Frio no estomago

Hoje a noite eu embarco para a Italia, antes da minha familia. Estoud ando cambalhotas de alegria por que vou encontrar a Francine, minha amiga do coracao e passar 4 dias inteiros com ela.

... mas ...

Em 16 anos de casamento, eu posso contar nos dedos de uma mao ou um pe, as vezes em que viajei a passeio sozinha sem o Fabio. Fui fazer esportes radicais em Cairns na Australia, passei uma semana em Houston e uma semana nas Ilhas Canarias. Fui pra Amazonia com as meninas. E claro, fui algumas vezes ao Brasil, visitar familia, mas ai e diferente.

A sensacao e estranha, me da um buraco no estomago. nao e medo, nao inseguranca so se eu fosse doida de ter medo de viajar sozinha quase aos 40, ne? Mas e a impressao de que esta faltando alguma coisa, que tem algo fora do lugar.

E o "buraco no estomago"esta aqui agora. A pouco mais de 12 horas do meu embarque eu ainda nao to nem com as malas prontas. T I P I C O !

Viajar e uma das coisas que a gente faz melhor juntos. Parece lugar comum, mas e impressionante o numero de pessoas que acabam brigando quando viajam, ou que tem interesses, habitos, preferencias tao diferentes que viajare  uma eterna negociacao.

Nos dois - fabio e eu, somos pessoas praticamente opostas, mas o Santo Protetor do Viajante Feliz baixa quando e hora de cairmos na estrada e a gente acaba entrando numa sincronia barbara. Claro que de vez em quando eu fico engastalhada no museu de arte enquanto ele foge pro museu de guerra, mas tudo isso faz parte do bom funcionamento "viajal".

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Tonight I fly to Italy. I am going 4 days before my family. I could not be happier - as I am meeting francine, my gorgeous friend there!

... but ...


In 16 years of marriage, I can count on the fingers of one hand, the times I traveled alone without Fabio. I went to Cairns in Australia for a week of extreme sports, spent a week in Houston and one week in the Canary Islands. I went to Amazon with the girls. And that was it. Of course, I went to Brazil a few times, to visit family, but that's different.


It gives me a strange sensation, as if I had a hole in my stomach. I am not afraid, not insecure.  I just have the impression that something is missing, that something is out of place, is not right.


And the "hole in my stomach" is here now. In a little over 12 hours I will be flying, but so far I have not even prepared my suitcase. Typical...


Travel is one of the things we do best together. It seems commonplace, but it is impressive the number of people who end up fighting when they travel, or who have interests, habits, preferences so different that each trip is an endless negotiation.
I think we are just lucky...

Coisa de crianca/ Kid's stuff

Vivo aqui, entregando as sacanagens das minhas filhas, entao achei que devia contar uma ou outra traquinagem minha.

Quando eu tinha uns 6 anos, minha mae me levava ao medico e escrevia num papelzinho o que ela achava que eu tinha. mania de esconder as coisas das criancas ne?

Isso me emputecia um monte.

Um belo dia, resolvi o problema. Cheguei em casa e fui logo "conversar"com o meu pai:

- pai, a minha mae namora o meu medico. Ela ta sempre escrevendo bilhetinhos de amor pra ele...

Meu pai ficou sem falar com a minha mae uma semana, e eu nao me lembro dela ter mandado nenhum outro bilhetinho pro medico!

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I am always here, telling the world about everyone else's shit stuff , so I decided to come here and confess my faults too.

When I was about 6 years old ( aha! You were expecting a recent confession? Forget about it), my mother used to write to the doctor what were my simpthoms, so I would not hear it. She thought it would be better to hide it from me.

It pissed me off big time.


One day, I solved the problem. I came home and went straight for a little"talk" with my father:

- dad, I think my mother's dating my doctor. She's always writing little notes of love for him ...


My father would not talk to my mom for a week, and I do not remember her giving my doc any other notes.

Such a genius child I was!!

Bons momentos/ Special Moments

Eu estava me lembrando da primeira vez que fui almocar na casa da Yolhi, minha amiga querida.

Eu vi que tinha duas panelas de cada coisa. Duas panelas de arroz, duas de frango, duas de vegetais...

Achei esquisito mas nao falei nada. VAi ver ela ta cozinhando pra muita gente, sei la.

Fui me servir e ela disse, toda orgulhosa:

- A sua panela e essa aqui!

Fiquei confusa e lisongeada ao mesmo tempo. Por que eu teria uma panela so minha? estava tao gorda que precisava de um panelao so meu?

- Obrigadã!

- E que a sua comida nao tem manteiga, por que eu sei que voce nao gosta!

