Music keeps you young

Summer of 2021 slowly but surely the country was starting to regain some freedom (at that time we didn’t know yet that we were going to be locked up again for nearly another year), and what’s the first thing you do? You buy concert tickets. Any concert, it doesn’t matter as soon is not Julio Iglesias (who actually I am not even sure he is still alive considering that was my grandmother’s favourite singer and he was already of a certain age back in those days). All you want is to enjoy your regained freedom; be around people; breath on their necks; let them seat closer than 2metres from you.
And so here we are my concert pal and I wearing our concert-matching t-shirts ready to go see some bands we never in our life had thought we would go see live. Some of them probably never thought we could see them alive, considering how long those bands were around.

Whitesnake, Foreigner, Europe and Counting Crows. A real blast from the past that brought me back to my teens: first dance, first disco, first kiss and first arrest.
Now don’t let your imagination go too wild there, it was not as bad as it sounds but certainly, Europe were the soundtrack of that school trip that saw us all questioned by the German police.
Long story short some very fashion-oriented schoolmates of mine decided to try on some nice clothes at the local mall but forgot to take them off before leaving. They did look a bit chubbier when they returned to the hostel and so did their bags when loading them onto the bus to go home but we all had indulged in food and shopping. The problem was that they didn’t stop by the till after their shopping and being just a bunch of 13 years old girls and not criminal masterminds they haven’t realised there were cameras all over the place. It didn’t take much to the local police to find that clever group of Italian students and pull over our bus before we could leave the village. Guess where we spent the entire day and half of the night?!

Back now to our days and the concert, despite all our efforts, the adrenaline and the excitement we remembered from our last pre-pandemic concert was never there . Maybe it was because we were not going to see Pink Floyd, maybe it was because the stadium was not crowded and loud, or maybe it was because we were 3 years older and spent all the drive to the concert talking about how to fill our return tax: how fecking middle age middle class is that?!!!Anyway, whatever the reason , the drill and the excitement were not there. We both kind of felt it but refused to admit it and faking it at our best we approached the entrance. I

I searched all my pockets, and my concert pal, who is a control frick , is already jumping on his feet .
“Sorry, I was sure I had them… “, and I was obviously talking about the tickets,” but don’t worry, I have the email to go to the booking site,”I reassured him starting scrolling my Gmail and he relaxed, temporarely, till I fail even the third attempt to insert the password to enter the ticket master site.
Because I am a wife and he is an husband ( one of my best friends’ husband to be precise), I promptly recognised the sign of a man on the verge to explode and as quick as I could I handed him my phone so that he could reset the password and retrieve the tickets himself and eventually let us in to enjoy what it ended to be an amazing concert. Great music, nice beer but most of all that amazing forgotten feeling to be young. No actually to look young… to the average audience.

To conclude, I bet you agree with me that some lesson was learnt here: First, teach your kids to watch for cameras if they will ever feel the urge to steal something, especially in Germany where the fact that you are a minor doesn’t mean absolutely anything to the police;
Second, go to old rockers concerts and you won’t feel like a pathetic soccer mum who listens to 70/80s music in her car, but you feel a damn young chick, because guaranteed you will be at least 20 years younger than everybody else there; Third, get yourself ready and sorted to avoid pissing the husband off, because it doesn’t matter if it is yours or someone else’s: a pissed husband is never fun to be around.

Stitch it up man!

First business trip in many many years. Well, what can I say, it was a huge excitement…for me, the rest of the household just survived it.
“Will this travelling thing become a regular thing?” Daughter number two asked over the phone while I was away.
“No, darling, it’s just a one-off, why?” I naively ask.
“Because the house is falling apart without you!”
“OH, come on, don’t be catastrophic,” I say laughing and thinking that I am going to be away only for two and a half days; except on my return, I realise what she meant.

The travelling husband, after digesting that this time it is me travelling and he had to stay home, kindly collects me at the airport. Because is on a call and we don’t get to properly greet each other, it’s only when we get to the car and he hands me the keys to drive that I notice that his left middle finger is wrapped in a blood-stained bandage. Eventually, once we arrive home, he got off his call, but” before I can ask what happened to his finger, with a tone expressing all the exhaustion of the last two days he says:” Sorry love, but I had already moved this call twice being off the last two days….”
-Off? For two days? Why?- But before I can ask my face had already given me away and he tells me that it was far too much to deal with the cooking, the girls, and the dogs all at the same time and all on his own. He had to take some time off work. Putting aside the urge to reply that it is what I do daily plus I slip into “all that” also 4 hours of work and some housework that a brief look around the house tells me he didn’t do, I ask what happened to his finger.
He cleaned the Oven!!! At 11 at night!!!! Now, refrain myself from any reaction was very very hard but I managed and tried my best to sound concerned about his injury I asked for more details.

