I’m putting the gills.
Perhaps even a dorsal fin. To swim, however, I am not able and I will not learn this time 🙂
in short, what do you want me to say? It’s raining, then it seems to stop, then it drips, then it pours.
And I do not do anything ” I’m singing in the rain “, on the contrary.
Me and the winter rain we’re not very nice. I love spying it with my nose on the glass and I hate walking under it when it’s too cold.
But you, in one way or another, always know how to get your feet drenched and enjoy knowing that I constantly forget the umbrella, as soon as I support it somewhere.
Now, among the countless reasons why it is worth preparing an omelette on a rainy day, everyone wins the convenience: avoid going out to go to the supermarket. You have the eggs right there, right? Then there is everything you need 🙂 let’s face it: whatever your perverse mind or the crying shelves of the refrigerator will have to offer you will turn into a superb Omelette Lady. And this is not only true with the rain.
It’s not like I got alcohol, it’s clear.
Or maybe a little ‘yes? 🙂
Let’s say that the uninterrupted rain of these days has helped a lot. And at the weather you have to add at least two other triggers.
First : fairs with rather curious hours and subjects. The inflammation of the vocal cords and the sore feet are nothing if one thinks of the enjoyment of a truly bizarre sample of humanity. I’m meditating a dedicated post and a suitable recipe 🙂
Second : the arrival in Turin with the Rocker’s dorsiione, armed with guitars and similar to settle in 30 sqm + the new Ikea desk to be assembled 🙂
A beautiful mulled wine there is everything, at least to relax the nerves.
Ah, I forgot my dripping nose.
Here, now you need cups at least two, so then I sing and do not think about it 🙂
Then I have an adoration for good recipes, especially for the spirit. They are those without precise and weighed ingredients, but just as the hands and the palate know.
The pepper cookies are one of those things that if you do not do them and then eat them, hard to believe it.
A bit like Sara Tommasi, a novice half a nun or a growing Italian GDP.
I, then, a catechism I always supported for St. Thomas: it was a bit ‘arrogant and I liked a lot. We would have a long game of cards and drinks of good Sangria, trusting the list of things we do not believe in.
I would have told him that I do not believe in easy things, because I do not think they will last. Instead, I believe in the beauty of the difficulty, of building something at your own risk, something where it is worth dunking with fatigue up to your neck.
That I do not believe in bad luck or even in the fact that each of us has a prepackaged destiny, like the salad in an envelope.
Doubting things is tremendously more challenging and uncomfortable, because it throws you in front of a myriad of possibilities, all those that, with the blind assent, not even exist. A yes with your head and it all ends there, understand? Without too many worries.
Still, I doubt they are fond of it. I can not help but think that it is a sign of healthy blood that turns, to refresh unconformed minds.
Today I was on the train. And from there I made a quick and summary account of the hours of my – almost – quarter of a century passed over the blue seats.
What then to me to travel by train is always liked. The train is the inexhaustible container of human types, all concentrated in one carriage.
Before Turin adopted me, I was a commuter of those early birds, a 6.37 train, at the dark hour of the solitary. But I was referring to the return, around 18.30. From my corner I looked at the humanity that unrolled itself before my eyes, like a kaleidoscope made of bizarre shapes and colors.
There is what you call by videoconference making you participate in the fact that tonight does not know whether to go to the party or not, yet Marta is a strafiga and I have to do.
There is what cares and you sleep long all the way, maybe losing his stop.
There is the devotee of the paper, who carries in the bag the 600-page brick around the city, just to enjoy it at the end of the day, sunk in the seat.
There’s what gets on the train to find someone to tell his life, for the rest of the trip.
There is that which is not centered, lives in the balance between his two worlds and occasionally screams, while I wonder where he is and what he feels, according to him.
It’s 23 and 27 and the cursor flashes like a madman, telling me it’s late, but late very late. It also makes me realize that tomorrow my dark circles will have even more nuances, from bluish to pearl gray, and that will probably come to touch my knees. Everyone lives only as he knows and I can not stay still. If I could break the nights and eat them in shreds – much Hannibal Lecter – not to stop to sleep, but continue to grind steps, thoughts, projects, with frantic and greedy hands.