Achei a coisa mais fofa do mundo. Eu D E T E S T O manteiga, e fiquei emocionada ao ver que ela se lembrou. Antes de eu poedr abrir a boca, ela emendou:

- E tambem nao tem sal.

- Nao tem sal? Por que?

- Por que voce nao gosta.

Nao entendi, mas tambem nao deu tempo de eu perguntar, a explicacao veio imediatamente:

- Toda evz que eu comi na sua casa a comida estava sem sal nenhum...

- Ah Yolhi, e por que eu NAO ME LEMBRO de por sal, eu nunca me lembro...

E nos duas rolamos de rir.

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I remember the first time I had lunch at Yolhi's house.

I saw she had two pots of each food type. Two pots of rice, two pots of  chicken, two pots of vegetables ...

I found it weird but I said nothing. Maybe she's cooking for a lot of people, who knows?

When I went to serve myself,   she said:

- Your pots are these ones!

I was confused and flattered at the same time. Why would I have different food cooked for me? Was I so fat she needed to make extra food for me?

- Thank you!

- And your food has not butter, because I know you do not like it!

I found her dedication the cutest thing in the world. I hate butter, and I was thrilled to see that she remembered.  Before I opened my mouth, she amended:

- And it has no salt either

- Does not have salt? Why?

- Because you don't like salt. 

I did not understand, but also did not have time to ask, the explanation came immediately:

- Every time I go to your house, there is no salt in the food ...

- No Yolhi, the food is tasteless because I ALWAYS forget the salt... ...

Two years later we are still laughing!

TO INDO PRA ITALIA!! ITALY, HERE I COME...

Fabio e as meninas vao ter uns dias de folga no comecinho desse mes e nos vamos pra Italia.

Voce deve estar se perguntando se os paises que eu escolho nunca ganham a eleicaoe  a resposta e simples: nao ganham!

Minha familia margarina gosta mesmo e de ir pro Primeiro Mundo. Adoram os EUA, curtem a Europa. E eu sonho em ir ao Sri Lanka, a India, ao Nepal. A Russia, a China me fascinam e se e pra ir pro primeiro mundo, posso ir pro Japao sem reclamar, mas acabo indo pra Inglaterra, Franca, Italia reclamando muito.

Podem me chamar de mimada, de mal acostumada e de mal agradecida, mas eu queria de vez em quando ter voto nos destinos das viagens.

Bom, chega de choramingar. esse post era pra ser otimo, divertido, feliz...

Por que eu nao vou a Italia ha mais de 13 anos, por que eu ter a oportunidade de mostrar Roma e Veneza para as minhas filhas que nao conhecem nenhuma das duas cidades ainda, por que a Italia e tuudo de bom e por que eu vou uns dias antes, so pra encontrar a Francine.

Vamos passar 4 dias juntas, conversando, rindo, brincando e matando a saudade. Mal tenho dormido as noites, tamanha a excitacao.

Ah minha amiga, voce deixou um buraco enorme em Bahrain!

Embarco nos primeiros minutos do dia primeiro e volto dia 12. Vou tentar ir contando as peripecias da viagem enquanto ainda estiver por la ( senao acaba como o bendito relato da Belgica, que nunca saiu).

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Fabio and the girls will have a few days off in the beginning of this month and we are going to Italy.

You read it right, the countries I pick never get enough votes to become a reality, so once again we travel to the First World. My family love it! They like travelling to the U.S., enjoy Europe. And I dream of going to Sri Lanka, India, Nepal. Russia, China fascinate me and if I get to pick a first world country, it would be Japan. But it will not be this time again...

Call me spoiled, I should be jumping with joy with the opportunity to travel, and believe me, I do enjoy it.

Well, enough whining. this post was supposed to be about antecipation, fun and joy - with a pinch of happiness. And I have many, many reasons to be happy about:

I have not been to Italy for over 13 years, I will have the opportunity to show Rome and Venice to my daughters who have not been there yet,  Italy is a wonderful place and I am actually travelling earlier, just to meet Francine.

We will spend four days together, talking, laughing, joking. I hardly slept since I found out we are meeting.

Oh my friend, you left a big empty space in Bahrain, but now I am glad I will see you shortly!

I will be travelling from 1st to 12th of November and will try to post my travel diary.

SIMON PETERS

More than two years ago, I lost a great friend. One day woke up, got up, got changed and as he was ready to leave the house, he simply dropped dead.

He left so unexpecdly I found it hard to believe it was true. It was a shock I was not prepared for. I heard the news on Facebook, his son wrote to me when I was in Orlando on vacation with my family. All I could do was call them and have a quick chat over the phone. I had no chance to say my farewells, I could not be there to pay my respects.

Less than a week later I lost Beth, my friend and counselor. She was taken to hospital in a hurry and never left alive. Soon after that, I lost Ian, another friend, exactly the same way. It was the worst year of my life.

