Me? A mom? Yeah, right.

So, after four years of marriage I still say,"children? I'm too young for that. We'll think about it in 5 years."
Some days though I wake up thinking, "man, I think I'm ready to raise a kiddo." then the next moment reason hits me,"what are you saying, crazy girl?"
The thing is I'm slowing coming to grips with the idea.
The idea of childbirth is not what scares me the most. Neither the fear that I will screw up on the whole child-raising thing ... badly. No, no, no.
I'm mostly scared of no longer being the center of attention. Once you have kids you become Mom and Dad. Yup, that's your new names. Even your friends will call you that. I'm not ready for that. I like being Vika. Cute Vika. The only daughter and granddaughter Vika. Everyone's little girl Vika.
Once babies come, Vika is just going to be the mom of the new cute stuff in the fam.
I'm not making that up. I was told. I was told, "enjoy your privileges now, bc when our grandchild comes, everything that used to go to you will go to the baby".
That means the attention, the gifts, the special treatment, the spotlight. Where did it go? Baby took it!
I'm not ready for that.

Most critical election?

I laugh at the power the people give the elections and, by the same token, the president. I think that it is important to be mindful when you vote. I do believe the person in charge makes a difference. But hey, has anyone ever heard the saying "each people gets the government they deserve"? The president will not change the course of history. The people will. It is the mindset of the people that elects the president. So the person elected to be in power will reflect the thinking of the constituents. The president will not change America. America will choose the president that is more like the majority of the voting Americans. Nuff said.

Trade your dog for a homeless child

I watched a video about PETA's wacky demands yesterday. I always thought of PETA as a good, reasonable animal protection society. I guess I was wrong. I had no idea they did so many wacky things.
Now I'm here wondering what PETA would say about this famous Brazilian rock song sang by Eduardo Dusek that goes "trade your dog for a homeless child".
"People are different," goes another song. Face the truth, people are more important than animals.
How come fertilized animal eggs are protected as if they were sacred material? Are they more important than fertilized human eggs who can be destroyed in the name of choice?

I love animals too, and I don't think they should be treated with cruelty. But, yes, a homeless child should have precedence over a pet.

I don't think that the rocker guy was saying that we should all just dump our pets. But why spend millions on our dear animals while letting children go hungry in the streets?

Whose side are we on when we care more for the well being of another species than that of our own? Does the word self-preservation mean anything to the human race?

"People are different"

Ayrton Senna from Brazil!

To end the children's month with a golden key, another one of my childhood. I'm here watching a documentary about Ayrton Senna and crying my eyes out... Nostalgia ... I miss that wonderful jingle along with Galvão Bueno's scream, "Ayrton Senna from Brazil!" Any Brazilian who lived in the 80's or 90's remembers this famous line.

Senna was our hero. He started as a nobody.  Upper-middle class boy, it is true, but a nobody from a third world country in the world of Formula 1. He stood out in karting, then came to Formula 1 in 84 and soon showed everyone he had come to stay. He surprised everyone with his geniality. In wet circuits, he was king. He won three world championships and more pole positions than any racing driver in history. Ayrton became the great phenomenon of Formula 1. He was a fighter who came, saw and conquered. But he never forgot Brazil, this suffering and injusticed country. Our flag was something he always carried with pride. The rich boy didn't even forget the poor of his country. In secret, he donated fortunes to our poor children, and when he was still alive, created what would be called the Instituto Ayrton Senna.

Can I imagine my childhood without seeing Senna racing - and winning? I can not. Sunday was the day to go to church and watch Ayrton win. Win and carry, with pride, our flag with him. At a time when we had so little to be proud of in this country, every victory of his was a victory of the Brazilian people.

And those of us who lived through the 90s will never forget the words of Roberto Cabrini, "Ayrton Senna da Silva is dead. News we never wanted to give. Ayrton Senna da Silva is dead." A black day in the history of Brazil. A black day in my history.

He was gone so early, but he left his mark on every Brazilian - the message that we who are born on this Tupiniquim land can be somebody.

Senna was and always will be the great hero of my childhood.