On Thursday, the men’s tennis night was cancelled and so after he couldn’t take any more junk TV, the travelling husband was suddenly possessed by the urge of cleaning the oven. And why he tells me this he shows me with great pride how sparkling the oven doors are now. Just like new! Unfortunately, the inside of the oven is nothing like the outside because he hooked his middle finger in the rotisserie before he could finish cleaning and, unable to stop the bleeding, he had to run to the hospital.
”Oh jeez, that must have been painful. And the girls? Did they panic?” I ask.
“They were fine, CG was already in bed nearly asleep and A, she came with me.”
“You left our younger daughter at home alone in the middle of the night and took our eldest with you not knowing how long you would have stayed there? What if something happened to you or if they kept you in? What would she have done?” My tone is now shifting from concerned to pissed off (excuse my french).
“I would have sent her home with a taxi.” He answers.
“Of course! Stupid for me not to think about the obvious. But why did you bring her in the first place? Not that she could drive you home.” I replay sarcastically.
One brief look at the husband’s face and I knew what was coming:” I would have taught her. It’s such a short drive…”. Sure “sarcasm is not a travelling husband’s thing!
“She is 16 !!!” The dumb me insists.
“Well, she drives the boat already..” He states with his usual factual practicality.
I can’t really argue with his twisted logic and so I attack from a different angle: ” What the f…k.!Why in the hell did you clean the oven? Could you not hoovering the floor or do some laundry instead? Maybe clean the bathrooms?” I shout now officially pissed, (and excuse my french again).
“Yes maybe, but look at the oven now. It’s like new!” Pride is all over his face until I inform him that are professionals coming to the house to clean the oven inside out for 50 euros.
“Oh, I didn’t know that..” I won’t hide I took some pleasure to see his confidence trembling but it doesn’t last long: “Well, anyway we saved 50 quid!”.
His pride is back and I want to go for his throat till my attention goes to the fresh drops of blood on the floor.

“I think some of the stitches fell off,” I say, and this time with some genuine concern.
“ I don’t have stitches, I didn’t think I need them.” My eyes immediately go to the ridiculously fat bandage on his middle finger now bleeding all over, “What do you mean you thought you didn’t need them? What the doctor said?”
“I haven’t seen the doctor, only the nurse who stopped the bleeding and put the bandage on.”
“What the nurse said then?”
“She said to wait for the doctor.”
“So you did talk to the doctor?” I am trying to stay calm and patient now….but it’s sooo hard!
“Oh no, I should have waited for at least an hour and a half and as I was not bleeding anymore I left.”
Do you know when they say to pick your battles? Well, I suppose this was one of those times you have to do that, and so I just look down at the blood dripping from the bandage and then up to him defeatedly speechless.
” Ah don’t worry, love, I’ll fix it. I just need some piece of hard plastic to press the cut and then I’m sure some paper stitches will do the trick!”He reassures me.
-Holy posy! Over 20 years and I have never realised I was married to McGiver!!! If only he would now also mop the blood off the floor.

Never Cry Over Spilt Cioccolatti

And so it was an ordinary afternoon, and like every ordinary afternoon, I went to collect the girls from school. We got home and I made the fatal question they were waiting to hear back for months, “do you want a snack?”. Since I went back to work full time, in fact, it has been replaced by something sounding more like… ” Sorry girls I have no time . I have to go back to work. Sort yourself out”, with me throwing at them a bag of crisps.
Yes I know, shame on me, crisps!!! Anyway, let’s not dwell on it and let’s focus instead on the fact that since I am now working part-time, the after-school snacks routine had resumed.
This particular Monday afternoon it was a typical chilly end of summer day and so I thought that a nice cup of cioccolatti would do them good.(*cioccolatti is the word the girls started to use as toddlers, in their unsuccessful attempt to speak Italian, to refer to a beverage that’s nothing but hot milk with some cacao ).
Now that they are both in secondary school and they can properly speak Italian we still use the word and they can have it in their bedrooms to not waste any precious time that they could instead profitlessly use on their phones!!! You thought for a minute I was going to say to study, eh?
Anyway, let’s not dwell on that either and let’s go back to me, diligently toasting their crumpets and preparing their two mugs of cioccolatti. I put everything on a tray under the vigil eye of big years German who is hoping for something to fall and I start climbing the stairs, closely followed by Gino who, instead, is actively trying to make something fall, except he doesn’t have to make the greatest effort as I end up to do a pretty good job myself.

