Can You Have Herpes On You Stomach?

Grandchild multitask? NO, THANKS WE NEED A PHYSICAL

They call them children-agenda: they are the children who have every minute of every day chock full of commitments. They are the children of the English school of piano lessons and guitar lessons in judo, the football coach, the equestrian, the "two hours a day up to Nintendo." It is the children that whatever they do must hit a target, to reach a goal, to produce a result. Superbambini are the result of obsession (widespread endemic levels) for the perfect child. Obsession misunderstood that parents call (unforgivable in good faith) "desire to offer the best son any chance." The perfect children, such as managers of multinational companies, never get bored because they do not have the time. I also had one child-agenda: as a mad demiurge, rather than let it grow free as his nature would forcefully, I chained to a long list of duties, sometimes disguised as entertainment (and that, if possible, is even worse). I now know very clearly that a good mother does not want a perfect child, but a happy child. And the happiness of a child depends strictly on the possibility of the child, which consists mainly in the way he likes to have time outside of school. In order to spend many hours playing or lazing in the meaning most of the term, without being pressured by parental expectations. I will make the impossible possible and to avoid having a grandchild multitask. I will begin as soon as possible to talk to the daughter slow parenting, which sums up the invitation for Americans to do parents with peace of mind, without exaggeration in anxiety, delusions of perfectionism, expectations. But not only, means also - yes, yes I said fine scientists and seems to work - to avoid putting the child at the center of their lives. And just think for a moment to understand what this might mean liability relief for small stuff to feel as light as balloons filled with helium. Quiet grandchild, you'll see that you too will touch a little life by balloon.

ps without M Marina, this post is all your fault :-)

Blood Stained Mucus No Period

bestiality (not about CARBON MA)

In my lonely only child of the sixties, for I had not seem clear to sharpen our wits. So no one had the passion to entertain the kids in every single minute of their existence, let alone fill the afternoons for those of all levels. My parents, though grateful to fate for granting them a daughter and have biological fertility clock was about to pull the last breath, did not care anything that bored me, even I do not think that there was the possibility to feed such a concern, so do not you dreamed of behaving like leaders of a village Valtur. After school I came home and, if weather conditions do not get you in the courtyard, I walked in the room, in full confidence that it was right and that it was sacrosanct. I could play in my room and read or do homework, everything at my leisure, in any order, without undergoing pressure or to be monitored. Now I'm pretty sure was perhaps for this reason that just after lunch (then she left school at 12.30) I opened the folder and I immediately put them in those blessed tasks. I wanted to take them off stomach if I did I would not be able to enjoy the evening because if there was one thing that bothered me more than anything in the world was the possibility of being scolded by the teacher. As long as the tasks were finished I was in the grip of a malaise that stemmed from the fear that something would happen that would prevent me from doing it. Who has time do not wait time: this warning began to haunt me a child and I still do not spring (Sit down, but nothing).

After the tasks and before the TV boys I liked to read, but above all to draw. And it is around seven years that I started the "beastly game" which, as evidenced by the adjective, immediately understood what I was far from unlucky for doing good than Pollyanna. The game was simple but requires great powers of observation and a good body of knowledge specific was to find in the vast universe of animals, including reptiles, amphibians, birds, mammals, insects, the consideration of people I knew. In front of me a sketchbook and Natura Viva (systematic Encyclopedia of the animal kingdom, Vallardi publisher) and I thought I thought of the faces that I had known (the grocer, the doctor, the janitor, the pharmacist, the hairdresser, the nun who sell asabesi oratory) and then thumbed through the thick volumes in search of double quadruped, biped, invertebrate or fish bones and fins. When I found what he was doing in my case I copied it using colored pencils and then, in the finished work, a block in the uncertain early years and then gradually improved graphics, write the name of the person and the picture looked like this which (or so it seemed). The album the designs was a secret. I never knew if I hid my nanny (see post about "On the phone with Mary Poppins, February 19) or my parents or all three to have peeled or if somehow they were informed. Who knows where that album, I'd have it again, for portraits and a fragment of the girl who I was, that certainly there is still entangled. But so be it. I think I stopped around nine years to paint over my characters vaguely Kafkaesque (the human characteristics are intertwined, fused and confused with those of animals-look-alike), while I have continued unabated in the years to deal (with imagination) of bestial associations. E 'stronger than me, almost an automatism: in line at the supermarket, queuing at the traffic lights in the bakery queue, queued to the vet and can not be read anywhere but in return, there will be great to get bored I look at faces of the people, then I browse the archives mental, which is neatly ethological my knowledge, and a beak amen similarity. I must say that lately I've come to a couple of pelicans. Those were years that I could not see. Then this morning the shock. During the time when I went to and back from the store by bike, I have closed and shipped to a piece (on the face of a national holiday), I called daughter to know how he is (bad, vomiting still a lot), I put antibiotic drops in the ears of Mrs. Luisa (which has fixed otitis worse than a child's first year of kindergarten), putative Future Grandpa got up, he made the coffee has sown peppers tomatoes and its virtual farm ( che.dio.facesse.andare.in.malora.tutto.il.raccolto ). Then in the next period of time when I had a shower, I washed, dried and brushed Gino; removed from the ground a little 'hair with Elf, putative Future Grandpa began to dress. This has not yet completed the operation (while I started and finished this post).

