Heavenly Beverley : It's a Mystery...

"Shakespeare in Love" is not amongst my most memorable movies. Still, I am very fond of this movie because of a very specific character. The delicious Geoffrey Rush, playing theatre owner, Philip Henslowe, coined, perhaps, one of my favourite quotes of all time. When all is lost, and explanation is impossible, I have been known to mutter "it's a mystery" in response to a seemingly inexplicable scenario.

I was reminded of Geoffrey Rush and "Shakespeare in Love" after a particularly unexpected occurrence last night on Facebook. After writing a post regarding my horror at the return of the "curse" after nearly four years, I was more than surprised when I tried to share my post from Blogspot to my Facebook page. Access was denied. A waffly excuse concerning Facebook security was the reason for this blockage. I pondered the reason for this decision by the all powerful entity. In the end, I could only assume that the usage of the term for the monthly episode of most women was the reason for Facebook's displeasure.

I was gobsmacked. Facebook is a prude! I have been seriously offended by some posts that have been approved by Facebook , yet my innocent whinging about a woman's bodily function drew the wrath of the mighty juggernaut.

The funniest aspect (from my point of view) was that I could share the post to the East End Gallery page and I was able to copy and paste to my personal page. Is that because I share nudity on the Gallery page, so comments of a bodily nature are considered to be kosher?

Why is this so? It's a mystery...

Then, a completely different kettle of fish. The lovely Manon, one of our French HelpXers, is a talented artist. She has been chomping at the bit to pick up some art supplies, so we steered her in the direction of Red Dot. Yesterday afternoon, she arrived back at the House that Rocks with a couple of canvases, paints and immediately disappeared into their bedroom for a couple of hours. When she emerged, she had produced a stunning painting - a semi-nude of a woman with startlingly red lips and a cigarette hanging out of her mouth. Initially, I wasn't sure whether I liked the painting or not. By the end of last night, I couldn't take my eyes off the picture.

Introducing "Enigma". Another mystery by Manon Chatnoir.

I also engaged in a regular meeting with my good friend Linda, Beautician to the Stars. Ripping and tinting is part of my "beauty schedule", so I don't resemble John Howard (the former prime minister, not the actor) in drag. Recalcitrant hairs are removed from my eyebrows, lips, and chin by means of hot wax, quick removal and a great deal of swearing. Occasionally, Linda even ventures up my nose. She is braver than me, Gunga Din.

She also delivered Michael's final birthday present to me. This was a hideously expensive Tupperware fruit and vegetable peeler. A piece of modern engineering that had more positions than a yoga instructor. After multiple attempts to move the blade, unsuccessfully, we resorted to watching the official Tupperware tutorial on Linda's I-pad. This was narrated by a woman with an outrageous French accent, so we were behind the eight-ball from the beginning. We tried to follow her rapid demonstrations of the device as she talked. All we did was collapse into fits of the giggles. Then I thought I'd broken the bloody thing. No, apparently it is designed to come apart, so I tossed both parts back into the box and headed for home. A spectacular epic fail.

At $28, I had hoped the peeler would be pretty special. What I didn't release was that it needed somebody with a logical sense of sequencing to operate it. Which I am seriously lacking.

However, why make a kitchen peeler so complicated that the Average Joe can't use it easily? Why, Tupperware, why? It's a mystery.

Driving home, I resolved to complete the day with simple tasks I could manage. I took the Three Stooges for a walk. Mada me Cat joined us for part of the way.I cooked a pretty awesome Morrocan Chicken for dinner. There were no complaints from anyone. We had peach pudding and ice cream for dessert.

And to restore my shattered wits, I joined Michael in a very nice bottle of vino, unwinding in front of the Idiot Box until we retired. I'd had enough mysteries for one day.