I managed to write tributes to them, Ian and Beth, but never wrote a line here about Simon.

I tried, but my words never came out. I felt like I had something blocking me from saying bye, I could not get closure.

I kept all the e mails we exchanged (sometimes 20 on the same night), I have all photos we took of dinners, parties, visits. But above all, I have my heart full of longing and love for this guy who meant so much to me and my family.

Simon was my mentor, my friend , he was my counselor, my compass. He yelled at me when he thought he had to, he cared for me when I needed. He listened to my concerns, my ramblings, my moaning.He was always there for me. And he laughed. He laughed at me and laughed with me.

He was the guy who gave me my first job in New Zealand. He says that he found it funny when at the end of the interview I asked, : So what now?Are you giving me this job? 

He laughed. It was the first time he laughed at me (and with me).

What he never knew is that I did not want that job at all. I had only gone to that interview so Fabio would stop bugging me to find work. I did not want to work in call centers. Did not want, did not want, did not want.

But when he offered me the position, I accepted, I still do not know why. Little did I know this was going to be one of the best jobs of my life. It did not  cross my mind this call center would give me the greatest personal and professional experience I've ever had.

In the first month, I hated the work, the company, I hated everything. And every Friday I quit. Got angry about something and quit. And every week he did not accept my resignation, said that day he would not be able to accept, it, but could I please go back the next day? The weekend would pass, my temper would calm down and I would stay one more week.  Until the following Friday, when we relived the story, step by step.

I remember two times when he deeply offended me. And he knew exactly what he was doing too...

He once compared me to another employee, who was the biggest performance competition I had. He said:

-  Dani is very passionate

- What? What about me? Am I not passionate?

- Not about the job.

I was so pissed off,  I made sure I showed him how passionate I was about that job ...

In four years he was promoted three times in the company - and every time he was promoted, I took his position. When he resigned to go to another company, I was once again pissed off - and wanted to go along for his job interviews. I used to say I had to like my future employment too.

The second insult came when I still worked as call center operator. A friend and I were talking and he interrupted us:

- Karin, you'd be great at key accounts (the elite of the call center)

- What about me?

- Not you.

At that time he was managing Key Accounts - months after I was sitting on his chair, holding his position. I showed him who's not good enough for Key Accounts ...

And we fought and fought about it. I always said:

- You see? You know nothing. Who said I could not work in Key Accounts?

-  I said you would not be a good operator. Operator...

But the discussion lasted forever. We used to joke I'd be 90 years old, he'd be 110 and we'd still be fighting for the semantics of this discussion. But he cheated, he left much earlier...

When our career paths parted, I continued to call him for advice, to share concerns, to share with him everything that annoyed me. And he would patiently cut my problems into small pieces and return them to be chewed and swallowed.

The guy was everything. Competent, dynamic and always light years ahead of everyone. But he  would always leave the office at 5 o'clock. He arrived on time and left on time, he had a life to live, a family to go back to.

And what a life!. Simon cooked, danced, Simon loved partying and enjoyed hiswine. Simon was a super dad, a super husband, a super friend.

I once mentioned to him my mother in law was arriving in Auckland with my children. Without been asked, he went to the airport, took them to the domestic terminal with lots and lots of bags and sent them over to us.

Simon visited us twice in Palmerston North. He met our friends, everyone loved him.

And I had not had the courage to write anything about him until now because I'm never going to be able to describe this enlightened person who crossed my path and left so many memories. My friend, two years after you have left us, I still can not get over it.

When everything is shitty, I want to call and share with you. I want to cry on your shoulder. When I'm happy, jumping with joy, I want to share with you, because I knew it made you happy too.

I love you Si.

SIMON PETERS

Ha mais de dois anos eu perdi um grande amigo. Um dia ele se levantou, se trocou pra sair, cambaleou e caiu morto no meio do quarto.

Nao avisou ninguem, nao deu sinais de que ia dar o pira.

 

Foi um baque que eu nao estava preparada pra receber. Soube da noticia pelo Facebook, o filho dele me escreveu contando quando eu estava em Orlando, em ferias com a minha familia. Liguei e ainda consegui falar um pouco com a familia dele que eu tanto amo.

 

Menos de uma semana depois foi a vez da Beth, minha amiga e conselheira, me abandonar nesse mundao. Depois disso perdi o Ian, um outro amigo, exatamente da mesma forma. Consegui escrever tributos a eles, Ian e Beth, mas nunca escrevi nenhuma linha aqui sobre o Simon.

 

Planejei, pensei, ensaiei e nao escrevi nada.

