmO9cHPXb3tTqYdq_5gpOWApc7Ed81cSkZ_FZsUT0qg2M6UtTXF7bD2Zy5-XQcX41r443Z0oUukjR91JGEk9F6yIRas2tsKA2LdVtrFLUUY-pd7CjNVP0bZm9fo/s320/DSC02706.JPG" width="320"></a></div>
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One of the old cars from "my"</div>
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Empire Builder</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGPtTAm40LHAAgwa28tz9nk0AEa-T8SfTRRBedjidIbQ9IPlBCkLM83JzG1dPkTQTifatYL4chQBrSH7v7y3xm8ca9ZpX-vd9_2TZlGPKYoUHTDq3Gh6-JpUkJNh4iCWqAskOilsNnOvw/s1600/DSC02621.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGPtTAm40LHAAgwa28tz9nk0AEa-T8SfTRRBedjidIbQ9IPlBCkLM83JzG1dPkTQTifatYL4chQBrSH7v7y3xm8ca9ZpX-vd9_2TZlGPKYoUHTDq3Gh6-JpUkJNh4iCWqAskOilsNnOvw/s320/DSC02621.JPG" width="320"></a></div>
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Ladies and Gentlemen:</div>
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THE HUSTLE MUSCLE </div>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">I think we can safely agree that I reached my excitation limit several times. And this was only the second day of my vacation.</span><br>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">The next day we visited the Minnesota State Fair - and the day after that, we climbed into the car and headed WEST.</span><br>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">And my, oh my. The West is big place. I remember when I went from Portland to Chicago on the Empire Builder. It took most the better part of a day just to cross Montana - which was the Rockies, open country, fields, fields, fields, a town, fields, a dirt track, fields, fields, and more open country. It was, in short, awesome.</span><br>
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br></span><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">On this trip we drove through North Dakota, most of Montana, turned around near the Rockies, and came back via Wyoming and South Dakota. </span><br>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEikKv38OyyWXdmMY11vflK4uznTHCxJ0A-U-U_Hw7DhQ8UEM1hIuB5y8VFxr5Rz02E1zGu83q_UBRh6TYgiJJqStxuvPYxHd5yt8vTvvQ-etwgBwoKeB9OP_rDPXPIKMtD7TIImuf6ckCw/s1600/DSC03154.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEikKv38OyyWXdmMY11vflK4uznTHCxJ0A-U-U_Hw7DhQ8UEM1hIuB5y8VFxr5Rz02E1zGu83q_UBRh6TYgiJJqStxuvPYxHd5yt8vTvvQ-etwgBwoKeB9OP_rDPXPIKMtD7TIImuf6ckCw/s320/DSC03154.JPG" width="320"></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhC3v9R04R1vnJXkEXYbZHWXgMfBsq9SOvCg4TDaPJL0gmsMiV93oT0DrtqjrQEiuu_KZYzuyuGsrObLDopqiv53-gETx3IDBy04FlYKRdHohiVsitr916SHdcTxi6o9ReT9QqqaMFgvHw/s1600/DSC03023.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhC3v9R04R1vnJXkEXYbZHWXgMfBsq9SOvCg4TDaPJL0gmsMiV93oT0DrtqjrQEiuu_KZYzuyuGsrObLDopqiv53-gETx3IDBy04FlYKRdHohiVsitr916SHdcTxi6o9ReT9QqqaMFgvHw/s320/DSC03023.JPG" width="320"></a></div>
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I'm currently thinking about going to see a</div>
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rodeo in Colorado next year. But they are</div>
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nowhere near as good at planning ahead</div>
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as the good people of the</div>
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Testicle Festival in Montana,</div>
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so all the 2017 dates are "yet to be announced".</div>
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(dear cowboys of Colorado, you may consider</div>
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this an open letter. My friend and I would like</div>
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to go dancing with you next spring; when should</div>
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we book our flights for? :)</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEglJ1NszQvBY4Y3NEOmPMlNNjSqKV8MwQLPTw8KHp-_gNOKiYeFsf-1o5BIuokvFXihs6V3VyGIfKkn9KJTe-_FD-BnLFE1hWu_2YiUX68xSYrBq0eboV_AkPw1z-6d_Yio5SCU_lD8T64/s1600/DSC03051.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEglJ1NszQvBY4Y3NEOmPMlNNjSqKV8MwQLPTw8KHp-_gNOKiYeFsf-1o5BIuokvFXihs6V3VyGIfKkn9KJTe-_FD-BnLFE1hWu_2YiUX68xSYrBq0eboV_AkPw1z-6d_Yio5SCU_lD8T64/s320/DSC03051.JPG" width="320"></a></div>
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Speaking of cowboys,</div>
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how many ways can you interpret</div>
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Anaconda Opportunity?</div>
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(oh ye of pure minds,</div>
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how I envy you)</div>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">My traveling companions knew all the good places. In the middle of nowhere, they would tell me to take the next exit (not the Anaconda one) and point me in the direction of a loooong, unpaved country road. </span><br>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_BaGFKn1yb8CEejA9rRSFQqhf5nEcX5X0YyFvmgiyT_puM072nCMV0Zq6SLpk2Eczs9N9mOic-c6m4tPg5exgw-1x-BR26aZwZZzV4C7Un9E8ayi0CiARb3s22r1FPUDsYQOKzHOYGIs/s1600/DSC02891.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_BaGFKn1yb8CEejA9rRSFQqhf5nEcX5X0YyFvmgiyT_puM072nCMV0Zq6SLpk2Eczs9N9mOic-c6m4tPg5exgw-1x-BR26aZwZZzV4C7Un9E8ayi0CiARb3s22r1FPUDsYQOKzHOYGIs/s320/DSC02891.JPG" width="320"></a></div>
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Awesome</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjG4c-7liRKETG3ZgsAeJ-wkr7mr3K_V6qemrNhBx8nrCV-vcbHb4B6bH4a1IkY4881LNj0iH7544y-f5SGTXUL8SQo21q_hbbPVMnYVqAu7N1fwTTcZT7F8lkeDdvpwFiLZbLC2Fy158o/s1600/DSC02917.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjG4c-7liRKETG3ZgsAeJ-wkr7mr3K_V6qemrNhBx8nrCV-vcbHb4B6bH4a1IkY4881LNj0iH7544y-f5SGTXUL8SQo21q_hbbPVMnYVqAu7N1fwTTcZT7F8lkeDdvpwFiLZbLC2Fy158o/s320/DSC02917.JPG" width="320"></a></div>
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Though not always with</div>
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good visibility</div>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">You might think this was a dead end, and nothing to see...</span><br>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhgtvkoHKvsKtq8R-y4RqV4G7Oh2dZjLIrCCkplFUbCPm3wzx42vOcja4_sROANPylp_Sza3RsmF3-ZlT2Xo667l4PbDV1MIl5d6izmBSai0k4dI6xAWiIvvGXfQfMGdYOo3OZao3dwcdw/s1600/iphone+21mar16+176.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhgtvkoHKvsKtq8R-y4RqV4G7Oh2dZjLIrCCkplFUbCPm3wzx42vOcja4_sROANPylp_Sza3RsmF3-ZlT2Xo667l4PbDV1MIl5d6izmBSai0k4dI6xAWiIvvGXfQfMGdYOo3OZao3dwcdw/s320/iphone+21mar16+176.JPG" width="320"></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">But you would be entirely wrong:</span><br>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQvv3c9H947S4UhtmEbGaacPwJuAbE94jFX_4a5WVkdbXB1thikyT4U0dS4Ty9dQ4vA2vdO1ZPxANJc_zSdHcJ-VUvRSrAu13V-UgijJDTq0tmmARBWGC5HNTvd4kfAf6YMhxA6rgnxk0/s1600/DSC02863.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQvv3c9H947S4UhtmEbGaacPwJuAbE94jFX_4a5WVkdbXB1thikyT4U0dS4Ty9dQ4vA2vdO1ZPxANJc_zSdHcJ-VUvRSrAu13V-UgijJDTq0tmmARBWGC5HNTvd4kfAf6YMhxA6rgnxk0/s320/DSC02863.JPG" width="320"></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Yay!!!! Train!!!</span><br>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">There's a special breed of people who take great delight in waving at trains. I proudly count myself among them ;)</span><br>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgn1WJQuUVCDNUA4fuNGALewHH5iYTLlYZawR-oaOcmADtwROYqlUMUBiDyV_nvc4jhFPbEJXSUSSS-Y5XRQzgJpocszIoGjZm0XLDm9oGL4Khdv31QNS-zDQVZzPzuHNigbi31vWyrey4/s1600/people+who+wave+at+trains.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="214" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgn1WJQuUVCDNUA4fuNGALewHH5iYTLlYZawR-oaOcmADtwROYqlUMUBiDyV_nvc4jhFPbEJXSUSSS-Y5XRQzgJpocszIoGjZm0XLDm9oGL4Khdv31QNS-zDQVZzPzuHNigbi31vWyrey4/s320/people+who+wave+at+trains.jpg" width="320"></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">One day we met the same train four times (because of signals, road/railroad layout, and driving like ze clappers) and it was <i>glorious</i>. The train drivers are pretty good at waving back; the fourth time we met the train they went all in with lights, whistles, and what have you.</span><br>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">I'm pretty sure this is the equivalent of getting the guy's phone number (should have practised the Morse Code....)</span><br>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4d86q0a2g-TTmVqam_en2N8oTnSFB7yjKCrAs_sQ5IrFE8-rcpijM_HDlUwUbjvS8182FzQ5mYOgR8RkMQNfUy6Fvukg-nlyqW5uGuDMkV9vPsTz1votjzsWk0b9XkqAVpaP-EcYUBQc/s1600/DSC03046.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4d86q0a2g-TTmVqam_en2N8oTnSFB7yjKCrAs_sQ5IrFE8-rcpijM_HDlUwUbjvS8182FzQ5mYOgR8RkMQNfUy6Fvukg-nlyqW5uGuDMkV9vPsTz1votjzsWk0b9XkqAVpaP-EcYUBQc/s320/DSC03046.JPG" width="320"></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">I've tried counting the number of train pics I took that week. I stopped when I got close to a hundred....</span><br>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">So yeah. That is <i>one</i> way to have an awesome road trip. Surround yourself with interesting people, keep your eyes open, talk to friendly strangers, and remember to wave at trains.</span><br>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">In fact, always wave at trains.</span><br>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">It's for luck.</span><br>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2IecRdoi_k2VjyL-KnYwcxek5ZAzMrq3sPUJ1zeIBp722DW6Ke9i2qy-Q-2hnjZYP8MehkY-K68bN9RXFXSEp68KgSIb9JWk_6xXblkiAwFJCh3CwlDtxmeywIhSBKmSBHcrTQy4Qcdg/s1600/DSC02867.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2IecRdoi_k2VjyL-KnYwcxek5ZAzMrq3sPUJ1zeIBp722DW6Ke9i2qy-Q-2hnjZYP8MehkY-K68bN9RXFXSEp68KgSIb9JWk_6xXblkiAwFJCh3CwlDtxmeywIhSBKmSBHcrTQy4Qcdg/s320/DSC02867.JPG" width="320"></a></div>
