Weird?

Now that the wretched sitzbad is gone, I finally found someone to finish the shower in our little country place. The well has not been run in a long time, and it’s summer and water levels are down, and what’s coming out now is pretty sulfurous and brown and nasty, so for mixing cement I have been taking water from here in 6-liter Salus water bottles which I gather when I can from the recycling containers. They’ve been scarce lately for some reason.

Cut to this morning, reading Clif High’s extension of Bloom’s Taxonomy…OK, here’s an excerpt:

A significant difference is that Bloom ended his context on thinking with meta-cognition as an active tool, used on occasion to ‘tune’ your thinking about how to learn. He did not conceive of meta-cognition as an active, on-going, self analytical, in real time self monitoring, developing perpetual state of process. Thus in Bloom’s model, such humans as display psychic or ‘enlightenment’ abilities are completely excluded. In my model they are merely expressions of higher order thinking that is always, continuing, and continuously seeking to manifest at more advanced levels.

Then I walked to the feria (street market) past the recycling containers, only to see something I’ve never seen before.

Someone had actually tied a bunch of empty 6-liter Salus bottles to the outside of one of them, just in case someone was needing a bunch of them…?

Coke Zero

Yesterday saw an almost-heroic purge of 16 years of acquired workshop/play space flotsam—small coils of wire, plumbing fixtures I’ll never use, lookalike Argentine electrical fixtures that don’t play well with Uruguayan counterparts, hardware oddities carefully saved over the years because of course.

Between a weedeater and dog food, I was up to three freebie promotional beach umbrellas which, despite appearance, have never had any real use. And certainly not recently.

So I posted them as giveaways on our neighborhood Whatsapp group. Our neighbor Álvaro immediately claimed one, and someone else said her daughter would love to have one and she’d be here to pick it up in un ratito, which means “a little while” in English, which means maybe an hour and a half in Uruguay.

When she arrived, she was thrilled with the brand new umbrella (with the name of some dog food I’d never heard of—where does this stuff come from?), and held out as a thank you a cold 1.5 liter bottle of Coke Zero.

Which is close to the last thing I would think of actually drinking. I thanked her graciously, and immediately started wondering what am I going to do with this stuff? Then I remembered all the wonderful internet claims: clean dirty grout! Half a bottle later in the shower, uh, no. Speed up compost by adding sugar…uh, no. Clean oil stains in the garage! Uh…no. Clean rust off tools? Another day, perhaps *sigh*.

The magic patch

At one of the more remote points of our dog walk, I started noticing a textured patch that gave no clue what caused it, or could have caused it. And never seemed to have had anything walk through it.

Since it seemed to occur every day, untouched, I put a footprint in the middle of it as an experiment.

And the next day find the pattern again, with no sign of my footprint from 24 hours before.

So what’s going on here?

Coincidence?

Some time ago, the little vertical plastic box atop this vent pipe blew off. The box went into the neighbors’ yard, and since there’s rarely anyone there, I didn’t bother to pursue.

The plastic grate landed in our yard, and I hung onto it. Until today. In a sudden urge to purge, I started cleaning out my work area, chucking this and many other useless things.

Then, carrying trash to the house, I see this on the ground.

Obviously not where it was meant to be.

An hour from now, I wouldn’t have had a replacement, but now that you mention it….

For some reason

A perfect circle in the middle of the road. Why? How? No clue. I don’t think it’s a rudimentary crop circle, but you never know.

In other news today, the first large lizard we’ve seen in years – easily two feet long. Syd practically tripped over it. I pulled out my phone and started a video … except I didn’t. Something about trying to hit the on-screen tiny video button in full sunlight. So I pressed the button to start and stop recording, and ended up with two snapshots of nothing, since it was moving through undergrowth. Well, next time. Stay tuned! But don’t hold your breath.

Fusca farming?

Welcome to Life among the Easily Amused.

At our dog-walk takeoff spot, a nondescript lot has been divided between siblings. The kid* Pablo moved in a rather hideous container, obviously offensive to his neighbor—name unknown but friendly (and has poured money into his property)—who then raised his reasonable wall (A) to a pretty-sure-this-doesn’t-meet-code extreme height (B) to extinguish any view of Pablo’s architectural adventures from his home.

VW Beetles are called fuscas here. The origins of this name go back to how Germans pronounce Volkswagen, which sounds more like “folksvahgen.” That, shortened and pronounced in Brazilian Portuguese, morphed into “fusca.” (source). And Pablo had a rotting old white fusca that one can only guess he imagined bringing back to life one day, an amusingly ambitious idea.

Then, a couple weeks ago, what to our wondering eyes should appear but another rotting white fusca! A mate! A team? A farm?

Stay tuned.

Oh, and by the way, Pablo doesn’t live there, and has a drum set he’s (sort of) learning to play.

*context: anyone under 30