Going to the shops is for wimps

Going to the shops is for wimps.
Trying to live off the vegetables and fruit you're trying to cultivate: now that's the real challenge.
Havat you!

On the table (counter clockwise): salad, potatoes, courgette, another courgette, beetroot, green celery, cauliflower, strawberries and raspberries. An a  cucumber.
Yes, that's a cucumber. It doesn't look like any of those in the shops. It's some weird variety I hadn't banked on.
I thought it would turn a dark greenish colour and lenghten somewhat. But it went all massive and stayed compact.
Meh. But it made a good salad ingredient though!

Bliss

How soothing it is to unwind just sitting in the garden amidst the colours and sounds of early summer...

Immodeficiency

According to the Belgian national newspaper De Standaard HIV stands for 'human immodeficiency virus'.

/facepalm. 

I know that the financial market has been relentlessly on home owners since this financial crisis. But apparently a defying "immobilien" (=real estate) virus is making more victims as we speak.

If you would adjust just a few words, it could have been an Onion-article.

Dig it!

From tomorrow 'till 29th of July there is Dig the City @ Manchester. This is a picture from one of the roofs of Manchester Cathedral taken by someone setting up some lighting stuff for the festivities.

Looks like the drains are blocked. Probably the empty gin bottles and other rubbish found there are covering every possible water evacuation hole. I probably do not need to point out that this is detrimental to the building. And health in general.

Headless birds floating in the water.
I spy botulism....

Hibernation mode

If this cold spell lasts any longer I'm going into hibernation mode. And I think Mouser will gladly join me.

Dat is architectuur

I've been ill the last couple of days. Another whopping big attack of sinusitis complete with fever, the works.
Typical, two weeks no classes because of the Easter holidays and I'm struggling with a blocked head.
In the mean time I'm trying to do serious reading work, working on a presentation due in three weeks, working on my paper and preparing for my exams at the end of term.

I finally got hold of the book that is compulsory reading for my Architectural Theory class Dat is Architectuur!
I ordered a second hand version of it last february (it was half the price of a new edition) but the delivery service (TNT) couldn't find my house and subsequently lost the entire shipment.
Luckily I got a refund. I'm not going to order anything anymore through the bookshop's webshop if it can only be delivered through via courier.
So I went to the shop and bought a new book.

The doctor is in the hospital [literally]

A solemn apology for the lack of posting, but my life has been turned upside down lately.
Well, the doctor was in the hospital last week. And kind of discharged himself at the same time, on account of driving himself completely bonkers.

Dr Livingstone got home all right last time; the week after my last blog post. He was extremely exhausted, but not entirely different from previous month-long-stints-away-from-home-working-20-hours-a-day-for-4-months-on-end.
And when he got back we worked some more; a full week in our own workshop over here.
And on Friday we closed the shop early (well, actually two hours later than we planned) and went on a small get-away-weekend. Just the two of us. No computer with us. No hassle. Even telephone at a minimum. \o/
It was all relaxation, Hefeweiβ Beer & jummy Schnitzels as far as the eye could see (=Sunday).
Had lovely dinners and relaxing walks, even the land lady of the place we stayed in lent us her dog for walkies in the evenings. We saw foxes and deer while having a stroll in the German countryside. What strange shapes of heads these German cows have, so unlike the ones over here. My one big ambition in life not yet fulfilled: To stroke a cow. They always tend to shy away from me. [I haz a sad]
They did present me with my own private cloud of insects. A handful of irritating flies hovered above my head for about 300 meters until we reached the cover of the forest. Much to the amusement of Dr Livingstone, much to my chagrin.

So after a lovely 8 km walk on Saturday morning, some lovely hot Goulash soup and excellent coffee and a rummage around the local discount supermarkets we had an early dinner (Schnitzels und Hefe) and an early night. Utter and complete relaxation.

Dr Livingstone had a turn for the worse on Sunday morning. He started coughing up blood. I drove back home and we went to the emergency room at the hospital. Last time we were there they sent him home with a pain killer without even examening him.
Funny how you mention the word 'BLOOD' and they immediately take you seriously.
Within 1 hour he had had some X-rays taken, a heart monitor diagram, some antibiotics, anti-bloodcoagulants and the right diagnosis.
And Dr Livingstone thought they would just send him home again with some pills.
They kept him in for FIVE whole days. It was necessary because he had had a lung stroke and still has severe pneumonia. 'Normal' people would be kept in for at least two weeks.
So he's home all right, and at work at the same time. He fooled the doctor into believing he won't be lifting any stuff and be relaxing for at least two weeks.

