MrsDoyle

SparQ! (1Gb cartridges, I was never going to fill those suckers.)

I’ve signed up for donation for dissection. One slight caveat is that the institution - in my case a medical school - can decline to take your body if you’ve died of something infectious or if it’s been too damaged, eg in a crash. If all goes well, they collect the body, and when they’re finished with it they have it cremated. Family can have the ashes if they want. There’s a nice memorial garden with the names of donors. It’s all free… I mean, this is the medical school where Burke and Hare sold their murder victims, so they’re quite grateful to get your corpse for nothing.

People pay huge amounts of money for clothes with adverts on them.

Keep an eye on the Bering Strait though. A lot of Magats in Alaska, they might leave your back door open.

My dentist is lovely. Last visit I told him how much I appreciated his care and advice, and he blushed and said no-one ever thanked him. He needs a hug!

Unlimited garlic bread, yay!

Are unfertised human eggs a thing? Like, the chicken eggs we eat aren’t fertilised. I’m imagining something like an ostrich egg. Lots of omelette in that … um, definitely-not-a-baby.

One of my favourite eggcorns.

“The proof is in the pudding.”

The actual phrase is: “The proof of the pudding is in the eating.”

It means that your dessert might look and smell delicious, but if you fucked up the recipe, say by using salt instead of sugar, then it will taste bad. You won’t know for sure until you eat it. So, a plan might look good on paper but be a disaster when implemented.

“The proof is in the pudding” doesn’t mean anything.

Photo editing and uploading, maintaining my sports club’s website, video calls to family members, watching films and TV. Do word puzzles count as gaming? I do Quordle and Octordle every morning. I also have an ancient laptop running Linux; I’m trying to work myself up to switch the computer over come October.

We protect it

https://en.m.wikipedia.org/wiki/Deepwater_Horizon_oil_spill

Excellent. Carry on helping! Money makes everything awkward though, and some of the suggestions here about finding something she could do for you are great. Me, I’d knit you a pair of socks, bless your heart.

Another perspective, from a woman in her 70s. It’s lovely that you’re being so thoughtful. But this whole thread reminds me of a train journey I made a little while ago. A young man took a seat next to an older woman, maybe in her 60s. For a hundred miles or so he told her loudly about his life - university, sports, ambitions. She got off at her station, “lovely to meet you” etc. He then phoned a friend and told them, “Yes I’m on the train, just been chatting to an old dear, keeping her company…”

All of us “old dears” in the vicinity were smirking and side-eyeing each other, it was hilarious. My point is, are you sure she’s decrepit? I’d be a little taken back if someone did chores for me unbidden, however well motivated. And although I live alone, I’m not lonely. I’m not criticising your kind impulses, just warning you against being a touch patronising.

Ingredients

1/2 cup mayonnaise
▢ 1/2 cup sour cream
▢ 1/2 cup buttermilk or regular milk
▢ ¾ – 1 teaspoon dried dill weed
▢ 1/2 teaspoon dried parsley
▢ 1/2 teaspoon dried chives
▢ 1/4 teaspoon onion powder
▢ 1/2 teaspoon garlic powder
▢ 1/4 teaspoon fine sea salt
▢ 1/8 teaspoon finely cracked pepper
▢ freshly squeezed lemon juice to taste approximately 1-3 teaspoons, adjust to taste

What actually is “ranch”? I mean, what is the flavour? It’s not a thing in the UK.

Olives. Growing up poor in New Zealand in the 1950s/60s my only exposure to olives was in American magazines. You’d see a martini with a green olive in it. It looked sophisticated and was surely delicious.

Fast forward to my parents’ silver wedding anniversary, which they celebrated with a family meal at a very fancy Italian restaurant. I would have been ten or so, first time in a restaurant. I was thrilled to see dishes of green olives on the table. At last, I’d get to eat one!

I put that olive in my mouth and tasted something overwhelmingly vile, alien, disgusting. I faked a coughing fit and spat it into a napkin. So sophisticated!

These days I eat handfuls of olives - green, black, stuffed, whatever. Kalamata is my favourite. Yum!

I was trying to take a photo of piece of jewellery in my hand tonight and accidentally activated my phone’s AI. It threw up a big Paperclip-type message, “How can I help you?” I muttered “fuck off” as I stabbed at the back button. “I’m sorry you feel that way!” it said.

Yeah, I hate it. At least Paperclip didn’t give snark.

Am I the only person here who remembers when Hong Kong killed all its chickens because a few people died of H5N1 flu? https://www.latimes.com/archives/la-xpm-1997-dec-29-mn-3171-story.html

Lol