HO WHO GOT 'And the latter figure (not yet dressed!) Confirmed the discovery: a Bradypus variegatus.

ps maybe one day I'll write a memoir : My Life with Sid

Fix Vinyl Floor Stained By Rubber Backed Mat

CHANGE OF PERSPECTIVE

the prestigious summit of the most famous specialists in the world spoke Dr. parsel, cardiologist. It was December 31, 1999. "Ladies and gentlemen," he began, the Supreme, after removal service personnel with a wave of his hand and demanded that the doors of the vast room were locked, "Dear colleagues, I wanted to gather all this evening so special, to communicate the results of studies that have engaged me and my employees for more than thirty years. " A shiver of excitement ran through the room, then fell silent and remained Distinguished properties in their expectation of scientists, interrogative, exhausting, unsustainable. They were to suffer more than one hundred and Dr. parsel did not mind keeping them on the rope. He resolved then to skip all the preamble and any introductory speech and was to the point: "We have found the drug of immortality," community "acts directly on the vital, heart, spinal cord, brain, immune system, protects them from wear and tear, puts them safe from any disease, is able to keep good health and good for centuries. " With bated breath the doctors listened to none of them doubted the veracity of the discovery, and their minds working feverishly to assess the impact and implications. Many hands went up and, one by one, the questions were met. Yes, the wonder drug could be administered to all and everyone, without exception, they would stretch the supreme benefit. Yes, the cost of production would be relatively small so that every country in the world could meet its purchase to distribute it for free, at least to those who could not cope with the expense of their own pockets. It was very little to add except the fascinating technical details about the mechanism of action of medicine. When it was five minutes to midnight every curiosity was satisfied: the Distinguished High and formed a toast to the new millennium and Exalted above all, objective achieved. Raising their glasses and looked each other in the eyes read the reflection of what he felt himself: the terror of life, yet the worst fear of death, the anguish of tomorrow made vacant by the lack of an ending, the nausea of \u200b\u200ba future eternal boredom at the lack of transgression, even a single transgression, at least once: one thousand smoke cigarettes, eat too much fat, making love with a stranger, run to two hundred per hour on the highway, do small hours were risk-free gestures, actions, empty, bland, tired. Without the specter of Challenge, no, they were certain, would no longer enjoy life. And they were physicians, scientists, those who had the destiny of humanity. No, the discovery would not do word with the world. Neither would ever dare to use it themselves.

This story I wrote exactly 12 years ago, in the year 2000 I was convinced of his final and I could have sworn that if the conference had proceeded, and that if I really, for a favorable combination astral there was, I would have voted to conceal the discovery of exactly how all the scientists present. But now his grandson is coming and I, if ever described the summit to take place and if ever I am invited to, fight for a dose of prodigious drug and then, once achieved, would put it in the safe to give it away immediately after entering in the world.

Goodman Heaterdraft Inducer Cleaning

UNFINISHED STORIES OF ONLY ONE DAUGHTER

\u0026lt;\u0026lt;Falla noiosa>>, the recommendations every night , \u0026lt;\u0026lt;più boring otherwise can not funziona>>. And Daughter, warm and accommodating in his flannel pajamas white hearts pink, nodding his head. But his bedtime stories that I asked her to tell me, sure (one Paraculo true) that if she had to invent for I would have yielded better results in terms of creative development, language training and rapid fall asleep, often had that flash of pathos who kept alive his attention for too long compared to what I want to engage in ritual evening.

\u0026lt;\u0026lt;There was once a very poor bat named Rolando. He was very poor because ... because ... mmm>>

\u0026lt;\u0026lt;Perché had lost everything casinò>> I suggested, repenting immediately because such an idea was undoubtedly exaggerated adrenaline.

\u0026lt;\u0026lt;What casinò?> What is the> daughter asked

\u0026lt;\u0026lt;A wonderful place full of lights and sounds-dlin, dlin dlin-voices-and-rienevaplu the sciesonfe-where you put the tokens (called chips and buy with money) on a table that says 1, 2, 3, 4 to 36. Then there is a wheel full of so many numbers from 1 to 36 plus zero and double zero running. Above us running the ball: If the ball stops when it falls on the number 24 on bets that the mother wins many tokens ...>>

\u0026lt;\u0026lt;Okay 'then there was once a bat named Roland who was very poor because ... mmmm ... because he lost everything he had at the casino there Mmm ... bet on the 24 ... So one day he decided to go for the world to seek his fortune: he took the bus ...>>

\u0026lt;\u0026lt;Scusa but bats do not take l'autobus>>, interrupted I deformation for my reporter, who must at all costs faithfully report the facts. But even in this case I regretted either because a discussion would distract the child from drowsiness that precedes sleep, or because for the sake of justice it is true that bats do not get on the tram going to seek his fortune is certain that they do not become poor because they have developed a dependency gambling.

\u0026lt;dai, scusa, 'No I sbagliata, your bat sì, takes l'autobus, force racconta…>>

But at this point she was already asleep, or pretended because a child had a very practical sense and did not like to be dragged into issues in an unstable balance between the paradox, the philosophical the existential ethology.

And so, unfortunately, a wide range of incipit is what I have left of fairy tales invented daughter to fall asleep, because of bad luck / good fortune to have a mother of 20 years (and 20 years, as he sings Guccini in his mythical Eskimo, you can be happy and full of ideals of course, but also "really stupid" and I was exactly at all).

No Fairytale daughter has ever been built from the ground or has an ending. I think it would be a nice gift for her baby if there rimettesse hand and complete, in writing. For my part I do not put more beak and wait to read with the same anxiety with which the look out for the next anthology of short stories of Allende.

How Much Would You Pay For A 02 Nissan Altima

The term "one" (with "or" open) is not in the vocabulary (and here you are talking about the Devoto Oli) and What is striking not just the simple fact that makes the idea of \u200b\u200bwhat is intended to express as perhaps no other of its kind.

is exactly like someone has taken an amazing alone (with the "or" open) I feel today. All the fault of the commonplaces about the figure of the grandmother that I heard and felt from birth Taana great one amazing ice today, as if tiravanongiarla diretatmente time making cakes. And in fact they are shared heritage, rooted as suckers in our present culture and even unwise in some psychoanalytic theories. E 'or not it is true that some authors claim that the mold youngi children love turtles, real draw, because they evoke the rhythms lenses their grandmothers? E 'or not true that you always heard that the grandmothers are women who live in the name of wisdom, crafting soft custard (see recipe for the post "The Curious Incident of the cravings of 24 January) and forego daily wager Beautiful trails and only at the end of the world? E 'or not it is true that persistent rumors have always supported the idea that the grandmothers are retired and, as such, must not work more like the most unlucky of the camels of the most unfortunate among the Bedouins? E 'or not it is true that the iconography has it that next to the grandmothers there is invariably a cat? All true and undeniable, eh? But no, gentlemen, however, are only rumors. Baseless lies. Pure propaganda. Otherwise, it would explain my day today, the same as that of yesterday and tomorrow: 11 hours to dry pc (without reaching the chronic delay that sleep turns into the nightmare of the ladder, characterized by a ladder that you climb gradually crumble behind you). Does not explain why I can not even to prepare a salad but I'm not saying even a sandwich with the cream of the Devil (Nutella) then I have to eat it straight from the tin. Do not be explained because this morning at half past six I was holding a leash around two dogs who were running to the point of inducing the few passers-sleepy to believe that he was parading in front of them a remake of Ben Hur (the chariot race sequence). And at half past seven I was already at the desk, as they say my fellow Anglophiles (which dioliabbiaingloria). I am a grandmother of one victim (with the "or" open): I'm too young to retire, to pay for a carer that I do the shopping, prepare me to eat, take me off the dogs to get a cat (this is mostly because of dogs) to see, but at least I say Beautiful Sex and the City every day. At the same time, I'm too old to flee (Destin Florida) with a backpack, to make it to go out with friends after 11 hours of work to tell putative Future Grandpa to take me to a happy hour on a Saturday night in the Milan area to drink, to experience the thrill to mingle in their forties today with the Peter Pan syndrome. In short, they are between the girl who I was and that I will become the old woman. Who knows which way I push her nephew, with her small hands the new new.

