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...


If he did not understand, I'm taking a break. Unfortunately the work after me and I'm not the fastest. If I worked in the region, I gladly would place among the persecuted Brunetta. But the self is a double edged sword, and I can only hope for a good winning the lottery to shake this penance assigned to the human race. I remember on the steeple of my country was written "Fugit Hora. Ora et Labora" the wise statement. Sull'esortativo I would have something to say.
See you soon!

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Snowflake


Who will tell me (and I know for sure that someone will tell me to be irritated) That's great, finally snowing! hope to go out and be overwhelmed by an avalanche of snow mixed with steaming manure. And his stupid skin will remain steeped in life.

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No cuts in research! A wonderful life

Coma already said, no extension in the parade due to allergy to adolescents. But participates in the popular cause with a personal contribution.

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Without food the crowd of opinion makers with comments likely trivial and obvious, I'm just saying I'm happy. I would only point out that my joy goes beyond frivolitudes to which I usually stick, and thus is not due to the simple fact that there will be a first lady worthy of Jackie or the governor will be more influential in the world African-American born in Hawaii, for more incredibly young. And I feel almost ridiculous to think that 'I have a dream may one day become reality, but I want to believe it. I believe that this feeling of hope is an illusion, that things can change, I believe that the U.S. has given a lesson in the old Italy, and was able to dare and turn the page. We have been an 'island unhappy with a few, and perhaps this will lead us to believe that perhaps it is true, you can do . Here I stop, the rest will be all for me, for me and the words of that song many years ago that I heard repeatedly this morning Here I go ... out to sea again The sunshine fills my hair And dreams hang ...
in the air And do not deny that I feel like if he returned a friend ...

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This is all very
Kennedy (but we do not say).

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I offer a generous reward to those who would provide a solution to dependence on chocolate. I know that there are no remedies or homeopathic medicines inhibitors, or at least nothing in the possession of the Italian pharmacies. But if some chemical involved in a study on the subject should read this, know that I would be willing also to act as guinea pigs in order to survive the winter without a coat of fresh petume the walls of my stomach. And to say that we are only at the very first day of autumn, that autumn gloomy with heavy rain and mud and a thin dry leaves on the boulevard you stick to the sole shoes and you find yourself in the car. Today I discovered
With Milka chocolate tender heart, and who tells me the disgusting Milka wrong. I had always underestimated, found it too sweet and not very satisfactory. I had to think again: although in the past I had enjoyed the Luflée, had never managed to cross the border between the chocolates of shit and the top ten of the divine: Vence, Domori Peyrano, Mayan, Caffarel, Cote d'Or, Frey, Swiss and Belgian. Yet the old purple cow had always been in my imagination the symbol of chocolate, one they would always be worth it to spend the last shilling nell'autogrill border and return to Italy with a beautiful palette of four hundred grams and hazelnuts (this talk I stimulate the poetic vein. I could take this opportunity to give birth to one of my famous press releases usually defined by barrel, whereas today all'incipit aborts).
Well, first that the other fifty grams of nectar sublime end of seasonal depression in my stomach, someone will come forward to help me in this annual inescapable destiny.

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small contribution

One thing I never do, being a lazy little attention if not for the social issues that concern me closely. But we October, as well as in crisis Gelmini, so I open a short period to appeal Series predict well, Razzolo bad, considering that since he was born Anthony did not even find the time to browse and Elle are in arrears - including purchases and gifts - at least a dozen books. To be honest I've never been a fierce reader: read to me a matter of curiosity rather than entertainment, recreation or relaxation. I enjoy it a lot more to write, I relax listening to music, downloading free the mind thoughts and tensions with jogging or, in the worst moments, cleaning the house. But I recognize that reading is important, and how to transmit this passion to become ineffective if you do not possess naturally and if you can not be cultivated from childhood. Fortunately Zia is for someone , so that Mom and Dad can concentrate on something more appropriate to them, like toys or songs Zecchino d'Oro. But sometimes, almost always, there is an aunt, and parents resort to something sadly much more convenient in this case television. Who should come to mind that a commitment to reading limits the creative capacity of a child, before conjecture according to their will any alternative to the book - such as a Sunday trip to the mall - to know that there are remedies-buffer thoughts as fools, and that is established throughout Italy all kinds of -saving initiative waves prevent children naufraghino ocean of ignorance. Thus, even for people like me who assigns a major recreational and sporting activities, keep in mind that this should not be an end in itself but must be part of a training program in which everything is complementary and mutually reinforcing: when a boy downloaded their physical energy and ventilated the skull, that it's time to feed his mind, to raise it to writing and dialectic, but first of all to read because it is only reading that you acquire the tools necessary to develop a capacity critical. It is never too late to start ...

