Exploding fish

I would explore Madeiran shrubbery but mom made faces whenever I plunged into growth or squatted to observe a specimen of particularly interesting weed. which reminds me that I failed to pick some of that pretty Juncus thingy. I tried to be nice at least for a while so I limited myself to exploring Madeiran cuisine.
The local specialty, the espada fish (I have to look it up for exact name yet), baked with banana, was offered in the hotel restaurant so I went for it and it was nommy

For the day after, we had booked a round trip. I mentioned that the whole thing was meant for elderly people getting some travel. I must have ranted on and on about my hate of tourist crowd - in case you missed it, let it be noted that I hate tourists, I hate the crowds who totally need to take a picture with every odd-shaped rock, old-looking house or a place where Betty Famous sat down on her hike from Anytown West to Podunk. So, we ended up in a place where Winston Churchill spent a few days holidaying, and in that fishing village, said espada fish is fished. The guide started explaining that said fish lives in depths around 1800m, at which point I gagged because obviously, pull it out of deep waters and it explodes. Guide continued with gory details of how the fishermen never saw said fish alive because on its journey upwards, its stomach explodes, and its eyes explode, and I had a hard time of not throwing up my dinner.

I got a swordfish for my lunch and from then on, I stuck to fish of whose death I knew nothing. Yes, if I were to hunt my own meat, I'd be a vegetarian, I guess, and I thank all the developed and decadent society that I can get my dead animals dead, degutted and neatly sliced.

The Madeira landscape is magnificent, though. The trip was good for two things: some street anthropology concerning mass tourism (and reinforcing my view on that) and seeing that landscape. Among the rugged rocks or laurel forests, we started telling to each other that we totally need to bring Dad here the next time.

Rejoice not

I'm not dead and you will need to read my rants on and on.

I kept silent for a while. Old laptop is old, new laptop is cool but I need to get used to it and it has no photoshop, work is to be worked.

But, most importantly, I became subject of my mother's craziness. On Thursday, she read that European Union (or someone else) funds travelling to several destinations for people over 55. Mom decided she needed to go to Mallorca next week and wanted me to go with her. I refused, I have stuff to do which can't be easily rescheduled, so it was last Sunday or never, Mallorca wasn't available and we thus ended up at Madeira.

I repeat, in case you didn't get the message clear. We decided to go someplace on Thursday and flew Sunday morning.

Packing requires 30 minutes plus five hours of looking for battery charger, no big deal, but there was some work to do at work and I had to transfer data from old lappy to the new one so I spent most of Saturday in the office as well, and in order to be at the airport early in the morning, we took the midnight train.... but meantime I organized that M. comes, lends me his atlas of plants of Canary islands (which share a good part of flora with Madeira) and takes my freshly arrived plants for plant-sitting. Also, I realized that there are many interesting things (read plants) on Madeira.

Alas, there was not that much time and occasion for picking stuff for my herbary but I snatched a few, now happily resting in fresh dry newspaper under a heap of art books and I yet have to go through the pictures. We also agreed that this trip needs to be repeated.

Back to scheduled programming

I don't really stick to traditions just because they are traditions but this year, some spring cleaning did indeed happen. The main reason is that my laptop is living on borrowed time and I wouldn't want to lose my files. Been there, done that.

I got an external harddisk, lost it, got another, found the first one... so I'm backing up. Or backupping. Possibly both.

So far, I have discovered many a thing. Not that picture of a Montmartre house covered in blossoming wisteria, but, well, other stuff. And since the cleaning extended to shelves and the Closet of Doom, there's a sampling of things to come:


A Molyneux week. There'll be Rue Royale, Charme, Numéro Cinq, two different editions of Vivre and Quartz which smells like warm water.


After that, just in tow, Gueldy week. Gueldiana, of course, and also Lys Bleu, Cuir de Russie and Cyclamen. I think I may have one more but I'm not sure.

Obviously, I'll throw in some knitting and random flowers because it's me. And a gratuitous kitty or two if I can find the Montmartre directory.

and if you're good guys and ask nicely, you might get a random dose of less-known Guerlain stuff

Spring is here!!

Not that I was that dumb and wouldn't recognize blossoming trees, snowdrops, narcissi, hyacinths and such stuff but now, asparagus appeared. Locally grown and for reasonable prices. Spring is never complete with overindulging in asparagus and the resulting stinky pee.
Another spring thing is basketmaking. I got excellent garden shears and we're going out so I intend to get some willow twigs and make a basket or two. Haven't done it for years but I got an Urge. And, obviously, there's the element of irking people. Mom will say that it's useless, other will stare in awe because I'm doing something perceived as difficult while telling them that it's rather easy. (No, I'm not a particularly nice person.}

In other news, dad decided to teach me to drive so if you don't hear from me anymore, it went badly.

Nerdy fun

I learned a new word: Epistemophile. Person who likes learning for the sake of learning.

When I mentioned it in front of my mother, she gave me the eye and said that she knows only one such and thank gods for that because otherwise life would be entirely unbearable.

And now excuse me, I need to go and enjoy the process of understanding organic chemistry.*

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* Next time: Joys of being an editor. Part 2217

Increasing amounts of meh

I guess that my life is so boring and pointless that there's nothing to write about.

The newly found cousin

It's not news that my uncle is an arsehole of the cowardly sort. I still have in fresh memory how he threw his stepdaughter out. Because, after 20 years, he decided that she was a stranger and it's dangerous to have strangers at home because them strangers could steal something or such.

He acquired said stepdaughter when he ran away from his wife #1 to another gal who happened to have a child with her husband, who, obviously, wasn't my uncle. They both divorced, uncle wanted to adopt my cousin but her biological father wouldn't allow it, nothing happened for umpteen years until uncle found his current wife #3 who decided that strangers are a big no-no. One day, cousin returned home from the medical school, lock was changed, she rang the bell, uncle, whom she called father, opened, she went in, got slammed by the door and told to go away. Classy.

Now.... it was sorta known that uncle had a son with wife #1. There were various stories, often slightly contradictory, why they separated. My cousin, not the abovementioned one but her half-sister, daughter of idiot uncle and #2, my red-haired aunt, found said son and they're in lively contact, he shares my mother's sense of humor, is my uncle's spitting image and my mother's Evil Plan is to bring him and his family as a super special gift for my grandparents' diamond wedding. Newly found cousin agrees. I got a job, since I live closer than Agile Cousin, to go visit him, too, so that we're not a whole bunch of strangers at once.

If you lost track and don't know who is related to whom, I may contemplate making a graph. And yes, why, our family does have its bit of crazy.