h2g2 The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy: Earth Edition

Williams-Sonoma. Sorry. And according to this book it is customary for people to dine casually on small plates throughout the Mediterranean. Tapas in Spain, antipasti in Italy and meze in Greece and the Middle East. There is always a variety of things offered and small plates or slices of bread are used in place of the plates. So people can sample just a little of each.

Sort of like our traditional party buffets, only we add lots of sweets.

mmmmm .... ..... I'm hungreeeee .... ....

is there anyone who doesn't like tapas? I love tapas ... it seems to me the most logical way to eat ... bit of this bit of that .... and something for everyone ....



I once knew a person who didn't like tapas .... he did at one time ..... until one day he had a curious fevered vision in a tapas bar in some dusty town somewhere south of somewhere .... which involved a run-in with a giant shrimp ...which told him many intense and mystical secrets ... oh no wait ... that was something to do with dodgy paella ...this is fiction mixed with fact ... and I would continue with this incredibly interesting story .....

but I just have tome right now to send a and to you all ...

......because its the UK Masters snooker final on TV...

so I'll just deliver these flawed and dusty verses to PhreddyPhredster ... because a Dream-spirit just took me to some steps of an hotel in some dusty town somewhere south of somewhere ... and sent me these traveller's lines ....

(and fortunately nothing rhymes with .... (or does it?) ...



So I'll stand on the step
Of this lit-up hotel
With a tiny pink rose
On my crumpled lapel

While the twilight descends
On the cafes and cars
Think I'll linger awhile
Smoking Spanish cigars ..................

>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

to the snooker!!

anyone else like snooker? I don't really understand the rules .. I just like watching all the coloured balls making patterns on the green baize ... C goes crazy with me 'cos he knows the rules .... heheheheheheh ....

H >>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

PS .... for tome read time ....

luckily time prevents me writing a tome ... heheheheheheheh ...

for now ...........

I've got this thing on Google that shows me photos of National Parks and another with Ansel Adams pictures.

Mrs. Phred was blanking out on our visit to the Wrangle-St. Elias National Park. Actually it's the biggest National Park in North America.

I pulled up the blog and the album to prove we've been there. There's even a video. It's funny in a feel good kind of way.

http://good-times.webshots.com/video/3011251040074333758CPVMWN

It's really cold this morning. Only getting up to 55. The forecast for Palm Beach for Saturday is 77 degrees with a 75 degree ocean temperature so I'll have to wear a wet suit, I guess...bummer

75F, that is mmmm about 23C. It'd be nice if the daytime temp round here got to that!
We're currently having to get the multi fuel stove burning high with coal or wood to get the living room to that temperature.

We've been lucky thus far this winter in the Central Valley, there have been only a few frosty days, but when the northerlies blow it gets miserable. The past week or two, it's been shirtsleeve weather. Up in the Sierras, on the other hand, let's say we'll have plenty of snowmelt in the spring.

California -- the land of microclimates.

So the Fireclouds have traveled so much that they can't remember part of it. Course I can't remember what I had for breakfast these days.

Our weather is insane. 40º temperature shifts from day to day. It's absolutely gorgeous today. Sunny and mild. Will be in the low 60s tomorrow and then 3 days of sleet and ice beginning Sunday. It's driving us crazy. And the perennials don't know what to do, whether to stay dormant or wake up.

I was just watering the plants at the house I'm sitting, and the daffodils are blooming!! This is early, even for So Cal! I'm beginning to believe that "global warming" actually means, "We have no clue..." Some places have had the coldest weather in years, others, plants in confusion.

Ya know, weather that's off the median is normal... that's why it's called the median. Cuz there's stuff that's not on it. But golly it's frigid here!


I hope it gets cooler in Florida. I'm running the Miami half-marathon. I don't like sweat running down my face.

That's exciting, Leo. Best of luck with that.

Of course things are going to go off median. We expect fluctuations. It's the "normal" patterns that are fouled up, though. At least what has been considered normal in my lifetime. I can't relate to what happened hundreds/thousands of years ago with the weather. To me normal is what I'm used to.

A third day near or below freezing in Florida. The mean, median anmode are all being violated.

Phred made a disgusting bunch of finger food. He puts chicken livers and water chectnuts on a toothpick and wraps the whole disgusting greasy mess with bacon. Then he cooks it on the propane grill...

Mrs. Phred is going down to Palm Beach to watch over a very old aunt...The aunt has a tendency to ask the same question every thress minutes...it's a short term memory thing. Mrs. Phred plans to make up some signs...one will say "Bob"...she'll hold that one up in answer to the question, "Who is your husband?"

A traveler was driving through Arkansas when he lost his way and got off the main highway. As he drove by, he saw rows and rows of pigsties and pigpens and pigs running in fields and pigs wallowing in mud. Suddenly, his eye caught something really strange. He did a double take, muttered to himself and then looked a third time. He wondered if he had seen correctly - it looked like a pig with a wooden leg!

