Symptoms Before Period

The smell of tangerines

Ah, but once Christmas was different.
Once, maybe, I was to be different at Christmas.
Well, after all, once I was different. Bella
force: I was another.
I was under the age of one year accounted for a significant part of my life, but now it's just a little light in more of those that do not light up. For very good reasons, however: I can never shut them down. I do not see, therefore, for scruple.
Christmas started a little 'before Christmas and this could be confusing, let's face it.
But you know Christmas has not only Christmas but also all around it.
At school we did the good wishes, promising to keep in touch during the holidays - it never happens, if not with friends, whatever - we ate a significant amount of panettone, you dare sips of champagne that made economic slightly drunk and then we threw out of the four walls of their institutions, with velocity proportional to intoxication and caloric intake of the specific cake. Sometimes it happened also to launch a few mild curses at the teacher, teaching or clouded by careless ones favoring ill-concealed sadistic inclinations, gave improbable task for the summer vacation, usually, they were invariably carried out last possible moment, on the evening of Epiphany.
But that mattered: it was Christmas.
It was not Christmas!
The few days that separated from the birth itself was the real highlight of the Christmas holidays. After 25 had been psychologically inclined to notice how close the end of the holidays that virtually took place at New Year. The first days of January were nothing but a cruel trickle, an inexorable countdown to the point of no return.
But still many things made this a memorable time.

I was under the age at which the snow was always show an exceptional and unusual and was never discussed "emergency frost. What could understand snowploughs chains and a kid who was trying to maintain balance on the few inches of snow that the miser Puglia sky from time to time handed out very sparingly? A snow, while balancing the varied local context standardizing each shade to white, he remarked the other social differences at all obvious at first glance: on one side of the ski-equipped regulars claiming autonomy thanks to the special color suits colorful and powerful après swashbuckling walks that allowed them to broad steps, on the other makeshift parvenu of the circle white heat engulfed by double sweaters, pajamas worn under ordinary jeans, a few pairs of socks and shoes especially inadequate walking requiring uncommon gifts of balance to prevent hacking pain sacrum.

After three months of school, to have twenty days of free time a kind of vertigo caused by infinite. I remember a Christmas in which programs is the vision of the show 15 per day, including replicas of Laverne and Shirley and the Odd Couple, by organizing a strict timetable servo by Smiles and Songs. Mediaset was to come, as there was Telefoggia with its projections offered by "Carmelina 13", a clothing store women to whom I was often grateful for the film of which (I thought) allowed the broadcast.
As we grow Christmas were less television and more action-packed, but at first were mostly homemade, but a "home" cozy, pleasant, warm and comforting.
At Christmas, the table was slightly larger, to give ease to his uncles house for dinner, and remained enlarged for all parties, the visible symbol of the exceptional nature of the period, together with a sbrilluccicante (and every year more crooked) tree.