Feed energy in a thousand directions and in the evening I find myself exhausted, but happy. Except when on La7 there is PiazzaPulita. Or, worse, Report on Rai 3. There I take the hard incazzatura to pass and I get an anguish about what will become of me, this country tired and the night, thinking about it, I sleep as if on nails.
With the result that then the dark circles take possession of me, as I said here on.
So today I stopped everything and I prepared these. Because butter and sage is my good seasoning, the one that puts me at peace with the world.
- 1Large greyish sea fish, with three dorsal fins; It is typical of the North Atlantic and its meat, very nutritious and tasty, is eaten fresh, dried (dried cod) or cut in half and salted (cod), while from its liver is obtained an oil ( cod liver oil ) used in pharmacies
- 2Popular name of hake or other similar species
- 3 A clumsy person, awkward in his movements: he remained there like a cod
This stream of consciousness starts from a summer advertisement in which a Santa Claus dressed as a sailor gives lunch on the ship to a band of athletic boys.
Lunch consists of a fish burger and the fish in question is cod, definition in point 1. The definition in point 3, instead, reflects exactly my feeling when the supermarket sees the aforementioned lunch, frozen and in the supermarket freezer counter: I take it, turn it around, read it, turn it over while in my head the enthusiastic voice of advertising announces: “The captain!”.
I stay there, in short.
With a decidedly Merluzzian face, so much so that it has happened several times that someone in the ward tells me: “Signorina, I do not see her convinced” … and no they are not, my dear shop assistant.
(… ossignur ! I would also like to start this post with the etymology of the word “Spring” … but scrolling the pages of Mr. dedicated Google I found myself uhmmm ante, with the drop of Japanese cartoons over the head: -.- ‘therefore referring to uhmmmm1 and uhmmmmm2 :))
” It’s primaveeeeraaaa … wake up, baby girls ” do you know her ?? 🙂 It ‘a refrain that bounces punctually in the head every year in this period … soon after, by association of ideas antithetical arrives her, our LorettonaGoggi, which instead of spring mica endured her much 🙂
I especially like it the idea of ’splendor’ that accompanies it … the incessant unfolding of the seasons is a sight that one forgets too quickly … their arrival crashes on you every time with a new force 🙂 Drum roll : D … I’m honored (and excited!) In presenting the contest organized by Ricci Picci and Capricci , the blog of the fantastic Babette 🙂 🙂
… and what have I got to do with it? … I have to do it, I have to do it … because with great temerity Babette – ahinoi, ahivoi, ahitutti !! 😉 – has appointed me to be sworn together with Vale and compass !! What an honor !!! 🙂
Now (assuming that I’m the one in the pizzeria that takes six to eight hours to choose pizza: P) the moment is solemn: I thank Babette of course for the trust and I promise to fulfill this task with extreme commitment 🙂 Meanwhile I enclose the regulation directly from the site and I invite you to run to the stove to participate in many: D
This time I do not get lost in chatter, eh. They are further back than the last of the Mohicans. All my adventure companions have already said their on Sedici and I instead are here to write and it is almost midnight. But it was a nice weekend, exciting, messed up and tomorrow is Monday again. Only one thing will save us: breakfast. Breakfast is the moment when you wait for a moment before feeding yourself to the world. The cup welcomes you even if you have shaggy hair, eyes half closed and the murderous murmur 🙂
This month at Sedici we talk about fresh fruit, color, flavors that quench thirst. I had no doubts: cherry . And yes, it’s time to wait a few more days … but they will come and they will be better than ever. Meanwhile, I used the dried ones, combined with hazelnut, taking La GrammaticadeiSapori to the letter : ” Added to the muesli, a handful of hazelnuts and some dried black cherries recall a cup of sweet tea with milk and a cigarette. sweet-sour notes with strong hints of tobacco and a clean taste of tea that goes well with the sweetness of hazelnut milk “.