Posts Tagged ‘Opa’

The Lunch and WordPress.

April 25, 2015
The flooded creek

The flooded creek

The inability to print my writings from WordPress directly, did not get resolved. It had me flabbergasted which is easily done. Even a spontaneous ‘good morning’  from a stranger on my walk with Helvi and Milo gets me into a spin. It invites me to ponder, what have I done now again? To question another’s walker intention to a simple greeting  shows how easy it is to wallow too far in  introspection. Surely by now, one can accept things for what they are? A motley collection of not getting anywhere near understanding and truths? A hopeless individual flailing about in life’s drying rivers, his arms trying desperately to grab the overhanging weeping willow. Is this what one is doomed to?

I spare you the details of my print ‘direct from WP’ efforts and subsequent derailment from sanity. It was all futile. The language of Micro-soft is as foreign to me as Swahili. Not for me Tags and Collapsing menus, Browsers and Internet Explorers, Tools and Http’s, IClouds and Dreamweaving.

I just remembered in time a good friend that loves computers and who has helped us before, solving stressful problems, including mind- boggling technical manoeuvres for us. Yet a few presses here and there by our friend and the nightmare problem gone.  The deftness of our grandkids when we are faced with an insurmountable glitch on an IPhone we struggled with for hours are resolved without even looking up from what they are busy with. What hope for us? Our grandkids look at us now with barely hidden mirth and knowing glances to each other. Poor Opa, he is starting to slip. He had a hard life! I don’t tell them that I have been slipping ever since I shunned anything more complicated than yes or no, on or off, warm or cold. At their dawning we encourage them too and explore and find out thing by themselves. They too will travel and experience both the sun, shade and storms of life.

As predicted, when our friend arrived it was over in no time. Instead of Internet Explorer I have to go now to do a Google Chrome. Google Chrome is a web-browser. How does anyone know this? What secret  exchanges of Internet knowledge goes on without our knowledge? Do experts meet in the dark wearing gabardine worsted rain coats under dripping awnings,  giving funny handshakes and knowing glances?

When all the Google Chrome changeover was finished we had lunch at The Emporium pub. Our computer friend and Helvi chose barramundi fish with chips and salad. I chose the two sausages with mash and avocado mixed with Dijon mustard. A nourishing highly aromatic sample of this dish was already waiting for a customer under a hot-keeping light. Smoke was seen curling up from the brown sausages as from an old comfortable weatherboard’s  chimney, waiting under an ageing tree with leaf litter and some kindling.  It smelt delicious and the mash was equal sauced in brown gravy.  At times, the lure of a well proven dish becomes very attractive to a man who is slipping. I have senior times now where I lose courage and the fortitude  required for a pork belly or strips of exotic marinated puffer-fish with brandy jelly.

We waited at our table  for the buzzer to start vibrating. In the meantime, a waiter whose kitchens and menus are his domain, spoke to us. His face was deeply lined and I knew why. He worked very hard setting up his latest venture, a real Italian pizza café. He wanted to know what we thought of his new wood-fired pizzas. He imports  special milled flour and tomatoes from Italy and uses the finest of ingredients. Imported Portuguese anchovies, the best of lean strips of wood smoked black forest ham with prosciutto and speck with enough of a rind to be a challenge for kids who go for ‘the meat-lover’ variety. The pizzas get served up on a  polished wooden plate and are the finest in town. There are at least four pizza places now.

There might be other reasons for his lined face. People go through life dealing with hard issues never mentioned in everyday banter. ‘Oh, I am fine when asked, really good lately’. ‘How are you?’ Oh, yah, really good. Tops really, could not be better!’

We can never be sure, but bravely keep going like most of us. Laughter helps.

The Energy Interview.

May 30, 2014


It had to come about. Australians are according to the stats the world’s most proliferate energy users, per capita, in tandem also as being the fattest, we had a University Research interview about the former at our home. This was scheduled for 1pm yesterday and I can’t wait for the next study on our relentless surge in fatness. It seems, that all escape routes are now being pursued. We will not be allowed to get away with either.

We have always been keen to try and reduce consumption of energy. Much more so out of necessity than out of a moral obligation to supress our ecological hoof print, which I believe is also one of the highest. (per capita) We needed our bills to calm down and match our income. Generally sufficient to buy bread, butter, eggs and hot Hungarian salami. Since a few days ago I discovered a huge bunch of Bok Choi at Harris Food Farm Markets for the mouth watering price of $0.99c. We are almost daily feasting on this Bok Choi with carrots and Mozart’s requiem.

We do try and eat fish at least once a week. The omega 3 fatty acids in copious ingestion of sardines with the occasional late night raid in the fridge of a slice of smoked salmon also often feature in this Opa and Oma family, even though H (Oma) excludes herself from any smoked stuff. We do try and mini-use energy but the bills slowly but surely are sneaking up, but with the resolute resolve also not let it get us beaten.

I snoop around late in the evening switching off anything that is still glowing. The thermostats on the heaters are turned down another degree during the day to 17c and the electric blankets are on 2 instead of 3 previously and reduced to ten minutes before bedtime instead of the previous winter of fifteen.. I chucked the electric water jug years ago and boil just enough for 2 cups on an old kettle with a whistle. We have gas cooking and instantaneous gas hot water set at 48c.

Apart from sitting in the dark I don’t know what else we can do. Perhaps sit closer together and share a single light for reading.?

Anyway; here is the synopsis of what the interview is about;