It all happens in a fraction of a second, I missed the last step and while I fall face down, the tray flies up in the air. The wall, the stairs, the carpet everything is covered in cioccolatti.
I looked at the devastation around me, and after an initial impulse to cry and run away, I take a big breath and I assess the damages trying to decide what requires my attention first. The carpet! For sure I don’t want it to get soaked more than it is already, despite the great effort of the dogs to try to lick as much cioccolatti of it as they can.

I send the girls to lock Gino and Kurt in the garden while I get a bucket and some bleach. I kneel down and start scrubbing, and scrubbing, and scrubbing. Half an hour later the carpet was of the exact same brown colour as it was half an hour before, but at least instead of milk, it smelt of bleach, along with my jeans that now have two white circular stains on the knees. I might try to launch a new trend…

Time now to tackle the stairs glass panels, that in the meantime were still dripping cioccolatti. Well, guess what? It’s hard enough to clean them without leaving marks and streaks in normal conditions, after splashing them with warm milk and cocoa is nearly a mission impossible. I washed them and dried them at least 6 times, and then I simply decided that the fact that at least they didn’t smell sour milk anymore had to be enough for me to be satisfied and work on the wall.
The wall! The one thing I should have washed first instead of last! A pity I only realised it three days later. Yes, you heard me, it took me three days, a bottle of bleach and one of cherry flavour washing up before I could eventually climb the stairs without having the impression that three sets of twin babies had just thrown up their last meals all over my landing.

And if you may be wonder where the travelling husband was in all this. Well, he was travelling, (eventually, after two years he went back travelling 🥳) and only came back on Friday, right in time to enjoy the cherry aroma our walls are now infused with and admire the new rug on the landing….Now, let’s just hope he won’t lift it !!!

Sabina’s Books

Sparkling Joy

10th of march 2021…. is the date of the last actual blog(shameful Easter advertisement aside).
Holy Posy! For how long did I neglect my creature?18 months? And if I have to tell the truth, during these 18 months, I also thought to shutting it down! I know….I am a horrible person, but I didn’t .Did I?! And that’s what matters, right? And in my defence, it has been a very rough time: health issues, family issues, court battles, hormone rebellion and yes, some laziness too. I even cut my hair on a very very short pixie and went back to work full time. I know, I might have gone a bit too far over there, but I learnt my lesson, and one day I came to terms with the ugly truth: besides the blog, everything else was neglected too, the house, the children, the dogs and worst of all I turned into one of those women wearing short hair because it’s easy to keep. Except, because I have very straight hair, it did not turn that way either. It was true my life needed some changes , but I am afraid not the ones I made. But which ones? And that’s when I had an epifany. No actually, that happens only in the movies. To me it was after reading Sarah Knight and Marie Kondo. And if the first one thought me The life-changing method of not giving a f..k (and God only knows how much I needed it); the second one thought me how to keep my house tidy and clutter-free (and only God knows how desperately needed that too), but most of all she thought me how to keep only what sparks joy. And so I remember how much joy my little blog sparked in me ….

10th September 2022: Welcome back good old /new (Ortensia !

And just as you know, my Bob is nearly back , the job is now part time and I have 18 months of stories to tell….and many to comes because you never forget that a laugh and a bit of extraordinary can be found everywhere 😉

Everyday Inspirations:inspired by an other post……….

I read a post about self acceptance and I identify myself very much in it.

In particular the post’s author was saying how self acceptance creates authenticity and I cannot agree more. Most of my life I struggle with self acceptance.The whole me was never satisfying:my character,temper, as much as my physicality.It was so eradicated in me that I got to a stage where I was not even trying to overcome this feeling of being inadequate or judged anymore; to me it became a trait of my personality and ,like most people do ,I put in place my own cope mechanism.

