I had a dream last night where everybody around me was drinking beer for breakfast. And I thought. I want to do that. I want to drink beer for breakfast.
All I wanna do is drink beer for breakfast All I wanna eat is them barbeque chips All I want is someone to just try and protect us You can try but never wanna try and defect us
I telling you I am through Mama’s baby boy is a bum
All I wanna do is stay in this life All I wanna pick is your nose, honey, hi Sweet little corny you’ve gotta be husky I am dreaming of a white Christmas
Honey where I’m from Mama’s baby boy is a bum Honey where I’m from Halle-fucking-lujah I’m a bum
Baby boy’s a bum Baby boy’s a bum Baby boy’s a bum All I wanna do is drink beer for breakfast
—- The Replacements
Actually it really isn’t that odd. All the way up until the 17th century, Northern Europeans drank beer at every meal. It was safer than drinking water and more nutritious. Apparently archeologists have discovered evidence of beer making in Mesopotamia dating back 4000 years. Anyway, it’s been around a while. I remember reading about pregnant women in medieval times drinking beer for breakfast. It was compared to a loaf of bread.
So I could just have a slice of “bread” for breakfast.
When you look up Beer for Breakfast on the internet you get all kinds of recipes that have beer in them. Beer muffins and stuff like that. What for? Just pop a brew instead. A lot less trouble.
This week has been kind of up and down. The war in Europe is messing everything up. I know a guy who is actually Russian. He is related through marriage. I met him when we were living in Moscow and he was like 14 years old. His mother had just died. He had no father. His grandmother or a great aunt or somebody was looking after him. He was very sweet and eager to learn new things. I spent many days helping him with his English and with his Spanish and feeding him. He was probably one of about 5 people I missed when I left Russia.
I got an email from him the other day. He is now a father of 3, with one who is 16 years old. He is very scared they will haul him away to war. They are all scared they will be pressed into service. He has good friends in Ukraine. He was checking to make sure they were safe and chatting with them often. What a shit show. On top of that his wife is a journalist and scared she will write the wrong thing. They are all trying to get out. One word I learned in Russian that stays with me is Kashmar — Nightmare.
Conde Nast Traveler published the “Best Travel Books of All Time, According to Authors”. They list 89 books that were nominated by travel writers. The list is varied and interesting. I’ve only read about ten of them. One is about Isabelle Eberhardt who moved from Geneva to Algeria, converted to Islam, lived life as a man, and died at age 27. Now that has to be pretty interesting. I was glad to see a Redmond O’Hanlon book on the list. One of the funniest books I have read was his Into the Heart of Borneo.
Ah, yes, hurricanes. That Ian was something else. Hurricanes and earthquakes. And floods. They happen every year but people just build back, go back, stay. I guess many don’t have a choice.
I watched the movie Elvis last night. It was kind of a weird move. What a sad story. To be honest, I didn’t really like it that much. But I learned a couple of things about the guy that I didn’t know. I really ended up feeling sorry for him. Two songs I discovered are very relevant today. This one was written in 1968: If I can Dream. It was actually the highlight of the film. You can watch it on Youtube.
And this one was recorded by Elvis in 1969, but written by Mac Davis. Many many people have covered it since.
“In The Ghetto”
As the snow flies On a cold and gray Chicago mornin’ A poor little baby child is born In the ghetto
And his mama cries ‘Cause if there’s one thing that she don’t need It’s another hungry mouth to feed In the ghetto
People, don’t you understand The child needs a helping hand Or he’ll grow to be an angry young man some day Take a look at you and me, Are we too blind to see? Do we simply turn our heads and look the other way?
Well, the world turns And a hungry little boy with a runny nose Plays in the street as the cold wind blows In the ghetto
And his hunger burns So he starts to roam the streets at night And he learns how to steal, and he learns how to fight In the ghetto
Then one night in desperation The young man breaks away He buys a gun, Steals a car, Tries to run, But he don’t get far And his mama cries
As a crowd gathers ’round an angry young man Face down on the street with a gun in his hand In the ghetto
And as her young man dies, On a cold and gray Chicago mornin’, Another little baby child is born In the ghetto
Did you see it now costs $200 per day above and beyond the regular expenses of accommodation, transportation, guides to visit Bhutan? Will make for a pricey trip. Although I guess you no longer have to go with a guided tour. It is on my bucket list. Have you been there?
I heard a song on the radio the other day that I really liked. It was by Orville Peck. I think he sounds like a cross between Roy Orbison and Jonny Cash. But some say he is reminiscent of Elvis. Anyway, I bought his second album, Bronco. He has kind of a cowboy theme. Orville Peck is an alias/persona for Daniel Pitout. He is South African but left when he was 15 and moved to London and then to Canada. His voice is amazing.
My internet is out. I love the way you have to go onto the internet to find out if the internet is out. Luckily my cell service was working so I could go on the internet on my phone to my internet service provider’s website for it to tell me the internet is out. Now I have to wait for them to text me to let me know it is working again. I wonder if I will really actually get a text. (I did!) Life is full of surprises. Actually life was much simpler before the internet. It was one less thing to worry about. When it first appeared, I wondered what anybody would do with it. Why would people need something that just looked things up? I suppose it is like any new thing. Once you get used to it you wonder how you ever lived without it. I look things up every five minutes now.
