Others are called to develop humility in all things. 😉 Over on The Mercy Blog Franciscan Mike F has been measuring his blog’s reading level. Now, I’m not overdismayed to learn that both my blogs – wibsite and Green Patches get a ‘Junior High’ rating. I’m hardly trying to re-write ‘War and Peace’ here, thank goodness. However, when it judges Mr M’s impressive outpourings as ‘Elementary School’ level, I can only conclude that either it’s defeated by all the technical terminology or that it homed in on his Biking Glossary for test purposes, (likely the latter! ;)). Never mind. I’ll not embarrass our daughter by publishing her blog address here. Still, doubtless she’ll be delighted by the ‘Genius’ level she’s been awarded!
Ah well. Back to the conflict between Yahweh and Baal. I needed some light relief.
…chainsaws, masks and a cast that at times made Basil Fawlty look positively cuddly. Mr M and I enjoyed watching Famille Floez‘s ‘Hotel Paradiso’ this week. Performed entirely in mime, this piece of mask theatre was well….weird . As their site puts it: “The road to heaven leads through hell… Strange things happen at “Hotel Paradiso“, a time-honoured mountain resort kept alive with some difficulty by an old lady and her family.
While a mineral spring promises relief from physical and mental pain and the hotel proudly boasts four stars, dark clouds are nevertheless gathering in the bright sky. The son dreams of his great love while fighting his sister in his effort to gain control of the hotel. Meanwhile, the maid is in the habit of stealing the hotel guests’ valuables, and the cook chops up much more than just pork…”
If you can imagine something like a kind of macabre Fawlty Towers on half speed, you’ll get the picture. A great time was had by all, actors included. (They have been stifling underneath those masks!). Though I did notice one little boy – the audience was mostly older schoolkids – being hustled towards the bar afterwards by his mother, presumably scarred for life by the experience.
Another treat this week has been Radio Four’s adaptation of an old favourite of mine, John Irving’s A Prayer for Owen Meany, courtesy of the BBC’s i-player. (All 5 episodes are up for viewing for the next few days of so, though I don’t know if they can be accessed outside of the UK). I’m one of those who dislikes film or radio versions of novels. There’s just so much that gets lost in the adaptation. This one was different. True a good deal of background and characterisation had had to go, but overall, I felt that Irving’s original drama was still very much there. However often I read ‘Owen’, it always reduces me to tears by tne end , and this radio version was no exception. So, well done BBC!
Gahhh! Useless information alert, useless information alert! As if we didn’t have enough to worry ourselves about… Did you realise, ladies – well I assume just ladies – that your handbag could be a health hazard, teeming with all manner of nasties just waiting to rise up and lay you low. According to a certain Christian monthly’s (which shall remain nameless) New Year health resolution feature, it’s advisable to give it a regular clean with an antibacterial wipe! And that’s before we get started on the inside of the bag. Words fail me. Though Mr M had plenty to say about it just now, the like of which I won’t repeat here.
That said, one of their other recommendations was to eat chocolate, (I think I can just about force myself) so I’ll forgive them.
Testing, testing. If the latest technical thigummyjig works, you should be able to view a Youtube clip of Mr Miff and several dozen other lycra clad cyclists braving life and limb last week.
He’s the one in the blue and orange top seen around 20 secs and 1 min 42 into the clip.
kindly supplied by Truthsign. I, too, have been suffering from a bad case of Oblogation: A pervasive sense of guilt about not keeping up with one’s blog [and in my case, journaland coursework] (or reading those of others). The dreaded ‘d’ word has been looming large and I’ve been experiencing a weird mixture of sluggishness, weepiness, insomnia and angst mixed with domestic industry of the kind that would do Flylady proud. During one of my worst days I managed to completely rearrange the airing cupboard, sorting a load of old clothes for a charity drop at the same time, tidy away the Christmas trees and cards, tidy our ‘Christmas cupboard.’ and wrestle some errant pampas grass into submission. (I’ve the scars to prove it!). Add to that several mega- ironing mountains, delicate woollie washes and you’ve seen the most unMiffy-like behaviour imaginable. Procrastination rules. As it usually does in true Ben Elton-like ‘reality gap’ style: putting off til tomorrow the things you should be doing today – until I get to what I’ve called the “Oh sod it!” point, when I finally put pen to paper – or finger to keyboard rather, and rattle off the pesky assignment…at last!
Why do I do it, I ask myself – and is it due to Depression, Procrastination, Pre-menopausal hormonal prevarication or a mixture of all three? Whatever the reason, I’ve a disquieting sense of selling myself short.
Two hours on and off spent summarising 2008 – and I’ve managed to delete the lot!!!!!!!!! Think beautiful thoughts…think beautiful thoughts!