Fat chance. Luckily, or should I say unluckily, one of his colleagues crashed his car about 100 meters from our shop and Dr Livingstone kindly lent his car to him. So he needs to be driven around. That was the deal. No driving cars for two weeks.

Today we just discovered Dr Livingstone had been taking an OD of anti-coagulants (that was the reason his sight was all blurry and he had a hard time remembering things).

As I am typing now, he feels calm now, a bit better then when he heard the news he had had an OD. He is sitting in his super deluxe armchair which we bough a couple of days ago to make him more comfy.

Will post an update on how he is feeling and how things are here once we have shifted this work load that has been piling up and weighing down and hovering above us like Damocles' Sword.

/teletext-type blog post

Saturday Night Fever

Sinusitis is back with a vengeance.
My head feels like there's a Frenchman living in it.
Everything is sore, even my teeth hurt.
I've blown my way through half a box of tissues since yesterday, but the brain drain has subsided and I'm just counting the hours until the chesty cough come seal trump noises start.

Bad enough having to spend the entire weekend in bed with fever and all bodily faculties manifestly causing distress, not only on my part, but also Dr Livingstone's. He wanted to go walking, swimming and move stuff about in the garage, but some bug in my system thwarted his plans

Gah. I really, really don't like these seasons changing all the time. Where's my lovely sunshine?

Speshul Lolcat Cookies™

Pounced on Mouser when asleep and managed to bundle it in the cat carrier. Off to the vet in the morning. Yearly core jabs plus the one kitteh had never had before: Feline leukemia virus.

Apparently there is a very high rate of it here in the neighbourhood, so Mouser must be protected at all costs. The vet said Velvet Claws would feel a bit under the weather for one or two days because she would be making anti-bodies to the virus.

And I have to put Mouser on the Speshul Lolcat Cookies™. Bought a bag of the crunchy munchies. Kitteh only gets 30 grams in the morning and 35 grams in the evening. So no more wet food or special treats for my darling kitteh.
Methinkst Velvet Claws will tare the place apart before noon.

Of course, kitteh obligingly ate all of the carefully measured munchies yesterday, but today Velvet Claws is not having any of it. The portion remains sniffed at and untouched.
So Mouser decided to have brekkers al fresco this morning. A nice juicy mouse to start off the day. Yum.
And then kitteh reproduced stomach contents in the living room. Yuck.

Mouser is currently hiding under the couch until food preparing noises start to emanate from the kitchen.

Free Kitteh!

I feel a sort of motherly pride, or something that comes quite close to it. Mouser has been ill the last couple of days. Blood in urine. Nasty. Probably due to it being entirely dependent on me feeding her and not being able to supplement its diet with some fresh mice or poultry from the garden.
So we took her to the vet on Saturday morning. There's a guy in the village. Very friendly bloke. Gave her the once over, healthy kitteh, blood in urine, change diet. Here's some free samples of extremely balanced cat food. You can buy it here, just ring before you collect.
Mouser got a shot of antibiotics to get rid of the infection, and I've been trying to feed it the free yummy things. Which it will eat, just to get on my good side, but not all of it because it is hungry. The vet also told us there'd be no harm in letting her out as The Great Escape from last week proved she knows where she's safe.

So on Sunday morning, it was 'Free Kitteh'. I left the door of the conservatory ajar and it went out, very cautiously. The snow is hampering a big walkabout, so it just sat down in the snow, listening to the sounds of children playing with a sled.
Then it ventured inside again. A few minutes later out again, but this time a lot further out and across to the stables. Then it rounded the corner and was gone.

Panic, but I was filling some bookshelves (see other post ze bookcase) to be pre-occupied and not ponder to hard what would happen if it didn't come back.
I don't know what time frame, but it already seemed an hour or so when I started to get really worried. I ventured out, only saw little paw prints in the snow and no cat to match them.

A little later on Dr Livingstone volunteered to go and look for kitteh. After five minutes I saw him next to the stables, beaming. 'I've found Mouser!', standing there with a black cat in his arms. And at that exact moment Mouser walked round the corner and entered through the conservatory door.
'What are you talking about? Mouser just walked in here! What cat are you holding?'.

