Me (to children): What’s my job?
Them: To mind the house and be a housewife.
Me: And what’s Daddy’s job?
Them: To go out to work and make money.
Pause.
Micheal: And to do the laundry.
Need I say that we both work outside the home and split work around the house equally?
Why would he say that?
I decided to make a plum pudding for the first time this year. I got a recipe in the paper and I bought the (lots and lots of) ingredients.
On Friday night I soaked the fruit in stout and brandy.
On Saturday I added the other ingredients. On Saturday afternoon, I realised that I would need some pudding basins.
On Monday, Mr. Waffle ran plastic pudding basins to ground for me.
On Tuesday, I realised that I needed ceramic basins but, after consultation with my sister, I shoved the plastic basin in the oven and put it in a roasting tin of boiling water for three hours. Then I lost my nerve and took it out. The plastic bowl was very, very hot but not melted. The middle of the pudding was cold.
On Wednesday, I put the pudding gloop in a metal pot and put it in the oven in a basin of water for an hour and then I lost my nerve and took it out – largely still cold – re-transferred it the pudding bowl and stuck it in the fridge.
On Thursday I went to the shops to buy a steamer. I could not find one large enough for my pudding bowl. I bought one of those metal things you steam vegetables on. I put it in the bottom of a large pot over a couple of centimetres of water over a low heat. I went out to dinner with a friend and instructed Mr. Waffle to make sure that the water was topped up. I came home to find Mr. Waffle had gone to bed and my pudding was sitting in the pot up to its neck in tepid water (tepid as he had turned off the heat when he went to bed). My instructions were, he explained, unclear also, he had three children to feed and put to bed. And the wretched thing still wasn’t cooked even after being boiled for three hours.
It’s sitting in the fridge as I write. I am going to make a last ditch attempt at steaming in the morning. Do you think that heating gently then cooling several times over a period of a week is going to mean that everyone who eats it will get gastroenteritis? Those of you who studied home economics might raise your hands first.
I think it was Kara who recommended to me the radio show “This American Life” which I really love. The other day, they had an introductory piece about prime numbers which you can listen to here should you be so inclined. I told Mr. Waffle about this and he was interested and did some research the fruits of which I give you here. Because I can.
Hunt for prime numbers: the puzzle was set by Mercenne – http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Mersenne_prime. The breakthrough you mention was made by Édouard Lucas – see link here. [Actually not, but never mind, this is interesting all by itself].
Wikipedia says “In 1857, at age 15, Lucas began testing the primality of 2127 − 1 by hand, using Lucas Sequences. In 1876, after 19 years of testing,[4] he finally proved that 2127 − 1 was prime; this would remain the largest known Mersenne prime for three-quarters of a century. This may stand forever as the largest prime number proven by hand.”
Footnote 4 above is a link to another web site which says
“Lucas died under unusual circumstances. A banquet waiter dropped a plate and a broken piece flew up and cut him on the cheek. He passed away a few days later from a bacterial infection (erysipelas). ”PS a more exciting account of his death is on http://mirrorsoferis.com/ds/013container.html
” … he was the guest of honor at a meeting of the Association française pour l’avancement des sciences — when he was savagely, fatally, assaulted.
A waiter — whose face no-one present saw, whose escape no hand nor word thought to obstruct — came up behind Lucas, and dropped a tray full of heavy crockery on his head. Lucas’s skull was crushed, he was rendered unconscious without the opportunity to say a single word; and though the crushing itself was not fatal, septicemia killed him a few days later. He never regained consciousness.”
Another French site offers yet a third version of his death
“Lucas est mort au cours d’un banquet : une assiette portant un couteau est tombée et lui a transpercé la gorge.”
A further site repeats the crockery theory with an extract from the Petit Moniteur Universel, 6 octobre 1891
“Sa mort a été occasionnée par un accident vulgaire. Dans un banquet auquel assistaient les membres du congrès, au cours d’une excursion en Provence, un domestique qui se trouvait derrière le siège de M. Edouard Lucas laissa tomber, par maladresse, une pile d’assiettes. Un éclat de porcelaine vint frapper à la joue M. Lucas et lui fit une blessure profonde par laquelle le sang s’échappa en abondance. Obligé de suspendre ses travaux, il rentra à Paris. Il s’alita, et bientôt se déclara l’érysipèle qui devait l’emporter. L’Université perd en lui l’un de ses plus brillants professeurs.”
Every year my husband’s family do this secret Santa thing and every year I get an anguished email from one of his close relatives asking what would be a good present for him.
This year, however, all is well. We carried out the draw and everyone put the piece of paper with the lucky recipient’s name on it in a pocket. Mr. Waffle looked at his some time after the event and only then, too late, alas, discovered that he’s got himself.
Look, the NY Times loves Brussels .
Husband’s email on being sent this link:
Brussels “is definitely not a city where everything is obvious, announced and organized,†explains Dimitri Jeurissen, the Belgian creative director of BaseDesign.
True.