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br></span>The Blogless Sisterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09351066680712268446noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3664255231373118778.post-34167050076463628852016-08-21T17:12:00.001+02:002016-08-22T10:17:10.120+02:00Shortcut to happiness (or, a cinnamon roll recipe)<div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiEfE1Uw4F0SqEv5gOZGeww4pUaQnNcOvKC3FBYWxodRxrkyjAPcdBz9JeHHTs4Hv09KIZWtZOGKFYimVbKlIy5YL0c54OZjOA8zzq3VRoEn4ZXGMNsjw83P2hdXs5LUt74UpVmPP0vRk4/s640/blogger-image-1342027552.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiEfE1Uw4F0SqEv5gOZGeww4pUaQnNcOvKC3FBYWxodRxrkyjAPcdBz9JeHHTs4Hv09KIZWtZOGKFYimVbKlIy5YL0c54OZjOA8zzq3VRoEn4ZXGMNsjw83P2hdXs5LUt74UpVmPP0vRk4/s640/blogger-image-1342027552.jpg" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Last weekend I made a batch of cinnamon rolls so sinfully delicious it ought to send any Catholic straight to confession. Not being Catholic, I found redemption in <strike>sharing it</strike> stuffing it down the throats of any and all who came by over the following days and once they got over the shock of me doing that, they all went <i>mmmmmmmmh, yummy</i>. So I thought I'd share it with you. </span><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Or, at least, point you to the original recipe, which can be found by clicking </span><a href="http://thepioneerwoman.com/cooking/cinammon_rolls_/" style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;" target="_blank">HERE</a><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">. I halved the recipe and there's a brief recap of it further down on this page, but go read the original. It has ramblings aplenty, and that's always worth a detour.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">In Denmark, cinnamon rolls are often quite a depressing experience, with far too much dough and nowhere near enough icing. These are quite the opposite and your fingers will get sticky. You have been warned.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">What else have I been up to? ....hmmm. I've been exorcising Moaning Myrtle and am progressing nicely. I've taken up yoga again <i>and</i> thrown in aqua yoga as well, and that is really good. I've started having regular massages and lemme tell ya, it is <i>the</i> most awesome thing to throw money at. I've been to the cinema, visiting friends, and looking at train time tables. Oh yes, and working. My holiday ended 3 weeks ago, and it seems like a small eternity already.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Yesterday was a really nice day. First I went with a friend to an old state prison which is now open to the public (the prisoners have moved elsewhere, save for this one guy who has been gainfully employed there since his release). We started out with a sandwich at the café and intended to go all in with cakes etc for dessert when suddenly a herd of children descended upon the place and instantly turned us into grumpy little ladies, so we hastily departed to the ticket office and thus saved ourselves a considerable calorie intake (I'm now baking bread to compensate for that)</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">After our tour behind bars, which was quite interesting, I drove halfway across the country -which, this being Denmark, only took an hour and a half - and met up with a guy who helped me out with some tricky bookings a while back and was now due for repayment in the form of beer and grub and sparkling conversation. We had a really great time and I have now added one more destination to my list of places-I-want-to-go. Win-win, all round.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Anyways, the cinnamon rolls....</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">The recipe, as I made it: You start by heating </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">2 cups of milk (for Danish readers: that's about 5 deciliters and please, use whole milk, because that is just soooo much better all round)</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">½ cup vegetable oil (DK: 1.25 deciliters)</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">½ cup sugar (DK: 100 gram)</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Heat it up, but don't let it boil. And then let it cool to lukewarm.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Sprinkle 2-3 teaspoons dry yeast on top, and let it sit for a minute. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Add 4 cups flour (DK: 500 gram), stir it all together, and let the dough rise for an hour.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Go and read a book.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">After an hour, stir the following into the dough:</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">1 more cup of flour (DK: 125 gram)</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">1 teaspoon baking powder</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">½ teaspoon baking soda</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">1 teaspoon salt</span><br />
...maybe a tiny bit more flour...<br />
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">And then, on a floured surface which isn't too difficult to clean afterwards, roll the dough into a large rectangle. The book said 30x10 inches, and I have no idea what that is in metrics, or at all really, so I just rolled it out until it was fairly thin and looked like it would roll up nicely without falling apart.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Now we come to a delightful bit: </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Melt 1 cup butter (in Denmark, a standard pack of butter is 250g which is a bit more, but I just melted the whole pack because butter)</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">And pour most of it over the dough and spread it lovingly with your fingers so everything is covered in butter. (You'll want to keep aside some of the butter for greasing the pans, and around 3 tablespoons for the icing)</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">It's a very nice feeling...</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjscAGPHTAUpAYttA6NIqblKRaBzU_JZe0vy2f4Hhxxhc9-RsTylva2QQz12ydsn2K_tZbFVUgeyPJ4T9nnVVPdhAa-yOrbKuRiKCfmANPqYW6uZfUq_ENeZ-g8F6kR6gxyiqYjCBYe7Xo/s640/blogger-image--239265641.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjscAGPHTAUpAYttA6NIqblKRaBzU_JZe0vy2f4Hhxxhc9-RsTylva2QQz12ydsn2K_tZbFVUgeyPJ4T9nnVVPdhAa-yOrbKuRiKCfmANPqYW6uZfUq_ENeZ-g8F6kR6gxyiqYjCBYe7Xo/s640/blogger-image--239265641.jpg" /></a></div>
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Mmmmmmmh, BUTTER</div>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Then you sprinkle the dough with sugar and cinnamon. The recipe (halved) says 1 cup sugar + a couple of teaspoons of cinnamon, but just do what you like here I think.</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkYYjIizpLU0SHzIBX2ltVXjo-x3PNpI9yyxAAih_ybJNiV5q1bzcHQhR-EhVuYBYIzsvozmcUfwGWx4LWOy7TezZZ6xc0_bZdnuAjTA7rUmRPWpGAjwbEhQ8FHaQL3llIfH1TuSFUeAg/s640/blogger-image--19670543.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkYYjIizpLU0SHzIBX2ltVXjo-x3PNpI9yyxAAih_ybJNiV5q1bzcHQhR-EhVuYBYIzsvozmcUfwGWx4LWOy7TezZZ6xc0_bZdnuAjTA7rUmRPWpGAjwbEhQ8FHaQL3llIfH1TuSFUeAg/s640/blogger-image--19670543.jpg" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">And then you roll up the dough fairly tightly, cut it into slices, and put the slices in a greased baking tray. Leave them to rise for 20 minutes, and if you forget and they rise for 35 minutes then no harm done.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Fortunately, this seems to be a very forgiving recipe.</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEirVPJlrWcRF-QZytyllNrbDUtMoGTOC9Zi-fJaE4DrI8remqxzr3uH284mcJ8oTfCuiI0OfuSQwkgAHv-OUXspy0IJGwR4DZLBG0klyOtuiJsGh8XOzv6hSjFHN37evafibCJtM6hMYh4/s640/blogger-image-285535786.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEirVPJlrWcRF-QZytyllNrbDUtMoGTOC9Zi-fJaE4DrI8remqxzr3uH284mcJ8oTfCuiI0OfuSQwkgAHv-OUXspy0IJGwR4DZLBG0klyOtuiJsGh8XOzv6hSjFHN37evafibCJtM6hMYh4/s640/blogger-image-285535786.jpg" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">And then you bake them at 190 degrees C (which google reliably informs me is the same as 375 degrees F) for 15 minutes, +/-, until they are golden brown and smell delicious.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">15 minutes, incidentally, is also enough time to make the icing, which you pour over the rolls while they are still hot.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">The recipe (still, halved), calls for 1 pound powdered sugar (which I start by sieving because otherwise I <i>never</i> get rid of the lumps), 2-3 tablespoons milk, 3 tablespoons melted butter, 3 tablespoons coffee, and a tiny bit of salt and a teaspoon of maple flavouring.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">I freestyled this a bit, but as long as you have a deliciously thick, pourable icing that tastes good, I think you are good to go. Maple flavouring isn't something you easily come by in Denmark (I have some that I bought in the US and I make a point of not looking at the sell-by date), but more coffee or perhaps vanilla flavouring works well.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">When the cinnamon rolls look like this, they are ready to come out of the oven and be drenched in icing. Leave them for a couple of hours (hah) and either eat with a spoon or have plenty of tissue on hand for your greasy fingers.</span><br />