(Staff awareness campaign to support the fight against the Ark represented by the Ministry of Ignorance Gelmini. It lifts me up with guilt for not marching in procession in the middle phalanges of teens skunks that are noticeably allergic)

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Resistiré



... He'll be back another winter,
fall a thousand petals of roses,
snow cover all the things
and a heart find some peace ...


A HORN!
What peace? Vaffanbrodo also Bruno Martino. It makes me have anxiety at the thought that in a few weeks Avenue office will be smeared with dried leaves on which sooner or later glide slamming his skull. If then I think those who are beginning to Advent calendar by early October, more than anxiety. And the malls invaded by people who took refuge there as the Viet Cong in their dens, to save the heating of the house and kill some time on Sunday when the TV reaches the highest peaks dell'inguardabile. And the sweaters, coats, boots and all those things that I send chills just to see them on display. For me there are positives in the winter, except that nice punch that warms you in the darkest moments.
Today, September 25, I still carry the summer loafers without socks. My colleagues have some kind of coat. We will look into the eyes defiantly to see which of us is the most ridiculous.

BUT I ...

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annoying! Twelve months

we return. A week off is not much, I know. But it may suffice when the phone is switched off and turn on your computer just to see the weather forecast is completely ignoring the post. When you read the newspapers only insert less demanding, and Tigga is already so if you hear the headlines. A week tete-a-tete with the little funny little man, just to have knowledge of what can be challenging for the grandmothers who are caring for him when all day long. For it to go to work, by comparison, is relaxing.
But last night I had a lump of sadness. I thought of the telephone ringing, the people who can not wait to tell you that within the new of which you can not care less, the colleague who does not wait even a minute to highlight what has been exhausting for them this week, perhaps the worst of the year, but luckily they managed to dab. I thought phrases like hateful help us with the recall? and we must take stock of the situation. And then, worst of all: what will be a winter fire. But what the hell's winter? has yet to finish the summer, autumn arrives and you think winter already?? and maybe even begin to do the Christmas tree. No sir, I still have the deck chairs on the terrace and flip-flops on your feet, and I will not give so easily the first breeze of September. And my desire to engage seriously in the workplace is directly proportional to the desire for snow.
Eventually I realized that this syndrome return that surely will continue until late October is a clear symptom of my vocation to the profession of homemaker. I was fine with the little funny little man to make a call and motor speed boubou , and its mass of coils I weighed less than responding to the phone. I knew not to be ambitious, at least at work, but I did not know that one day I would have preferred to do what once would have made me shudder: the notorious femme au foyer . And if I were a rich femme au foyer, I would not hesitate a moment. But since more than a Upper East Side housewife , I'd be a housewife in Voghera, I just have to commit to safeguard seasons that who knows who no longer have exist. And if you residents of this spit of pseudocittà foot hill where every morning, you're already thinking about eating orzotto beans, mushrooms and chestnuts, tonight I shot me a nice ice-cream as it does in summer, which ends - hear hear - September 21, twenty-September.

(Già. A mixture of discomfort in the vortex. But it passes. You should always return from holiday mid-week. The day after tomorrow is already Friday)

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Who would have thought, funny little man, who I would have changed so radically that there? A year ago at this time still were not there, and I, who thought only to save my Pellacchia, exhausted and depressed after many days of waiting, I wanted something else if only I'd known I was waiting for the happiest day of my life ... I would have enjoyed the pleasure of such leave, the curiosity to know how you would have been. And when you were born, I was so happy that everything went well and not being miraculously died of grief, not realizing that in a few rooms away were there already you, in your pajamas and white stripes green, not a puzzle to know which way to get you. It did not seem much good to tell the truth. But what child is born beautiful? I've always said, and the rule applies to all. And now that the months have passed, I no longer be objective and not so discreet as to spare certain looks that reveal how in love with you, my little big little man. Love of your arms apart, legs begin to tell that support the weight of your 11 pounds of your smile to seven teeth, your hair never take off, and those eyes that smart, I know, I convinced to do anything. I know, I'll give up everything and I will not be the mother I had expected to be, but who cares! And not even one of those mothers with indifference and false modesty to avoid saying how special their children ... You are special, and how! You are my sun and my moon and fills me with immense joy as the sky, my beloved, proud and sweet Antonio.

