Went to have my hair done. I walked out of there looking like Meg Ryan. The Cute Meg, before she started hanging around with Russell Crowe and her hair went a bit dodgy. Then, of course, I walked out of the Salon in to the rain, to wait on the train, and let's not go there, shall we?

Did I mention that it was bright and sunny when I went in?

I like my new stylist enormously, though. She and I spent a fun time talking about, among other things, the complete lack of Portuguese ability to butcher meat properly. She started it, I might add, and both her parents are Portuguese although she grew up elsewhere. Apparently, she and her husband have been trying to buy a decent steak. They've been here ten years now and still haven't cracked it. She tried the other day, and her husband took one look at what was claimed to be excellent meat, and sent her straight back to the butcher. (Yes, butcher. If you think the butcher's can't butcher, you should see what you get at the supermarket.) The replacement meat fared no better, and her husband went to see the butcher himself, no doubt sighing about wanting something done right and doing it yourself. He returned home very cranky-- apparently, he'd gotten the man to get a nice piece of meat all cut. All it needed was to be sliced in half, vertically. Instead, Mr. Butcher went whack before Husband could stop him, and sliced it horizontally.

I must admit, it makes me feel better about my own inability to buy a nice piece of meat on a regular basis. Those two have been here ten years and speak fluent portuguese, and they can't manage it. How can I be expected to do so? Although I did buy a nice roast from a butcher near the Mercado. It was Brazilian, and apparently butchered there as well-- vacuum packed and everything. Then again, the Potuguese don't seem to be real beef lovers. They do pork well, and you can buy good pork in the stores to cook at home. Their lamb is also nice, although usually poorly butchered, even in restaurants.

The first time we visited Portugal, we went to a rather swanky restaurant, and Elvis ordered filet. When it came to the table it looked lovely. Perfect in fact, just the right shade of pink in the middle and all. However, the meat had no taste. None whatsoever. It was like eating an eraser, and more than a bit surreal. It was just too weird to eat. The manager was very nice about it, and suggested he replace it with a nice pork loin or some fish. Then he leaned in to our table and said, "The problem with Portugal, is that we just don't breed very good beef." I have yet to see that disproved, unfortunately.

Why am I going on and on about beef? Hmmm. Could be a symptom of Turkey Overload, I suppose.

Went to Jumbo today. They were having a special on some rather high tech little plug in devices that claimed to have "Anti Mofo!" properties. They also claimed to be a necessity for those with allergies. Since I am, in fact, somewhat allergic to mofos myself, I considered buying them. From the looks of it, they function sort of like those insect repellents that emit a high pitched noise of some type that scares them off. Perfect!

Of course, when I got home to my trusty dictionary, I discovered that mofo is mold, and also the smell of mildew.

I happen to be allergic to mold, as well.