Ars Rash Comes And Goes

FM - Food and Music: the first collection of cooks for Case

We finally made our first magazine of recipes and made music. This is version browsable:

Open publication - Free publishing - More music

Connecting Wireless Projector To Windows Vista

Codename: "Mom" Dear

Mission parent. May God have mercy on me.
When you're a woman, young, with fresh eggs fresh every month and so on ... Imagine how it would stramegastupendo have a child. It is. Everyone will tell you that it is. But with the bunch who tell you what will be difficult, of course, the Mammine experts tell of how hard it is to the top : the night feeds, stomach pains at night, the first tooth, early disease, early and ongoing "NO" and diapers that seem to chemical weapons. All that talk about the physical challenges of being a parent, always repeat that word "at the beginning .." , but rarely hear about the emotional difficulties. The maximum you can hear is that the smile of your child makes you strong, happy and makes you face any sacrifice. Very true. Your son is half-destroyed house, you are furious fails, he looks at you and smiles like an idiot and you look at it, the facial expression softens and say: "My child, I know you did it on purpose! But do not do more eh !?!". Did the great
fucked and you're well happy!
Back to the magic word. Over 10 years, I realize that when they told me Mammine care "on top" I was taking the piss. There is not an end but a succession of early and non-stop opportunity to catch his breath.
I state, I became mother at age 17. Ergo my difficulties were slightly amplified. However my son is alive, well .... too bad I did not go.
Brief description of my little angel: pedantic little unconventional, rowdy, anti open supporter of the revolutionary group teacher, always holding the last word, daily requesting toys, bottomless well of crazy ideas. Sweet, poet (the last poem of Christmas has made me cry a room full of people), protective, funny and always smiling, intelligent.
A normal child would say ... Why
this post. These days I got to thinking again about what parenting is hard and the fact that a child has always constantly needs his mother.
The sleepless nights do not end ... baby and you do not sleep, and boy you do not sleep, teenager and you do not sleep.
cause pollen allergies from March to October is hell. Runny and stuffy nose, cough, swollen eyes, itching. Therefore, antihistamine and nasal spray. Ventolin for attacks stronger. The airways are obstructed ducts that are connected to the ear nose and throat did not clean up properly, ergo ear infection. Antibiotic aerosol morning and evening. He is crying and not sleeping, I spend the night awake and keep him warm the ear.
Are you tired, not sleeping and you stare. A caress and think, 'My God how I love him! "
cries, complains, do not fa dormire a volte si comporta pure da stronzetto...ma tu lo ami. Sempre. Lui lo sa e sei fregata!
Non esiste mestiere più difficile della madre ma ti rende sempre felice. La paga è fatta di baci, sorrisi e ti voglio bene mamma. Alla fine le notti in bianco non sono poi così brutte, stai sveglia e rifletti....

Is Vegeta In Love With Goku?

Quinoa with vegetables, a risotto unresolved!


One of the main dishes for our location VEGAN detox what he saw was the protagonist quinoa ... and why not bake it in the manner of risotto?


Ingredients 60 grams of quinoa trio (white, red and black)

1 carrot 2 tablespoons of peas (steamed)
1 onion 1 clove garlic

1 tablespoon tamari or soy sauce
1 tablespoon olive oil
vegetable broth (250 ml)

Procedure:
In a saucepan add oil, onion, garlic, diced carrots and quinoa and toast for a few minutes and then add the broth and tamari and continue stirring until cooked (about 20 minutes). Add peas and cook for 10 minutes. Let stand 5 minutes before serving.

How To Make Tractor Birthday Cake

Cream of carrot: our path detoxifying


We retired to monastic life, nutritionally speaking, two months of detox (read very strict vegan diet) to be reborn to new life and new :-))))) WEIGHT Ah ..... Meanwhile new header ... read, while Marianna kitchen kitchen kitchen .... the other is distracted with the graphics!

Ingredients: 250 g of carrots


50 g onion 1 clove garlic, vegetable broth


salt and pepper 1 tablespoon olive oil


fresh parsley In a saucepan: oil, onion and chopped garlic. Fry for two minutes and add the carrots cleaned and cut into slices, vegetable stock, salt and pepper. Lower the heat to low and cook for about half an hour. Blend all the ingredients and serve with fresh parsley abbbondante.

Red Goldwell Colour Chart

Italy, goodbye.

