•July 2, 2012 • 89 Comments

Be amazed.


•October 9, 2019 • 4 Comments

About two hours ago I decided I was going to write because I missed writing last week and also Monday.  I opened this page and I couldn’t think of a title so I decided to check my fake Facebook page.  There I saw an ad of a bra that it’s like a sticker but also holds the breast so I had to see what was that about.  It seems that those washable stickers hold up to 10kg/22lb!! Holy f#$k if that’s true!

There is only one way to know if they truly work and that’s to try them but I’m still not convinced.  It would be amazing to wear a bra that doesn’t squeeze me or makes grooves in my shoulders.  I think only women with big boobs understand what I mean.  And 10kg!  That’s a lot!  I feel like going to the kitchen and weighing my merchandise on the digital scale.   The eyeball method tells me that they should be less than half but I could be wrong.

What’s keeping me from doing it?  The two men working to fix the faucet in the bathroom.

So that’s how most of my days go.  I decide to do one thing and then I get distracted and do something else but still I can’t finish doing that because there is always something or someone preventing me from going further.

These men told me that fixing the faucet was going to take 2 hours.  They’d been here for 2.5 hours and I can’t see much improvement.  A while ago one told me: “There is some water coming but it’s not as much as I expected”.  I wonder how much water he expects.  And then I thought: “This is a really easy job… They only had to plug the machine to the water pipes and let it work.  Meanwhile, they sit in their van and come to check every now and then.  I’m sure that beats unclogging a toilet.  So this is the way to go.  Expect more water to come from the faucet… and keep expecting more and more probably until just before noon when is their lunch break.  Then magically all the needed water will be there”.

A few weeks ago when they came to fix the faucet and the heating, they told my landlord that in extreme cases, it could take up to 4 hours.  I bet this is an extreme case.

I’ll finish writing now and go check on them.  Maybe do some more research on the bra.  I want to see the negative reviews.  I want to know if when removing the sticky stuff it feels like a wax job.

I think I’m bored today.



What you wish for

•October 2, 2019 • 1 Comment

On Monday I wrote about how jealous my daughter is.  It’s unbelievable sometimes.  I was waiting for a big scene during dinner but when she got back from school, the first thing she did was to open the fridge.

“Oh, that’s a very small cake!” I heard her saying.  I think she was relieved that her birthday cake was much bigger.  I knew right there that I was off the hook, that I could relax because I was not going to hear her saying that I love my sons more than I love her.

Then it was dinner time.  I cut the lasagna and asked my birthday boy: “Which piece would you like?”

So he said: “Give me that one there, the most difficult to get”.  He’s that way, just to be funny.

I offered the second piece to my husband.. I asked: “Would you like this piece? It’s a bit burned”.  I know that he loves the crunchy top.

He answered: “No, please give me this corner”.

Then I gave a piece to my daughter and after that I asked my ex. “Which one would you like?”

He said: “That one” pointing at the piece I had offered to my husband before but he had rejected.

So I grab the spatula and when I placed the piece on the plate, there was a hair in it.  I remember writing on Monday that I was secretly hoping for a hair in the lasagna so my daughter could see that I also make mistakes on other birthdays and not only on hers.

I had to laugh… I removed the hair and said: “It’s cleanish…” and I was waiting for some kind of comment from my ex because I  know how he is and how much he likes to hurt me or be funny at my expense.  And if he said something, I was going to reply: “Like that’s the dirtiest thing you would had put in your mouth”.  But he didn’t say anything.  I was surprised and still laughing .  I thought: “If I knew that my wish was going to come true, I would have wished for something better”.

I think I’ll spend the rest of the day wishing for things I really want.  Who knows? I may get some.


•September 30, 2019 • 4 Comments

Why is it so hard to keep a commitment? Maybe because commitments are long term plans and those are so difficult to make happen/fulfill/complete/carry on?

I realized that in order to commit to something, there has to be a lot of love involved.  It doesn’t matter what kind of commitment, a person has to love the cause.  Not enough love? Then the chance is big that the commitment is broken.

I love writing but I can’t seem to keep the commitment to write three times a week.

