Pic of the day: Forest expands near Chaos Node.
Socialist holy day
Repeating dream of the night: Human explorers on Mars found some large metal disks, about 3 meters across. When they tried to experiment on them, the disks suddenly flew off into space and toward Earth at high velocity. They settled in the outskirts of inhabited areas where they fused with the ground and became giant orbs, like eyes. They seemed impervious to physical attack and dangerous, but eventually some of us - at least I - got telepathic contact with them and found that they had no evil intent. Their thoughts were very strange, though, so unlike human thought. This was as far as the dream came at the furthest, then it jumped back and the "attack" landing of the eyes was shown several times, each with a different twist, until eventually I woke up.
I didn't use to remember dreams for weeks, and now suddenly all these? And none of them make sense. Then again, they are dreams.
Woke up to a somewhat overcast day for a change. Did not need to go to work, because May 1st is the holy day of the socialists and communists of the world, and so instead of having them strike on it every year, it was made an off day. But the more burgeoise citizens like to work in their garden on this day, and work hard, just in case a socialist got to see it, that they don't celebrate the day.
I'm certainly no socialist. I am put off by the blatant greed of the rich, but also by the blatant greed of the middle class who now play socialists here in Norway. Lots of people live themselves to death while mouthing the holy phrases of socialism. It's just organized extortion. Snap out of it already. We've had enough of this big bureaucracy taking money from everybody and giving it to everybody. There's a big clean-up job needed. Whatever the socialists argue for, you can hardly go wrong by going for the opposite.
So the workers want to own the means of production, huh? Then let them buy shares. Well, that is, when the shares become correctly priced again. It may take a while. Right now, shares are little good for anything but gambling.
That said, I don't mind if they march up and down the streets one day a year. I am more put off by the greedy strikes. I've already lost money on this year's strike before it has even begun: I have deferred buying a monthly card for the bus since I expect the bus to be on strike much of the month. So last Friday I paid full price. Oh well.
In happier news, I had a late dinner of spaghetti and cheese. I did not use pasta herbs & spices, but a little curry spice and a dash of general purpose mixed spices ("Kjøkkensjef Natvigs Krydderblanding" for the curious Norwegian reader). The effect was surprisingly a taste that reminded me of my mother's macaroni casserole. (Obviously I did not use a lot of curry, or the effect would have been very different!) I'm not sure what exactly made this taste remind me so vividly of our meals back home, but you know how things are ... sometimes a faint scent or taste can call a whole event to your mind.
My mother was a good cook, and had in fact worked as a cook at some point in the past. I seem to remember that was what she did when she met my father. Well, actually I don't remember it, but I think I remember them telling me. Heh. There are limits to my memory, people. Anyway, she used to make good food. But of course, those were other times, and the good food then don't stack up too well against the food today. Spaghetti was the height of modernism; no pizza, no tacos, no spring rolls ... you get the drift. Cooked meat and cooked vegetables were the mainstay. Oh, and potatoes. Cooked potatoes in large quantities. The fact that my mother managed to make things edible in those primitive times is impressive in itself. The fact that I would eat her macaroni casserole till I almost exploded, virtually every time, year after year, says the rest.
So being reminded of that was definitely a pleasant memory. My childhood was in many ways a dark time, but it wasn't my mother's fault at least! And not the macaroni's either.
Visit the Diary Farm for the older diaries I've put out to pasture.