Lulz. There's another black, thin cat about. Making the exact same kitteh noises.

Morbidly o' bus

People with a BMI of 30 and up should NOT board the bus when I'm on it.
Well, they can, but they are NOT allowed to try and squeeze themselves in the seat next to me, protrude to an unnatural or incongruous extent and then accordingly squash me between them and the window.
I was reading a book and couldn't even move my arms to turn over the page! Seriously. How can you be that fat and not have the slightest inkling of what kind of uncomfortableness you cause others by literally shifting your weight around.
To top it off the fat woman even gave me a 'Move a little will ya'-stare.

Really. One ass per seat please.

Past week round up

- start of telex -

A quick list of things done so far:
- every morning (or indeed afternoon) this past week busses were late, at least 7 minutes.
- attended an animated discussion organised by the Law Faculty on Justice and Media (journalists and investigating judge were seriously getting up each other's nose).
- had minor surgery on Thursday. They put me in Room 101 (again)!
- signed the agreement to buy the house at the real estate guy, met the owners of the house for the first time.
- told the landlord we'd be moving (he seemed very relieved) very soon.
- we're moving at the beginning of December. Hope to be all settled by the 15th.
- won twice with lottery (2,50 €). Not even enough to cover the amount it costs to hand in the ticket...

Now need to sleep.
Worked at the mill today, lagging behind in school work.
Not enough hours in a day.

- end of telex -

Shocking Proust

I'm having my second round of shock wave therapy today. Last week my left elbow was up for it. Now I'm having the other side treated.
All I can say is: It's bloody painful. The doctor had administered local anesthesia and I'd taken a couple of painkillers about an hour or so in advance. To really, in my opinion, no avail. But it doesn't last very long. As long as you take big, deep breaths it'll fly by.
This machine gives off 800 pulses of high energy waves so it gets rid of some calcification on some mysteriously named exotic sounding bits of my body.
After the treatment I didn't feel a thing. I just felt a bit flustered and a bit light headed from breathing heavily. It felt like I'd sucked all the oxygen out of the room. "Now I understand why you asked me if I wanted the air conditioning on" I told the doctor. "Well, you're in luck. In July we were in a room without and two patients fainted."
It beats surgery anyhow. It's just five minutes of uneasiness. Now I will probably have to wait about two months to notice any improvement.
I asked the doctor if I could read a book while she was treating me. "Well, it's never been done. In fact your the very first person to ask".
After the treatment she asked me if I'd managed to read anything. I did manage one page on the life and times of Marcel Proust. I do feel like a snob. Bringing him along as a comfort.
Ten minutes and I was out the door. The local anesthesia was still working, so I drove home using one arm.
This Friday I'll be taking the bus, I can't change gears with an arm that doesn't respond.

Where's mah bucket?

It seems this The Verve song was written especially for Dr Livingstone.
Here are some of the lyrics:

"All this talk of getting old
It's getting me down my love
...
Now the drugs don't work
They just make you worse"

His pain killers have the very annoying side effect of making you feel dizzy and vomit. He did have a good night's sleep, but this morning was kind of a rude awakening.
So I was off to the pharmacy for some anti-nausea pills and another kind of painkiller.
This one works without the unwanted queasiness. He's having an afternoon siesta right now.
I should have a some kind of power nap too. I've been accumulating sleep losses for two nights now and I'm feeling a down.
But first I must attend Dr L's needs. Poor thing.

I'm relieved he's not feeling desperately ill from my cooking.

The Doctor's back

Poor Dr Livingstone. He's at home. Lying absolutely still. That's probably a first for him. But it's the drugs that are making him drowsy, sleepy and numb. Without them, he'd be gritting his theath and potter about. It's for his own good. We were in ER last night.
He has severe back pain, shooting pains going all the way down to his shins. I've never heard him wince before, he's really in agony. It's quite terrible. And he can take a lot.
He's scheduled for an MRI on Wednesday.
Meanwhile I'm playing Nurse Racket. He needs to rest for four days in a row. Lying down. NOT in a chair. I have talked him out of doing that. So has his physio. And our doctor. And his squash partner (a nurse). And a collegue who's also laid up at home with back troubles.

He's drifted off into sleep now, I can hear a slight snoring sound emerging from the sofa which is covered with pillows.