Today is my 2nd son’s 15th birthday.  My plans for today were to finish the cake that I learned the hard way that I must bake it at least, the day before and after that, make the requested lasagna.  I committed to prepare on my children’s birthdays, the food they want.  That’s the only day they can choose what they want to eat.  The other days they have to eat what’s on their plates.    That’s how much I love them.  Every birthday for as long as I can remember, I spent the day in the kitchen cooking whatever they wanted.  Some times thing went smoothly while other times the crazy or vague requests were on the edge of ruining my day.    I can deal with “lasagna” but it’s really hard to materialize “birthday food”.    I discovered also that “birthday food” is different for everybody and that’s why I was terrified of making the wrong choices and upset my daughter.

“Birthday food?  What exactly is birthday food?”

“You know, birthday food… what you eat when you go to a birthday”

“Like lasagna o pizza?”

“No, other things”

“Chips and cookies and hot dogs?”

“No, not junk food.  Birthday food.  Those things you can dip in a sauce”

So, according to my daughter, birthday food involves things you can dip in a sauce. Every day you learn something new.

My sweet princess is SO hard to please.  She’s the kind of person who doesn’t see the 3 million things you do right but will chew your ass about the one thing you did wrong or didn’t do…  So I decided to put carrots together with cucumbers and peppers on the tray to dip in cream cheese and that was SO wrong.

I wonder when she stopped liking carrots or why she didn’t tell me.  I’d do anything to avoid these kind of things but apparently, I don’t do enough because on my youngest son birthday everything was perfect and she complained about why for his birthday everything was good and on hers I put the carrots that she didn’t like.

So secretly, I’m kind of hoping someone finds a hair in the lasagna so I won’t be reminded of how much more I love my sons than her.

Really, if we all women are like that… I truly hope I’m not but while I was writing I remembered that more than once I asked my sweet husband to go to the supermarket and he forgot something on the list and well… you know how it goes.

Again, there has to be a lot of love involved in order to keep a commitment.  Any commitment.


That dreaded time of the year

•September 27, 2019 • 6 Comments

Unbelievable it’s been a year already.  It truly seems like last week the last time I had to go for the yearly “ladies’ parts” check up.

I wrote about my experiences before and I think I have my reasons to be terrified.  Years ago when I lived in The Netherlands, I had to go for the check up every 5 years.  Those years also flew by and I truly hated it because the person inserting things in me was the same one who answered the phone at the front desk.   I really didn’t like that.  It’s like going to a restaurant and seeing a person cleaning the toilets and then you see the same person taking your order.   I don’t care if I went too far with my example but that’s how I felt… Awful!

Then I moved to Germany and I was talking to the mother of one of my son’s friends and she told me that here the check up is every year.   I know that’s a good thing but really, it’s not fun at all.   I remember then calling to make an appointment and asking for a female doctor.   There was no female doctor available for a very long time but I said I didn’t mind waiting.

The day had come so I had no choice.   I got to the doctor’s office and I went to give notice that I was there.  The girl told me: “Dr.  XXXXX is sick, Dr. YYYYYY is taking her patients”

“Is doctor YYYYYY a woman?”


After that answer I tried to explain that I had specifically made the appointment with a female doctor and that  I’ve been waiting for a very long time.  She asked me if I wanted to make another appointment or if I wanted to see Dr. YYYYYY.

I started crying.  The girl didn’t know what to say or what to do.  I couldn’t stop sobbing. All kind of thoughts went through my head.  What if this guy is huge? What if he touches me in a funny way?  I don’t want some bear size hands inside me!

I was shaking my head and probably snotting all over.  Then the girl said: “He’s a VERY good doctor.  Really good”.   So I decided it was better to do it and be done with it.

I was still crying when the doctor called my name and you have no idea the smile on my face when I saw that he was a very small man with very little hands.

About 3 years ago the sweet doctor retired and his daughter took his place and the good thing is, she’s even smaller!  Now I don’t feel that bad when I have to take off my clothes.  First I’ll be naked from the waist down and when she’s done, she’ll ask me to get my pants and panties on and get naked from the waist up.   I really like that system, it’s less humiliating.

I just hope I get there and she’s not sick.  I don’t want the bear size doctor, I prefer the free sample size one.

And It’s Friday, I’m in Love!  And I have the perfect song for today, I think it’s very fitting, at least part of it because I don’t see myself negotiating with the doctor and asking her to take her clothes off.