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The Blogless Sisterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09351066680712268446noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3664255231373118778.post-15866166077663385392016-08-15T11:58:00.000+02:002016-08-15T11:58:51.074+02:00Left luggage<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgsx0slTCtCC5GmgKM57HQFNlJWD85Viuv4xElFSrGZU5RK0hyphenhyphenUp3jhXC7gkklqwwyIttFBlUGfKUEglN6eCpzU91RAnWJwAUj_9zOD4UhL6F3Fr_g-9yH0TnceW35Qb2ybRY1nfcI-q8E/s1600/luggage.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="211" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgsx0slTCtCC5GmgKM57HQFNlJWD85Viuv4xElFSrGZU5RK0hyphenhyphenUp3jhXC7gkklqwwyIttFBlUGfKUEglN6eCpzU91RAnWJwAUj_9zOD4UhL6F3Fr_g-9yH0TnceW35Qb2ybRY1nfcI-q8E/s320/luggage.jpg" width="320"></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">It's always the little things. People in your life leave tiny imprints on it, and even if they leave, the marks are still there. Little things that, out of nowhere, will remind you of someone, sometimes someone you haven't thought of in years.</span><br>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">My best friend changed the way I prefer my "leverpostejmadder" (open sandwich with a sort of liver paté; very much a Danish thing). I now actually prefer them with tomato slices on top - before I became friends with her, it was always-always cucumber. (She also taught me that true love is best shown by making pancakes early in the morning)</span><br>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">An ex boyfriend inspired me to change from monthly to daily disposable contact lenses (and thus improved my life without even knowing it). </span><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Another ex gifted me </span><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">(not deliberately I'm sure)</span><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"> with a profound aversion to men who have nicknames for their </span><i style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">member</i><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">. An unsolicited dick pic is one thing; actually being formally introduced to it is quite another. I mean, what are you supposed to do? Shake hands with it (how??) and say "pleased to meet you; I do look forward to working with you??" Yet another </span><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">ex left me with an expensive taste in alcohol and a slightly more adventurous palate (though nothing beats the guy who treated me to my first taste of frogs legs, steak tartare, </span><i style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">and</i><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"> escargots, all in one hedonistic weekend). And for years, I would habitually buy a certain kind of chocolate whenever I saw it on sale, only later to wonder why on earth I'd done that when I didn't even like it.</span><br>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">You may not even notice the subtle ways in which people influence you. And you can't really get rid of the memories, even if you may want to. You can purge your life of the physical evidence - stuffing old pictures into a drawer, deleting old e-mails (or filing them away so efficiently you'll never find them again), looking at an old poster and then deciding to leave it up because, sod it, you like it more than you miss him. You go through all the motions, and you feel better for it, and then a tiny thing - something you didn't even share, but maybe saw in a shop and thought he might like - will send you reeling.</span><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br></span>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhAYyMC4a7DVsrkjo6FvcnlLKn4cvC6QGRjVzrD8YUc6bn4YR5MRpiVAM_QBxMOJYYDVXlM-fmrBXGwGkQPyOXtrkMLCBJVSj36fNmkd9zhAtWTCtImaXssbO-b9sKUCAUr9aaud_truZs/s1600/look+who+I+am+without+you.PNG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="155" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhAYyMC4a7DVsrkjo6FvcnlLKn4cvC6QGRjVzrD8YUc6bn4YR5MRpiVAM_QBxMOJYYDVXlM-fmrBXGwGkQPyOXtrkMLCBJVSj36fNmkd9zhAtWTCtImaXssbO-b9sKUCAUr9aaud_truZs/s320/look+who+I+am+without+you.PNG" width="320"></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">I once had a love ring (you might have called it an engagement ring, but that would imply a certain question having been asked, and yes having been the answer, and we never got quite that far). I wore it on the ring finger on my left hand. I still have the ring stashed away somewhere, in a place so secret even I cannot find it. And to this day, whenever I think about a love that didn't last, I have a dull ache in my left ring finger. Like a phantom pain in a lost limb, except it isn't the limb that is missing. </span>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br></span>The Blogless Sisterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09351066680712268446noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3664255231373118778.post-16083680610407293282016-08-14T16:33:00.000+02:002016-08-14T16:33:14.329+02:00Postcard from England, part III (subtitled: punting on the Thames)<div>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Remember when we sent actual postcards, in the post, when we went on holiday? They always arrived long after we came home but that was part of the charm, sort of (what wasn't so charming was writing dozens of them, trying to write something different in each one as if the recipients were bound to compare them and would be disappointed if the same phrase appeared on different cards...)</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">This is the modern version; it also arrives long after my return, so there's a bit of nostalgia for you right there.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">On my last vacation day I went up to Henley-on-Thames. They had a "traditional boat festival" going on, however, I was seeing a friend who was participating with a vessel that was neither traditional nor a boat.</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiV2YM74R1aVNSk-dhKxnTmLjF-v8hcVYyfY4890mUy92QdY5v9rGb9vdDP-Wq_CjpMG8pveDhYjCoc7-DYR8Gf2LRvikf4_Wc2ex4FeUM-hve_nB3lrr5Rlvz8QeMl3Sxsha70akpqik0/s1600/stalwart.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="212" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiV2YM74R1aVNSk-dhKxnTmLjF-v8hcVYyfY4890mUy92QdY5v9rGb9vdDP-Wq_CjpMG8pveDhYjCoc7-DYR8Gf2LRvikf4_Wc2ex4FeUM-hve_nB3lrr5Rlvz8QeMl3Sxsha70akpqik0/s320/stalwart.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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And I <i>totally</i> forgot to take a picture of the thing,</div>
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so this is a pic I stole from his facebook page, </div>
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totally without permission</div>
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(hope I'm forgiven? :-)</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFdAWdA9KQ02ovy8IY8GjLRgowRH2eAF-mb193tVuTDxoY1xsklwKnBjFO9QqzALXkdx8Nj8F6Uh67rSz-ffuQtzYRrLxQDkXVLeNx0hRd1MbMk_NukaJeL_68nN0CuX7yfdv0d2x7784/s640/blogger-image--1666544338.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFdAWdA9KQ02ovy8IY8GjLRgowRH2eAF-mb193tVuTDxoY1xsklwKnBjFO9QqzALXkdx8Nj8F6Uh67rSz-ffuQtzYRrLxQDkXVLeNx0hRd1MbMk_NukaJeL_68nN0CuX7yfdv0d2x7784/s640/blogger-image--1666544338.jpg" /></a></div>
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I did, of course, remember to take a selfie.</div>
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Goes without saying...</div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">That, my friend, is an Alvis Stalwart - an amphibious truck used by the British army from the mid-sixties onwards. Very cool thing to have sitting on your driveway. And it lets you see the town from a different angle:</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiIq0k3Cm3V_ePwhKYD0nnKqrKbBFIEWTXP_ypplzZKEDRuIuu3brVcAjRnPVhyEZhqLa5aSY_adT_j_w_wz36gbUkGWLu4MAwK7tT4GHeaUIrUQ9AOXfyHyp0pwPz1vIy2R-ZFdr5e4I4/s640/blogger-image-836032635.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiIq0k3Cm3V_ePwhKYD0nnKqrKbBFIEWTXP_ypplzZKEDRuIuu3brVcAjRnPVhyEZhqLa5aSY_adT_j_w_wz36gbUkGWLu4MAwK7tT4GHeaUIrUQ9AOXfyHyp0pwPz1vIy2R-ZFdr5e4I4/s640/blogger-image-836032635.jpg" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">The Stolly wasn't the only amphibious vehicle around. There were quite a few, including this stylish one: </span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgpNqbnGopZ6lU7yyBRY-DKBFlA0uyY-DejS_RXS92M3dDITwP0KFK1p5oIE8e6g-sle4ygMPflIO90QvwXbC-ltDE6p68_pnvA9k5AfUr_5HVPCLWf6IIM8_TGW3VQXLid1Vg2215_4lQ/s640/blogger-image-1810852523.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgpNqbnGopZ6lU7yyBRY-DKBFlA0uyY-DejS_RXS92M3dDITwP0KFK1p5oIE8e6g-sle4ygMPflIO90QvwXbC-ltDE6p68_pnvA9k5AfUr_5HVPCLWf6IIM8_TGW3VQXLid1Vg2215_4lQ/s640/blogger-image-1810852523.jpg" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhu7TgteGQL6SEsuQgkH846j6sK6PSxCniRj2IAWvW_w-wzB6D6MAL07_4b2zIYWIWJVWLSoVqKZFkaBSH0RY_I7TJWjp9wVAQQvwEO7YsKMa1xnJ8B8WPj1Ny3n1a74lW-ERrfXv10XWo/s640/blogger-image-889617441.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhu7TgteGQL6SEsuQgkH846j6sK6PSxCniRj2IAWvW_w-wzB6D6MAL07_4b2zIYWIWJVWLSoVqKZFkaBSH0RY_I7TJWjp9wVAQQvwEO7YsKMa1xnJ8B8WPj1Ny3n1a74lW-ERrfXv10XWo/s640/blogger-image-889617441.jpg" /></a></div>
