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Just stuff, really (partly silly)
Mar. 30th, 2010 08:46 amIn case nobody has yet shared this piece of useful advice with you: if you throw away a razor without the protective cap, it's not a good idea to stuff something into the dustbin afterwards, with your bare hands. Ouch. (Fortunately my amazing self-healing powers are truly amazing, and the piece I cut off the tip of my left ring finger last Wednesday has completely regrown o_O)
Apart from being outraged about one hour being stolen off my Sunday by the beginning of daylight saving time, I was also slightly pissed-off at the prospect of having to get up in the dark yet again. But lo and behold, I'd forgotten how far in the east of the GMT+1 zone we are -- now I'm happy because I can watch dawn and sunrise for a few more weeks.
One of the very few habits taken on in Ankara and continued here in Skopje is the "Fall asleep on the couch, enjoy 4 hours of the deepest, bestest sleep, get up to brush your teeth and wash your face, go to bed and continue sleeping" habit. Funny thing is, it doesn't work the otehr way round. Yesterday I went straight to bed, woke up after 4 hours, i.e. 2.45 a.am., and couldn't go back to sleep till about 4 a.m. Not even on the couch. Ze boyz liked the change of programme, though.
The nights are still a bit chilly but warm enough already to sleep with the balcony door cracked open. This means that Lucius sleeps under the duvet, curling up at my knees, and Cornelius shares the pillow with me, probably enjoying the warmth my head radiates. Nice!
The weatherforecast for Easter is looking splendid. Since practically nobody will be here over the weekend, I foresee walks, reading, studying Macedonian and a bit of sunbathing on the balcony. Must remember to get sunscreen, though, because the sun is quite strong already.
Another visit at the tailor's has been scheduled for Thursday. I'm going to have him copy the Little Black Number I bought 2 weeks ago in linen, plus a pair of trousers (from last year and much too big now, but he can copy and shrink them), plus a jacket, plus a tunic-kind thingie plus a waistcoat, i.e. pieces I can combine freely. I hope he's already stocked up on linen, otherwise we'll have to wait a bit. Or find some other fabric and do the linen version later. Greedy for clothes, I iz. But I don't have *anything* for summer. Well, almost ;-)
Last but not least, about last Saturday's Madama Butterfly: I already knew the tenor from December's Cavalleria Rusticana: practically no voice, more or less inaudible, but always hitting the right notes, which isn't a bad thing, all things considered. Soprano: not bad, but looking like a heavily made-up piglet stuffed into a kimono. Given that Pinkerton refers to her movements as squirrel-like, and to her person as "plaything" (the paedophile bastard, she's 15!!!), this provoked some laughter. Also, Pinkerton's uniform when he comes back at the end of the opera, was clearly a captain's uniform left over from the now-bankrupt Macedonian Airlines. A muttered comment to Irene made her snort rather loudly. Orchestra wasn't bad, but there are too few musicians -- Puccini does need a full-blown orchestra, and they played Butterfly with the number of musicians you usually have for Mozart. But not too many glitches. Still, Madama Butterfly is one of the operas -- in my opinion, of course -- which strongly depend on the quality of singers and orchestra. You can't kill Don Giovanni, but you can kill Butterfly. They didn't quite kill the piece but managed to make it boring, which is a deadly sin in my book. Oh, and the uncle who is a priest and comes to curse Butterfly in the first act, had this funny make-up looking like he'd come straight out of a performance of Cats. I muttered "Rumpleteazer" to Irene, who had to bite her handkerchief, poor thing.
Apart from being outraged about one hour being stolen off my Sunday by the beginning of daylight saving time, I was also slightly pissed-off at the prospect of having to get up in the dark yet again. But lo and behold, I'd forgotten how far in the east of the GMT+1 zone we are -- now I'm happy because I can watch dawn and sunrise for a few more weeks.
One of the very few habits taken on in Ankara and continued here in Skopje is the "Fall asleep on the couch, enjoy 4 hours of the deepest, bestest sleep, get up to brush your teeth and wash your face, go to bed and continue sleeping" habit. Funny thing is, it doesn't work the otehr way round. Yesterday I went straight to bed, woke up after 4 hours, i.e. 2.45 a.am., and couldn't go back to sleep till about 4 a.m. Not even on the couch. Ze boyz liked the change of programme, though.
The nights are still a bit chilly but warm enough already to sleep with the balcony door cracked open. This means that Lucius sleeps under the duvet, curling up at my knees, and Cornelius shares the pillow with me, probably enjoying the warmth my head radiates. Nice!
The weatherforecast for Easter is looking splendid. Since practically nobody will be here over the weekend, I foresee walks, reading, studying Macedonian and a bit of sunbathing on the balcony. Must remember to get sunscreen, though, because the sun is quite strong already.
Another visit at the tailor's has been scheduled for Thursday. I'm going to have him copy the Little Black Number I bought 2 weeks ago in linen, plus a pair of trousers (from last year and much too big now, but he can copy and shrink them), plus a jacket, plus a tunic-kind thingie plus a waistcoat, i.e. pieces I can combine freely. I hope he's already stocked up on linen, otherwise we'll have to wait a bit. Or find some other fabric and do the linen version later. Greedy for clothes, I iz. But I don't have *anything* for summer. Well, almost ;-)
Last but not least, about last Saturday's Madama Butterfly: I already knew the tenor from December's Cavalleria Rusticana: practically no voice, more or less inaudible, but always hitting the right notes, which isn't a bad thing, all things considered. Soprano: not bad, but looking like a heavily made-up piglet stuffed into a kimono. Given that Pinkerton refers to her movements as squirrel-like, and to her person as "plaything" (the paedophile bastard, she's 15!!!), this provoked some laughter. Also, Pinkerton's uniform when he comes back at the end of the opera, was clearly a captain's uniform left over from the now-bankrupt Macedonian Airlines. A muttered comment to Irene made her snort rather loudly. Orchestra wasn't bad, but there are too few musicians -- Puccini does need a full-blown orchestra, and they played Butterfly with the number of musicians you usually have for Mozart. But not too many glitches. Still, Madama Butterfly is one of the operas -- in my opinion, of course -- which strongly depend on the quality of singers and orchestra. You can't kill Don Giovanni, but you can kill Butterfly. They didn't quite kill the piece but managed to make it boring, which is a deadly sin in my book. Oh, and the uncle who is a priest and comes to curse Butterfly in the first act, had this funny make-up looking like he'd come straight out of a performance of Cats. I muttered "Rumpleteazer" to Irene, who had to bite her handkerchief, poor thing.
