This is inventory time at work, so I am trying to get the usual tasks completed while at the same time, having to figure out the inventory issues.

Since this is the US Government, they have to update/upgrade everything on an annual basis.  So, just as I got last year’s inventory process figure out, they change it to a new improved method, which requires learning the process all over again.  Very frustrating….  They do these improvements every year.

The Marine Ball will be a week from Saturday.  Nov. 18th.  It will be a bit strange without Terese, since we only went to these because she wanted to.  I will watch the people dance and jiggle to the music, then I will slip away.  The following day I will hop on a plane and head home for Thanksgiving and see my incredible 900 year-old mother.

I have befriended the little lady in the mail room.  When I get my mail several times a week, I visit with her a few minutes.  She confides in me when she is upset and I turn on my halo and convince her it is not as bad as she thinks.

The other day, she told me the Brazilians at the Consulate, specifically the Local Guard Force, has nicknamed me McGyver.  (spelling may be incorrect)  He is a TV character that has some sort of knack to get things done.

She told me the guards say I can open a door with a paperclip.  I don’t know where they get such nonsense, but I decided to have some fun with it.  Now, every time I work on something in their presence, be it an x-ray machine, door controls, video monitor, camera, etc., I will ask one of them for a paperclip.  Then when I get through, I will hand it back.  Sometimes, I will bend it out of shape first.

Sunday, I will go on a Consulate sponsored shopping trip.  It was planned last week, but cancelled because of the weather.  I will take some pictures and show you what the place looks like.

A couple of months ago, I hired a young woman to come in and clean my apartment once a week.  Her name is Camila.  She is probably in her mid-twenties and I am told her husband recently lost his job, so I give her a few extra Reals. (pronounced “hey-eyes”)

For some reason, she tends not to understand what I tell her.  Perhaps she just doesn’t want to.  I originally told her not to do any laundry.  Sounds simple, but she does it anyway, so I decided, Okay, let her do it.  But then I noticed she was putting the detergent into the bleach port, so as a result, my clothes tend to smell more like the detergent than what I want.  I specifically told her to use the extra rinse cycle to eliminate the smell, but she doesn’t.  I even put little green stickers on the washer settings so she will know which ones to use, which she doesn’t use. So last Wednesday when she came, I took her into the utility room and specifically pointed out the issues.  Maybe it will work okay.

I have two bath mats in my bathroom I have placed for when I step out of the shower, but every time, she places them in a different place, almost as if she is trying to tell me I had them wrong.  So, every week, I have to place them back where I want them.

I have several of the Amazon Echos in my apartment, and I think the one in the kitchen scared her when it started talking, because she always unplugs it.

But she does the things I don’t want to do, like cleaning the bathrooms, kitchen, floors and rugs and taking out the trash. (I never was a very good trash emptier – you can ask my mother) Camila changes the sheets and towels and washes them.  A bonus to this, it makes me do as much of my laundry as I can before she shows up, because if she washes any shirts, she will button every button after hanging them up.

I shouldn’t really complain, because I only pay her about $50 a week which includes her transportation.  I noticed she uses my coffee maker, so I always leave out a little bag of fresh coffee for her to use.  That is something Terese would have done (and much more).

I have been reading several of Bill O’Reilly’s books lately.  I read Killing Lincoln a few years ago, and finished reading Killing England last week.  Currently, I am reading Killing the Rising Sun.  These are extremely well written and the research by Martin Dugard is incredible.  Even the little footnotes are good.  These are books that are easy to read because they hold your attention.  I have several more waiting to be read.

Speaking of books, did I lend any of you my Les Miserable book?  It has been read by perhaps a dozen people.  Its pages are bent and dog-eared and it is dirty all over, because it was read by several men who ran the milling machines at the plant years ago.  The cover has been taped on, because the book got into the hands of a child of a friend who was reading it.  Needless to say, it is my favorite book, so I keep it in the china hutch.  But it is not there, and I don’t remember if I loaned it out.

… maybe Camila took it home to read, even though she doesn’t know English.

D.