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Considerations Olympic

"You know ... people are strange ... first you hate and then love ..."
a few decades ago NEGRO would not be acceptable even to the Youth Games. Yet as Americans today are comfortable these blacks who climb the Olympic medal ...

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The most dismal Olympics I've ever seen Charles as Jackie

You know that I do not love the Chinese. Confirm these Olympics all my reasons. Beyond the political tensions with Tibet, my personal opinion is that they should not allow China to host the games. It 's a country humanly unforgivable under many aspects, including the unacceptable scourge of child labor in the most aggravated Olympic context. The joke of the girl who sings the anthem at the inauguration blay back because the legitimate owners of the item is unpresentable is nothing compared to everything else, starting from the exploitation to which children are subjected to physical training that were intended. Years of tour de force, childhoods raped, deformed body from fatigue without a choice (but where is UNICEF?). Athletes children with passports that falsely claim a few more years, and most double up the bone with the tacit consent of the organizers.

It is not China that closes the animals in glass bottles, one of the shocking images that have been around the world by granting the question of veracity. This is reality, and we pass every day under the eyes.

Yes, I love China. It's not a question of racism.

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I am like Jackie Kennedy says Carla Bruni

Ah ah ahh! uahh uaahhh ahhhh ahhhhh !!!!!!!!

me laugh. For one thing, that ridiculous bat next to you is NOT John Kennedy. And you are not Jackie. Surely the most beautiful, most obviously redone. The attitude is blatantly emulation, but there's history: that of Jackie makes class, your bit is a 'slut.

Meanwhile, it is said that the cemetery in Arlington has radiated a frightening geyser.

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Stork Strikes Again ...


In the first egg I found out in September, returning from vacation. The second confirmation came back from vacation. Before anyone misunderstands: the eggs are not mine, but I'm beginning to think that good leads to go on vacation. For obvious reasons of sharing a virtual secret is the place where the stork filed. But let's say dropped in the right place, because we really wanted another pigeon. And now we await with curiosity that the shell opens, hoping that it comes out nice and cute little something like the first, maybe a bit 'not shaken.

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close for holidays


Finally, and I mean deeply. In twenty years, is the first time I do a beach holiday, those who know of shells under your feet and the coconut tanning. For two decades, with the fact that until you can travel, we must take advantage , the holiday was inevitably a journey. Perhaps more exhausting than going to work, and sometimes almost a duty to fulfill before you have children , as if this precluded the possibility of moving beyond a radius of fifty kilometers. There's actually people who go to Nepal with a pouch on his shoulder and child in it, but I'm not so cute (or so reckless as we put it), therefore - to my limited ability to pay - any place I've shot themselves in the most heart first, referring to after any form of relaxation. And do not deny that sometimes it was almost a frustration, but this is a manifestation of deficiency on which the entire staff would prefer not to open chapter. That said, and presenting the sine qua non to feel entitled to a real vacation, I decided booking a week in the 'island of Grado, pleasant resort on the Adriatic coast known for its sand and for being one of the most abhorred by the people of Fun, so you do not see a skull between 15 and 30 years in a matter of miles. There are no nightclubs or amusement arcades, and before midnight the streets are already deserted, because it is basically a quiet vacation spot colonized by Austrian families, grandparents and grandchildren. Here, I go there. And if a few years ago I would have told myself that I was struck on the road to Damascus, are now excited to go, so that if I were to offer a holiday in Marbella, I would say no thanks. In the morning leave the beach with a load of buckets and spades for Antonio, newly arrived inflate his raft and even if you normally do not put sunscreen, I'll bring the mythical "Coppertone" to recreate the atmosphere. In the evening, after lying on the beach until late, go out with the scent of after-sun as the concern and I'm going to take the old Campari shaken the trendy bars of the Adriatic Riviera are ashamed even to put on the list.
So I greet you already, because by tomorrow I should pay my debts with the work, which for the first time in my life I feel fully empowered to send in a casino.

