Olives. Growing up poor in New Zealand in the 1950s/60s my only exposure to olives was in American magazines. You'd see a martini with a green olive in it. It looked sophisticated and was surely delicious.
Fast forward to my parents' silver wedding anniversary, which they celebrated with a family meal at a very fancy Italian restaurant. I would have been ten or so, first time in a restaurant. I was thrilled to see dishes of green olives on the table. At last, I'd get to eat one!
I put that olive in my mouth and tasted something overwhelmingly vile, alien, disgusting. I faked a coughing fit and spat it into a napkin. So sophisticated!
These days I eat handfuls of olives - green, black, stuffed, whatever. Kalamata is my favourite. Yum!
Seriously though, a lot of us olds have our phones Bluetoothed to our hearing aids. So at least with us you only get to hear one side of the conversation. "I'M ON THE BUS!"
I accidentally triggered Gemini while taking a close-up photo of something in my hand. It threw up a nearly full-screen "how can I help?" message. I muttered "fuck off", and the message now read, "I'm sorry you feel that way..." Oh my god no. NO. Gemini now disabled.
My knee replacement was carried out with an epidural pain block, plus sedation. I came down from cloud nine briefly to wonder why someone was doing renovations while surgery was in progress - then realised all the drilling and hammering was my new joint going in. Phew! Back to lala land...
I got my first bread machine second-hand on eBay, for a fraction of the price of a new one. When that gave up the ghost I found a replacement machine even cheaper in a charity shop. It's the sort of thing people buy or are given, and it ends up shoved in a cupboard. They are sold on cheaply, often hardly used.
I make a simple wholemeal loaf every week: bread flour, yeast, a little fat (oil or butter), a little salt. I leave it to bake overnight and wake to a wonderful smell. It's better bread than supermarket stuff and works out cheaper, even using premium flours. I'm too lazy to go through all the kneading, proving etc; having a machine do it for me is perfect.
One time after a meal out in Wellington, the waiter chased us up the street - he'd just realised he overcharged us for wine, and was bringing us the cash.
Yeah I tried letting my kitten roam free in the car. She ended up under the brake pedal. I nearly shit myself trying to stop the car using the gears and handbrake.
I can sew, but finding decent fabrics is hard. Back in the 70s I made all my own clothes and I can still remember some of the fantastic fabrics I used: a ming blue paisley sateen cotton; a red denim (for a duffel jacket with a toning floral for the hood lining); a soft purple lightweight wool; a dark green raw silk; glorious Chinese rayon florals in rich colours. So much choice!
Get a blank notebook with alphabetic tabs and write all her passwords in there. Label it "crochet projects" or something. A non-techy friend of mine does that. At first I was horrified but it's a lot safer for her than post-it notes on the monitor.
How do you "borrow" a cigarette?