Elections here and there

Elections for mayor in Salvador were held yesterday. The winner was ACM III, the grandson of a man who used to be called the boss of Bahia. People voted for him because he "robbed, but he got the job done". Considering that elections for president in America are coming up, I figured I'd write here a little bit of what I thought about what happened there:

The jingle of the ACM Senior went like this, - "Do you remember me? I've never seen you so lonely. Cuddle of mine, darling of mine, my Bahia!"

From what I saw yesterday on facebook, ACM III could have sung the same jingle in these elections. Everyone was so desperate with the deteriorating condition of this beautiful caiptal of Bahia, that ACM III was celebrated as a hero simply for being elected.

I have not been following the politics of Bahia. But I have been hearing about the abuses of the dirty politics game that has been played there.
I never liked that old story from ACM's time : he robs, but he gets the job done. Admitting that you're a thief is little better than gross jerkiness.

But I know that in the real world nobody is 100% good. In fact, according to the word of God, no one is good, no one does good. So I believe that instead of saying "he robs, but he gets the job done", let's say "the lesser of two evils". Hopefully this elected mayor is a politician who fights for the interests of the city and do what is best for the citizens of Salvador.

But by the same philosophy that no one is 100% good, let's not forget that politics is no hero, no politician brings salvation of the fatherland. I do not care who you voted for - your candidate is not a hero. Is not and never will be. Let's not admit it is ok to rob! He gets the job done? Ok, so let's get him in power and keep an eye on him so that he will not rob ... much.

You citizen, you who went and voted and celebrated your victory at the polls, and even you who, I-don't-know-why-on-earth, have voted for the other guy, you still have a job to do, your civic duty is not over yet.

Watch, demand, criticize what deserves criticism and praise what deserves praise. Do not swallow their pills, do not sit back and hope, do not wait for the next four years. Know your councilors, write to them expressing your opinion, be informed and make your voice heard. And if your voice is not heard during the rule of these men, leave a message at the polls in the next election. But do not wait until then to act again.

Politics is part of life for a community. Citizens who are politicized is the essential part of a democracy. Only politicized citizens will not let politics turn into a dirty game. Only with politicized citizens will the men placed in power not do what they want to us. Only with politicized citizens will we build a democracy that's evolved and honored.

Seeing the American and Brazilian politics through history, I realize that when citizens are not apathetic to public life, men placed in power understand that they have to answer to a higher power- their constituents.

I end this post with a great truth which I've heard all my life:
The fate of those who are not interested in politics is to be controlled by those who are interested. Do you want to be controlled by others whose moral and good manners you doubt? Or would be interested and keep them under control?

Beatles copying Justin Bieber?

this was reposted by a friend of mine on facebook:

And this was the answer some dude gave on a comment:

Your full question was:

Are the Beatles copying Justin bieber?

I was thinking, the beatles have copied justins haircut, musical style and numerous other things. Isn't this illegal?

Let's break it down, shall we?

Q: Are the Beatles copying Justin bieber?

A: No.

Q: I was thinking,

A: No, you were NOT thinking.

Q: the beatles have copied justins haircut, musical style and numerous other things.

A: The Beatles had the haircut which I assume you mean circa 1963 to 1966. Justin Bieber was not yet born in 1967.

Q: Isn't this illegal?

A: Assuming the style had actually been copied, NO, it would NOT be illegal. Twisted Sister wore makeup. KISS wore makeup before THAT. Alice Cooper, T Rex et. al. wore makeup even earlier. Musical style was copied from The Beatles? Hardly. The Beatles rock, Justin Bieber sucks. Enough said about the musical "style" of Justin Bieber.

