Kashi Cereal And Gout

Good deeds make

Today I have done a good deed. Yes, I! So I feel entitled to behave badly for the rest of the day. Back from my iron therapy (seems out of this world, but it's easy to iron therapy, in my case intravenous) I found an old man who tried to sign up for spelling the word Radiology. What tenderness! Ignoring the little devil in my head that I suggested (and later I would have said "good reason") to turn a blind eye because some other good Samaritan would have offered, I'm back on my feet and I asked her if she needed. Yes, like most of the old guys took it away. This morning got up early and went outside to get some 'wood for the water heater. Because it has a kitchen with a wood heater that works. In the wood as he took a chip's index is stuck and although he used some tricks to get it out the naughty refused. So, as gradually he felt his arm paralyzed, his son told him to go to hospital. And there has dropped. Alone. So I went down the hall, then the elevator (I hate elevator), -2 to department. I wanted to make sure that someone would take care of him, but I thought only the stairs and I was not good enough to go back. We say that good deed I have done only half. Better than nothing right? And since I like the law of tit for tat I would expect an immediate reward. What is, otherwise, do good deeds?
Now I just have to make that final effort and then will come the weekend. Nothing is sweeter than the day before a holiday. Full of expectation and all the possibilities ahead. Before me, this weekend, I have a set of nano teapots, poppies, micro kittens and crutches pseudo tutu. I'll do all this stuff? I can give them a decent role? Or end up in the maw of the fireplace? Tonight will read the sentence. I judge and I executioner. Meanwhile
chasing a dream. Another.

The more I close my eyes, then we see better, because
all day watching things unworthy of notice;
but when I sleep .....

Homemade Mini Bike Build

Anonymous II - the anonymous coward

Post by Anonymous:
Dearest, I am not a coward ... I used your same method. I think that your blog does not write .... ( here and put my name anonymous ).
'm still happy to have provoked your response ... I felt more aggressive and less whining in the answer.
I can not deny that often share your thoughts, especially when you write about injustice, colleagues and characters in your città.Ma remains that do not like you, and you know why? Why spit judgments on everyone and everything with such malice. Even on those who do not deserve it, like your family and your land. Remember that you are part of you, you are their daughter and you're not different.

Bravo! You know who I am, but I do not know. Not at all. And I'm curious to know who you are. The post is not the public, the report here. I decided to censor only one thing: my last name, because in this blog I am Lighea. In real life I have certainly a name and a surname that accompany me for a while '. I do not see, then, why should I sign them with the last name and not my name. We're not in school? We must make the call? Or is your one way, and here we go again, to despise, to distance themselves from what they are and what I write? Nothing, for whatever reason.
I do not like me. Perfectly free to think and write. See? I have not censored. I do not mind please. Quoting a song by Gucci: Sorry it's my pleasure. I love being hated. At this point, if we take literally the phrase, I have achieved my purpose. I managed not to like. I should be happy. But as obvious contentment a chronic pessimist like me? Who knows! Write to spit
judgments. But first, I rinse your mouth well. I write what I feel and what I think. If you write "my" truth is a sin I do not know what to tell you. In everyday life, I say what I think trying to be as diplomatic as possible. For this I have a blog: I write what I think and feel without being so much to think about the log to hold. And 'my vent and when one takes out diplomacy does not exist. But do you ever get angry?
condemn me because I speak ill of my parents and my land. Oh God! The family is a thorny issue where the saying, you have to wash the dirty clothes. You have no arguments to judge what I write to my parents because it was not you to be grown from them. I do not hate them or despise them, but I have evidence to assess them and are free to assign ratings that sometimes (I say sometimes) go under the sufficiency. The family is untouchable, is sacred! This says a priest or babbione. The family is composed of people and people make mistakes. Ever read "Letter to His Father," Kafka's "Sons and Lovers" by Lawrence?

And now is the turn of my city, my native land. I do not believe in this bond. The character, experiences, passions, bind us to certain places and there is our land. Mine is not one in which I live. I'm just a number and my absence or my presence here is more than marginal. This parochialism by Paper Heart do not understand it. I like the color of the sky before the storm, I love the rain and cold. Have you ever seen what are beautiful cliffs of Dover? I've been there I left a piece of heart. The other I left in the English countryside. After years and years to feel a stranger in my house I could find my place in the world. A place that fits me perfectly. Have you ever worn this coat in which you do not feel at ease? Too tight or too loose or pull on one side or pinch the fabric? Did you ever take off these clothes and wear something comfortable that we have peace with the world? Well: the suit uncomfortable is the city where I live, the other is the place where I felt truly at home. I will then free to fill the wardrobe of clothes in my life I want?

... You wrote dearest, but, as you see, I have not taken up the challenge!