Fujifilm Fp-100c Used With Polaroid 600

CONFLICT OF INTEREST

Last Saturday fat Future Grandpa Putative and I forget how that happens every year in the streets over the last four days of carnival, we went out with Gino and Mrs. Louise (see post: The Curious Incident of the fancy name of 13 February 2011) with the 'intent to make us a long and quiet walk in the sun sick of this cold and dense early March of fine particles.

Gino and Mrs. Luisa have smelled the scent of scam and now, in fact, after just fifty paces have tried in every way to dissuade us from going forward. He has driven in reverse, that is an option included only very few races, those burrowing like his, I guess that does not have the material possibility to turn around in order to exit the tunnels where instinct leads them to slip.

you have authorized the hair, lowered ears, tucked his tail between his legs and was mutinous. Apparently they had both felt in the air, long before we humans, high voices and festive. Voices that told of confusion, confetti, water pistols, sugar. Children's voices, a category that strikes in a real Gino, perhaps ancestral, to us incomprehensible terror, of which not even the instructor Daniela, passionate and great expert in dog psychology, dog, manages to comprehend. Children's voices, a category that Mrs. Luisa considered cautiously, hoping for the best (leftover biscuit) but ready for the worst (tail and ears pulled, little fingers in my eye).

We now stunned in general and, in particular, stoned with dogs, rather than invite them to continue with a kick in the pants (at least metaphorically) we started a dialogue with the cloying falsetto voice which is the most obvious symptom of an aberration that only dog \u200b\u200bowners know how to get there:

\u0026lt;\u0026lt;Dai amorini, walk another po'>>

\u0026lt;\u0026lt;At the Treasury, then when we go I'll give you back the ossettino buff (3 euro)>>

convinced the two to continue with further coaxing on which I prefer to fly over nauseating, after another hundred yards we understood the reason Strength: Saturday before Lent, the Saturday of templates. Travesti swarms of children running on the wide sidewalks of downtown, throwing streamers and cries of happiness. So we picked up a Gino stunned and we did turn around, with Mrs. Luisa stuck to his legs, stoically, agreed to continue to walk on his hind legs. This has not prevented us to throw a quick eye on the costumes: fairies and many many Zorro and several cowboys and many princesses, who never, ever imagined I would use again, my children, even two future and I Nonni (putative and Bio) Carnival us dressed like that. Ascertain that moving that children are always the same today as yesterday. Future Grandpa while talking to my exciting putative reflection, to take away any momentum poetic and bring back sharply on earth resulted from almost nothing a dozen girls dressed as Hello Kitty, kitty intolerable that manages to place his little face expressionless virtually anywhere, mo ' also on the cake. I think there's only one missing toilet paper Hello Kitty, the tissues are already there.

While broods on the need to collect signatures for the repeal of Hello Kitty, putative Future Grandpa takes me by the arm and urged me to retreat for the sake of Gino.

way home, with both dogs heartbroken and wants only to hear the apartment door shut, by erecting a barrier between them and the noise of the carnival, we looked and we said almost simultaneously:

\u0026lt; ; \u0026lt;Next year we'll get there too have a mask to wear in the center. The (le) will buy the confetti and the balloon hat made puffin .... and the dogs will stay at home >>

\u0026lt;\u0026lt;What did you say last? Ah, you speak up so you do not hear .... All right, 'Okay': talking about the dress. I want to bear mask, so do not take cold. A brown cap with ears, Tutone colored bear. You know? A newspaper where I teach you how to put makeup on veneer. Now: with a black pencil's color should be the tip of the nose, with the Brown must draw a mustache. ...>>

\u0026lt;\u0026lt;Yes but if her nephew and grandchildren?>>

\u0026lt;\u0026lt;Orsetta! Pink teddy bear. All the same to bear, but pink. To color the tip of the nose using a pink lipstick. called son and I tell you now>>.

\u0026lt;\u0026lt;Va be', can not even aspettare, urgentissimo…>>

\u0026lt;\u0026lt;No, no, then maybe it slipped my mind ... Here, he plays free ... Hello. I thought for baby daughter's dress ... Masked: teddy bear by teddy bear, or are the same, except the color ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... .. How? .. ... ... ... ... ... .. But ....... Because

excuse ?.................................. ...... Look, it means that it will have two ... ... .... Like two no? But please, do not we solve world hunger if we give up a ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... Please promise me at least that I think ?..... Yes I know it is not an emergency, however there earthen know ... .. Okay, 'you later hello ... ..>>

daughter who also is quite accommodating, does not compromise on one point: it says that child (ren) The first carnival will do if dressed (dressed) by EPA. But I do not like bees. Yeah me / I see a dress / a teddy bear by teddy bear, brown or pink. But you want to put? I suggested to the daughter of a compromise: when it comes out with me and the putative Grandfather / dressing like I say, when it comes out with her and the Aspiring Genero / a dress from ape (or some other silly bug). Nothing to do: Daughter has pulled out of various ethical issues that make it immoral to purchase (even theoretical) two fancy dress costumes for one child, born in late August that plus the next carnival will take about six months.