 

Been an interesting week.  Friday the Marines had a wingfest and I did most of the cooking using Terese’s recipe.  It was a hit.  We ran out of wings so I went to the refrigerator in my shop and retrieved another 4 kilos.  All and all, we cooked 24 kilos of wings and still ran out.  That is 52 lbs.  Next time, we will start with 30 kilos, 66 lbs.  Below are the original 20 kilos before cooking.

Since I only had a few wings that evening, I decided to award myself with my own.  I have an air-fryer which is a contraption that fries food with hot air, without using a politician.  Takes about the same time, but with no oil.  They came out very well.

On the Sao Paulo compound, I have 57 cameras to take care for.  These are scattered all on the perimeter fence and some inside the buildings.  I had to go to each one and get the serial number off it for the upcoming inventory season, which meant dragging a 25 foot extension ladder around.  So, I got Bulldog to help, and with the golf cart I have access to, we puttered around the compound completing the task.  Every time, we placed the shaky ladder against a tall pole for me to climb, Bulldog would touch my shoulder and look into my eyes and say, No fear, Meester.  I need to get his picture sometime.

I was on the roof of one of the buildings the other day, and when my Friend Francisco found out Bulldog was helping me with the cameras, he climbed up on the roof to tell me that next time I need help, to come get him instead.  I just smiled.  Here is the first picture I took of him some time ago.

Here is an extremely interesting picture.  On my way to work, I happened across the little girl looking in a window.  The window and little girl were not there a few days before.  What you see is artwork by a sign painter on a green wall.  This shows a bit of the incredible artistic talent these people have.

Now, here is a picture of me and my friend Ricardo when we went to a local Irish pub that we go occasionally.  Ricardo is the one smiling.

After drinking slowly throughout the afternoon, I wanted some chips and queso to squelch the alcohol, but when I ordered it, they were baffled.  I was taken back by this, because Brazilians love cheese.  So, I explained how it has melted cheese.  They asked me, what kind of cheese.  I said, I don’t know. Cheddar I guess.  The bartender had a baffled look, but said okay.  So, a few minutes later he brought me a bowl of melted cheddar cheese.  I forgot to tell them that queso also has chili in it.

Here is something I thought about the other day.  When I first encountered Marines in my work in Moscow, I was at awe.  I called them sir, as they did me.  I looked upon them as the heroes they are, and held them in admiration.  Over the years, I began to view them as just good men that I fully appreciate.  Eventually, as I encountered them on a personal level, I spoke with them about their desires and goals, and even their fears, and I began to see them as incredible individuals that I enjoy being around.  Many are ornery, and a few don’t really seem too bright at times.

Now it’s to the point that I see them as my kids.  I don’t hesitate to chew their butts out then the use a fly lock to hold a FEBR door open.  And they know they can ask me to man Post One (main control center) when they need to run to the bathroom.  When they call me to report a problem, I just answer the phone with, What did you break?  The other day as I was leaving the Consulate, several of them were heading home and before I knew it, a bit of my dad came out, and I told them, No damn-fool shenanigans!

So, I have come a long way with them.  During the wingfest the other day, I told Gunny (the head Marine), that I need to get a picture of his Marines with me for my 900-year-old mother.  It will happen soon.

Oh yeah.  One more thing before I tell you to kick butt.

This week, former President Obama is in Sao Paulo for a personal visit.  I am guessing it is to make a expensive speech.  Luckily, I don’t do much with presidential visits, but I am at awe at the expenses that takes place.  I would estimate upwards of a half-million dollars, just so he can fly here and probably make a speech which pays him that amount.  It is one of the perks of being a former president.

Okay.  Until next time, kick butt.  D.

In the places I work, I deal a lot with the Facility people.  These are the Electricians, Carpenters, Plumbers and Laborers at the Embassy/Consulates.  Same as here in Sao Paulo.  I find these people much more enjoyable than the stuffy and arrogant officers I deal with.

We have already discussed the diminutive electrician named Francisco, who has the nickname Chequeno.  He is so wanting to help me, that if he sees me walking with tools he will follow to see if he can assist.  A few weeks ago I had to crawl down into a manhole to cut and retrieve a cable.  I asked him to help me because he knew where all the manholes are and how they connect.  After we got the cover open he started to crawl down inside.  The manhole had a sewer line that ran through it that was cracked and had some sewage in the hole.  I wasn’t just about to let him get down in that, so I stopped him.