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aaaand into the water she goes</div>
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This makes a nice change from the usual</div>
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Sunday drive down to the pub, I think</div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">One thing I love about England is they do events like this so well. You can always be sure to see a couple of elderly gentlemen, totally dressed the part. And find a nice place to sit down for a cup of tea. Or a glass of Pimms. And there is always, always catering for your canine friend as well :-)</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZhc_Fc2jW5zHGWsiEO_IkGTj8p7Pv7gmCxNZZCphSjnB_YMIxDiqpF8hbrsFiwPnD73S7san_CsMLrhqVp4TZRFk2QkVjBmH84UNx2OHEeBxrWW_sTaHTzLviBc1YMNO_k3g6yiLgE0Q/s640/blogger-image-345000168.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZhc_Fc2jW5zHGWsiEO_IkGTj8p7Pv7gmCxNZZCphSjnB_YMIxDiqpF8hbrsFiwPnD73S7san_CsMLrhqVp4TZRFk2QkVjBmH84UNx2OHEeBxrWW_sTaHTzLviBc1YMNO_k3g6yiLgE0Q/s640/blogger-image-345000168.jpg" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjCnW3duCLMAk97hxS1h0i99MBQ1364PQw1nd3LyadDJ8HPLAc2fVkRNjssQsL5sx_xNzH0ORyHtN_9S2F0Ca6J01HTaisBXeDK99CW4nC7yVRrcqmktyZ7cxu3n6SpJlgSOK47nBmGStE/s640/blogger-image-997173516.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjCnW3duCLMAk97hxS1h0i99MBQ1364PQw1nd3LyadDJ8HPLAc2fVkRNjssQsL5sx_xNzH0ORyHtN_9S2F0Ca6J01HTaisBXeDK99CW4nC7yVRrcqmktyZ7cxu3n6SpJlgSOK47nBmGStE/s640/blogger-image-997173516.jpg" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjczpEs8v0VAk8ai_i5duiFIJb8Gc3hZdgJ5gYaPIUtTHZ-ByC0sWvvTL1iQeovpPhWzXVSfpKvQZ6QEiQSPW6T_N_AF9pN_zq5y6-XJxEQfGQJ2RMcuqvKwAqtGDvIW6ino3IGUYTLxLE/s640/blogger-image-1283155570.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjczpEs8v0VAk8ai_i5duiFIJb8Gc3hZdgJ5gYaPIUtTHZ-ByC0sWvvTL1iQeovpPhWzXVSfpKvQZ6QEiQSPW6T_N_AF9pN_zq5y6-XJxEQfGQJ2RMcuqvKwAqtGDvIW6ino3IGUYTLxLE/s640/blogger-image-1283155570.jpg" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Alas, end of journey. The evening was spent on the terrace of an airport hotel, wine in hand, interrupting an otherwise interesting conversation every 2-3 minutes with "ooohhhh, LOOK - a PLANE!!!"</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">More travel to follow. Autumn plans include Hamburg, Berlin and, of course, the United States. Can't wait :)</span><br />
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The Blogless Sisterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09351066680712268446noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3664255231373118778.post-16254969767882106032016-08-09T15:39:00.000+02:002016-08-09T16:34:14.155+02:00Postcard from England, part II (subtitled: all the pics I didn't take)<div>
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Waaaay back in the days - 2006 or thereabouts - my then-boyfriend gave me a camera. A pink Sony point-and-click thing, which proved remarkably durable. It got clogged up with sand in Dubai which messed up the shutter mechanism; then about a month later I dropped it on the medieval streets of Carcassonne in France which not only did the camera survive; it fixed the shutter thing as well. Awesome little pink gadget.</span><br>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">The pink camera and its blue successor were my trusty companions on all the trips I took the next 6-7 years. But then I strayed. I bought an iPhone. And the camera mostly stayed home.</span><br>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">I love my iPhone to bits and pieces, and where would I be without Instagram, Snapchat, etc. etc. etc. - but I've never quite mastered taking good pictures on the run (mostly when driving) the way I did with the camera. Or at least, the successrate is remarkably lower. Also, I'm way better at taking pictures on the sly when I'm using my camera instead of my phone :)</span><br>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">So whilst driving around the Cotswolds in my own terrific company, there were hundreds of pictures I didn't take.</span><br>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">And therefore, you won't see</span><br>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">...the lady who had lunch with her cat in a pub (it had its own plate and everything)</span><br>
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">...the man who trimmed the edge of his lawn with scissors (a variety of garden pedantry I invariably associate with the English although it may be more widespread than I realise)</span><br>
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">...the impossibly beautiful landscapes that are <i>everywhere</i></span><br>
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">...the pile of horse dung advertised for sale at the edge of the road, and the horse that made a contribution to it the very moment I drove past</span><br>
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">...the man who told me he was in room number 4x4 <span style="font-size: x-small;">(and no, I <b>didn't </b>go. Not only was I not tempted; I also didn't quite catch whether he said 404 or 414 and with my luck there is no doubt I would have ended up in the wrong room) (which would have made for a very interesting blog post indeed - but, no. Just no)</span></span><br>
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">...the Indian family who had dinner at one of the hotels I stayed at. Never have I seen such gorgeous saris; never have I had a heartburn so bad as the extremely spicy curry they shared with me resulted in. Hot food and me clearly don't mesh well.</span><br>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">But you do get to see the gorgeous market hall (1627) in Chipping Campden</span><br>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">And the NatWest bank in Evesham (now, why doesn't my bank live in a building like this??)</span><br>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">You can see the canal in Lower Slaughter...</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">And one of the houses I might buy there</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">This WWI memorial totally reminds me of Downton Abbey. I have no idea where it is - downside to driving around without an actual plan or route is that you tend to forget where you've been :/</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">....and ze family butcher (which always makes me want to pop my head round the door and ask, "how much to do mine?" (please tell me I'm not the only one with such a bad sense of humour) (hello??) </span></div>
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The Blogless Sisterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09351066680712268446noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3664255231373118778.post-60993153005623321092016-08-01T22:51:00.000+02:002016-08-01T22:52:50.371+02:00Postcard from England, part I (subtitled:because I'm worth it)<div>
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">I don't usually travel much during the summer months. Something to do with the garden being too lovely to leave, something to do with being intoxicated by the very thought of three whole weeks with absolutely zero schedule to adhere to, and something to do with every man Jack <i>and</i> his extended family also being on vacation and crowding hotels, flights, and any sights I may want to see.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">But not so this year. Related mostly to the previous post's "hearts broken:1 and hearts mended: .25"; the latter hovering more around .05 at the time, I felt very much in a shampoo commercial <i>because I'm worth it</i> frame of mind and decided to cash in some miles for a ticket to London.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">A similar train of thought had me on a hellbent <i>I'll show <strike>him </strike> <strike>myself </strike>the whole world I can do whatever I put my mind to</i> mission and with that particular thought in mind I abandoned my trustworthy (ahem) ally British Rail and rented a car.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">It isn't so much the whole driving on the left thing. I've done that before - albeit ten years ago, and in New Zealand. But I've spent more than my fair share of hours in the passenger seat in Britain and I <i>know</i> that many of their roads (at least, the ones I like to explore) date back eons. Well before anyone had thought of cars, much less two cars passing. What they <i>had</i> thought of was hedgerows. Tall, beautiful hedgerows, hugging the side of the roads snugly. In other words; English country lanes are NARROW.