\u0026lt;\u0026lt;To bear him put a hidden>> Future Grandpa putative proposes that since he stopped smoking and even eating is always looking for new transgressions (for the stimulating effect of adrenaline).

\u0026lt;\u0026lt;Davvero?>> I ask hopefully

\u0026lt;\u0026lt;Of course yes. So you say that we are always stoned. What to serve at least something: ask the mitigating circumstances. ...>>

Sprained Ankle Acting Up Again

Nomen omen

Nomen Omen: The name is an omen, the ancients said.

\u0026lt;\u0026lt;Nomen omen said the antichi>>, precisely during a chat with one daughter.

\u0026lt;\u0026lt;And allora?>>, she asks only for education, because in reality, cares nothing less than the wisdom of the past.

\u0026lt;\u0026lt;No, I said so, so to speak. Just to say that we must think well>>

\u0026lt;\u0026lt;Already done. It will be called L ... You've found pretty good is not it? You have more than one husband of Scarlett O'Hara>>

\u0026lt;\u0026lt;Hey Miss TuMiStufi, look at your luck in love is not measured by counting the husbands. And then with their husbands is not a matter of quantity but of quality ... We do know that the name affects all but the number of husbands ...>>

\u0026lt;\u0026lt;Safe? According called me a Astolfi and marked the start ...>>

\u0026lt;\u0026lt;Daughter, please step further. You have to take into account the possibility that the pea has. In which case you can not call it like me. Besides, I have one of the few names that do not have the male>>

\u0026lt;Name> from male beautiful not there è>>

\u0026lt;\u0026lt;Lorenzo! LORENZO. You were born on August 10 and has its own because then ... and then there's a new friend who writes a blog beautiful "Traces of wheels," he Lorenzo ...>>

\u0026lt;\u0026lt;Not posso, your Aspiring Genero not want to because my first love was called Lorenzo…>> ;

\u0026lt;\u0026lt;Ah, yes, it should be ', but at first it could be specified, to specify good. How do I know when someone will ask us to name the child will say, Lorenzo, but not Lawrence has to do with that first love, but has to do with the writer-who-likes-to-maternal grandmother-and with the August 10>>

\u0026lt;\u0026lt;Mi seems complicated in general and, particolare, unconvincing for your Aspiring Genero>>, replica daughter, who these days can see trouble everywhere, even where there are none (the fault of the progesterone , I believe)

\u0026lt;\u0026lt;But you were not a liberated woman? But you always do what he says Aspiring Genero?>>

\u0026lt;'No sempre, but not in this case sì>>

\u0026lt;\u0026lt;Very well. Tomaso, then? Tomaso with em alone?>>

\u0026lt;\u0026lt;Mom? Listen, I have to tell you something. Like it or not, Aspiring generation wants to choose his name, in case of baby peas. You have to do with it a reason>>

\u0026lt;\u0026lt;Not dare to spit on pensare…dai rospone…come want to call this poor creature with pisello?>>

\u0026lt;\u0026lt;L * E * O * N * A * R * D * O, from the Lombard: means as strong as a lion>>

not true at all that the daughter told me this morning caused me to faint (both well with studied slowness) because I do not like the name. In fact, I find it quite convincing and musical meaning, as well as fitting, given that his grandson will be a kind of safe and strong-willed very regal. The point is that in the city where the entire extended family lives in solidarity with Future Bio Grandfather, who was born and raised here and die (while I do not, barring unforeseen circumstances relating to the fatal step), practically all infants, by 'Titanic output to date, have been called Leonardo. The phenomenon is so striking and unique that they have even talked about the newspapers, pointing out that often those who already have a son named Leonardo, call the next Edward, consoling way, with the assonance, the inability to call the second Leonardo.

my grandson (if it ever was male child) at school will be called to clear name, if the teacher and classmates will want to distinguish it from the magma of the same name.

And if there is some truth in the ancient belief that the name has a strong influence not only the fate but also the personality, there is the risk of putting into circulation more than a child a sort of clone?

Olivetti Prt 100 Sur Windows 7

bookmakers to Grandchild (A)

Since the extraction and since there is no lack of leisure time in this sleepy provincial town there are not many in our circle of relatives / friends / colleagues to test themselves a bit 'all in TOTOSESSONIPOTINO. This is the official explanation.

In reality, few people escape EXIT poll that I have rarely seen the good sense to refrain from asking my interlocutors, not only normal but also occasional: "For you, what is it?".

I would be ungrateful if not specified that all respondents show infinite patience and, while we are resigned, bet.

I link more cautious than a coffee at the counter, the better off a couple "Prelude to Autumn" (walnut, marron glaces, white chocolate, dark chocolate, hazelnut, double cream, chopped almonds, Chinese parasol), served at the table of Ice-Jewelry of the center. A second oestrus and tastes of each, are offered as prizes also intermediate delicacies, like a small basket of fruit marzipan, six guns chantilly cream, three broches mini savory cream of chicken.

Bettors can be divided into categories: *

those who say that this is not because they have a child the gift of foresight, but only and solely to please me, a daughter, a putative Future Grandpa, Great-grandmother to Futura, the Lean (mother of Aspiring Genero, then in turn Futura Grandma, even Paterna. Thanks to his daughter already has two grandchildren in males in this case is Grandmother in service active).

* those who say that is because if a child asks daughter point-blank: "What did you do in your hands?" She instinctively looks at his palms and the backs. It seems instead that women pregnant with a boy in the face of the same question instinctively throw eyes on the back. In this category belongs only to my friend Rachel, who is also the disclosure of the test of the palms and backs of hands.

* those who say it's a girl because they are children and they also occasionally throw up (or, if bettors men, their wives / girlfriends / friends / lovers / partners) when waiting a child occasionally vomited.

* those who say he is a male because they are children and they also occasionally throw up (or, if bettors men, their wives / girlfriends / friends / lovers / partners) when expecting a baby boy every now and then vomiting. (And this goes to show how in the first trimester of pregnancy the stomach to be distributed in a completely random).

* those who say it's a boy to please aspiring Genero who is already dreaming of long stretches of fields, football / basketball / frisbee, and Gormiti electronic tracks.

* those who say it's a girl because "I feel" (of these there is only one: Great-Futura)

* those who say it's a boy because "I feel "(there is several of these including the most representative is the Future Grandpa putative betting like crazy).