great games were organized for Christmas. And not just at Christmas, but around Christmas. The
after Christmas lunch was cheered, not only by the vision of "Operation Petticoat" - seminal film whose only possible setting in the schedules seemed to be Christmas - from pleasant tables where the food full of libations gradually leaving space to the results of bingo. These folders were strictly old-fashioned, simple card numbers and different composition. Modernity peeped with its plastic folders and windows semitransparent, but was soon abandoned for a return to the past not so much influenced by drives antiprogressista, as the widespread greed mandarins.
folders nude, in fact, are in need of extraneous factors to cover the numbers gradually extracted and, far from using classic beans, the family was customary use of tangerine peels. For me, the memories of Christmas bingo are inextricably linked to the smell of citrus.
The tradition was that the oldest of the table to appropriate the tombolone, FORBIDDEN to children because we imposed the duty of hexose 6 folders. So with heuristic criteria or, more often than not, esoteric, they made up the winnings. This was inevitably both below the inflation rate and monetary unit often consisted of indivisible: 50 pounds was the practice, but also remember ambitious of 10 pounds provided by spiritosone shift that self-taxation of the funds, available at the bottom a drawer, just to depreciate the importance of this award is only useful to give the floodgates to rebelot.
Every time you had to explain to Mom that the folders were held vertically, not side by side, to allow a quick scan of the ad number drawn. Wasted effort, the mother of the folders were always controlled in turn by the entire group, as mom always closer to the sink to the table. Furthermore mother was not a huge fan of gambling and constantly worried that children only occasionally win something. Vain hope, given that the chance I have the charisma of Pupo.
Finally we started stirring up the numbers and the booming voice annunciator:
"Cinquattotto"
"Both!
the first number: a classic. When
not the case, the lottery was damn boring.
"Sixty"
'E' out of the twenty-one? "
On the second issue: Another classic. Scenes
encoded in the commedia dell'arte, but essential for a correct outcome of the lottery. Fortunately some of
praticaccia kabbalah, combined with the spread in the southern table, accompanying each drawing to its numerological description that made it more fun to enumeration:
"Seventy-seven: bandy legs"
"Eighty-eight: the provolone" - sometimes "Sofia Loren", playing on the similarities within the dairy of the prosperous Loren.
"Com'u and indemnities received com'u'ggire: sixty-nine"
Equally inevitable was yelling, "Ninety-nine!" Exit of the sixty-affirmation that was accompanied by an incredulous and hateful "Eeeeeuuuuhhh" of the people of bingo, sketch which echoed to dell'ottantasei. More typical were
mantra: "Mambo" for both, "Train" for Yahweh, "Book" for quadruplet, "chirps" for quintet. But after the
fives, and already envied prize area, things were series.
The air suddenly became tense, the competitors were studied suspicious, left the gufate waiting for just the lucky one or two numbers. Abounded questions like, "It 'came out' and, from time to time, we called for a general riepilogone that caused the intolerance of the majority and, in particular, which was tombolaro with reporters do, follow the enumeration of 'whole extraction. To discover some mistakes at times called for retroactive premiums, of course, were denied by decision. The
tombolaro was stormed by the mob that demanded miraculous performance: "Let me out on the fifteenth!", While others preferred withhold one's aspirations for good luck and to remove the carriers of bad luck.
But sooner or later it had to happen.
"Forty"
"BASTAMME '!"
contumely, but that is not a contraction of "Just me", or "Just for me, I'm done, I won."
Usually if the winner was a child was a place-fetched and resigned acceptance, but if your lucky it was a general adult choir was typically a "Nooo" mixed with some "Evvafangul ...."
The win was also immediately blocked and delivered only after precise control of procedural fairness. Rarely - but it happened - The winning run into any huge crab, you want a skin shifted, either a misunderstanding, either intentional: the shame was enormous, the people rebelled, the fraud was sidelined from the extraction and adrenaline was returning to mount until the next bastammè. If anyone, assuming the successful end of the current extraction, had cleaned up its folders, you had to yet another in which the riepilogone tombolaro associated, for each issue, a look full of hatred from those responsible for inconvenience. When the bingo
lost bite, alternating with a few rounds of cards, usually Mercante in Fiera or seven-thirty. The Merchant at the fair required uncommon rhetorical skills the merchant should be able to trim scam with the same ease with which the proposed bargain, and if he had participated in the auction, had to make credible its proposals autorifilarsi even at the cost of the package.
The Seven and a half was more immediate and fast: Centoeccarta, Duecentoestò, these are the typical fragments of conversation between dealer and player. Sometimes it was a legitimate mixed formulation of the type: "Three hundred and one hundred'm paper", a sure sign of the presence of seven. The mothers hated these complications and were unduly pressured to remove these advanced rules of play. Then followed for an encoding complex disputes in the course of the rules themselves: who makes the deck go to seven and a half with two cards, the most crazy needlepoint is not half past seven, etc.. etc.
aroused the hilarity resounding bust, often the result of endless succession of points and half points that almost always ended with a beautiful seven bringing the total to thirteen-odd. I still remember the cries of pain and wonder of a good friend of mine who, having accounted for just a nice twelve with about fifteen cards at the time of the "high" gave a: sjjjgghhjjjà.
Again, shame and humiliation, usually Cartaro satisfied collect the small bet and replenished the bank to prepare themselves from future disbursements. When age began to push for more independent Natali gambling, far from being abolished, grew increasingly joining the attendance, as well as home of autochthony gambling, including those of friends. There was, in particular, a couple of friends, eternal lovers, who financed their love nest with the huge payouts Christmas that always took place in their home, which of course aroused the suspicion of cheating or, more likely, meditated astral influences. Unfortunately, when both require two separate nests because of the hardships of life (unfortunately not the lottery is a teacher), but each of us, in his heart, confident that sooner or later we will return to subsidize new appliances to counter a future reunified.

Well, Christmas was different.
And I too was different.
Today, at most, Christmas lasts a day, at best. And, of course, is not the December 25, but his vigil. On 25 December, as Christmas is not a real Christmas because, as soon as it starts is already over.
And I really miss that long Christmas for two weeks, perhaps, will never return.
Or who knows, will come when it will be my care to make sure that children will win something and that nonsiamai, do not buy the board that is something to adults. In the past, more and more sporadic, family tables have long been my position has shifted inexorably confidential annex to the minors by the circular to the table of the "large".
You have never seen that, turn around, there is the possibility of returning to the starting point and no one makes us much attention?

Retirement Cakes For 2 People

Val di Susa

Grillo was right: the words are important.
He said he was once: the KGB have always called cappagibì. Now suddenly becomes cheghebè and nobody understands us more shit! And so the
ValDiSusa. Now everyone knows where
Venaus, for at least three days but I thought that I wanted to take the TGV in the south too and I found myself thinking, finally! And yes
Venaus because for me it was in the province of Potenza.
Most know her as Venom. But all Canosa know that, for example, in the mother tongue becomes Canaus.
And so I thought that not only wanted to bring the TAV in Lucania, but I thought that the focus (of mold League) to the regional dialects of the news was becoming excessive.
At this rate - think - in prime time soon hear talk of the events which occur naturally Mateira (Matera), of Luciòr (Lucera), of Ciancvèir (San Severo) and Saint Nina (San Menaio).
But I was wrong, God what was wrong ...
Venaus Venom is not as Canaus (always in Val di Susa?) Is probably not as Canosa and Ceci n'est pas a Pipe.

TAV And, alas, there will be Luciòr ever.