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">....so I went out and rented the least narrow car I could get my grubby little hands on. But of course.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">And now that I'm safely home, I can say with total confidence and more than a smidgeon of pride (possibly a dash of arrogance as well): <i style="font-weight: bold;">aced it</i>.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">It was an absolute beauty to drive, and boy-oh-boy you should have seen me confidently gliding through rush-hour traffic, roundabouts, roundabouts with traffic lights in the middle, and double-roundabouts (because that's how the British roll - you can't really have enough of a good thing).</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Of course, sticking mostly to aforementioned country lanes, I didn't have to worry too much about keeping to the right (left!) side of the road, there only being space for one car.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">(So when I came up to this farm vehicle which had blown a tyre and dropped hay bales all over the road, I graciously told the farmer I had all the time in the world and did not at all mind waiting while they crawled back to the farm at snail's pace. Well, it was either waiting or reversing a quarter of a mile down a winding lane, so not a difficult choice ;-)</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">First real stop was the teeny tiny village of Slad. Mostly because I liked the name and also because it was the home of the writer Laurie Lee whose book "Cider with Rosie" I read many many years ago and don't really remember anything much from, except the inexplicable longing for England it awoke in me.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">I had lunch at The Woolpack (don't you just love the names of British pubs!), caught a glimpse of a lady sharing her lunch with a kitten, and chatted to a man who used to live on a house boat but now owned a tiny cottage in the middle of nowhere and kept chickens (instant friend!) and did odd jobs for a living. And then I drove on, with the sat nav <i>off.</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">This area, the Cotswolds, is awash with rolling hills - decoratingly dotted with flocks of sheep -, cottages built in Cotswold stone which has a certain yellow-ish hue to it so that even on a rainy day they seem to radiate a quiet sort of glowing coziness, and village after village with enchanting names. Broughton Poggs. Great Rollright. Shipton under Wychwood. Lower Slaughter. (And Upper Slaughter of course)</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">My travels took me fairly close to the Welsh border and I was thus able to enjoy the melodious tunes of BBC Cymru. Very delightful; of course I didn't understand a word of it but it was thoroughly fascinating all the same </span><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><i>(I have fond memories of Wales. One time I climbed Mt Snowdon wearing sandals. Not 100% sure why I'd embark on something so foolish, but someone told me it would be an easy stroll and that I might be able to catch a glimpse of Ireland from the summit. Of course, it was so foggy at the top that I couldn't even see the path, nevermind Ireland, but I made it. Then I caught a tiny, rattling train back down again, went to the station where a drunken Welshman I'd met earlier was loitering (with intent). He snogged me and made a number of interesting suggestions not suitable for mentioning here -or in fact anywhere-, whereupon I caught the first train out and ended up in a very rainy Birmingham. As I said, I like Wales)</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">It's been said that if you have a garden and a library, you'll want for nothing more. I would submit that a <i>passport</i> should be added to that list. But then I reckon you'll be just about covered.</span></div>
The Blogless Sisterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09351066680712268446noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3664255231373118778.post-59434869620968542092016-07-31T21:59:00.001+02:002016-07-31T21:59:09.587+02:00Summer holiday 2016 - crunching the numbers<div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEijBXlWl3N3mW2DZh0xlqzDNlRfVdz6sUeosxtJGBDaxnS408F5hNHNMCAQX40M3hEt_ocPVjRn2RHe5c3fbgDdtrMNco4dLZjrzOd2YCZDtYJj26O16t5jtxRSUWihTp8jp2ZLmXfyp40/s640/blogger-image--695856937.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEijBXlWl3N3mW2DZh0xlqzDNlRfVdz6sUeosxtJGBDaxnS408F5hNHNMCAQX40M3hEt_ocPVjRn2RHe5c3fbgDdtrMNco4dLZjrzOd2YCZDtYJj26O16t5jtxRSUWihTp8jp2ZLmXfyp40/s640/blogger-image--695856937.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Bottles consumed: ten, give or take - mostly wine but also a rum that tastes of sugar canes and cabana boys </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Cigarettes smoked: far too many </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Hearts broken: 1</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Hearts mended: 0.25 (rough estimate, but making progress)</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Handsome men snogged: 1 (not the heartbreaker I hasten to add)</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Indecent proposals received: 3-4, depending on definition </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Kilos shed: maybe 4, not sure as I don't own a pair of scales (and I haven't been dieting) but let's just say a certain pair of jeans now fit me again </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Nights spent sleeping outside: 2, plus a couple of all-nighters with no sleep </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Cleaning rampages: 2; still recovering from the last one</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Trips taken: 1, and I must say that large cars and business class travel really suit me rather well</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Resolutions made: more travel to be done in autumn; I bloody well deserve it</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Massages had: 2, and more are in the calendar </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Haircuts: 1</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Eyebrows plucked: 2, obviously- it still astonishes me that I pay good money to have pain inflicted on myself but it looks much better than my DIY attempts </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Cups of coffee consumed: not many; I ran out at the beginning of summer and only just got round to replenishing stocks </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Flower bouquets received: 1, and it came at just the right time (thank you, S)</div></div>The Blogless Sisterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09351066680712268446noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3664255231373118778.post-13999408736287427782016-05-12T22:08:00.001+02:002016-05-12T22:08:19.611+02:00The bearded lady (or, portrait of a chicken)<div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJnCBMQ9Q991CC_5p-0Daef_zt6PoexfyctfjhBEfLImmKKXZ_l09IioTj8sJdMj9WYgFKj_PtoLBXOJ2uhznZq8hQdnCTKrTZex0h0TVDEUa1amSBu4ETxG0_9shIIIgYpwvRQx5VY7E/s640/blogger-image--399171040.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJnCBMQ9Q991CC_5p-0Daef_zt6PoexfyctfjhBEfLImmKKXZ_l09IioTj8sJdMj9WYgFKj_PtoLBXOJ2uhznZq8hQdnCTKrTZex0h0TVDEUa1amSBu4ETxG0_9shIIIgYpwvRQx5VY7E/s640/blogger-image--399171040.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Meet Lille Pi - the lady with the Santa Claus beard :-)</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Despite being named after mathematics, she isn't the cleverest of the bunch. This is the hen who will stand in the corner of the coop desperately wanting to join the others who are on the outside of the fence enjoying a bit of freedom - totally oblivious to the fact that the door to the coop is about two feet to her right. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Her favourite pastime is digging for earthworms, preferably in the company of her bossy older sister Hønesigne (who is never in any doubt about where the gate to freedom is). </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Lille Pi is sometimes to be found napping in the shade under the hedge. She is the most adorable little hen and although a bit shy will sometimes let you pick her up for a bit of cuddling. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZ5gsKnFBGDam18o_hfcn2nQyjDGXTLFuV1h9CJuL1vDVlKwasSSFOVg5pUOAHRNmoyQkcN_-m9NfwtqA8xezD926KJQx8tt37yqqtH_x1RsVcIKV57hKOIk3exDsm1FcEUHl9tbumNeE/s640/blogger-image-71644992.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZ5gsKnFBGDam18o_hfcn2nQyjDGXTLFuV1h9CJuL1vDVlKwasSSFOVg5pUOAHRNmoyQkcN_-m9NfwtqA8xezD926KJQx8tt37yqqtH_x1RsVcIKV57hKOIk3exDsm1FcEUHl9tbumNeE/s640/blogger-image-71644992.jpg"></a></div><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div>The Blogless Sisterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09351066680712268446noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3664255231373118778.post-56156840772400155892016-04-20T22:30:00.000+02:002016-04-20T22:30:37.497+02:00Gardening with chickens - a beginner's guide to (moderate) success<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Spring is here - at long last!! I'm chitting potatoes in my windowsill (well aware that other gardeners did that months ago and will be eating new potatoes not long after I got mine into the soil) and have spent my pocket money on seed packets.