I just point (even if the idea I have done, but also accurate): almost always just a coffee, and Future Grandpa putative fly high (even played dinners and lunches). The point is that I have always been a handicap compared Betting: I do not like losing, but - and here lies the heavy ground - I do not like to win (I know, I know sooner or later I'll have to talk to a psychotherapist).
ps for you what is it?

Building Balsa Wood Bridge

AND BLUE 'UNISEX? ONCE UPON A TIME ...

my daughter today announced that it has chosen the crib. Decided for what certainly would have if they were not here Quo Qua-age children already born. E 'for sale in Ikea super offer. Daughter wants to buy right away, well before the April 4, when the fourth ultrasound will reveal the sex of her nephew, though of course will willingness not to turn their backs on all the time of the survey probe.

The reason for this purchase premature is simple: the promotion ends in a few days, perdindirindina (as he says Hugh Grant in Notting Hill and how to teach a child must be said that when circumstances require an oath by the living room).

The crux of the matter is that this cradle is only available in two colors - blue and pink - and daughter decided to buy blue, why do you think will do both for a male for a child, while pink no.

That is, at its sole discretion the dignity of Niece (if it ever was) would not be affected from light of the cradle, instead of the grandson (if it ever was) would suffer a blow if this was his first bed pink. his manhood in a way that would be disregarded, with what it could achieve for the future balance.

\u0026lt;\u0026lt;No d'accordo>> I said. \u0026lt;\u0026lt;I mean, that is just and sacred Child (If it ever was) has a pink cradle. But it is equally important that children do not have a cot blue. In my opinion you are making a mistake. And Girls (if it ever was) might take offense>>

\u0026lt;\u0026lt;Mothers are never wrong. He said Bollea. Indeed, there was a book titled>>.

\u0026lt;\u0026lt;Yes, but it was provocative. In fact when you read this sacred bible education, you will also find that the sine qua non is the use of common sense>>

\u0026lt;\u0026lt;Listen with this money we do not buy even a charge for three days Setroviqualcunochehaprezzipiùaltisparaciinbocca >>

\u0026lt;\u0026lt;No, sorry, and where did they open? They also saved on the creative, the name is too long, not catchy. Is not immediate, and then there are the bags>>

\u0026lt;\u0026lt;Mom? MAMMA? Please, let's get back to us>>

\u0026lt;\u0026lt;Yes, okay, okay, sorry, you know ... um ... deformation .. um ... professional ... Feel like you more than all that cradle there?>>

\u0026lt;\u0026lt;Sì, but most of all I like his prezzo>>

\u0026lt;\u0026lt;Okay, 'then do this: the difference between price promotion and the full price you put me. And we're going to take it on April 5>>

\u0026lt;\u0026lt;Va be', we deal sto, fatto>>

And so with a few handfuls of € I saved the dignity of a niece (if ever it was).

Embroidery Machines With Mac

Nicholas M. was a large man, with eyes that threw the cobalt-blue hands and shovels as that used with unsuspecting lightness and undeniable skill. It was a successful orthopedic, for some clinical insights, the ability to improve the structure of bones, tendons, ligaments and battered for his gentle manner. Nicholas M. held a career as human aspects of the profession or so for one reason or another was still in hospital. One day, while he was in the operating room received a call from a colleague in the oncology ward, where a couple his mother was hospitalized for weeks. After the call, to Veva completed the intervention seeking to dismiss the thought of what awaited him, then without even changing out of the pavilion was "Trauma, Orthopaedics, Physical Medicine and, with wearing green scrubs, he crossed the long-running hospital courtyard, towards the pavilion where was his mother.

\u0026lt;\u0026lt;Mamma, mother aspettami>>. Big, big, doctor, but also called "mother", his old mother came to the end of the trip.

was entered in the darkened room with head held high, eyes dry and clear his jaw stiffened in the cold and resolute expression. He was a doctor and a doctor should behave: clarity, reasonableness, a thread of cynicism.

Near Berry, a friend and colleague, almost a brother, was the Professor. The bright, the Guru, the scientist, the Great Chief who spoke English in conferences fluid sciorinare theories that left the audience spellbound. Standing proud, held in his fingers the delicate wrist of his mother, saying phrases in scholarly erudition of his retinue of assistants, arrayed against the wall, obsequious, wheedling.

His mother opened his eyes, deep blue and still vivid among the withered eyelids. He had looked and with his free hand from the grip alters the Professor had mentioned him over. He obeyed, leaned over her and she softly (but not enough to prevent bystanders to hear), indicating the professor had told him: \u0026lt;\u0026lt;Nicola, this here is a ermelo>>.

The Professor had cast a look of royal condescension, then led the forefinger of one hand to his head, to tap, while Nicola stared. A lewd gesture, vulgar and eloquent: There is so much more with his head.

Nicola, excellent medical career, looking at the Supreme nodded with the same air of fake compassion. He also had winked: We have heard, there's so much more with his head. Received.

Then he looked again, her mother smiled, saying, (and would have been his last words): \u0026lt;\u0026lt;Credimi ermelo> a>. Then he closed his eyes and does not most had reopened.

It was the burning pain of the moment to awaken his memory. It was revised child next to her blonde, beautiful and cheerful. She always felt good when they were together because she loved him and wanted him so, just as it was. He liked her laugh, loved to protect it and one day to succeed in both of the things he had invented a word for her brand new. It was centuries before: u n semi-drunken acquaintance he had made a scenataccia for trivial reasons and his mother was about to cry. Then he could not defend it otherwise, had tried to comfort her saying: \u0026lt;\u0026lt;Mom, that there is a ermelo>>.

She looked at him, he understood the flight and had burst out laughing. \u0026lt;\u0026lt;Not Vero>>, answered back, naturally, as if the term - created at the time - for centuries belonged to the vocabulary, \u0026lt;\u0026lt;Not own ermelo>>.

