Stuff we've been up to lately:
Our planned Sopranos-a-thon on Thursday didn't happen because a friend of ours planned to drop in for lunch during a large cross-country motorbike excursion that she was on. The friend is remaining nameless because in the end, owing to the vagaries of weather and motorbike mechanics, she was SIX HOURS LATE (which was actually fine, and it just meant that lunch turned into dinner, but I'm sure I will be able to use it to wring a frenzy of guilt and apologies from her for ages to come, which I will enjoy enormously). Thursday ended up, therefore, being a rather pleasant day of lolling, of watching some group of youthful neo-nazis demonstrating up and down our street, and of seeing the last-ish bit of some cycling race that is going on around here at the moment. Interestingly enough, the day's cycling was won by an Australian chap called Robbie someone, who I have never heard of but Reto tells me is quite famous. Go Team Australia.
On Friday I went on a wee excursion to Zurich and bought a pair of jeans and about 8 tonnes of chocolate. Possibly the oddest thing that happened during that day was when I was walking along the swankier end of the street, and as I was passing Prada a car came screeching to a halt just next to me. Before the car had stopped the passenger-side door was opened, and the woman who was sitting there used her swanky-ish high-heel-clad foot to brace the door open as the car came to a halt. As soon as it had stopped, she leapt out of the car, rushed into Prada and the car zoomed off again. Some sort of fashion emergency, apparently.
I've also discovered that Reto and I have very different policies on butter usage. I scrape it off the top of the block, he cuts a slice from the end. I can't believe I didn't notice this earlier.
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... or how to waste time in the land of stupid laundry
In 2007 I made a Grand Romantic Gesture and moved to the other side of the world for the sake of my international boyfriend. In 2008 he became my husband, and the serious work of living and loafing in a new country really began.
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6 comments:
I had a butter moment at my dear friend's house last weekend. I scraped my butter off the top but the rest of her family cut little bits off the end. I felt like I had committed a social sin or something when one of her kids examined the butter after I used it.
Reto says that he cuts the butter off the end because it's handier if you are going to use the butter to cook with later and you need to measure the weight of the butter by the width of the slice. I sort of don't believe him, though, because he's not really that thoughtful and has probably never cooked anything that needed butter in it (like a cake) in his life.
If you cut a slice it will be too thick to butter toast/bread without mangling it. Or does Reto cut the butter slice into smaller bits before transferring to bread? Or is the butter soft to start with?
sorry!
I don't really know how Reto fails to mangle his bread with his great big wedges of butter (which lives in the fridge and is therefore not soft, and he also doesn't cut it into smaller bits). Some of the bread here is more solid than the bread we eat in Aus (and therefore stands up to more forceful buttering techniques), but even with sunday bread (which is the squishiest, least substantial bread ever and which I always mangle on the relatively rare occasions when I butter it) his bread stays intact. Maybe he has some sort of "ability to butter" gene that is missing in my family.
you've married a monster!
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