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Today I got the kitchen garden kinda-sort of ready. It was sloooow work - partly because I twisted my knee the other day and can't really bend it. Or put much weight on it. Or climb stairs. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">But I digress (which is all too easy to do when you're wallowing in self pity). The other reason why it took a bit longer than usual was my feathered assistants. So here are a few nuggets of wisdom, should you ever decide to employ chickens on your little plot of land.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Go to your kitchen garden and survey your plot. If you're a lazy gardener like me, you mulch your garden in winter - basically this means the soil will be covered with hay from your guinea pigs, whatever grass clippings that haven't rotted away, and perhaps bits and pieces of the Christmas tree. The bonus is that this has blocked out most of the sunlight so there won't be as many weeds as there might have been. But now the cover needs to go, so you can get the soil ready for planting.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Remove whatever weeds there are. This may be a challenge. You must do your best to be one step ahead of your chickens so they don't get in your way.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">You will fail at this.</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhuhs2briRZvFBWgxCp-ubQesuXj44ZBDFnuxyqv6UMJr4MUQ3dApn0Wh9XzL_lT2EkCcCJXjF9V5Q4ykDGbrfouitCTHtMpFHNTak6HlZxUnBJO-LKq8-5mh6KLzPMPdsl1vQdNnZct_Y/s1600/IMG_4571.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhuhs2briRZvFBWgxCp-ubQesuXj44ZBDFnuxyqv6UMJr4MUQ3dApn0Wh9XzL_lT2EkCcCJXjF9V5Q4ykDGbrfouitCTHtMpFHNTak6HlZxUnBJO-LKq8-5mh6KLzPMPdsl1vQdNnZct_Y/s320/IMG_4571.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">A chicken on an earthworm mission is basically like you, back when you were 16 and smoking cigarettes and riding in cars with boys: convinced it is immortal and totally unwilling to let anything stand in its way.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">But try your very best not to, you know, injure it with a hoe or rake over its little feet.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">It also helps if you have eyes at the back of your head (people with small kids might have an advantage here), so you don't accidentally trip over your chickens when you take a step backwards...</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdGgbKez8s6ZgC1zrEChk9tL49LjG_qFJQdOb1WqICXgvjH95NWbdACfqWI55oBBQj3yXU9WwWqykkHZamBOC8NIEcKNrNLxPzIcFMbjLdX8PEGGhsrA9Yaj0rBQGoRXIEGAnPnMjr1Ro/s1600/IMG_4572.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdGgbKez8s6ZgC1zrEChk9tL49LjG_qFJQdOb1WqICXgvjH95NWbdACfqWI55oBBQj3yXU9WwWqykkHZamBOC8NIEcKNrNLxPzIcFMbjLdX8PEGGhsrA9Yaj0rBQGoRXIEGAnPnMjr1Ro/s320/IMG_4572.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Gardening with chickens helps you build up a healthy degree of tolerance and patience. It is not uncommon to rake over the same ground several times because your helpers have a slightly different take on the concept "neat pile".</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGQRvRFHRbhcKDOSvwxBK0ss2sSm_0csaqvVq3ej3hbZ8fLypXM6IAImVf7alx4YsPvK1wx-JxY_acpY2pLOgCDEYIdhEfpldIwRSTsoExJXbJJvM84MWAJhUylV5luotZIVwxGlTfC_o/s1600/IMG_4576.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGQRvRFHRbhcKDOSvwxBK0ss2sSm_0csaqvVq3ej3hbZ8fLypXM6IAImVf7alx4YsPvK1wx-JxY_acpY2pLOgCDEYIdhEfpldIwRSTsoExJXbJJvM84MWAJhUylV5luotZIVwxGlTfC_o/s320/IMG_4576.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Now it is time to get firm with them. If you're planning on actually growing things in your kitchen garden, you'll need to find a way of keeping the chooks out for the next few months. For me, that means that whatever pocket money I don't spend on seed packets, I spend on fencíng.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Your assistants will not appreciate this. You will be at the receiving end of resentful glares. This is something you'll just have to live with.</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwWdtxwhMAFTEZ-o_yCQQfZPXyrCSFWq01ClsHEbXdHLVqxn9yGLpgVZfWK6WvMJAPmiS5GhFcKTM6CaSZemZIj5S0qmm5FIFkA_YCOxt3t0EwuUATc8BmNwrQrzV4aHajczeKeeIaEpI/s1600/iphone+21mar16+478.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwWdtxwhMAFTEZ-o_yCQQfZPXyrCSFWq01ClsHEbXdHLVqxn9yGLpgVZfWK6WvMJAPmiS5GhFcKTM6CaSZemZIj5S0qmm5FIFkA_YCOxt3t0EwuUATc8BmNwrQrzV4aHajczeKeeIaEpI/s320/iphone+21mar16+478.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">With the main kitchen garden done(-ish), fenced in, and ready for planting you can move on to the raised beds, assuming you have some. I do.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Start by removing the winter duvet on the strawberries. Feel yourself surrounded by eager little helpers, again. Cruelly restrained from working on the main plot, they happily move on to new pastures. Chickens have short memories, bless 'em.</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivkXclitDScKO_yko0DvcBnwrO8ApTQ5ptSs7T4HxJ-6vGTbKWpG9zpq8I1lETDFzwRabbIl1X0QG7j-9zcQ848TH5oLYD1BYecsyzqzq5evatHTXXB6-TnOC8d3p78clxBH0LUK6kWsk/s1600/IMG_4580.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivkXclitDScKO_yko0DvcBnwrO8ApTQ5ptSs7T4HxJ-6vGTbKWpG9zpq8I1lETDFzwRabbIl1X0QG7j-9zcQ848TH5oLYD1BYecsyzqzq5evatHTXXB6-TnOC8d3p78clxBH0LUK6kWsk/s320/IMG_4580.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">This is the point where you decide not to plant out the new strawberry plants until your helpers have gone home for the day. Their hind legs would mean a miserably short life for any baby plants that got in their way. Look at these drumsticks at work:</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqQfiwXmh8_gLIUyhvugpN8Z9nR5Xd0bkhbXz6ki_qR56ly7moZ478HsjgP13U8JRXNEZowGKim_RDLdXwRFWlLzlKQoREObw1LPK4s0T91iQc2BPR3f-iDpheEIp8OuabsS9OfB99znc/s1600/IMG_4578.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqQfiwXmh8_gLIUyhvugpN8Z9nR5Xd0bkhbXz6ki_qR56ly7moZ478HsjgP13U8JRXNEZowGKim_RDLdXwRFWlLzlKQoREObw1LPK4s0T91iQc2BPR3f-iDpheEIp8OuabsS9OfB99znc/s320/IMG_4578.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">So you move on to the next raised bed. And are immediately joined by the work force who feel that the most interesting bit of soil is the one you're working on at any given time.</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJMITOnHumDRRToIGp0QaHTH2c1ris3L99Nh6MsQ3Djv5jOHYudkzK56wuBCpClE9n04IF0Y7NtaamHtqQPa2EJaNWsWqoM20TyXADjZhSv3CVDaRDyGmzO9sCCbg552QC9yin6RnFdZs/s1600/IMG_4581.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJMITOnHumDRRToIGp0QaHTH2c1ris3L99Nh6MsQ3Djv5jOHYudkzK56wuBCpClE9n04IF0Y7NtaamHtqQPa2EJaNWsWqoM20TyXADjZhSv3CVDaRDyGmzO9sCCbg552QC9yin6RnFdZs/s320/IMG_4581.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">You may also want to discard your gardening tools altogether. At the end of the day, tiny rakes are for amateurs. No one can comb your soil more professionally than a motivated chicken.</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHrpcP8DEtBa9sZcKvpk7CmkHASu3O0WBmgvK9JF6ADeroz4F_R0Rrl1luR0o6EDYKIQemcpAOZIhNcqmalHaNcgvvxTB0g4VtoaM_Dc0bVdEjMf8MD6fcrPZc-D_T4hy5zVsQMRTDcTY/s1600/IMG_4583.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHrpcP8DEtBa9sZcKvpk7CmkHASu3O0WBmgvK9JF6ADeroz4F_R0Rrl1luR0o6EDYKIQemcpAOZIhNcqmalHaNcgvvxTB0g4VtoaM_Dc0bVdEjMf8MD6fcrPZc-D_T4hy5zVsQMRTDcTY/s320/IMG_4583.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">So if you're wondering what I've been up to since my last post, it's this. Looking after my chickens. (Also I've squeezed in a trip to Hamburg, a long weekend in London, work-work-work, fun nights out, and plenty of Viggo cuddles)</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjz_AQwcNW2mPTfVm8FwotFT8Mianjpfj7e2wg5CiAIpaXx857DXGAZhpb3bQFBxy2X5WtCR1DZcaMMwZ3Y4rNUSDO9uhbWptaTasuA5KGONBpn6D7dIQ2VsHSux9QUghWkVXs-m71IZqc/s1600/viggohygge.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjz_AQwcNW2mPTfVm8FwotFT8Mianjpfj7e2wg5CiAIpaXx857DXGAZhpb3bQFBxy2X5WtCR1DZcaMMwZ3Y4rNUSDO9uhbWptaTasuA5KGONBpn6D7dIQ2VsHSux9QUghWkVXs-m71IZqc/s320/viggohygge.jpg" width="239" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">"If you have a garden and a library, you have everything you need" (quote: Cicero). "And if you add chickens, you have endless entertainment" (quote: The Blogless Sister)</span>The Blogless Sisterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09351066680712268446noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3664255231373118778.post-48539613991883664872015-12-08T22:01:00.002+01:002015-12-08T22:01:53.906+01:00Gingerbread house- at last<div>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Der har været rejsegilde på årets peberkagehus!! Som sædvanlig er det hyggen og ikke æstetikken der vejer tungest, og som sædvanlig er der indtruffet små ingeniørmæssige katastrofer undervejs, men NU står det her og spreder en duft af julekrydderier og lidt brændte kanter. Dejligt :-)</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><a href="http://klidmoster.dk/2011/12/peberkagehus-2011.html" target="_blank">Klidmoster </a> anbefaler Støvring Bolcher til vinduerne - og det holder jeg med hende i, men det skal ikke være dem der hedder "Sure Kugler", hvor tiltalende navnet end måtte forekomme. De smelter simpelthen i stuevarmen, hvilket også er årsagen til at årets hus står på et solidt fundament af smørrebrødsbakke fra Egtved Brugs. Det er noget klistret stads. Så teknisk tip - hvis du ikke kan få fingrene i den type bolcher hun bruger, så er det smartere at bruge husblas, som jeg også har gjort på nogle af vinduerne.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><i>@ N ~ without further ado, the Gingerbread House 2015. As usual with a few technical glitches here and there (and a couple of pieces of decoration fell off so I superglued them back on - - note to self, do not eat this particular house). But super cozy (in my opinion) and it smells wonderful of all sorts of Christmassy spices :-)</i></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><i>PS - pics taken with iphone and the lighting isn't great. I'll see if I can take some better ones later</i></span><br />