To tell the true ,it was a very common one: I started to wear a mask,I create my own character who ,of course , was determined and strong. In a word very much self confident .I didn’t mean to deceive the people around me maliciously,it was more my way to cope with daily life and it suited me it worked…..for a while.People around me were happy.My mother had a perfect daughter,my husband had a strong independent wife who needs help in nothing……”she can manage”. Sometimes I couldn’t say where it was fictional and where it was not. I suppose I kind of identify myself in this part I was playing.Now,don’t get me wrong there was a lot of me in it but there was also a lot of pretending. The problem is when you pretend for too long,you will end up believing your own lie, until the day comes that your inner you and even your body rebel.I had panic attacks,i was constantly tense,unsatisfied,bitter. I had three car accident in 1 month……Something had to change…..ME. I felt exhausted,physically and mentally .I was the problem and I was the solution. It took a while,and I believe that the journey to self acceptance never finishes,but I made it through .I liberated my real me,I brought back what I was once and mix it with what I became as result of my life experience. I am not like my mother,I am not like my father, I might got some personalities traits from them but I am my own persona : I am made from my own experiences and beliefs .The life I live defines me. I stopped trying to please everybody,because that is not possible and not right. I started to please Me,because It is the only way to please the others too and truthfully. I took off my mask ,drop my character and started to be just me:take it or leave it,for me included, and I take it. I like being me.I like the spontaneity that came with it. Of course I left a lot people disappointed but unfortunately that’s the price to pay.If ever my daughters would ask me for advice ,the only one I would give them is to be always themselves. It doesn’t worth to put a mask on to hide our imperfections and our fears because sooner or later that mask won’t make us breath.There is no need to pretend to be better then we are because once we are ourselves we are also unique,authentic in our feeling,emotions,actions thinking and authentic will be the love,trust and esteem will be given.

Everyday inspirations:confession of a” map-phobic”

I have no sense of orientation at all. I can get lost in places and streets that I know for years.North,south ,east ,west tell absolutely nothing to me.When I go into town I still get lost if I don’t do my usual route. Never mind if I take the longest way,if it is the one I know it is fine because I know,at the end,I will get there.I am quite hopeless with maps too.Once I know from where to start I am ok but the starting point,locating myself in the map has always been a challenge.I remember a holiday in Spain.I was in my early twenties I couldn’t understand where I was exactly so I asked a local to show me in the map where I was and witch direction I had to take and for the first time I thought I had a clue about how to use a map. It seems easy peasy,I walked around Madrid all day without getting lost. Eventually I learned the trick and got my way around papers map,I thought. No,not really,the following day ,that I had to place myself in the map and decide witch direction to take,all on my own,I was back to square one. For years when travelling I relied on good souls I was asking for directions .Much easier then maps and,for me,much more effective.When I graduated and I moved to Milan to look for a job, I started to be called for job interviews, in different part of the city.I had to consult a map ,again. This time was even more complicated as I had to find the addresses through the map but,also,find the right metro or tram route to take to go where I had to be. I was dealing with multiple maps at one time. It was scary and confusing so I elaborated a strategy.I was checking the maps at home,find the address,find the way to get there and wrote everything down in a piece of paper that I was consulting on the way.It does sound like something that only someone with a very low intelligence would do,I know,but it worked. My then boyfriend ,now husband,was living in Milan for 2 years already and knew the city well enough.Obviously I never asked him for help with the maps as I knew I would get,help for sure,but also a very patronising look and tone that my proud and dignity refused to deal with. Only thing I asked him,it was the timing:like,how long,roughly,to go from A to B, so to be sure I gave myself enough time for my journey.Thankfully now things have changed. No ,I didn’t learn to use a map properly but I did learn to use Googgle Map!!!!!

I was actually doubtful at the beginning because I didn’t have really good experiences with the ” sat nav” in the car but under my husband pressure I started to use it.To me,best thing ever invented. I don’t ask for directions to anyone and I always know where I am in the map. I also discovered that it can find whatever you want near by in case of need.One day going into town I realised I was running out of petrol( it does happen to me…….I hate doing petrol,not for the action itself but because I actually hate spending money in petrol!)so I rang my husband ,as he drive this way nearly every morning ,to ask him if he knew if there was a petrol station near by and he said “check on google map”.I did. I was delighted with the new discover and amazed by what google map can do : me and google map together know no limits .Only thing sometimes it does bother me is the “voice”…….no,not the voice itself.She a very nice lady with a cute American accent ,the way she can be a bit annoying on repeating multiple times when you have to turn like you are death or are an idiot.I sometimes do get upset with her but I understand it is her job.

