How To Make My Own Concrete Tub

matter of timing

There are times when we fail to fully understand the timing. In life I often happen to think that timing is everything. Lately, when I came upon a car because no driver and no hand brake on, I realized that if I passed a minute before or one after, I should not have verbally attacked the driver fugitive who had been a moment in your butcher in front of it. Timing said.

crops indoors in our home on the edge of every kind of comfort, comfort that often take for granted, like electricity, running water and most importantly warm, various appliances, and he, our beloved heating system. Launched the boiler to reach its full potential, the roar of a flame and feel each other. A pleasant side effect of our radiators Caliente and the semi-tropical climate that dominates the four walls. We wander around the house naked seeds, almost like an aboriginal dressed in leather skirt just mentioned caiman. We tend to ignore, intentionally or not, the actual conditions that lie ahead to a meter from us, separated by a wall or a little more. This morning, therefore, shorts and jersey super fine. So there is no heating, no? The first impact with the outside world has not been reassuring. Less than 5 degrees, in fact, do not go unnoticed, especially when our menisci and patella border with frost separated by a thin layer of colored nylon beaver. By car, put the hot air in the "everywhere", to ensure maximum heat, so much so that even gets a little 'annoying. Arrive at the office, I open the driveway and parking. The thermometer in the car so little reassuring announces least 5.5. Siberia are coming. Come on, I think to myself, so now I put myself in the office and I go more for the next 9 hours. I open the door between the cold from the heat within, no difference. The heater is broken ... and I enter my shorts in a foul mood.

Valerian Root Tea Vs Chamomile

Travel Christmas

The great thing about memories is the way in which they emerge, sometimes in a completely unexpected. A sound, a scent is enough to bring something to the memory of dead and buried. Or at least well-tucked, pushed as a new book under a mountain of other books that came after, read and reread recently. But pulling it out with difficulty, not to bring down others, buried the book gives us the same wonderful feelings of the first reading.

Last night, transport strikes. Mille probable inconvenience in a return to the home of 50 km between the bypass and highway. Pictures of me crushed between two trucks as a kind of salami sandwich in a well garnished. So I decide to do the old road as long and boring Lent as a lesson in Latin. Step from the usual corn fields, one after another, even in the dark recognize them. Through the bridges. Step junctions. The warmth inside the car, I was already creating a sense of numbness mixed sleep. In and out of town by yet, I realize that Christmas is coming, and conquer. Between the cold and anonymous lane highway I could certainly not aware of it, but in the low plains of Piedmont, Christmas reigns undisturbed. Trees shine in the dark, decorations between kitsch and nostalgia adorn the balconies of the houses low and wide. And I can think of return trips as a child. Of those that seemed endless travel, sitting next to my brother in the back seat of our big cars. Of those trips back from holidays, family, afternoons with friends. When we came home, tired but happy sitting in the darkness and looked out the windows. Then we counted to distract them. We counted the trees in the midst of colorful gardens. I've seen one! I, too, there! And so on throughout the trip. Sometimes we are surprised that so early in the season there were already so many. Other times we even thought. We were there attached to the glass of the car wet and cold, tarnished by our breath watching the colored lights. Those who now seem to some expression of consumerism meaningless in the eyes of children and adults seem to still my little magic out of nowhere.