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Oh woe - the windows have melted. But hey-ho,</div>
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we will bring in a different glazier next year.</div>
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The Blogless Sisterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09351066680712268446noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3664255231373118778.post-79533145581925309722015-12-07T22:43:00.002+01:002015-12-07T22:43:48.722+01:00Anatomisk korrekt julepynt<div>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Indre Lecia regerede i weekenden. Hun havde på formidabel vis haft held til at få mig til at takke ja til julefrokost både fredag og lørdag, og da jeg blev viftet om næsen med en koncertbillet til torsdag, lød der også et rungende ja tak.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Så hønsevagten blev udliciteret; jeg iførte mig portvin og kavalergang, og afsted det gik. Darjlig, darjlig weekend. Træt Tine i dag, mandag :)</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Så lige nu har Indre Erna overtaget. Hun drikker også portvin (det gør alle de Indre Damer), og så hænger hun julepynt op. Desværre er hun en my uorganiseret - så efter at jeg har været hjemme på matriklen i 24 timer kan man nærmest ikke se, hvor smukt min søster (som havde hønsevagten) faktisk havde ryddet op efter mig. På et tidspunkt håber jeg, at Indre Helga gør sin entré...</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">I mellemtiden er Scary Nissemand kommet på banen. Scary Nisse fik jeg af min eks-kæreste på et tidspunkt. Jeg ved ikke om han i selve købsøjeblikket var klar over præcis hvor ...eh, <i>naturtro</i> den nissefanden egentlig er. Den skal i hvert fald ikke bryde sig om at levere strømpegaver hos mig :-)</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">PS. Du må hellere scrolle lidt ned hvis du vil nyde synet. Jeg turde ikke sætte billedet på som det øverste. Hvis nu du er lidt sippet. Hvad man ikke vil kunne bebrejde dig.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><i>@ N ~ I am drinking port wine and putting up Christmas decorations tonight. All should be calm and bright; the reality is that I'm creating an almighty mess in my wake. I blame it on too little sleep this weekend - I had Xmas parties both Friday and Saturday and Inner Lecia (who is, as you may recall, the party girl who lives inside my head) just loved every minute of it . Inner Erna (the little ol' lady who also lives inside my head) is now looking forward to a couple of early nights. Inner Helga (ze very organised one who struggles to dominate the remaining space in my head; not very succesfully I should add) has gone AWOL.</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><i>I don't think I've ever delighted you with pictures of this particular part of the Christmas decoration scheme before? It was a gift from my ex boyfriend and I'm not sure if he knew just how anatomically correct this dude was when he bought it. But here it is. This one had better NOT leave any presents in my stockings though ;)</i></span></div>
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Ho Ho Ho. Merry feckin' Christmas </div>
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The Blogless Sisterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09351066680712268446noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3664255231373118778.post-50201310562903924422015-11-29T11:13:00.001+01:002015-11-29T11:13:04.163+01:00Søndagsflid eller -dovenskab?Jeg kan simpelthen ikke beslutte mig for om jeg er prægtig, fordi jeg støvsuger - eller umådelig lad fordi det pt foregår siddende. <div><br></div><div>Hvilke dilemmaer jeg dog kæmper med...</div><div><br></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhN3dCbazfuLV_kEvj1yqYdxWsyMFP4J4B8TaGJ5ZSmCUbROTkKbqXz1xVFz85AxhijScUhFQQwNpbEwtBFIMRWuj39_8fSKH0uThGiNRcCv-zv70RjE9b0oepqR0hoH6QJvvUUnZ2w0yw/s640/blogger-image--492664466.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhN3dCbazfuLV_kEvj1yqYdxWsyMFP4J4B8TaGJ5ZSmCUbROTkKbqXz1xVFz85AxhijScUhFQQwNpbEwtBFIMRWuj39_8fSKH0uThGiNRcCv-zv70RjE9b0oepqR0hoH6QJvvUUnZ2w0yw/s640/blogger-image--492664466.jpg"></a></div><br></div><div>@N ~ do I get ten points for Gryffindor for actually hoovering on a Sunday? Or do five points get deducted because I'm sitting on my bum while doing it?</div><div><br></div><div>Yes, such is my exciting life - oh, the dilemmas I grapple with ;-)</div>The Blogless Sisterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09351066680712268446noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3664255231373118778.post-17172094033987681262015-11-14T01:18:00.001+01:002015-11-14T01:18:21.303+01:00Af æg er du kommet, til mad skal du blive...<div>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Jvf forrige indlæg (<a href="http://tbs2810.blogspot.dk/2015/07/new-chicks-on-block.html" target="_blank">dette</a>, publiceret for ret præcis tre-en-halv-måned siden- jeg er da den gode, flittige blogger), så er jeg jo nu hønsefarmer. #TheChickenChick er mit nye kaldenavn, og ved I hvad - det er SÅ godt!! Jeg kan varmt anbefale alle at anskaffe sig fjerede venner.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Vi startede hønseholdet med fire kræ. Høne-Signe, Lille Pi, Pamela og Liselotte. Så reddede min søster lige yderligere tre venner til flokken - Cecilie, Hønep</span><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">øne, og Black Swan (til daglig blot kaldet BS).</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">...Men altså. Så drog jeg til USA i halvanden uge, og mens jeg var væk skete der det forunderlige at Pamela og Liselotte pludselig fandt deres stemmer og viste sig at være haner. Begge to. Så da jeg kom hjem var der en lystig galen i hønsegården, og om end jeg bor i decideret landlige omgivelser så er der dog naboer ganske tæt på, som (selv om der ikke indløb en eneste klage) måske ikke synes at hanegal ved solopgang er det bedste i verden.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Så. Altså. Jeg gik i Harald Nyborg og købte en økse. Søster og jeg lånte vores mors største gryde. Og så.... flyttede Pamela og Liselotte ind i min fryser.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><i>@N ~ I haven't shut down the blog completely. But just realised that the post before last - the one about my new chicks - was posted three.and.a.half. months ago. Yes, I've been remiss . And will probably continue to be so, but I blame it all on modern life.</i></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><i>Anyhoo. Four chickens moved in. Then I went to America on vacation (I was kinda-sort of near Portland. If you count Bozeman, MT, as close. It's only around 12 hours drive away...) While I was away two things happened: my sister added three more chickens to the flock. And two of the "old" ones - Pamela and Liselotte - turned out to be roosters.</i></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><i>They were very diligent roosters. Bossed the girls around and tried waking the village at sunrise. And although my surroundings are decidedly rural, I thought maybe the neighbours didn't appreciate the cock-a-doodle-do at the crack of dawn.</i></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><i>So. I went to the DIY store. And bought an axe. And Pamela and Liselotte <strike>went to sleep with the fishes</strike> moved into my freezer...</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Vi spiste dem på min fødselsdag. Og jeg vil gerne lige sige - til dem der græder nu - det var ikke slemt. For jeg elsker mine pøner højt, men de er ikke kæledyr. De har haft et dejligt, dejligt liv - og de smagte også dejligt. Dejligere end kummerlige burkyllinger, som vi alle sammen spiser, og endog dejligere end hundedyre økokyllinger. De smagte lykkeligt, gjorde de :-)</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><i>@ N ~ Pamela & Liselotte were guests of honour at my birthday dinner. Aka main course. And they tasted wonderful. Much better than your average too-cheap-to-be-true chicken. Better, even, than your organic free-range chicken. They tasted happy, of the happy life they've led.</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><i>It wasn't terrible (the beheading I mean. Not the eating). Much as I love my chooks, they aren't pets. And that feels good, in a selfsufficient, smallholding sort of way.</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><i>And just so you won't think I'm just an axe-wielding chicken murderer, here are a couple of snapshots from The Happy Life of Tine's chickens</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">MEN. For at I ikke tror at jeg er sådan en der bare går rundt og myrder løs, så er her lige et par billeder fra det lykkelige hønseliv.</span></div>