He found the lane to the farm and drove up into the farmyard, where he was met by the farmer. "Excuse me," the traveler said. "I was just driving by and looking at all your pigs, and I noticed something that I just had to stop and ask about. Tell me, did I see right? Is there really a pig out there with a wooden leg?" The farmer smiled. "Oh, that would be old Caesar you saw. He's the finest pig a man could ever hope to have - and smart! Well, let me tell you a little about that pig. You see that barge down there on the river? That's a mining dredge, taking out platinum ore. Old Caesar sniffed out the vein and showed us how to set it up. Now that dredge brings me in about $120,000 every year.

"There's another thing, too, a little more personal. One night a couple of years ago I got to drinking and I guess I had more than I should have. I passed out drunk, fell down and knocked over a lamp. That started a fire in the house and old Caesar smelled the smoke. He came in the back door, got the wife and kid out, roused me up and got me out. "There is no question about it - that night old Caesar saved all our lives and you know that is not the sort of thing a man is going to forget too easily."

"Why," the traveler said, "this is all amazing! I have never heard of a pig like this before! This is fantastic! But tell me, how did he get that wooden leg? Was he in a wreck or something?"

The farmer laughed and said, "Well, naturally, when you have a pig that smart, you don't want to eat him all at one time!"

These weather patterns remind me of the time Pettigrew and I were on safari in Kenya and ran afoul of a tribal chieftain named Ohimbe M'Boughatsi. The details are too distressing to relate, but suffice it to say we found ourselves imprisoned by the man with little hope for a good outcome.

Where was I? Oh yes, unusual weather. It was one of those freaky seasons where the temperatures fluctuated more than normal and one literally didn't know what would happed from one day to the next. The villagers were a suspicious lot, so we were able to save ourselves by playing upon those superstitions. Pettigrew has always been a fan of Mark Twain and reminded me of the use of the solar eclipse in "A Connecticut Yankee in King Arthur's Court". We decided we were in such dire straits that perpetuating a ruse was worth the risk.

Looking back, it was a brilliant plan. Pettigrew and I invented a ritual designed to draw attention from the guards and performed it at sunrise and sundown. We joined hands and circled clockwise three times, after which we threw up our hands and shouted M'Boughatsi Kaput YeeHaw! Then we joined hands, circled anticlockwise seven times and repeated the shout.

After our sunrise ritual on the third morning, we were taken to the Chieftain's hut. He demanded an explanation. Pettigrew, who was able to communicate with the devil, informed him that we had set into motion the Druid Wheel of Destruction. The only way for him to ensure the safety of himself and his tribe was to release us. On the other hand, if he harmed us he and his tribe would be destroyed.

M'Boughatsi was naturally skeptical, but his inate superstition stayed his hand. We were returned to our hut. Then dame fortune smiled upon us. On the morning of the fourth day, at exactly the moment we finished our anticlockwise shout, the wind picked up, the temperature took a dramatic fall, the sky turned dark and hail began to fall.

Pettigrew and I were hustled into the Cheiftain's presence. He was clearly disturbed. He demanded that we stop the hail. In response we joined hands and began to circle. At that moment the hailstones grew larger. Our guards fell on their knees before M'Boughatsi, imploring him to release us. The angry Chieftain turned his back on all of us, at which point a gust of wind blew into the hut, blowing out the lamps and overturning M'Boughatsi's chair. The frightened guards fell upon their chieftain and strangled him.

Pettigrew and I were released, given gifts from the tribe and sent safely on our way. I tell the story now because in one of those amazing coincidences we sometimes encounter, one of the gifts presented to Pettigrew was a pet pig belonging to the third wife of the late Chieftain. This particular pig only had three legs. It did not of course have a wooden leg. That is just silly.

I remember it well, Feathersham. That pig was with up for several weeks until it was unceremoniously eaten by a cheeta. If we'd know what was going to happen, we could have eaten it ourselves. I wonder if the missing leg was the same one as the pig in Spammy's story?

There is one small point, old man. We actually circled anticlockwise first and clockwise second. If you remember, we had quite a discussion before hand about which order to choose. And also whether to end our shout with YeeHaw or a raspberry.

For heaven's sake. Both of you are getting senile. The pig wasn't eaten by a cheeta. It was M'Boughatsi's hunting dog that was killed by the cheeta. You brought the pig back with you to Cheltenham, then immediately took off again and expected me to look after it for you. It was so attached to Hiram that it pined away and died. I had it made into summer sausage.

You can't rely on anything either one of them says.

You wouldn't happen to have the recipe for that sausage?

No, sorry. It wasn't particularly flavorful. I'd have been better off to have it made into country sausage and bacon, instead.

Did you ever get that divorce settlement worked out? I see you have Houndstooth back.

Things were settled, but not to my liking. Houndstooth is about all I got. Him and the Diner. But I have finally learned my lesson. Five wives is enough for any man. I'm through with matrimony. Not through with women, mind you, just matrimony.

It's nearly time for me to oil Houndstooth and recharge his batteries. I need him in good shape for the supper rush at the Diner.

I remember now. Jackie, you told me that pig was given a proper Christian burial. You mean you ate him?

Hiram, you always were a gullible old fool. Of course I ate him. I just didn't want you upset at the time. You were recovering in hospital in Malawi from snakebite.

Well, it's hard not to become attached to a three-legged pig.