Where’s the fifth light?
Go on go on go on go on go on
Where’s the fifth light?
I found it on the internet.
This felt close, in a way: in May 2014 I flew UK to NZ on Malaysian Airlines. One of their planes had gone missing in March that year, so I came in for some joshing over my choice. I flew out of NZ on 22 July. The Kuala Lumpur-Amsterdam leg had a slight change of flight path because on the 17th a Malaysian plane on that route was shot down over Ukraine.
(I felt so sorry for the air crew - some of them may have lost friends and colleagues on those flights, and here they were, smiling away and bringing us drinks.)
Good chunks of my youth. When I look back I think, those kids were not your friends.
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.
Some of my non-techie friends were complaining about how rubbish Google search is now and I suggested Duck Duck Go. They couldn’t get past the name. I know it’s based on some childhood game in the US but it makes no sense to anyone here in the UK.
“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.
I’m in my 70s, soooo pretty much everything I own. Sigh.
I bet it’s bacon. The siren song of sizzling bacon always drags me away from vegetarianism in the end.
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.
Everyone has sleep paralysis every time they dream. It’s a mechanism that stops you acting out your dreams. What happens occasionally is that you come out of the dream state enough to become aware of being paralysed. You’re not awake, so your unconscious mind is grappling with the horror of paralysis.
My own experiences were nightmares where I was being threatened by an unseen figure, but couldn’t move to escape. I had a lot of them, some really horrible. Then I read an article with the above explanation, and I haven’t had one since. It was like once my unconscious knew what was going on, it stopped freaking out.
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.
Mary Queen of Scots was 6ft tall.
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
Unlimited garlic bread, yay!