Enjoy Adam Ant


(written by:   Leslie Goddard Stuar & Marco Pirroni)


It’s at times like this the great heaven knows
That we wish we had not so many clothes
So let’s loosen up with a playful tease
Like all lovers did through the centuries

We’re just following ancient history
If I strip for you will you strip for me?
We’re just following ancient history
If I strip for you will you strip for me?

When it gets so hot, the end of the day
You may find your clothes getting in the way
If a pretty dress hides your true desire
Fold it nice and slow, throw it on the fire

We’re just following ancient history
If I strip for you will you strip for me?
We’re just following ancient history
If I strip for you will you strip for me?

We don’t need to see what the butler saw
Or a mirrored room with a mirrored floor
All those sneaky looks gazing down on you
Are no substitute for our rendezvous

We’re just following ancient history
If I strip for you will you strip for me?
We’re just following ancient history
If I strip for you will you strip for me?

It’s at times like this the great heaven knows
That we wish we had not so many clothes
So let’s loosen up with a playful tease
Like all lovers did through the centuries

If you think it’s cheap or a bit risqué
Please don’t say a word I’ll just slip away
I am not a man who believes in lies
Like an octopus with big x-ray eyes

Don’t freeze up girl, you’re looking quite a sight
Be generous, I want it all tonight!

We’re just following ancient history
If I strip for you will you strip for me?
We’re just following ancient history
If I strip for you will you strip for me?








It doesn’t get easier

•September 25, 2019 • 9 Comments

I think we all agree that it sucks getting old.  I’m not sure what’s the worst part but I think it’s when we compare what we were able to do some time ago and what we can do now.

I believe it should be different.  For example, things should get easier instead of more complicated because we have years of experience.  For example: walking.  We walked a lot in ours lives so now walking should be “like a walk in the park” and not like: “please pass me the oxygen tank”.

Other things like hooking or unhooking the bra, for example.  How many times we did it before?  Why the hell is not getting easier?

Don’t you feel sometimes that things are unfair?   Like when you try to teach your kids something and they look at you like if you were too old to remember how things work.

The other day I was talking to my husband and he kind of called me middle age.

“What?!?  How old is a middle age person?   And when is someone old?”  I can’t recall exactly what he said but I can assure you, he was tactful… Or as I prefer to say, he was terrified of me because he knows that when I hear something I don’t like, my reaction tends to be a bit explosive and he ends up with his mouth open but speechless.

His vague answer made me go to the computer and look it up: “Who’s considered middle age”. One of the search results on top of the list was an article from huffpost.com saying that according to a study, youth ends at 35 and old age begins at 58.

WTF? According to them I’ve been a middle age woman for the past 12 years and I’ll be old in 11?  Just like that?  Middle age?  That sounds like an insult to me.  Why the need to put a name on those years?  One should be young and then old and one can choose when they are old, because “you are as old as you feel”, right?   I don’t feel middle age.  I feel young or I feel old, nothing in between.   That article did not make me happy and I had my explosion in front of the computer.   Now I understand my husband.

These past days I’m feeling old.  Or better said, my body feels old.  For a while now my back hurts and on Monday I woke up with a stiff neck that it doesn’t matter how much I try to move it or massage it, it’s as my cousin’s grandma used to say: “Harder than boyfriend’s dick”.

So my options are: 1) complain – 2) do something.

Because I’m lazy, I chose option 1 and of course, it didn’t help me with the pain so I had to pick the second option and do something.

That’t when I decided to start working out a bit with the hope that my body feels as young as I do.

So far, I feel older because to the back pain I had,  I can add all kind of muscular pains in places I didn’t suspect there were muscles.  And I’m taking it really easy, less than 30 minutes a day.  I’m aiming to one hour but I’m not sure if I can do that at my age!




•September 23, 2019 • 4 Comments

I really don’t like to be repetitive but it seems that I can only write about the same things over and over again.  When did my life get so boring?

Last Friday I made plans that in my head sounded great and really doable.  I woke up at the usual time to get my children ready for school and the second they were all gone, I started making the cake for my youngest son 7th birthday that was the next day.

I knew that the cake was going to take about two hours from the moment I started mixing the batter until I got it out of the oven.  So if my calculations were good, I was going to be done with it at 9.45am.  Apart from the cake, I had to tidy up a bit because my landlord was coming with a plumber to fix a broken faucet and replace something from the heating system in the basement.  Again, in my head that was going to take less than one hour so for sure I was going to be ready before 11am and then have a full hour to write my blog before the landlord came here at noon.  I even had picked the song for my Friday I’m in Love post that usually takes me quite a while to decide.