And so in their secret language, full of invented words and strange buried in the past along with kisses and caresses of childhood, "ermelo" had been synonymous with "person which have some 'fear, but not too much. "

Nicholas M. was a quack big man who spent almost all his time in hospital, because she loved her career, and regarded his patients a top priority. The day her mother died, he was the natural order of things that happened, it took too long to remember an episode of his childhood. So for many years after he took with him the guilt of did not understand that his mother was about to die, to relieve the pain he felt, had tried to make him laugh: \u0026lt;\u0026lt;The professor is ermelo>> (Someone a bit 'so, but not so threatening. You and me together we can laugh and the fear will go away).

He did not understand and had listened only to the act cowardly (and eloquently) the Professor: There's so much more with his head.

\u0026lt;'No Professore>> would have to say, but she had not done so and then it would not have had more sense, because she was gone. \u0026lt;\u0026lt;No Professore, my madre, what he is saying even if it is just past the eighty anni, vero, she is really ermelo>>. And then he had to laugh, to make her happy.

daughter wants a baby. Daughter thinks it's easier to be the mother of a child. Son believed that for a woman to have a child is the highest award that can bestow life. Daughter is convinced that the bond that builds a mother with a son can never reach the outstanding quality of what you can create a mother with a daughter. Prejudices, nothing but prejudice. And to prove it I thought I'd better tell her, with more details, this true story which I learned almost by accident. Then I decided to put it here for you and for those who like true stories that talk about mothers and sons.

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the applicant's face the nightmare of the authority on privacy, due-to-all-the-gods in a blog like this one can not put its beak, I thought it is time to provide clarification on my extended family. I was very careful not to lose at compile time, because I realized that I was starting to confuse myself. Like a good Futura grandmother that I am, believe that the framework that I propose below will also help to grandson, when it finally arrives.

Maybe him hang over the crib, along with the little house of bees. Instead of names, but I thought of putting photos of each component (the lower the close relatives). The idea I came from a doubt: never want that grandson, despite having a brilliant mind clearly highlighted by the first ultrasound, in the first months of life does not yet know how to read?

Here, cut to the bone, the main protagonists in the saga.

Futura biological grandparents = I, the undersigned, mother of sons and daughters, daughter of former Great-Futura, former wife of future biological grandparents, wife in charge of putative Future Grandpa. Without biological siblings (in this respect, see post "Corsi, resorts and a drawer to be placed on 12 February)

Future Grandpa Organic = father of sons and daughters, in turn son of Great-Futura. He has two brothers. Him some enterprising students armed with red spray on the wall wrote: PROF (name omitted) YOU ARE A GREAT FIGO!

putative Future Grandpa: my second (and certainly least, that two is already a good number) husband. has a father married to a woman of my age and three male siblings, two twins (heterozygous). In our internal use we nicknamed Animalone, for the rating and the blue eyes mammoth of 'Ice Age.

Daughter: created by me and Grandpa Organic Future, is waiting for (and, unlike us, not just figuratively) grandchild. He recently made peace with Aspiring Son, the father of his grandson.

grandchildren: Child in the process of manufacture in which nature has gifted with extraordinary talents, already detected by ultrasonography.

Aspiring Genero: dad biological grandchild, daughter disassemble allowed 14 days before the marriage was celebrated. Then, with the support of tons of red roses, he convinced his daughter to make peace (in marriage but for now it again on the agenda).

Son is the nephew of Uncle Future, does not like being brought up.

Zia Dutch: is the former wife of one of two brothers of the Future biological grandparents. Side B has the most magnificent of the family. It 's the sister that I had.

Futura Great-grandmother: is the mother of future biological grandparents, that is the grandmother of sons and daughters (and their first cousins, four in all, from 23 to 10 years of age). Wear only shoes with heels 12 cm. At the suggestion of in-law (ex-and in office) has often been tempted to take to the streets to burn the mink (which is the only area of \u200b\u200bthe shadow of her beautiful life). Oblivious to the inherent unfairness of the link and mother of My Heart, Future of putative Grandpa and Aunt Dutch. Actually it would be just the latest mother-in-law Girlfriend (ie, the girlfriend of her son, who is my ex-husband and the father of sons and daughters. But this young woman is not subject to be daughter in law).

Best Friend: we are one for 41 years. He lives in Rome. Called (or call) once a day to cry, laugh, remember and, of course, several times a day for joint pain or joys of 'emergency. He refuses to get weed out the mustache wax hot (and this I find it hard to swallow, given that second profession I mustache & tarot cards, see the post about "Lexicon second family" of 28 February) ;

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Saturday Aspiring future generations (Non-ex, but to tell you this later) went from my house to take my gift for Great-Futura, which was going for lunch (Daughter, at the time in turn, would join him there directly).

the end of February, lunch Futura Great-grandmother is a tradition, so she always celebrates his birthday by inviting everyone to eat at home. And when you say "all" means born and unborn grandchildren with any boyfriends (in this case, only if you already come into the world) living and non-children and is in charge is ex-law (in this case accompanied by the new partners). Sometimes there is also some rejected (lover put aside or never taken into account by children or grandchildren) who, having accidentally met his skills as a chef and not knowing how to pull out, under the pretext of this celebration calls for a spot at his table , sure to be welcomed because if there are two things that are pleasing to Great-Futura are: to be appreciated for what he does receive many presents for her birthday (and rejected arriving at the table lead gift in Wonderland).

to cook lunch for the Great Birthday So she thinks, Futura Great-grandmother, without sparing himself: on his heels 12 cm, with a striped chiffon scarf around his neck, a little black dress that Hepburn even when Tiffany goes from soft and fluffy hair styled, this year has put together a menu of three Michelin stars. There were cabbage rolls and vegetable pie, baked pasta with pesto (Liguria has a heart for being a great love, never quite regret, which, however, does not remember the name) and roast beef, milk sausage mushrooms, pine nuts and cream cake. I did not go for two reasons: I would have lost the District Police that is aired on Channel 4 o'clock, I could run across in the future putative grandmother, also asked (as I said "everyone" means say "all"). In fact, barely a bit 'more to the second reason.

Okay ': not going to the Great birthday lunch of person I wanted to be at least in spirit. To emphasize my emotional closeness there was nothing better than to send a gift to the birthday girl and to do so that I could not put all your eggs Aspiring Genero (ex Failure), the only thing on earth that when it comes to me a Please do not dematerialized into thin air until it disappears from the earth plane or spend the night begins to pitiful excuses and whining voice shaky. E 'come, I'm down with my package for Future and Great-grandmother gave it to him while he in turn gave me something: a basket purple (my favorite color) full of white crocuses, daffodils and muscari blue. For its part, the daughter and grandson. So I had the proof that lying is a real suck and none of the three (think a bit ', not even grandchildren) if he was drunk that I do not care to be there too in the flesh (and not only as a pure spirit represented by a fucking gift) then lunch there.