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Støvbad </div>
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Hønens mås</div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Og nu til hvordan det går på resten af farmen. Det har været en lang uge på matriklen. Lufthansa har været strejkeramt, og som billetpusher har det betydet nogle temmelig lange arbejdsdage i Viggos Rejsebureau. Som det kan ses af billedet herunder, er kontorgrisen temmelig klar til weekend. Hav en god en af slagsen!</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><i>@N ~ it's been a long week at the office. Lufthansa's cabin crew staged a week-long strike and there was a ton of rebookings to be made, in addition to all the everyday stuff. As you can see, the office piggie is rather exhausted now </i>:-)</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><i>Have a lovely weekend!</i></span></div>
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The Blogless Sisterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09351066680712268446noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3664255231373118778.post-76765082250994066642015-08-25T19:02:00.001+02:002015-08-25T19:02:50.192+02:00The Ripple effect- amusing small minds since 2004The first time I tried a sooperdooper skin-ripplingly fast hand dryer was at Los Angeles Union Station in 2004 (I wasn't there to catch a train, I just wanted to see the station. Because I'm like that.)<div><br></div><div>Fast forward eleven years and I'm equally delighted. I do apologise to the people who were queuing to use the bathroom after me. Time flies when you're having fun (it sure doesn't take much :-)</div><div><br></div><div>I'll let you know when I'm all grown up. Best not to hold your breath...</div><div><br></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg758u160pO7jDajAGhBzLBjeFURJmY0XS9-4QIJZ-JwjKRB-HkhIbpnQuJYMT8A5C1bQtHHER6gjzLKZ77ge-NSM40pBjDJPCqwRzmmuyiI-BcV_j5NDfIAUV8krPX7JyrV6gNKulU0ks/s640/blogger-image-950207101.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg758u160pO7jDajAGhBzLBjeFURJmY0XS9-4QIJZ-JwjKRB-HkhIbpnQuJYMT8A5C1bQtHHER6gjzLKZ77ge-NSM40pBjDJPCqwRzmmuyiI-BcV_j5NDfIAUV8krPX7JyrV6gNKulU0ks/s640/blogger-image-950207101.jpg"></a></div><br></div>The Blogless Sisterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09351066680712268446noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3664255231373118778.post-31497718048145755252015-07-30T22:20:00.001+02:002015-07-30T22:20:55.308+02:00New chicks on the block<div>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Nå, men jeg holder jo så ferie. Det går <i>ræddi</i> godt med det; mit talent for afslapning er næsten på højde med Viggos. Helt på den lade side har jeg dog ikke ligget - jeg har foretaget en mindre ommøblering i huset, ryddet op i garagen, malet, klippet hæk, og vasket omkring 50 gamle drivhusruder som (inshallah) skal blive en del af et hjemmelavet vægdrivhus i nær fremtid.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Og SÅ! Så er der flyttet HØNS ind på matriklen! De har boet her et døgn nu, og det er simpelthen noget af det bedste man kan anskaffe sig. Indtil videre er det dog ren "underskudsforretning" - dels er de ikke gamle nok til at de er begyndt at lægge æg; dels er jeg særdeles uproduktiv nu. Man kan sagtens tilbringe 20-25 pauser om dagen med bare at sidde og kigge på dem.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><i>@N ~ the chickens have moved in!! Technically they're my sister's (long-ish story; will save for a later post) but they now live in my back yard. It's awesome! They're not laying eggs yet; I think they look "grown up" but they're actually not that old. I'm not sure if we'll get eggs this year as chickens often stop laying in winter (which is when these ladies will reach "adulthood"). No matter. They are marvellous little creatures.</i></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><i>Without further ado, here are the ladies. Hatched in an incubator on my sister's kitchen table earlier this spring :-)</i></span><br />
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1: HØNE-SIGNE<br />
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Opkaldt efter et menneske ved navn Signe. En meget hyggelig høne, som gerne vil tages op og aes<br />
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<i>Høne-Signe (Chicken Signe) is named after a girl called Signe. She's the sweetest little creature and quite tame; you can pick her up and cuddle her (if you're not creeped out by chickens like my friend Iben is :-)</i><br />
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2: LILLE PI</div>
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Kær lille høne som gerne kommer spænende hen og spiser af hånden. Opkaldt efter 3,14159........ (det er min søsters skyld; hun tog den matematiske linie i gymnasiet)<br />
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Little Pi is - well, named after the ratio of a circle's circumference to its diameter :-) We are nothing if not creative with our nomenclature here, ha ha. She is very friendly and happily sprints over to greet you when you bring treats<br />
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3: PAMELA</div>
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Den sorte høne med det hvide hoved. Hende er jeg meget glad for, for hun minder lidt om mig selv. Ikke verdens mest sociale høne, men hyggelig, og meget tilbøjelig til lige at nuppe en morfar</div>
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<i>The black one is called Pamela. That is my fault; the first two chickens were named by my sister and then I jokingly thought of the names for the other two and once I'd said them - slightly ridiculous though they are - they stuck.... I like Pamela a lot; she's a bit like me. Not the most social hen, but sweetnatured and very, very fond of midday naps</i></div>
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3: LISELOTTE</div>
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Det er min skyld; de sidste to navne... Min søster navngav Høne-Signe og Lille Pi allerede da de var kyllinger. Og så sagde jeg nærmest for sjov, at så skulle de to andre hedde Pamela og Liselotte ...og da det først var sagt, så blev det hængende. Skrækkeligt altså, men sådan er dét bare. </div>
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Liselotte er muligvis en hane, faktisk. Vi er ikke helt sikre. Men hvis vi pludselig vågner ved hanegal, så bliver h*n til tarteletter....</div>
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<i>Liselotte is a girl's name here in Denmark. But we're actually a bit unsure if Liselotte might turn out to be a boy. S/he's a mixed breed so it's a little bit hard to tell. I'm keeping my fingers crossed - but if we are suddenly awoken by a 5AM cock-a-doodle-do, s/he will go to the pot.... </i></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><i>And here is the happy flock, siesta'ing under the apple tree. Sorry for the branch that is in the way; it's actually quite hard to get a decent photo of them when they're lying down because the moment I approach the chicken run they rush over to see if I've brought any treats :-)</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Middagshygge under æbletræet. Med en gren lige midt i billedet; beklager meget. Det viste sig at være temmelig vanskeligt at tage billeder af dem når de lå ned, for så snart jeg nærmer mig kommer de spænende for at se, om jeg monstro har en godbid med (de har som regel ret)</span></div>
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The Blogless Sisterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09351066680712268446noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3664255231373118778.post-66544348461335014832015-07-17T19:12:00.001+02:002015-07-17T19:12:08.067+02:00Les VacancesThree weeks of doing-exactly-what-I-feel-like kick off today!! <div><br></div><div>The year before last I did absolutely nothing on my holiday. I was 100% lazy and it was fantastic. Last year I felt a bit more energetic so I had a might-do list and actually ticked off a few things on it. This year I have a to-do list....</div><div><br></div><div>There should still be plenty of laziness though. To ensure that, I have enlisted the assistance of Saint Viggo The Ever Cuddly. He's even better at it than I am. </div><div><br></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgs6Qh9JfUeYf67llQ97byoD8rjmAMqAg_g9MJ1kMHJ1_txmlu9Uv9FxQ0SKJgDmaLfN4dTKlp7Yo1BkKwXqpHrgmtqqqk7sYGOVUJqy-yaJ0eXBXJELGnco90Kw5F2-IBQ3nXTuaMC8FU/s640/blogger-image-1454369435.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgs6Qh9JfUeYf67llQ97byoD8rjmAMqAg_g9MJ1kMHJ1_txmlu9Uv9FxQ0SKJgDmaLfN4dTKlp7Yo1BkKwXqpHrgmtqqqk7sYGOVUJqy-yaJ0eXBXJELGnco90Kw5F2-IBQ3nXTuaMC8FU/s640/blogger-image-1454369435.jpg"></a></div>Yes, he's using a chunk of corn as a pillow. That way food is within easy reach if he wakes up feeling a bit peckish:-)</div><div><br></div>The Blogless Sisterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09351066680712268446noreply@blogger.com0