Everyday inspirations: “Faithless is he that says farewell when the road darkens.” — J.R.R. Tolkien, The Fellowship of the Ring

I am not a religious person but I like to think about myself as a spiritual person.I believe in kindness and respect rather then in obeying commandments.Do I have faith ? Yes I do, just my faith has nothing to do with religion.I have faith in humanity, despite the many times I have been disappointed and I will be for sure again and again. I have faith in life.Many time in the past I have been told,in moments of crises: “don’t worry, what it is meant to you nobody will take it. ” and many times I thought :”gosh ,if someone else tells me that one more time I will kill them”.Well ,experience taught me that it is actually true. The loss of today is the gain of tomorrow. How many times we moan about something we couldn’t have for then realising that at the end because of that missed occasion we could welcome a better one.This is applicable to every aspects of life. Not to give up,accept what life is giving or not giving to you because at the end what it is really meant for you will come : this is faith for me.Faith can be everywhere, most difficult thing is to see it. By nature we think we know exactly what we want and what we need and we want it now. Too often by nature we don’t have the patience to wait and see; to sow and wait for the seeds to fully grow.Too often we leave the dark path when instead we should just keep walking a little bit further to see the light shine.

Everyday inspirations: a one day story.

Breakfast on a rainy morning

This morning we woke up with a very grey sky. It is just me and my husband ,our daughters stayed over at my parent’ s house yesterday evening. We overslept and got up with lazy limbs trying to decide where to have breakfast. Our holidays breakfast are usually slow . Time is never tight in the morning here. I got up first,have my 2 glasses of hot water and then I make the coffee. The balcony is small but big enough for a little table where we can drink our coffee and eat some biscuits while checking the online news. Nightshirts ,are the compulsory dress code. The girls prefer to have their breakfast inside but the door is on open and they can still enjoy the morning breeze. This morning we decide to go out for breakfast . I like a nice cappuccino and a croissant but I hate rushing in the morning, get up ,get dressed and ready to go at high speed. As much as the croissants are tempting I prefer my biscuits at low motion at home but, this morning is different. It is already late and dressing up ,straight after we get up ,and go it doesn’t bother neither me nor my husband, beside it is just the two of us,the process is quick and smooth. Once we are out we realised that those grey clouds have decided to let the rain fall. No thunders or lightning to warn us, just a sadden warm summer rain.We have to zig zag in between tourists strolling around with their umbrellas that, I thought ,were more dangerous then necessary considering it was only drizzling. We know where to go,it’s a nice little patisserie not far from where we are staying. We pick a table on the terrace, rain is not a problem because we are sheltered. We ordered our breakfast: 2 cappuccinos (very small.if you read my previous posts know what I’m talking about) and croissants filled with peach jam for me and custard cream for my husband. The rain stopped,the clouds starts to distance them self from one an other. A very timid sun tries to shine . The tourists face are shining too, with smiles : there is a hope that the day is not wasted.

Neither me nor my husband cope well with the heat .We rarely have lunch at the beach as those hours are definitely too hot for us,but today it seems the right day to do it. The weather seems to suit.It is not that sunny and the morning rain should have cooled the temperatures down . It is decided, we’ ll have a stroll and then go to the beach for a light lunch. We browse around the town main street for a while. We check out the shop’ s windows ,some of them advertising the final sales of the season, some other already displaying the winter fashion must have. I would like to take advantage of this beach/kids free morning to look for a couple of presents I want to buy for some friends but I soon give up because of my husband absence of patience.I am not used to go to shopping with him and now I know why,….if there was any doubt about it.

Lunch at the beach

It is nearly 1 o’ clock ,we briefly pop in at the apartment to wear our beach flip flop and go back out. The beach is just few metres away from our house .We are there . We already decided not to stop at the Kiosk straight in front of our place but to go to one of the following ones. We are halfway between two ,it is more warm and sunny then we expected. We thought it would stay cloudy but the sun keeps pushing his way through the clouds and when it can make it ,it shines at full power.

I don’t have my hat so I can feel the heat on my head ,I tell my husband we should stop and have lunch as I don’t want to walk under the sun anymore,actually neither does he. I have a toast stuffed with grilled vegetables and he has a club sandwich.

It is relaxing .We have a quick coffee and head home. Everything is still in low motion. We watch a late news edition and then I decide,very unusually ,to go to the beach early.My husband stays behind. He never comes down before 5.