A young TCK (third culture kid) has written a book about the trials and tribulations of being a TCT (Third Culture Teen), something she apparently coined. I listened to a podcast of her being interviewed. She is Korean and lived in China and other places and went to college in the USA. Interesting that she mostly went to American Schools when she was growing up and identified with Americans and thought she knew about American culture even though she never lived there but when she actually got to the USA, she was clueless. It sounds like a pretty common problem to me, whether you are Korean or American (TCK). Anyway her book is called The Third Culture Teen, In Between Cultures, In Between Life Stages by Jiwon Lee (on Amazon).
Buh-bye to Boris (Johnson). I will miss his hairdo….
Speaking of music… I watched a good documentary on Amazon Prime about Los Tigres Del Norte. Four brothers left their home in Sinaloa, Mexico after their father was shot in the spine. They could not afford an operation so they needed to earn money for the family. They were playing in restaurants wherever they could and in Mexicali they ran into a man who took them to San Jose, California and introduced them to a record distributor. They seemed to have very good luck as well as being talented. Their style is “norteño” music and their lyrics are about the immigrant, the workers, the down trodden. Later they also wrote about the drug traffickers and the movers of contraband. Their concerts could last for six hours or more. They have released 50 albums and received five Grammy awards. They are still going strong and plan to keep going as long as they are able. They are all naturalized US citizens now.
When I went to San Francisco in May, we walked all through Chinatown and I bought some gifts for my great niece and nephew. I went over to their house last night for dinner and to give them their presents. I was greeted by the four year old boy who was very excited about an episode of the dragon cartoon they were watching. So I enjoyed a couple of episodes of dragon adventures. When I was getting ready to leave he told me he wanted to draw me a picture. This is now displayed on my refrigerator. I think it is quite beautiful.
I was asked to participate in this “blog hop” by Angela, at Amsterdam Oriole. Angela is an Englishwoman married to a Dutchman living in Amsterdam. She writes about events in and around Amsterdam and everything Dutch. She is a prolific writer of flash fiction and short stories. Be sure to visit her swag bag!
SWAG has several definitions. According to the Oxford American dictionary SWAG can mean any of the following. I am assuming the relevant one is highlighted in red.
My friend tells me it really just stands for Stuff We All Get.
A curtain or piece of fabric fastened so as to hang in a drooping curve
A carved or painted representation of a swag of flowers, foliage, or fruit: fine plaster swags
Money or goods taken by a thief or burglar
Products given away free, typically for promotional purposes
Marijuana, typically of a low grade
My mission is to fill a virtual goodie bag with my birthday wish list and must include a book, beauty product, snack food, music, and ‘my choice’. My birthday is next month, so listen up!
Having recently returned from Lake Como, my current dream is to live there and wake up to that view morning after morning. I often troll expat/memoir books looking for something to read and happened to come across this. She sounds like an interesting person.
“Sometimes flying by the seat of your pants is the best thing you can do …
When Ciara O’Toole and her husband move to Lake Como, Italy, they make plans – to run their own businesses, to learn the language and to immerse themselves in the Italian way of life.
But just a few months into the adventure Ciara’s marriage ends and she finds herself alone in a country where she doesn’t speak the language. She is faced with a choice: return to Ireland or stay in Italy and make her new life work.”
New favorite snack – White Cheddar popcorn
Back in the 1980’s I went to visit my boyfriend who was doing a summer internship at the Boston Globe. We took a road trip up to Maine. On that trip he turned me on to something I had never seen before – Smartfood. Cheese covered popcorn. I was immediately addicted. Not only was it delicious but the packaging was always entertaining. It would say things like, “We don’t drown our kernels in preservatives. That wouldn’t be fair. They can’t swim.” They told silly stories about the product’s origins and would claim things like “more than twelve billion kernals popped”, mocking McDonald’s.
Then they sold out to Frito Lay and I thought, ugh, that changes things. But even though the packaging got boring, the taste was still good. Now they have a “lighter” version that isn’t quite as cheesy or salty but still states good.
I love nail polish and always have way too many of it. It is fun finding new colors and textures. This one caught my eye.
Arabella PixieDust by Zoya
Blondie is one of my all time favorites. Debbie Harry is always so cool. They just released their 40th anniversary double CD called ‘Blondie 4(0) Ever’. It includes their old hits, new material, and a dvd of one of their live performances.
My Choice – Just for fun!
A mere $57,000
Need I say more?
Next week please join our continuing blog hop over to see Jennifer at the ever creative and amusing Expat Lingosite. She describes herself as a serial expat and is in the process of moving from Hong Kong to the Netherlands.
We watched this documentary last night. It is about a guy in Detroit who put out two records that didn’t sell at all. He was a flop. But somehow his music made its way to South Africa and it spoke to them. They loved it. But nobody knew who he was. The film follows two guys who went looking for him. I enjoyed the film, it held my interest. It won a Bafta award if that means anything to you. But I really liked the music.
I wonder how many times you’ve been had
And I wonder how many plans have gone bad
I wonder how many times you had sex
I wonder do you know who’ll be next
I wonder l wonder wonder I do
I wonder about the love you can’t find
And I wonder about the loneliness that’s mine
I wonder how much going have you got
And I wonder about your friends that are not
I wonder I wonder I wonder I do
I wonder about the tears in children’s eyes
And I wonder about the soldier that dies
I wonder will this hatred ever end
I wonder and worry my friend
I wonder I wonder wonder don’t you?
I wonder how many times you been had
And I wonder how many dreams have gone bad
I wonder how many times you’ve had sex
And I wonder do you care who’ll be next
I wonder I wonder wonder I do