Friday, 12th of May
One of the quirks of my schedule at the new job is my weekends. My schedule goes something like this: Week 1 – Wed/Sat off; Week 2 – Wed/Sat/Sun off; Week 3 – Friday off.
Which is kinda rubbish. (Although it does come in handy for cheeky weekend excursions from time to time.) Mainly because of that Friday week–I’d much rather have every week split up in Wed/Sat fashion, and hopefully will have it changed to match soon. I like having my weekday to do chores, then my weekend day to hang with the ol’ boy.
Anyway, this was my Friday week. Considering that, it was time to get shit done.
First up: a visit to my local GP. I was in the door a little before 8:30, and out at around 8:45 with a referral to get an X-Ray for my knee. Victory!! My knee’s crunchiness started with a mysterious “Pop!” while running on a treadmill one day during university years ago. It never hurt then, but over time has started to creep up on me: first I stopped running (and picked up cycling instead); then a long trek through the hills began to leave me hobbling like an old woman; and now when I’m walking up or down quiet stairwells Haitham can hear the crunching clearly himself. It took demonstrating said noise for my coworker when we were discussing all his running-related injuries, and the look of horror that crossed his face after, for me to think that it was perhaps time to get to the bottom of things.
What a bother, though. Stupid human body. Why are you so weak?!
“I’m sorry, but that sounds horrible,” said my GP apologetically after I demonstrated the noise for her (like a car engine gone wrong, but at least I can replicate the problem sound!). She thought that a visit to the physio probably wouldn’t do much good at this point, and so suggested an X-ray may be a good start to see if anything is “floating around in there.” If something (or alternatively nothing) shows up, she can then refer me to an orthopedic surgeon in order to figure out just what the heck is going on, potentially by getting an MRI.
The good news: now I know what the crunchy knee is called! Crepitus. I saw it written on the referral she gave me. For the curious!
Perhaps nothing will come of my X-ray, but perhaps something will–even knowing a bit more about what I can expect in the future would be a good thing. It’s certainly not life-threatening–as long as I can cycle and do some gentle hills, I’m happy as a clam. And more often than not, it doesn’t bother me.
After that I spent a good minute wandering back and forth from the library to print some files, then home, then back out to the post office in order to finally send my goodie bag off to the States for my SIL. The guy working there had the audacity to question my attire though, which happened to be my favorite comfy striped leggings with cut-off shorts, and my Pusheen-on-a-pizza tank to tie it all together.
Guy clearly doesn’t know fashion.
Saturday, 13th of May
It’s a big day here, folks. That’s because it’s…
the EUROVISION FINALE!
To be fair, Eurovision was something I had never even heard of until Haitham and I first started talking. But it quickly gained my interest as the winner of that year happened to be this person:
No, that’s not photoshop. That’s Conchita Wurst, the first drag queen to win Eurovision.
Let me explain. So, basically, Eurovision is like American Idol except for all the countries in Europe participate (with a few additions like Russia, Ukraine, and strangely enough Australia as of the past two years). It used to take place all in one night, all these varying performances, but now it’s been split into two different nights of semi-finals, and then the finale. There’s also a “Big 5” who gain automatic entry into the finals just because of who they are. Those are, unsurprisingly, Germany, France, Italy, Spain, and the U.K. Which seems a bit unfair, but they have the viewers, so…
Anyway it’s an eclectic mix for sure, and certainly always seems inclined to favor the more pop-fun songs as the winner. It’s interesting to see the amount of votes each performance gets, as each country not only chooses how to split up a portion of votes, and then after those results, the popular vote comes to play. It’s quite interesting seeing how the two come together in the end–it can really swing a winner one way or another.
Here we go: the winner, surprisingly, was Portugal who as it happens has never won before!! I at first thought Portugal’s song was a bit weird, but found it oddly sweet by the second performance. Not only that, but upon winning, our singer invited his sister (who wrote the song) up to perform alongside him. Pretty sure that’s never been done before! It certainly was a refreshing change from the lambasting pop-bubblegum songs that most people presented.
Although there was a yodel/rap duo… and a guy doing pop/opera… and a guy dancing in a gorilla suit. Yep. It sure was an interesting time. Oh, and there was a guy who cheekily got onto stage with the winner from last year (Ukraine) as she was performing, dropped trou on national television, and had a brief moment of sashaying bum glory before being tackled off the stage!
Anyway, here’s Portugal.
It’s a refreshing win for sure, because not only did he get on the stage with pretty much no frills and fanfare–just a guy singing a pretty song.
Here’s the lyrics:
If anyone ever wonders about me
Tell them I have lived solely to love you
Before you I only existed
Worn out and with nothing left to give
My love… Listen to my pleas
I beg you to come back
To want me again
I know… That one can’t love by oneself
But maybe with time
You will learn to love me as well
If your heart won’t be wiling to give in
Won’t be willing to feel
Won’t be willing to suffer
Without making plans of what will come ahead
My heart can love for both of us instead
Excuse me while I tend to these onions. *sniff*
And in case anyone wants to see the only yodeler in Romania, click right here-eoeo!
Sunday, 14th of May
Mother’s day! As it turns out, I had actually wished mom a happy mother’s day a full day earlier because I got my days mixed up–a silly thing to do considering it’s always on a Sunday, and yet, when no one else around you is talking about it being a holiday (because it isn’t, having happened several weeks before) it’s possibly a little more understandable to mix it up. Right?? Right. Despite that, Mom graciously just said “thank you!” not even blinking an eye at her wayward daughter. 🙂 Bless her.
My drive to work every day has been quite a lovely one as of late, mainly because there are fields of a particular crop with a god-awful name in full, glorious bloom. That’s right folks, it’s rape! Rapeseed, more specifically. It’s grown here for its use as a cooking oil. But while it grows the fields are brimming over with bright, bright yellow flowers. It’s seriously gorgeous.
I pass a particular stretch of motorway every day, farmhouse smack dab in the middle, two big draft horse mums with their foals, surrounded by fields of rape. And every day I think, “I have really got to stop.” Then proceed to forget, or miss out because of the weather.
Not today folks. Oh ho ho!
It’s seriously stunning–and it smells amazing. I just wish I could lure the tiny wee foal over for a nose-rub!