 

Tenho ate hoje todos os e mails que a gente trocava ( as vezes eram 20 na mesma noite), tenho as fotos dos jantares, das festas, das visitas. Mas acima de tudo, tenho o coracao cheio de saudade. E de amor por esse cara que significou tanto na minha vida.

 

O Simon foi meu mentor, foi meu amigo, foi meu conselheiro. ele me deu broncas, colo e carinho. Sempre. E riu muito. Riu de mim e riu comigo.

 

Foi ele quem me deu meu primeiro emprego na Nova Zelandia. Diz ele que achou engracado quando no fim da entrevista eu perguntei: e ai - vai me dar o emprego?

 

Ele riu. Foi a primeira vez que ele riu de mim ( e comigo).

 

O que ele nunca soube e que eu nao queria aquele trabalho de jeito nenhum. Tinha ido a entrevista pro Fabio parar de me encher o saco pra trabalhar, mas nao queria ir trabalhar em call centres. nao queria, nao queria, nao queria.

 

Mas quando ele me ofereceu a posicao, acabei aceitando, sei la por que. Eu nem imaginava que esse seria um dos melhores empregos da minha vida. Nem me passava pela cabeca que aquele call centre ia me dar a maior experiencia profissional e pessoal que eu ja tive.

 

Nos primeiros meses, eu detestava o trabalho, a empresa, TUDO. E toda sexta feira eu me demitia. Ficava brava com alguma coisa e me demitia. E ele nao aceitava a minha demissao, dizia que hoje nao ia dar nao, que eu por favor voltasse amanha. O fim de semana passava, os animos se acalmavam e eu ficava mais uma semana. Ate a proxima sexta, quando ahistoria se repetia.

 

Me lembro de duas vezes ter me sentido profundamente ofendida. E ele sabia exatamente o que estava fazendo...

 

Uma vez ele me comparou com uma outra funcionaria, que vivia tete a tete comigo nas competicoes de vendas. Ele disse:

 

- A Dani tem muita paixao.

 

- o que? E eu? Eu nao tenho paixao?

 

- Ah, ate tem. Mas nao pelo emprego.

 

Fiquei tao puta da vida que mostrei pra ele direitinho quanta paixao eu tinha por aquele trabalho...

 

Em quatro anos ele foi promovido na empresa 3 vezes - e eu fui ocupando a vaga que ele deixava vazia. Quando ele se demitiu para ir pra uma empresa melhor, eu fiquei puta da vida - e queria ir junto a entrevista por que eu tinha que gostar do meu futuro emprego. Quando ele fosse promovido, eu poderia ir la me oferecer pra vaga dele e explicar que era uma progressao natural...

 

A segunda ofensa veio ainda quando eu trabalhava como atendente do call centre. Estavamos eu e uma amiga conversando e ele falou:

 

- Karin, voce seria otima em key accounts ( a elite do call centre)

 

- E eu?

 

- Voce nao.

 

Naquela epoca ele era gerente de Key Accounts - meses depois a gerente de key Accounts era eu. Mostrei pra ele quem e que nao ia ser boa em Key Accounts... Ora faca me o favor!

 

E a gente vivia brigando por isso. Eu dizia:

- Ta vendo? Engoliu bonito. Quem e que disse que eu nao podia ser Key Accounts?

 

- Nao podia ser atendente...nao podia ser atendente..

 

Mas a discussao durava pra sempre. E eu dizia que eu ia ter 90 anos, ele ia ter 110 e a gente ainda ia estar brigando pela semantica dessa discussao do passado.

 

Quando nossos caminhos profissionais se separaram, eu ligava pra ele para pedir conselhos, para dividir preocupacoes, pra jogar no colo dele tudo o que me aborrecia. e ele, com a maior maestria do mundo, picava meus problemas em pedacinhos pequenos e me devolvia pra ser mastigado e engolido.

 

O cara era uma fera. Era competente, dinamico e via anos luz a frente de todo mundo. AMs ia embora as 5 da tarde. Nao ficava esquentando assento na empresa nao. Chegava no horario e saia no horario, por que ele tinha mais o que fazer.

 

E fazia. Simon cozinhava, Simon dancava, Simon era festeiro e adorava o seu vinhozinho. Simon era super pai, super marido, super amigo. ele irradiava luz onde passava.

 

Uma vez eu comentei com ele que a minha sogra estava chegando em Auckland com as criancas. Sem ninguem pedir, ele foi ate o aeroporto, pegou as tres, atravessou com elas ( e muuuitas malas) pro terminal domestico e despachou as tres pra nossa cidadezinha.

 

Simon nos visitou duas vezes em Palmerston North. Conheceu nossos amigos,e ncantou a todos.