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take advantage of an email from my brother just arrived:
"Hello, tonight we take a gift for Cicciofofo that goes Saturday. You join us?" We thought one or two serving trays "
Obviously the answer was negative, but deserves a chance to say a few words for this annoying habit that so-called "wedding invitations".
So you do not know the guy who gets married, most likely is the son of your friends and you do not see since he was five years. So you can not fool one stone him to marry him and even less to let you know. But parents here are involved with their "wish list", ie the nerds who see note announcing that deliver something that leaves you mostly indifferent but for which however, you must hunt at least forty euro, the cost of a decent bunch of flowers. The message is clear now more accustomed to the situation and, above all, the most phobic towards these customs: please do not because it is an intimate ceremony just for us but we would like to let you know that we'll get married. That is, the sincere version: you're not important enough to be invited to lunch, given what it costs and we have hundreds of relatives on the rump, but you may still drop some little thing, maybe you wonder where we did the wedding list.
Well, I am contrarissima to interests, offend me terribly. Not for stinginess, is the principle that bothers me. Or invite me (and I hope not), or give me the news in a less demanding, and not just for the forty € rather that throw them for a good bottle of wine, or the fact that I have to split to go get a gift even if only a bouquet of flowers.
Most likely someone will tell me that I speak so because of envy, given that after twenty years of "engagement" (I think that in the meantime word has gone out of fashion) I have never married. So I have always done weddings and other investments. Weddings are often welcome, participation ever.

(final prediction: my mother is ashamed of me, and will deliver to the spouses of the flowers on my part)

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Every time I see him again, it is with different eyes, and I always find other nuances, details that I overlooked. They have since late last night, like all good movies, and I was only casually, as you have to be at this time. In fact, I was not alone, I was not alone at all: it was there that she slept with Antonio. So was the first time I saw him together, the first time I saw a mother . I had never noticed the dedication final "A todas las mujeres que quieren ser madres," I had never lived so so heartbreaking, moving, authentic . And for the first time I thought with conviction that a man can never understand certain things. The woman has a more complex and often difficult life of the man, but it has this great privilege, the fact of being a mother. That is not how to be father is a more intense relationship, conscious and complete. I discovered in my invincible power. It does not mean having a child: a mother who just want a child so intensely, because it is still a deeper sense of what a man can conceive. A child who has not even ever wanted, is a woman in half.

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are three in the morning and suddenly, without distinguishing between dream and reality, I hear a knock overwhelmingly in the door. I think it probably is the father to return from the meeting for the football tournament and forgot the keys. When I make what is surely the case, hesitated a moment entertaining the idea of \u200b\u200bleaving out of the house all night, but then go down and open it. Stupid.
"Up to this hour?"
"We lost in a speech and you know." Yes, I suppose. "Oh but the stories, never returned to the three in the morning!"
"And me?? I do not even come back at eight in the evening for ten months!"
The final cut: "My fault if you abandoned your friends ?"

So I understand. I understand that just did not understand one stone. And I resign myself to him, for his kind, created with the gray matter slightly damaged. And, sure that Adam was not only removed a rib, but surely also some neuron, I think of this beautiful masterpiece of Almodovar developed the idea for a perfect life should go to a man, but to live and raise your children you should choose gay.


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Us and Them "I would like to become Uncle!" (Famous last words)

From: me
Posted: Monday, June 16, 2008 14:35
A: Uncle Paul
Subject: RE: R:
But we're very well (apart from my headache), the problem is on Monday ... but tonight pizza & sofa. Toni permitting. About .... You want a tender little nephew to dinner?


From: Uncle Paul
Posted: Monday, June 16, 2008 14:49:10
A: I
With regard to the tender grandson, not yet available to the oven, although it is still tender in the cooking of the problems we thanks anyway.

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's over

I'm back among you, my endless weeks of shit ended yesterday. Do not tell me about Stratocaster, slide, riff, claw-hammer and frailing, hammer-ons and pull-offs for at least three months. Thanks.