Domenica sera sono ritornata da un bel fine settimana a Locarno in Svizzera, quella "italiana". Di italiano però a parte la lingua non hanno nulla. Durante il viaggio di ritorno ho cominciato a pensare a quante differenze ci sono tra noi e loro,la stessa cosa mi è capitata dopo la vacanza ad Helsinki. Anche questa volta,mi sono vergognata di essere italiana. Mentre parlavamo della vita in Italia, dello stile, dei modi di fare...i ragazzi che ci ascoltavano ridevano divertiti ai nostri racconti, rimanevano increduli quando parlavamo del traffico, del lavoro, della politica. Loro ridevano, io anche ma dentro...dentro mi sarei seppellita all'istante dalla vergogna. Gli italiani sono simpatici ma a parte questo sono incivili, se possono fregarti non ci pensano due volte. Veniamo derisi a causa del nostro governo, dalla nostra opposizione fantasma e ridicola, dal nostro "premier" mafioso, ladro, pervertito e chi più ne ha più ne metta. In Svizzera gli stipendi sono alti, la vita costa cara è vero ma ti permette comunque di poter scegliere. In Italia non abbiamo scelta. L'Italia.... il paese dei "pastasciuttari e lamentoni", si perché solo that we do eat pasta and complain. Also to say that this and that do not fit, you do not arrive later this month that the law sucks, the government sucks, but we do nothing except complain. We remain impassive before the fact, we do not react, we bend to 90 and go! Unfortunately I'm Italian, I live in Italy unfortunately. Our country is so rich in history, beautiful places, culture but these things now are losing value. The unemployment rate is very high. If you have not studied can not aspire to good jobs, if you study you can not find a decent job and most times has nothing to do with what you have studied. Salaries are low compared to the cost of living. Salary average is between 800 and 1000 euro, only the rents from 400 up. To live alone is unthinkable, if you want to marry you can not even buy a house and furnish it. The banks do not willingly give mortgages, is the guarantor and the guarantor even if there is a risk that you can not have it the same as employment contracts are almost all fixed-term ... 3 months, 6 months, ass if you say one year! The work is not there and if you are lucky enough to find it does not give you any guarantee. So do not buy houses, we are not a family. We continue to complain and that's it. We are uncivilized, our streets are dirty, ruined. Are defaced monuments and houses. We have no respect for nature. The streets are like herds of wild beasts. Let always to cheat others. Education is dying. Our government ... ah yes, our government! A cluster of thieves and criminals. With exorbitant salaries, unjustified, we pay with our money. We absurd charges. You bought a car? Well, then, that the state wants to pay a fee each year for the car you own and you've already paid! The fee Rai?! The stamp for the passport? The tax on petrol!? The tax on bank account? We are taxed on everything just to ensure that those morons who are emeritus at the Government can scialaquare their fat ass in our face. We want to talk about the premier? That huge dickhead Silvio? There be more shameful? Foreign newspapers articles about articles about him, saying the rubbish, the immense figure of shit he does, his court cases. His place is in jail. But no ... it's free and continues to make her comfortable hog at our expense.
I'm very disappointed, angry, I feel taken for a ride and without hope. I see no future in my country. Many think that they are cowardly, that I gave up, which turned its back to my country ... in fact my country has turned against me. He left me in the shit, with a child to grow up without any help and protection.
So to hell, I go away from here. I was born in Italy almost 28 years ago, but I'm not Italian. This is not the place I call home.
not want to grow old here, I do not want to raise children and grandchildren here.
I go away, hopefully soon.
PS I apologize for confusing and vulgar style of the post.

E-z Go Vs Yamaha Golf Carts

The murderess blind Margaret Atwood

"Ten days after the end of the war with my sister Laura ran the car off a bridge. " These are the first words with which Iris Chase, the narrator of the novel, he decided, was eighty years old, to tell the story of her troubled family. From the beginning the story of Iris intersects with that of another novel, a rough romance written by his sister and published after his death with great success: "The murderess blind .'m Flashes on clandestine meetings in small hotels sordid, a pair of lovers thirties: her middle-class, blonde, furs and anxious, he, a communist agitator wanted by the police, duro e sarcastico, il quale inventa e talvolta vende ai giornali sadiche storie fantascientifiche. Di queste saghe l'agitatore ha un repertorio vasto e inquietante.

Iris decide, quindi, a ottantadue anni, di cominciare a scrivere tutta la sua vita: un interecciarsi di eventi e di persone che hanno fatto di lei quello che è e che l'hanno portata a trovarsi dove si trova. Decide di confessare tutto in modo sincero, senza omettere nulla, affinché sua nipote possa, un giorno, leggere le sue parole e conoscere la verità che era stata sempre travisata o “aggiustata” per convenienza.

«Forse non scrivo per nessuno. Forse scrivo per la stessa persona per cui scrivono i bambini quando scarabocchiano their name in the snow. "

In unraveling the history does not follow a chronological order, but alternates between moments of his childhood in moments of its actual existence.

daughter of a wealthy businessman spent his childhood in Ontario. The mother dies she is a teenager and is reared by his father and his housekeeper, Reenie, who will be his real point of reference for many years. He has a younger sister, Laura, a girl a little 'special, eccentric and unconventional, a little "difficult" was as if he were always listening, ready to perceive something in the distance, or under the floor - something approaching without noise, like a train that wind ".

