"Life is too important to be taken seriously."

-Oscar Wilde

Friday, August 27, 2010

Bound to come in handy...

I have just learnt that Nauru, the world's smallest island nation, was held by Germany from 1888 to the outbreak of WWI in 1914, at which point it was seized by ... 

guess which country?


Tuesday, August 24, 2010

As a general rule-

many Germans like to make fun of their Dutch neighbours for their caravan-ing ways. (In some circles this is a national past-time.) If they're not making fun of them, then they'll be complaining about them clogging up the autobahns during peak holiday times with their mobile homes.

I find this attitude a bit rich when one considers that the Deutsch population supports 4 (yes, FOUR!!) specialist caravan-ing magazines:




Two of which put out additional summer editions...



Random rants and confessions:

This morning, in defiance of my Australian conditioning, I left the water running while brushing my teeth. (It felt very, very naughty.) One thing we do not have here is a water shortage. It has been torrenting down all morning. (I keep checking to see if the Caspi-man is developing gills.)

I think I am turning into a koala. I am sprouting grey, wirey, tufts above both my ears. While this is cute on koalas, it is not when applied to me. Meanwhile - the hair on the rest of my head is falling out at an alarming rate. Olli and I are competing to see who can shed the most... I'm ahead by a whisker ... and don't get me started on those.

I don't want new stuff (especially clothes). I just want all my favourite stuff (mainly clothes, and shoes) to be new again. I am beginning to detest clothes shopping with a passion. If I can actually find stuff I like, it's always a gazillion euros and they've sold out of my size. I could live with this, but casual aquaintances have started pointed out the freys and holes (yes, but only tiny ones) in my attire.

I am appalled by the state of Australian politics... just appalled. It really makes me want to emigrate. Oh, hang on a sec...

Wednesday, August 11, 2010

Culinary terms, as applied to our household:

Free Range:
Anything not consummed at the table. Can often be found, in a deconstructed state, under the cushions on the sofa.

Calorie controlled:
Any edible substance in limited supply that has to be shared with Papa. 

Locally sourced:
Whatever happens to be currently residing in our fridge or pantry.

Organic:
Anything that moves of its own accord.

Genetically modified:
Any substance provided by Oma that has an effect of „modifying“ the Caspi-Man’s behaviour... (usually, not for the better).

Convenience Food:
Anything located on the bottom two shelves of the pantry or the bottom shelf of the fridge (excluding the vegetable crisper).


Processed Food:
Anything that requires handling beyond the removal of the packaging.

Thursday, August 5, 2010

It's NOT brain surgery, I'll have you know...

except, of course, when it actually IS.

In which case - I have discovered that the first thing that you should say to your neurosurgeon is:

 "I want to give you a piece of my mind"

... haha... hmmm...

The Ger-Man recently went and got himself a brain tumour. As far as brain tumours go, it was a fairly good one. It was called a hemangioblastoma, benign, and in a good position for complete removal.

To compress what could be a very long story - here are the key elements:

1)  diagnosed
2)  operated
3)  recovered
4)  better...

We were/are very, very lucky...

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