 

E eu nao tinha escrito nada sobre ele ate agora por que eu nunca vou conseguir descrever essa pessoa iluminada que cruzou a minha vida e deixou tantas marcas. Meu amigo, dois anos depois de voce ter nos deixado, eu ainda nao te perdoei. Nao consegui fechar o bendito "file"

 

Quando ta tudo uma merda, quero ligar e dividir com voce. Chorar no seu colo. Quando eu estou feliz, rolando de alegria, eu quero dividir com voce, ver voce vibrar comigo tambem!

 

Fica em paz, meu amigo! E me perdoa, foram mais de dois anos tentando fazer a minha voz sair, mas o vazio, a tristeza e a sozinhes nao deixavam... Amo voce.

FISH PEDICURE / PEDICURE DE PEIXE

Se voce ja esta rolando de rir imaginando como e que o peixe pode ir a pedicure se ele nao tem pes, pode parar ja com a piadinha.

Eu fui, testei e aprovei!

Fish pedicure nada mais e que uma "nova"modalidade de pedicure. Voce coloca os seus pes num tanque ( chiquerrimo, mas nao deixa de ser um tanque) cheio de peixinhos que "comem" a pele morta dos seus pes.

Como se voce fizesse uma super esfoliacao.

Eu fui com uma amiga. Nos botamos os pes na agua, os peixes vieram, fizeram um banquete, nos rimos, conversamos, falamos bobagens e saimos de la com os pes super macios e a alma lavada. Eu recomendo!

Eu ainda nao vi seu nome no sorteio do scrapbooking digital da My Memories. Vai la, nao deixe de concorrer. O software e barbaro!!

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Yeah, yeah, yeah... You are asking yourself how can fish have a pedicure if it has no feet, right? So I suggest you stop with the joke and give it a go. Then we shall discuss the matter...


I've tried and approved!


Fish pedicure is nothing more than a "new" type of pedicure. You put your feet in a tank (chic, but it's still a tank) full of fish that "eat" the dead skin of your feet, as if you did a super exfoliation.


I went to try it with a friend. We put the feet in the water, the fish came, made a feast, we laughed, talked, laughed some more and left with a super soft feet and a shinning soul. I recommend!


.... what about or digital scrapbooking kit give away? If you are not participating yet, just click here and join the competition!

long distance gifts

This blog isgiving away a super digital scrapbooking from My Memories ($ 40). Check it out here and good luck!

And here I am talking about gifts once again.

I've said a million times I love giving and receiving gifts, what you do not know is how much I enjoy sending gifts by mail. People who can not be physically near you can feel closer with these little demonstrations of affection.

Before the holidays (in May), I put two boxes in the mail. One going to NZ and one to the Canary Islands. In three weeks the package arrived in New Zealand. I was very happy and so was the friend who got it.

Time passed, passed, passed, and I heard nothing about the second box. I called Nalu (the "gifted") and she went to the post office to see what was happening. Too bad it was no longer going to be a surprise.

- Nothing here. The package did not even came to Spain yet.

When I returned from my hols in September, I got a call the post office:

- There is a package here for you. Undelivered. Came back to you. From "somewhere".

I went to the post office to try understand what was happening. Here there was, my box full of  Arab trinkets.

- What happened?

- When they tried to deliver it, there was nobody at home. The post office then  leaves a note to the receiver to come and collect the parcel from the Post office. They wait for a whole month, then if no one shows up, they return the parcel to the sender.

I was intrigued. Of course Nalu would have gone to collect it. And she mentioned she never heard about it, besides, the postal service in Spain tried to trace the parcel and it never crossed the border.

When i took a peek at the  package and all the comments written by the destination's post office, i finally understood what happened. Everything was written in French.

- But you sent it to France. Look, it's all in French.

- Oh, Sorry ... this happens a lot. The staff of the post here like to say they have traveled a lot, so when they see a package written in another language they say: "Look, I know that language, I have traveled to this country and can assure you this parcel should be going to this or that country." So other colleagues think that he is well traveled, but in fact he never left the Gulf.

I tried to argue that it was all fun and games, but i paid to send a package to Spain who went tikki touring in France and came right back to me. And now I had to pay to resend it once again. How unfair is that?

But I thought twice, ande decided to let it go.

I picked up my box, I put it under mys arm and came home. I'll try again in a few weeks.

Presentes pelo correio

Esse blog esta sorteando um super scrapbooking digital da My Memories ( US 40). Entre la no post da promocao e participe!

Mas como agora so penso em presentes, vou falar deles outra vez.

Eu ja disse um milhao de vezes que adoro dar e receber presentes, o que voces nao sabem e que vira e mexe, mando pacotes pelo correio para os meus amigos distantes.

Morro de saudade de quem esta longe, e uma forma de me fazer presente e de mostrar um pouco do que ha por aqui, e mandar caixinhas pelo correio.