Inspired by the sea

The beach is still deserted,probably most of the people are still deciding if the weather is trustable. I lay down my towel and move the beach bed so to have my head under the shadow. The sun is up but most of the parasols are still closed ,the sound of the waves to keep me company. I take my iPad from the bag and start to write. I never wrote at the beach ,only took notes on my phone to be elaborated later at home. I had my doubt about what successful this experiment could be but once I start I can’t stop. The light and sheer on the screen is sometimes annoying but I am concentrated,I am inspired. The words flow. The post looks already too long for a blog but ….never mind…I will break it in more then one post or paragraphs.I can’t stop now, it is coming along well,I think! I have been writing for a while now. The sun is completely out,the heat is back. I decide to take a break and go for a swim. I need to cool down my body temperature. In the very same moment I putting away my iPad I seen my husband arriving. Wow , only 4.30 very early for him. I am glad he is here . We go for a swim together . Rough green/ grey waves welcome us. The few children that are in the water are having the most fun. The adults complain about the chilly water but ,deep down , I am sure they are enjoying the waves too. I am! Rough waves bring us all back to childhood,we jump and dive into them and laugh when they take us by surprise,spontaneously like big kids. For once that we don’t have the girls with us and we don’t have to stay in the water for at least 1 hour my husband is quick to go out straight after his swim. I stayed behind ,this time. I like to indulge myself floating around. The water is a bit cold today but I can’t resist the fun of the waves.

I am out,it takes a while to dry my swimming suit. The sun is gone ,again. There is no much hope for it to come back,forecast are not very promising either and neither are those black clouds I see coming toward us. My husband leaves,he goes back to the apartment. He is bored he says,he prefers to go and watch some television. I stay,I will go bored watching television at home instead. I can’t watch tv during the day lately, it just bores me . I absolutely have nothing against tv but , for some unknown reason , I can’t watch tv at daytime anymore. Not only I find it boring but it makes me sad,melancholic. Evening time it is an other story. I always watch a bit of television after dinner. I take my iPad back out and start to write my story ,from where I left it. I am drown back into my writing but the atmosphere all around me has changed in the meanwhile. The beach populated,and nobody left despite the weather promises rain again. The noise quadruplicated from when I arrived. I suspect the mothers brought their kids down out of desperation, nothing was working to keep them under control in the house anymore. Teenagers gathered together telling loudly their latest adventures . Women in groups gossiping and talking most probably about the one of them is not there. My quiet inspiring time on the beach is gone: I put my iPad away, I fold my towel, grab my dress and flip flop and go home.

Evening time

Once I got home it is still early. It is around 6 o’clock and I am dying for a coffee. I put the moka on, get my mug of coffee and sit on the balcony. I am lazy, a bit bored, not willing to jump in the shower yet so I rang my mom ,chat for a while, speak to my girls too. We will go to collect them tomorrow morning . I am back to write. My husband is still watching tennis . I play tennis,for fun, but I can’t understand how he can spend hours looking at two people throwing a ball from onside of a court to the other. I am not a big fun of watching sport on the tv, not even the sports I like and play,but that is just me . Without realising it is nearly 8 o’ clock.He goes for his shower first,I follow. It is time to decide what to do about dinner. No way I will cook.It is holidays for me too! We go out ,walk for a while and then stop in a pizzeria we usually go . Dinner is tastefully and satisfying sorted,I could eat pizza every day. We don’t want to go home straight so we go for an other walk and a drink.

The evening is fresh,very nice to stay out,no sticky hot weather. We are sipping our g&t when the wind raises, and we can clearly smell the summer thunderstorm that is coming. All the lightnings we saw on the way ,they now make sense.

We rushed a little bit with our drinks and are nearly ready to go when the wind is sadden at high speed. The ashtrays are flying from the tables,the waiters are running around try to remove as much as they can from the terrace.The chairs are all on the ground ,the tables are sliding from one side to an other. All the customers are packed inside waiting terrified that an other hurricane would come , like last week. Fortunately,the worst has passed very quickly and without damages.

We leave the bar and make it home before the heavy rain starts. We are now watching television,an old episode of Midsummer Murders ,not exactly my husband favourite, but the only decent thing the are showing. It is nice tonight, we left the windows open as the the wind calmed down and the rain doesn’t come in but the nice cool breeze does. We won’t have difficult to fall asleep.

Everyday inspirations: Melisandre,Daenerys,Kim and Me.