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LEXICON LEXICON FAMILY 1 FAMILY 2

E 'around 12 years that I discovered the wax to be heated. Soon after I started to take off mustache to all my friends, and less glabrous glabrous (except Best Friend reticent, stubborn as mules seven, but that's another story).

Therefore, even the times of the medium, none of those who came to do my homework for me (or just a snack) and escaped to my willing lesta generosity: Heat the pan and then wham, wham, in two moves mustache disappeared and pure lip was outlined. My friends after urletti pain of pragmatics (that unnerved me greatly, because my nanny at one point was clear from the beginning "must appear to suffer") is checking in front of the mirror my room making their way with the look of the entries in pencil: Woodstok: 3 days of peace and love music, I LOVE YOU STUPID MUSSO; It 's a year you come back : If you move step maybe (just to name a few).

's activity paraestetista started immediately after the onset of puberty was (and still is) an expression of the' irresistible impulse to help the universe, which is typical of aquariums and irritating to the placid Toro, then for Future Grandpa Biological and adoptive grandfather, prone to astral categorical imperative, to take care only of themselves and a few other intimates.

One thing leads to. Having learned to make the mustache I specialized in reading tarot cards. Beware, though: according to codes developed by me, distant as the moon from the conventional, or strictly aimed first to investigate the friend's personal-questioner and then provide tips on how to get the best weapons and tools had a dowry from 'interaction between genetics and environment. My tarot cards, then as now intended only to her friends, also love debating on request, ie they are able to predict the arrival of gorgeous Prince Charming and the emergence of intrigue, passion, dating adventures of a rare intensity and hit and run (like those of "Sex and the City or Desperate Housewives).

So my friends month after month, year after year, after shine shine, have learned to play on my door every time it becomes urgent need for them or not to look more like Frida Kahlo (this putative Grandpa and Grandpa Organic does not understand the universe but all women do) or to listen to, just to dream a little bit with open eyes, a tale packed for them (with the influential support tarot) or both.

So my friend Marika, a sort of Erin Brockovich is the number of children for attractiveness and humor and courage and frailty, began to say, for example:

\u0026lt;\u0026lt;First Hello. Can I come to you for a while 'mustache & tarot?>> Or \u0026lt;\u0026lt;Ho 30 minutes and you can come to me for triste: baffi&tarocchi?>>, or \u0026lt; ; \u0026lt;Saturday the kids are away: woww a blaze of tarot & mustache. "

And so it was that these two words have become part of the lexicon of family and all my other friends, to refer generically to the wonderful opportunity to have some 'time to go small, then that would be gross but apt metaphor for the fuck.

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\u0026lt;\u0026lt;Look Mom A. we could then ask you for sogliolette to Friday we serve?>>

\u0026lt;\u0026lt;?>>

\u0026lt;\u0026lt;Sometimes we replace with cod, cuttlefish with the other, but it did not please everyone! And he knows it is, the children ... However, even for us sisters to Sunday do pasta or rice with seafood ...>>

\u0026lt;\u0026lt;???>>

\u0026lt; \u0026lt;Please Come in my office that I would say that there should be throughout the year. ... for a quote ... with hand on heart, eh?>>

\u0026lt;\u0026lt;???????????????>>

was a nun so great, but humble of ways to temper decided that small step after small step, rosary after rosary, in kindergarten attended by Son was able to get the role of managing director, in no context other sisters but she really wanted since before the call of the Lord had studied economics.

\u0026lt;\u0026lt;Suor Mariolina, not capisco…>>

\u0026lt;\u0026lt;Look, the guarantee to supply all year, can I ask you a written contract. And payment each month. Sole, cod and cuttlefish sometimes mussels or seafood ... mmmm .. let's see how many pounds>>.

\u0026lt;\u0026lt;SUOR MARIOLINA, the prego, sentire, to me is I do not know what he's parlando…LA PLEASE M'ILLUMINI!>>

\u0026lt;\u0026lt;But its fish, of course , we want to become its customers ... Then one thing leads to, the curia has approved the idea, never knows that sooner or later even the bishop's interest ...>>

\u0026lt;\u0026lt;Fish? ... But look ... you're wrong ... Sister Mariolina>>

\u0026lt;\u0026lt;Mother of A. but Safe? And 'his son who told us ....>>

A moment yet lost, then a flash like that every now and then dispersed back to the past, LOST, prompting fans of the series in gratitude, without these rapid jumps back, they would understand even less of the messy plot (which also causes addiction then attracts and repels at the same time).

\u0026lt;\u0026lt;BASTAAAAAAAAAAAAAA. FATE SILENZIOOOOO. I HAVE TO DELIVER WITHIN AN HOUR AND SO PEZZOOO 'I CAN NOT SCRIVEREEEEE. FUORIIII FROM MY STUDIOOO>>

\u0026lt;\u0026lt;Ma..mamma…avevi promised uscivamo>>

\u0026lt;\u0026lt;Look here, I'll say it again: I contribute to the evolution of the family, which translated into Italian means A father to help: to give food to all (dogs included), two: to have a roof over your head three: to have a room full of toys and books to sell and sell spare I write the first! And to write them I need peace and quiet>>

\u0026lt;\u0026lt;Ma'?>>

\u0026lt;\u0026lt;WHAT AGAIN?>>

\u0026lt;\u0026lt;Sei a pezzivendola !>>

\u0026lt;\u0026lt;Exactly! Exactly. AND NOW FUORIIIII>>

\u0026lt;\u0026lt;Suor Mariolina?>>

\u0026lt;\u0026lt;Sì?>>

\u0026lt;\u0026lt; Here's a misconception>>

\u0026lt;\u0026lt;????>>

\u0026lt;\u0026lt;Pezzivendola…con two "z" not with "sc">>

\u0026lt;\u0026lt;What is it? I never heard>>

\u0026lt;\u0026lt;So ... um ... is that they are-a-journalist-freelance-writing-articles-that-for-the-newspapers-and-the-articles -he-just-call-pieces. Excuse me, I'm sure A. did not want to make fun of. A misunderstanding, believe>>

And that was the result of the first contribution of the Son construction of our family lexicon. He had three years and we felt he could do even better.