Antes das ferias( em maio), botei duas caixas no correio. Uma com edstino a NZ e outra para as Ilhas Canarias. Em tres semanas o pacote da Nova Zelandia chegou. Fiquei bem feliz.

O tempo passou, passou, passou, e nada da outra caixa chegar. Liguei pra Nalu ( a presenteada) e ela foi ate o correio ver o que estava acontecendo.

- Nao chegou nada aqui nao. O pacote nem entrou na Espanha ainda.

Quando voltei de ferias em SETEMBRO, recebo uma ligacao dos correios.

- Um pacote seu voltou. nao foi entregue.

Fui ao correio busca-lo e tentar entender o que estava acontecendo. La estava a minha caixinha cheia de bugigangas arabes.

- O que houve?

- Quando foram entregar, nao havia ninguem em casa. Ai o correio "de la"deixa um recado na porta pra pessoa ir buscar. se em um mes ninguem aparece, o embrulho volta para o remetente.

Fiquei intrigada. Claro que a Nalu teria ido buscar. Alem do mais, os correios da Espanha tentaram fazer o track do pacote e ele nao constava como tendo entrado no pais.

Ai dei uma olhadinha nos carimbos da embalagem e entendi o babado. tava tudo escrito em FRANCES.

- mas voces mandaram o pacote para a Franca. Olha, ta tudo em Frances.

- Xii... isso acontece muito. O pessoal do correio daqui quer dizer que ja viajou muito, ve um pacote escrito em outra lingua e ja vai logo falando: "Olha, eu sei que lingia e essa, ja viajei pra esse pais e tudo".  Assim os colegas pensam que ele e viajado, mas na verdade ele nunca saiu do Golfo.

Ai, ai, ai.

Peguei minha caixinha, botei debaixo do braco e vim pra casa. Vou tentar de novo em algumas semanas.

GIFTS

'Speaking of which...are you participating on our Digital Scrapbooking Give Away? Just click here and follow the simple steps. You may be the lucky winner of this amazing promotion.

But today's post has nothing to do with gifts for you, but it is all about my very own gifts. I love giving and receiving them. I simply love it.

Another day Shanthi, a great friend of mine, came to visit and casually said: 

- Wow, that's cool.

- Was a gift from one of my girlfriends.

- And that thing there is beautiful.

- Someone else's gift.

- That stuff there is so cute

- Gift.

- ... 

- Gift.

It was only then that I realized all the gifts I get. 90% of the plants in my house were gifts. And I love plants. The photos on my walls (various photographers, independent friendships) are mostly gifts, I also got masks, perfumes, clothes, bags, decoration stuff, glassware, jewelry ... 've got a bit of everything gifted to me at one stage or another.

And you know what touched me the most when I realized this?

What every little thing I've ever won was the result of someone thinking of me, when they were not with me.

And in every corner of my house, I have memories of loved ones, people I love and who have left their fingerprint in my life. What an amazing feeling! And the greatest gift of all, is the affection and friendship that fills my heart with joy!

Presentes

Por falar em presente, voce ja esta concorrendo ao scrap booking digital da My Memories aqui nesse meu singelo blogginho? Vai la! Vai la! Vai la!

Mas o post de hoje nao tem a ver com o presente de voces, mas sim com os meus.

Eu adoro dar e receber presentes. Amo, simplesmente.

E outro dia a Shanthi, uma grande amiga, veio aqui em casa e comecou a falar:

- nossa, isso e legal.

- foi presente da fulana.

- E aquilo e lindo.

- presente da cicrana.

- que fofo isso

- presente.

-

- presente.

Foi ai que eu me dei conta de todos os presentes que eu ganho. 90% das plantas da minha casa foram presentes. As fotos que enfeitam a minha sala tambem ( fotografos diferentes, amizades independentes), tambem ganhei mascaras, perfumes, roupas, bolsas, coisas de decoracao, copos, bijuterias... ja ganhei de tudo um pouco.

E sabe o que mexeu comigo quando eu me dei conta disso?

Que cada coisinha que eu ja ganhei foi o produto ed alguem ter pensado em mim com carinho, quando nao estava comigo. Ja ganhei ate coisas de supermercado - cortador de ervas, anel de fritar ovos em forma de coracao, spray pra desodorizar a casa.

E em cada canto da minha casa, tenho lembrancas de pessoas queridas, de pessoas que eu amo e que deixaram a sua marquinha no meu dia a dia. Ai que delicia! E o maior presente de todos, e o carinho e a amizade que enchem o meu coracao ed alegria!

Drunkness

True story. Names omitted to protect the drunk.




- You're late. Where are you?
- In the taxi. Almost there. 10 minutes.
- You sound weird. Are you drunk?
- Nooooo.


10 minutes later ...