No, my Friend.  I will go down.

No no no. I go, my Friend. I go!

No! You stay here, my Friend.

No No No!  Please please …

So, I had to pull rank on him.  “Francisco, I am your boss.  I will go”, as I started to lower myself down.  (I’m not really his boss)

At this point, he became very agitated.  “Oh my gosh!   Oh my gosh!   Oh my gosh!  Oh no, my Friend!  Please, please … I go!  I go!”

As I mentioned before, he is the nervous sort, always moving.  Usually twitching his shoulders or adjusting his pants.  So, when he grasped the horror that I would be the one going down in the hole, he was in total despair.  I thought he was going to rend his garments and cover himself with sackcloth and ashes.

I did what I had to do and pulled myself out of the manhole as he chastised me for not letting him be the one to crawl down into the sewer laden manhole.  As a consolation, I let him pull the heavy cast iron cover back over the hole by himself.

Now …. Bulldog.

Bulldog’s real name is Rogerio, which translates as Roger to us.  To pronounce it correctly, the “R” is spoken as “Ha”.  So, the pronunciation would be “Ha-jario.”  I started calling him Bulldog because of his stance.  Imagine a bulldog standing on its hind legs, but with a happy face.  … and clothes;  but also, I couldn’t remember his name.  I didn’t think he knew what I was saying until someone pointed out that Bulldog translated to Portuguese is Bulldog.

He is a mechanic.  Much like Chequeno but with more weight and no twitching.  And like Chequeno, he wants to do everything for me.  He calls me Meester.

Once a month I have to do pre-maintenance on the Delta barriers.  These are big gates that will stop a 30,000-lb. truck traveling at 50 mph.  Mostly it’s simply lubricating everything and Bulldog does that very well.  To the point, I have to say, “Bulldog, nós terminamos.  (we are finished)  And he will say, Okay Meester, but he still adds one more squirt of grease to the gate.

When I get a chance, I will tell him my 900-year-old mother wants a picture of him, and will post it for you.  It has worked with everyone else.  Until then, kick butt and head to the next adventure.

D.

Oh wait.  One more thing.  My body, at this point does not want me to eat anymore beans.  Every time I have even a moderate helping of beans, I get cramps in my upper belly immediately.  Hopefully, my belly will soon forget and I can indulge in another one of my gourmet masterpieces.

There are consequences in Life.  Take for instances, eating two large helpings of beans and cornbread for lunch, and then two more for dinner.  The resulting effects of beans have always been cherished and enjoyed by the masculine gender, but as with all things good and bad, there is a limit.

Never in my life have I been kept awake throughout the night from a near continuous barrage of flatulence.  It was enjoyable at first, but then it wore me down, and I swear I saw my sheets flapping.  I only wish I had the damn cat sleeping with me.

I did not eat the remaining delicacy today, but will finish them off tomorrow.

Kick butt.  D.

I have discovered I am a Bean Master.  My fourth batch of beans were incredible!  I realized the best way to season beans is only with the sausage I add to them.  Today I made a healthy batch of beans, both black and kinda brown, and sliced up about a foot and a half of the flavorful sausage I get at the store down the street, and around the corner.  When I came home I prepared a pan of cornbread and sat and engulfed a savory bowl, not once, but twice.  Afterwards, I jumped out onto the balcony and thumping my chest, announced to the world, “I am the Bean Master of the World!” to the point that the players in the soccer field below stopped to look at me, and started applauding.

…. well, not really, but I wanted to.  It would have been cool if I did though.Kick butt.

D.

Here is a picture of two good men I work with, taken just before going home.  It is in front of my shop.  The little one is Fransisco that I mentioned in the previous post, who is the head of the electricians and the larger one is Tisano, who is the Facility foreman.  Both of these good men make my job easier and I do my best to help them out.  A win-win for all.  I told them my 900 year old mother likes pictures of the people I work with.  MotherDear, Tisano sends his regards.The character in the middle is unknown.  Heading to Texas tomorrow.  Life is good.  Kick butt.

D.