Sausages and a sore back

Sometimes I think I might actually be a little crazy, like, my lift doesn't go all the way to the top. Like, I'm not playing with a full deck of cards. I sometimes do such stupid things. Now, is it because I'm spontaneous, or is it because I'm just plain dumb? Either way, it does make for an interesting life.
The weekend started off well with an unbelievably amazing steak and guiness pie at Finnegan's Wake Irish Pub. Apple cider on tap, I thought I'd died and gone to heaven. Obviously, I'd momentarily forgotten good Doctor Juergen's advice about not eating pasta, rice, potatoes and bread. Apparently, I'm not diabetic but my body is doing what it's supposed to be doing with carbohydrates very well. But, as pennance for Friday night, I have been drinking watery vegetable soup, which actually tastes pretty good, for all my meals. Except the 40th birthday I went to last night, but that's another story. Actually, going back to the delicious meal, Doctor Juergen did not tell me that I couldn't eat puff pastry, and the potato was mashed, so maybe therefore it could have contained less in the way of carbohydrates.
Saturday I was up bright and early to head off to the new fresh food market down the road with Anna. She was on her bicycle and I was on the electric motorbike. Fruit and veg so fresh and unbelievable cheap. A fraction of what you pay at the supermarket. I went to the little butcher there and ordered 15kg of pork and asked for it to be minced as I needed to make sausages for some orders I had to fill. They told us it would take 20 minutes, so we wandered around a little, and I found another butcher type store selling very fresh beef at half the price I usually pay, so bought 10kg of that. Now I had a problem, how on earth was I going to mince the beef? So Anna and I wandered back to the original little butcher and promised him $3 if he could mince the beef for me as well as the pork. 2 hours later, he was finished with the mincing, Anna had already left, the butcher had cut his finger chopping up the beef. Luckily, he managed to move away from the beef before the blood began to spurt. His wife, quickly reached under a wad of notes in the till for a plaster, which was too small for the cut and the blood still kept spurting. So, being the creative woman that she obviously was, she tore off a piece of newspaper and wrapped it around her husband's finger and then wrapped a plastic bag around his finger. He got himself a stool, sat down and carefully holding his newspaper and plastic wrapped finger in the air, proceded to take out a pack of cigarettes and light up a smoke inside his little butchery. While I waited, I noticed him tapping his cigarette ash onto the floor. However, while he served customers, as his wife was finishing off the mincing of my meat, I noticed that he did have the decency to hold his cigarette behind his back. Luckily, no smoke or ash was anywhere near my meat. I guess that this is China. The rest of the mincing proceded uneventfully, and it was then that I realised my stupidity. How the hell was I going to cart back home a bag holding 25kg of mince and assorted fruit and veg? Worse than that, how was I going to get the bulging bag from the little butchery in the market, outside and down the ramp to the underground parking garage where I'd parked the electric bike? The answer, brute strength, or whatever strength I have left at my advanced age. How I did it, I have no idea, but today I sit and type this blog nursing a sore back. So, am I stupid or what? Of course, this is China so people do just look at you struggling with a big heavy bag and laugh.
Then, I had to stand and make the 25kg of sausage, then pack it, vacuum seal it and weigh it. By the time I finally finished, I was 2 hours late for the 40th birthday bash where guests were awaiting sausages. I think I should stick to writing.
I've started on a new book called Boko. I've put Toxic Weeds on hold as I want to write that when I'm relaxing on the beach in Thailand for Christmas. I've decided to write some short children's novels aimed at 9-10 year olds about topical global issues. Boko is about a little girl who ends up as a child soldier in Boko, a fictional country. I signed up for NaNoWriMo which is a sort of a competition where you write a 50 000 word novel in a month. I say sort of as you don't actually win anything. I knew that I needed more time with Toxic Weeds, that's why I thought I can do this Boko book through NaNoWriMo, but I am so wayyyyyyyy behind the target. I keep getting distracted, like writing this blog when I should be working on Boko. So, I'd better get back to work.