- Where are you?
- In the taxi. 10 minutes.


Mother looses her patience and yells at her daughter who is still not making sense or saying where she is.
Mother wakes father up. father gets fed up because he wants to sleep. He does not seem to believe in shared responsibilities.
Mother has an idea. She locks the gate, the front door and go for a long bath. The daughter will have to ring the bell when she arrives. That will wake Father up to open the door - then he will have to take some responsibility. Master plan! Mother is a genius.
Plan failed. Daughter did not come home.
Mother calls again (what happened to shared responsibility? Father went back to sleep a long time ago).
Daughter did not pick up the phone.


Daughter called back. Weeping. Asking someone to go pick her up from the cinema, less than 5 minutes away from her house.


Mother was very upset, sick of all the lying ( what happened to her child being in a taxi, 10 min away?), She decided to give the phone to Father who once again complained about being woken up.
Father moans, but goes towards the car. He was going to pick his daughter up.
Mother sees what is happening and takes the opportunity to excell in creativity. She quickly changes her clothes, get into her Winnie the pooh pajamas and joins father in the rescue jorney.
They arrive at the cinemato find the drunk daughter amongst 20 boys. Daughter gets in the car, mom runs out of the car, wearing her Winnie the Pooh nightie.


Mother questions the boys, the movie theater employees andwhoever she can get ahold of.
Father stays in the car. Quiet.


Daughter sits in the back. Even quieter.
Mother, who was already angry, becomes even more furious when she hears the story.
Daughter left home and went  to a neighborhood she is forbidden to go without adult supervision. She went with semi-strangers, boys she recently met at school. She lied saying she was going to a friend's house where the parents could no speak English, so no way Mother would be able to speak with them. Daughter then drunk wisky and  got drunk.
Mother feels disappointed, angry, worried. All at the same time. And she does not feel very forgiving. She slaps her daughter's face and get into the car. The family goes home.
- My face hurts.


- It hurts because you got a slap.


- Who slapped me?


- I did, I gave you a slap ...


And only then Mother realised there were no learnings from the experience.

Bebedeira

Historia veridica. Nomes omitidos para proteger a pinguca.

- Vc esta atrasada. Onde vc esta?

- No taxi. Ja to chegando. 10 minutos.

- Voz esquisita. Vc bebeu?

- Naaaao.

10 minutos depois...

- Cade vc?

- No taxi. 10 minutos.

Mae fica puta e grita com a filha que continua nao falando coisa com coisa e nem diz onde esta.

Mae acorda o pai, que tambem fica puto por que quer dormir - sems er incomodado. Chato esse negocio de ter que dividir responsabilidades, ne?

Mae tranca o portao, a porta e vai pro banho. Quando a filha chegar, vai ter que tocar a campainha ate o pai acordar e abrir a porta - ai ele vai ter que assumir alguma responsabilidade. Plano genial!

Plano falho. Filha nao chega.

Mae liga outra vez ( como era emsmo o negocio de assumir a responsabilidade?)

Filha nao atende.

Filha liga. Chorando. Pede para alguem ir busca-la no cinema, menos de 5 minutos da casa dela.

Mae, que tem vontade de socar a filha ( que estava no taxi - nao estava???) passa o telefone pro pai que mais uma vez reclama de ser acordado.

Pai levanta resmungando e se troca para ir buscar a filha.

Mae tem um momento de genialidade ( outro) e poe a camisola do ursinho Puff. Entra no carro com o pai emburrado.

Chega no cinema a filha bebum esta no meio de uns 20 meninos. Filha entra no carro, mae sai do carro. Vestindo a camisolinha do ursinho Puff. Mae entrevista os meninos, os funcionarios do cinema, qualquer fulano que esteja passando por ali naquela hora.

Pai fica no carro. Nao fala nada.

Filha sentada no banco de tras tambem nao fala nada.

Mae fica ainda mais brava quando ouve a historia.

Filha saiu de casa, filha foi para um bairro de bares onde ela e proibida de ir, filha estava com estranhos, filha estava so com meninos, filha mentiu que ia a casa da amiga ( e que a mae da amiga nao sabe falar ingles, por isso infelizmente nao daria pra confirmar), filha encheu o caneco de wisky, com estranhos, pegou um motorista desconhecido e so fez cagada. Uma atras da outra.

Mae esta descontrolada, querendo arrancar os cabelos da filha.

Mae da um tapa no rosto da filha e a familia vai pra casa.

- meu rosto ta doendo.

- ta doendo por que voce levou um tapa.

- quem me deu um tapa?

- Eu filha, eu te dei um tapa...

Mae suspira inconformada com a bizarrice da situacao...