I am probably one of the few person in the entire world who doesn’t watch “Game of Throne”.
I want to specify that this is not because I have something against this show, on the contrary ,those few episodes I randomly saw were absolutely amazing and engaging.
I am not watching it because I never did since the beginning, except for some replica at Christmas time last year, and by then it was far too late to start. I was already years behind in the series ,catching up was a mission impossible unless I slept,ate,drank,had a shower….did everything in front of television for few months!
So I am missing this great show,I am banned from many conversations as I don’t know whose kingdom is currently under siege and whose king has been assassinated last.
I am a rare specimen and not even because I chose it to be: only by the chance. I was not at the right time in front at the right tv channel.
I eventually started to get over my condition of outcast, and learned to go on with my life without any “Game of Throne knowledge ” until the Kardashians started to populate the mundane scene.
Here I was ,once again at the wrong time in the wrong place, except this time was absolutely intentional!!
I didn’t start to watch the first episode and have no intention to catch up with the Kardashians.
Very soon I am cut out ,again , from many topics of conversation but also from fashion discussion ,and this hurts most.
Apparently ,in fact,the tree sisters dictate the new rules of what is up or down in fashion and I wouldn’t now.
I always found reality show mortally boring.
Since the time of the first Big Brother.
I never really understood the pleasure on watching other people trapped like laboratory mouse in an apartment .
(The laboratory mouses are much more spontaneous in their action and reaction).
Let me have a little digression here: first Big Brother was what, like over 20 years ago???and new version are still populating our TVs screen!!!!
To me ,very low is the interest for watching anonymous people 24/7 going on with their average day, that is all but that!
I know now there is celebrities doing it. It is much more interesting!!!
Yes, celebrities who are called so , because in most of the cases they did the previous edition !
Well, if we are lucky we might see real celebrities: like singers buried from the spotlights by 20 years or so.
No,wait a minute those ones are more incline to participate to realities where they are sent away in deserted island and have to survive the hostile environment as much as the meanness of their fellow participants. Of course ,it is a challenge with themselves, they test their limits…….
My opinion: they go to loose weight, (VIP beauty farms are too expensive for them nowadays), in the hope of regaining a bit of success and decent money!
I know it is mean to say but ………seriously?..why would you humiliate yourself like that?????? It is behind my comprehension.
Now back to the Kardashians, why would I want to see, what 3 sisters and their mother, do with their days?
Apparently there are actually a lot of reasons why! The reality is going on for years and people keep following their spree of extravaganza.
Kim is an influencer now!
To me only good quality she has is that big bottom of hers,that makes normal ordinary women feeling a bit better about their back side, but I don’t think it is enough to justify her constant presence on the tabloids.
It is not enough to make her a role model to our daughters.
We all are a bit fascinated by the rich and famous but let them at least do something ,that requires more skill then marrying rappers,to gain their status and our curiosity and ,may be our esteem.
Am I to harsh?May be I am and may be it is also because I have never forgiven her for calling Ireland a “s… hole ” country .
But I bet her sisters secretly think and say even worst.
Well, can you blame them? Despite the big effort and despite being in the same show for years,they still are not as famous.
Still they are Kim Kardashian ‘s sisters.
In all of this i can’t not wonder what the father thinks:
He went from being one of the most famous American attorney involved in one of the most famous murder trial of all times ,to be Kim ‘s dad!!!
Poor guy!

Everyday inspirations: if we were having coffee……….

If I think about it, all of my conversations with my friends happen in front of a cup of coffee. Never mind if it’s deca or regular,it has to be coffee.

Yes, I know all the coffee I drink doesn’t go well with all the yoga I do but, at this point of my life, it is part of my identity.

I am on my third week of holidays in Italy, and starting to feel a bit homesick and friends sick but , may be , I am only coffee sick!

Most of you would wonder how can I be “coffee sick ” in Italy: “for God sake, Italy is the kingdom of coffee!!!”
It is indeed. the problem is the size of the coffee and the cappuccino they serve in the bars :toosmall!

It is fine at home, because I make my own mug of coffee but when out it is a pain!
I cannot satisfy my need of this amazing powerful drink.

And then, lets face it , the heat doesn’t go well with coffee ; unless it is iced coffee .
I have to admit it, Italians make great iced coffee but,once again, it is the wrong size.

So , if in this very same moment , I was home having coffee with my friends, I would probably be enjoying their company as much as the size of my cup of coffee!

In the meanwhile,  I very grateful keep enjoying my sunny holidays, drinking fresh soft drinks.