The two sisters live a childhood of relative comfort, but the failure of his father will change drastically the course of their existence. Iris will, in fact, induced to marry a wealthy businessman, Richard, in the hope of saving his father from a life of poverty she and her sister. The girl who is only 18, he feels, therefore, compelled to accept, but soon will understand the consequences of this marriage. The man impossesserà well as its goods even of his life, will prove to be a man without any scruples, and, aided and abetted by his sister Winifred, will decide all that is good or bad for his wife and Laura.
"It was she who organized things Rischard, told me - mundane events, cocktail parties, dinners and so on ..." And so Iris will be immersed in a world that does not apparteiene and that did not choose, but you will adapt by force of circumstances. With her husband will never have an equal relationship, it will be dominated, " As we went forward to him diventav me less and less like a man with a skin, and working organs, and more and more like a giant tangle of string, which spell each day as I was ordered to try to untangle. we will never succeed. "
Iris eventually becomes aware of anything not count " I feel disembodied, fading ... "says and history gives a picture of himself as a creature devoid of identity, personality, away from him as possible time to decide, as opposed to the sister who ironically was supposed to protect. And at some point they will say " How I became a stranger to myself."

Laura's sister, lives in his own world, wants to change reality, her figure and her personality come out at times and in retrospect. Her know of the incident to twenty-five years, in 1945, almost certainly a suicide. We also know that the book was published in Iris and getting a posthumous fame. Episodes of this novel occasionally alternate with chapters of the story of Iris, is another narrative level. There are flashes on the clandestine meetings in sordid small hotels or other places where casual, a pair of lovers very thirties: you are middle class, blonde, furs and anxious, he's a communist agitator wanted by police, harsh and sarcastic, who invented and sometimes sadistic stories sells newspapers.

This novel and the flow of memories of Iris lead us step by step reconstruction of the truth, an 'epiphany "with a surprise ending: ' in life, a tragedy is not a prolonged scream. It involves everything that leads to it. Hour trivial after another, one day after another, and then suddenly the moment: the knife, the bullet exploded, the plunge from the bridge of the machine. "
In old Iris will find its redemption assisted by Myra (the daughter Reena and her husband), finally returns to decide for itself. "Having uttered so long ago," I want to die "I now realize that this will deisderio really exhausted, and sooner rather than later. No matter who has changed his mind." The

Atwood, this book tells the broken dreams and hopes of Iris, her regrets and failures, and speaks of the sweet Laura, his sister "different" in many ways. It is also the story of a murderess in love with a blind girl, beautiful and silent, and his tragic death. Iris, the narrator, tells a story of deceit, of love denied and solitude, a history spanning 50 years. Talk of resentment and, ultimately, justice. Because justice is what he tries to end Iris, the daughter, granddaughter, misled by a cruel woman (the sister), Laura, tragic innocent victim. And he wants justice for herself, caught in a life choice by others. He demands justice, and will do so until the end. He writes because his niece fialmente know the whole truth, " Grandma, tell me, and with those words I will not be a renegade

Margaret Eleanor Atwood (Ottawa, November 18, 1939) is a Canadian poet and writer. Prolific literary critic, feminist and activist, was the winner of the Arthur C. Clarke and Prince of Asturias Prize for Literature, as well as the Booker Prize (finalist five times, winning with the murderess blind in 2000), and was a finalist for the Governor General's Award (Governor General's Award, a recognition offered by the Prime Minister of Canada). The dowry
narrator in this book by Margaret Atwood is extraordinary. Prepare the final revelation, moment by moment with great skill, the book opens like a Chinese box, a book in a libro, uno più emozionante dell’altro. Ricostruendo la saga di una famiglia borghese del Canada, ripercorre in chiave privata le vicende storiche e sociali di un intero secolo.

"Questa volta quella che è considerata la massima autrice canadese e una delle più famose del mondo anglosassone ha voluto superare se stessa... Questa straordinaria capacità di servirsi di elementi tanto diversi per ricostruire, come in un puzzle, una sorprendente verità che sarà chiara solo nelle ultime pagine, ha affascinato la critica e procurato alla Atwood il maggior riconoscimento letterario inglese, il Booker Prize." D - La Repubblica delle Donne

My Bladder Has Dropped

spicy lentil soup with beluga


Ingredients:
150 grams of beluga lentils

2 cloves garlic 1 tablespoon olive oil 1 teaspoon curry


1 teaspoon turmeric 1 teaspoon cinnamon 1 tablespoon raisins


parsley salt Preparation

:
Soak the lentils overnight.
Cook the lentils in water for about half an hour with a pinch of salt.
Meanwhile, fry the garlic in a pan and add the spices, parsley and raisins to soften a bit earlier in 'water. Ten minutes before serving, add the oil spiced lentils and mix.