PERU

Minha amiga foi ao Peru com o namorado. Viajaram, passearam, viram mil coisas legais. Ai ela viu um coelhinho lindo, que parecia de verdade.
Pegou, abracou, passou a mao no pelinho macio dele.
- Que fofo!
- Pois eh. a gente mata o coelhinho e empalha pras criancas brincarem...

Nao havia mais palavras. so lagrimas correndo dos olhos dela.


A friend of mine went to Peru, on holidays with her boyfriend. They saw beautiful things, had fun, enjoyed themselves. Then she stopped in one of these street markets and feel in love with a rabbit that seemed just like a real one.
She held it close to her face, took pics.
- Oh, it is so cute!
- Yep. We kill them and stuff, so kids can play with it.

She was lost for words. Only tears said the unspeakable words...

Our new home

Pic taken from the street - the car is not ours!

Foto tirada da rua - o carro nao e nosso

Yesterday was our house warming party and for the first time since I was 11 I was afraid my party would be a disaster because no one would show up.

Lots of people I know simply left Bahrain because of the political troubles and I was worried I would not have enough quorum.

I booked the party for 8 pm. At 8:30 I only had two couples here ( and I am normally getting out of the shower, running with people at our door). My worst fears were proving right. Darn.

By 9 pm I had around 30 people in the house and I was pretty happy and relaxed.

The party was fun. A good mix of people, good food, nice drinks and lots of laughter. I could not be happier.

I will post some pics of the new house, so you can see where we live.  :-)


++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Ontem foi a festa de inauguracao da casa nova. Eu estava morrendo de medo da festa ser um desastre por que a maioria das pessoas que eu conheco ja foram embora de Bahrain ( por causa dos conflitos politicos).

Marquei a festa pras 8 da noite. 8:20 eu so tinha dois casais na sala. O meu coracao apertado, um medo danado de ter que passar pelo papelao da festa onde ninguem apareceu...

La pelas 9 a casa ja tinha mais de 30 pessoas e eu pude relaxar. Ufa!

A festa foi gostosa. Comemos, bebemos, rimos e nos divertimos - e eu descobri que apesar dos pesares, ainda tem muita gente aqui em Bahrain pra 'brincar" comigo.

:-)

Do portao

From the gate

 Our pool

A piscina

Uma graminha e a garagem

A patch of grass and our garage

Dinning room

Sala de jantar

Dinning room - other angle

O outro lado da sala de jantar

Living room

Sala

A parede das mascaras

MAsk's wall

TV room

Sala de TV

Lunch/ breakfast room

Copa

Cozinha

Kitchen

Gift for YOU

It is party time...

For a while  I've been wanting to run a competition here. I get so much love from you guys, i would like to give a little back.
And now the time has come. The staff of My Memories has a super package of digital scrapbooking that I'll be giving away here on November 18 - Friday.


All you have to do is to their web page, choose a layout or digital paper back and leave a comment in this post saying which one is your favorite and how I can contact you, in case you are the lucky winner ( e mail or blog address please).


Simple, Simple, Simple!
The product is great. There is so much you can do with it, I am sure you will love it.
Good luck !!

PRESENTE PARA VOCE!

Hoje e dia de festa!!
Ha tempos venho querendo fazer um sorteio aqui no blog, por que eu recebo tanto carinho de voces que eu queria retribuir um pouco...
E agora chegou a hora. O pessoal da My Memories tem um super pacote de scrapbooking digital que eu vou estar sorteando aqui no dia 18 de Novembro - Sexta Feira.
Tudo o que voce tem que fazer e dar um pulinho la na pagina deles, escolher um paper back digital ou layout e deixar um comentario aqui nesse post dizendo qual e o seu favorito.


facil, facil, facil!


E eu ja vou dizendo de antemao que o produto deles e barbaro.


Boa sorte e vamos nessa!!

Part of my job is net working, so I attend many lunches, breakfasts, social events. This week I went to a morning tea organized by the wifes employees of company we provide services for.

One of the women, who happens to be my friend, had just had a baby and the whole group was interested in knowing all the latest details. How did the birth go, was she breastfeeding, how was the baby, did he cry a lot?

The conversation was very light, until a aldy said:

- My daughter also just gave birth.

And from there, she starts to explain, detail by detail how her the girl went into labor, how hard it was, how everything was very fast (3 hours) and how the baby was born in a hospital emergency room near their house, as the ambulance did not have time to take her to the maternity.

Then she says the hardest part was to manage helping her daughter while calming down her 5 year old grandchild who was terrified with all the screaming.

I believe this question crossed everyone's mind, but only one lady actually asked:

- But where was the baby's dad? was not at home?

- My daughter was raped. The baby will not have a father ...

Deathly silence.

 I confess that I did not know what to say, what face to put on, where to look. And I think everyone else felt mortified with the casual comment.