But of course, NOTHING went the way I planned.  The cake was in the oven 35 minutes longer than expected.  I knew that if I started cleaning and tidying up I was going to forget about the cake and burn it like it happened so many times before, so I decided to stay in the kitchen and make some of the decorations I wanted to put on the cake while keeping an eye on it.   That kind of multitasking, anyone can do, right?

I wanted to make a little fondant banner with my son’s name.  I bought this silicon thing with bunting that is very easy to use.  Better said, it was very easy to use last month when I did the banner for my daughter.  On Friday, the stupid silicon mold decided to be a bitch and it didn’t matter how much I kneaded the fondant or how much I brushed it with corn starch.  The little flags got stuck in it and there was no way to remove them without breaking them.

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After many tries, I decided to stop doing the bunting and start cleaning before the landlord got here but I still had the cake in the oven and it was not smart to leave it alone.  So I cleaned a bit the mess in the kitchen while waited for the cake.  Then I tidied up the rest of the house and when I looked at the clock, it was after 11.30 so there was no way I could sit and write so I decided to change cloths and then maybe play my Words With Friends turns.   

I was kind of happy that I was going to have at least 15 minutes to rest.  I took my iPod, sat on the couch, watched outside and my jaw dropped when I saw my landlord sitting in her car.

“WTF!, it’s 11.45am!”  And then I remembered what my friend Esther told me a couple of years ago when I got on time to a meeting at school and everyone looked at me as if I had arrived 3 hours later.

“When German people say 10 o’clock, they mean 9.45.  Remember that”.

For a last minute person like me, 15 minutes it’s a lot of time.  And the last 15 minutes are probably the most productive minutes because it’s when I realize that it’s impossible to finish everything so I start running, grabbing and hiding everything I find on the way.

Before 11.50am everyone was here.   The plumbers couldn’t fix the faucet because they found that the problem wasn’t really the faucet but the pipes in the basement so they tried different things for over one hour without success.   They left around 1pm so I had very little time to hide the cake that was cooling down on the table before my children came back from school.

Saturday was even worse than Friday.  Nothing seemed to work.  After a few more tries, I got the bunting done but my plans to have the cake ready by 3pm, failed completely.    I finished 4.55pm and everyone was supposed to be here at 5 o’clock.

I can’t explain the level of stress and exhaustion I have and the things I should be doing but I’m writing my blog instead.


Why make plans?

•September 18, 2019 • 12 Comments

Why exactly people make plans?  They don’t work every time and in my case, it seems that they never do.   I’m tired of making plans and back up plans and just in case plans.  No matter how much I plan, there is always something that makes my plans go down the toilet.  And I’m not fine with that.

I had all this week perfectly planned and I don’t think I have done 5% of the things I wanted to do.  My youngest son didn’t go to school this morning.  He has absolutely nothing.  Well, maybe an acute case of laziness.  The problem is that he knows a trick.  The day before around dinner time, he starts complaining.

“Mami, I have belly ache”

“I’m sure you’ll feel better in the morning”

“But if I don’t, can I stay home?”

Ugh… Last year I sent him to school because I didn’t believe he was sick and he came back with a note from the teacher that I could translate as: “How the f#$k do you dare to send your sick son to school?!?”.  And that was nothing.   My son put his best acting face and said: “The teacher told us NOT to go to school if we are sick… but I went anyway and that’s not good.  I could have spread some disease.”

Now I really don’t know what to do.  I feel that I have that teacher watching my every move.  I don’t like it!

Children are so smart!  And we are so naive sometimes.  They have eyes and ears everywhere.  I remember when I was a child and adults tried to trick me or make me believe something while I was thinking how stupid they were for underestimating my intelligence.  All people grow up and lose their memory?  Really nobody remember their childhood?  I was the only smart child?  I don’t think so.  I’ve tried very often to trick my children and I have to admit that my success rate was very low.  The truth and a little explanation work much better and save a lot of time.

So my plans for the day are ruined again.  I’m amazed I could write because my boy is feeling kind of chatty today.  I have no idea what I’ll be able to do but I’m sure it’s not going to be what I wanted.  And that makes me pouty.

Let’s blame the hormones again.