Burst Capillary Images

Promise at Dawn by Romain Gary Fire

The writer, director and writer Roman Kacew, better known by his pseudonym of Romain Gary, was born in Vilnius (Lithuania) on 8 May 1914.

Romain Gary lives alone with his mother Owczinski Nina, an actress with her Russian Jewish and flees his country after the revolution. Never knew his father Ivan Mosjoukine, one of the most famous star of silent films.

was still a child when his mother spoke of the enemies against whom he had to fight: TATOC, "the god of stupidity, with my bottom red monkey and the head of intellectual ; Merzavka," the god of absolute certainties, a sort of Cossack standing on mountains of corpses uccisi, torturati e sottomessi in nome delle cosiddette verità religiose, politiche o morali" , e la metà del genere umano gli lecca le scarpe con commozione e infine c'è Filoche, il dio della meschinità, dei pregiudizi, del disprezzo, dell’odio che, all’ingresso del mondo abitato, grida: « Sporco americano, sporco arabo, sporco ebreo, sporco russo, sporco cinese, sporco negro» . E vi sono numerosi altri dei, ancora più misteriosi e più pericolosi, difficili da identificare…

Il cordone ombelicale con sua madre non si reciderà mai. Come avrebbe potuto essere diversamente di fronte ad una donna che tutto aveva sacrificato perchè il figlio potesse avere il meglio.

"Ormai sola da tredici anni, senza marito e senza amante, lottava in quel modo, coraggiosamente, per mettere insieme ogni mese il necessario per vivere, per pagare il burro, le scarpe, l'affitto, i vestiti, la bistecca di mezzogiorno: quella bistecca che mi metteva ogni giorno nel piatto, un po' solennemente, come segno della sua vittoria sulle avversità. Di ritorno da scuola mi sedevo a tavola davanti a quel piatto. Mia madre, in piedi, mi guardava mangiare con lo sguardo appagato delle cagne che allattano i cuccioli.

Lei non voleva assaggiarne, sostenendo che le piacevano solo le verdure e che la carne e i grassi le erano assolutamente proibiti. Un giorno, lasciata la tavola, andai in cucina a bere un bicchiere d'acqua. Mia madre era seduta su uno sgabello e teneva sulle ginocchia la padella in cui aveva cotto la mia bistecca. Raccoglieva con cura il sugo rimasto sul fondo con pezzetti di pane che mangiava poi avidamente e, nonostante la rapidità del gesto con cui nascose la padella sotto il tovagliolo, capii in un lampo tutta la verità sui veri motivi del suo regime vegetariano" .

La loro storia si svolge tra miseria e benessere prima in Polonia, poi a Nizza, dove finalmente approdano, perché la Francia per la madre rappresentava la patria della cultura, della libertà, della civilizzazione. Solo in Francia il figlio potrà become famous, an artist, a diplomat, a hero. And Gary intends to live to honor the dreams, hopes and sacrifices.

It 's a book, ironic and touching. Autobiography of the early years of the writer, in which he speaks of this extraordinary relationship with his mother for the child who dreams just a hero or at least future glory.

"We need to find a pseudonym," she said firmly. "A great French writer can not bring a Russian name. If you were a virtuoso of the violin should be very good, but for a titan of French literature is not to be ..."

And Gary will become famous as the Mom had said "... my son will Ambassador of France, Knight of the Legion of Honor ..." fight to be able to achieve success for offering it to her, in consideration for the waiver which has been forced ( ... I could not straighten the world, to win the stupidity and wickedness, to bring justice and dignity to men; but nevertheless won the table tennis tournament in Nice in 1932 ... ". He was convinced that fate had thrown " tip the scales for the balance of a life of sacrifice and dedication " , that of his mother in fact.

With continuous incitement Mom, you will never won, will fight stubbornly against destiny, even when the gloom seems to prevail. "... The hardest hours of the war have always faced the danger with the feeling of invincibility. It could not happen at all, because I was the happy end of my mother ..."

talks about his mother's book, but also of war in which Gary has seen many friends and comrades who disappear one by one municipality. In the end what remains is a melancholy existence at the end of incomplete and for the many lives that accompany it always finite even in the solitude of the beach where the ocean begins and ends with the story.

"The truth is I was defeated, but defeated and I did not learn anything. To be neither wise nor to resign. I lie in the sun on the beach in Big Sur and feel throughout the body on youth and the courage of those who come after me, and I await them with confidence, looking at the seals and whales that pass by the hundreds this season with their splashing water, and listening to the ocean: I close my eyes and smile and know that we are all there, ready to begin again. "

The book is really a hymn of love for a mother who had so much meaning in his life:
"His ingenuity and imagination, that believe that it was wonderful to see in a child lost in a specimen of a future central Poland French famous writers and a great ambassador to France, continued to vuvere inside me with all the force of good stories told well. "