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\u0026lt;\u0026lt; Seven dogs were making the bastards, but because for trouble? Facetious carcasses ...>>

E 'This was the first poem of children. I had forgotten, despite the intensity of its intrinsic meaning, but fortunately the book (hardback, black cover, pages with lines) in which I wrote down everything of importance has happened to (or made) from birth to 12 years of life returned to me intact. Exercise book was one of the privileges of primogeniture: Son with I decided to store everything in memory, with the result that as anything I could have lost forever (and never will forgive me) hendecasyllables able to arouse the same pathos.

Son also, in fact, like her sister, was a poet from two to four years of age, without arousing in me quell'attonito amazement that I got drunk, and then suggest having given birth to a unique creature and special, capable of feats that no one in the world could do. It was the first and the simple fact that I breathed was so exceptional, let alone that the first words uttered - Cocodio Camio (crocodile Camillo) - to bring the spoon to her mouth, which stated clearly that he wanted the shoes were bought, and nothing if they were always and only the most Truzzi available. When he began the era of free verse and rhyme kissing, players who had to fish-spider, bats and dogs, always treacherous because of luck, we missed that little miracle, and then exclude the divine and bring yarn to the Institute for the Study and Protection of Child Prodigies. In my defense, the presumption of 20 years, combined with the inexperience and enthusiasm of newcomers. I continue this journey back to leafing through the book a bit 'worn and I realize with surprise that I'm not looking for my baby daughter, but myself. The era of small children myself, the most difficult, the most extraordinary of all life. And as I read: September 20, 1980: first smile "true" , find the wonder, happiness, fear and courage, strength and vulnerability of myself back then, a little girl become a mother. Vade retro Magone. The formula works, I would be a good exorcist.'s Already laughing and I think a girl a little 'I still am, although I am about to become a grandmother. A girl grandmother. What a comforting idea.

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The nice thing about grandchildren is that 3-D version, although it is precisely the same man to Munch (also because of the tiny hands against the invisible ears), transmits joy. I just throw a look at this new Polaroid, the gynecologist friend in a flash of generosity has delivered a daughter, stating that it was a copy "for Grandma," to make sure that yes was worth being born. Nephew is continuity, is great news after a long string of bad luck in various formats. Grandson's life. Nephew is the deal with the devil, that of Dorian Gray: I want to fill the house with new books by such figures and I find now, today, the old books with my favorite stories (Codaditopo, Rapunzel, The Mystery of Three Oranges ). I want a wicker basket full of soft toys, which have a fragrant smell that tickles the desire to bite, almost like ripe mangoes (already washed and peeled). I want you to lead from the nursery on my terrace a mound of sand (at the cost of nest the recommendation of the Director) and I spotted a bucket, spades and molds in the shape of a cat, star, heart. Finally, I want the green robe of Ikea on the cap that has drawn the face of Shrek. Future Grandpa putative agrees, without reservation. The bear, the shoes, the orange jumpsuit size 00 bib and coordinated the study and are stationed in a condescending and destination of pilgrimage for anyone who is resigned to not finding enough. One can see that he was included in the contract for the recovery of the evil youth, evidently more existential dimension that registry, which are inseparable from the particularities disregard the possible consequences associated with mound of sand in a terrace of town and euphoria at the idea of \u200b\u200bhaving a bath in a small (but, hopefully, with many rings of fat) that may or crying inconsolably because ; not want to get out of the tank or (and this is worse) we do not want to enter.

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Popeye

\u0026lt;\u0026lt;See? is the first star of the evening ...>>

\u0026lt;\u0026lt; Ski, Ski I see>>

\u0026lt;\u0026lt;And you know cosa?>>

\u0026lt;\u0026lt; No, I shoo nothing >> ;

\u0026lt;\u0026lt;Allora, when it does come on to see the first star of sera, and not so much one can give an facile, desiderio>>

\u0026lt;\u0026lt; Daverrro mother? But then you real? >>

\u0026lt;\u0026lt;Well, ' You can come true. It 's a nice star. Want to try?>>

\u0026lt; \u0026lt;skiing! >>

\u0026lt;\u0026lt;Allora forza, concentrati, already close your eyes and express the desiderio>>

\u0026lt;\u0026lt;... ... ... ... ... ... ...>>

\u0026lt;\u0026lt;Fatto?>>

\u0026lt;\u0026lt; Ski>>

\u0026lt;\u0026lt;Wait for me! There are too! Mommy off off ... wait ... What are you looking there? There is the evening star?>>

\u0026lt;\u0026lt; Skiing, veni you too ... I have done the desire> >

\u0026lt;\u0026lt;Mom, did you said to him the desire? But it is still small ...>>

\u0026lt;\u0026lt; skiing, even to me. No, I'm not nice and simple. I did. The facetious, too? Sister? Mom? >>

\u0026lt;\u0026lt;Yes, now I think about it. By feelings: what have you asked? The shell of Raphael, Michelangelo and the sword of the mask Donatello?>>

\u0026lt;\u0026lt; No, nothing of that. I asked my mother possesses no more work. Not one >>

\u0026lt;\u0026lt;BUT YOU CRAZY? If the mother does not work we become poor, but poor stuff of dreams, you will ninjas and Kinder eggs>>

\u0026lt;\u0026lt; No matter. Like senses work so he's always with me, also morning and no go so I put the asylum >>

\u0026lt;\u0026lt;Okay, Mother of 'something because of my brother, now I have to give up my desire to make a controdesiderio>>

\u0026lt;\u0026lt;....?>>

\u0026lt;\u0026lt;I work for you, here's what I ask. Otherwise how do we do? Stella, I wish my mother's work always comes>>

\u0026lt;\u0026lt; cannot, cannot, cativisima you! >>

And that's how 10 year old son, under the evening sky before the sea of \u200b\u200bElba, I avoid unemployment, saving her and her unconscious brother from a life of hardship.