Little 12 year old girls love Justin Bieber's "music". Granted, many 12 year old girls loved (and love) The Beatles' music. However...if a 17 year old guy were to say then (or now) that he thought The Beatles were great, many would express agreement. Should a 17 year old guy say Justin Bieber were great he would (after being laughed at, ostracised, et cetera) have his sexuality called into question. Comparing Justin Bieber to The Beatles is like comparing apples to something that is NOTHING like an apple. Claiming that The Beatles "copied" Justin Bieber is like claiming that Ludwig von Beethoven "copied" Reginald Dwight (Elton John). Should that analogy have gone over your head, please note that Ludwig von Beethoven lived in the late 18th century to the early 19th century, whereas Elton John began in the late 20th century and continues into the early 21st century. However, that analogy lacks something. Mainly the fact that for it to be a really APT analogy, one would ALSO have to assume that Elton John is an untalented hack. In conclusion, it hardly seems likely that The Beatles somehow managed to travel through time, see Justin Bieber, and basically say, "This bloke's 'music' is horrible!!! But, little 12 year old girls seem to like him. Here's a thought! Let's go back to our own time and emulate him so we can be popular." Assuming that this DID in fact happen, The Beatles mucked up. They actually got people with musical taste to like their music, rather than simply tone deaf 12 year old girls with no musical taste. Brian Epstein (The Beatles' manager), while trying to get The Beatles a recording contract, would tell the prospective agent that "The Beatles willl be bigger than Elvis" (Presley). Many managers in the 1960's would say that about artists whom they were trying to get contracts. Brian Epstein was the only manager to make the statement about his artist and be proven right. The Beatles copied Justin Bieber? Hardly.

Camp is good and bad

Today the weather reminded me of mornings at camp.
I like and I don't like thinking about camp.
It's good because it brings back such wonderful memories.
It's bad because I know I will never have them back.
There's nothing about my childhood and teenage years that I miss more than camp.

Brazilians and the temperatures

Transcription from you tube.

85 º F or moreBaianos (people from Bahia) go to the beach, dance, sing and eat acarajé.Cariocas (people from Rio de Janeiro) go to the beach and play soccer.Mineiros (people from Minas Gerais) eat cheese in the shade.All the Paulistas (people from São Paulo) are in Santos, facing 2-hour queues in bakeries and supermarkets in the region.Gauchos (people from Rio Grande do Sul) deplete the stocks of sunscreen.

75 º FBaianos do not let the kids outside after 5 PM because of the cold wind.Cariocas go to the beach, but do not enter the water, because it is too cold.Mineiros eat cowboy's beans.Paulistas have barbecues in their coastal homes in Santos, but no longer go in the water.Gauchos complain about the heat and make no effort due to physical exhaustion.

70 º FBaianos change the showers to position 'Winter' (hot water in an electric shower)!Cariocas wear a sweatshirt.Mineiros begin drinking rum by the wood stove.Paulistas decide to come home from Santos, and traffic turns into that well-known hell.Gauchos go sunbathing in the Redenção park.

60 º FBaianos tremble uncontrollably from the cold.Cariocas gather to eat fondue.Mineiros continue drinking rum by the wood stove.Paulistas are still stuck in traffic jams on the way back from Santos.Gauchos begin to drive with the windows down, because there's a fresh air outside.

50 º FBahia declares state of emergency.Cariocas use full-length coats, wool under-pants, gloves and wool hats.Mineiros continue drinking rum and put more wood in the stove.Paulistas have already arrived from Santos and go all to the same pizza place in the same mall causing traffic jam in the city.Gauchos consider the possibility of putting on long sleeve shirts.

40 º FBahia enters Armageddon.Mayor César Maia launches Rio's bid for the Winter Olympics.Mineiros continue drinking their rum and add some mulled wine, still by the wood stove.Paulistas crowd hospitals and clinics due to diseases caused by temperature inversions.Gauchos shut the windows of the house.

32 ° FLife in Bahia or the entire Northeast is now extinct.In Rio, Cesar Maia wears 7 coats and launches 'Snowboarding in Rio'.Mineiros enter alcoholic coma by the wood stove.Paulistas do not leave home and give high levels of audience to Luciana Gimenes TV shows.Gauchos get ready to barbecue in the courtyard, before it gets cold.Source: http://bobagento.com/brasileiros-em-varias-temperaturas/

Peter Pan and the Nutty Boy

October 12 is Children's Day in Brazil. Just another excuse for candies and toys ... until Mom and Dad decide you're too old to be a child. Then October 12 is just like any other day.

I think most of us who grew up in the twentieth century know the story of Peter Pan, the boy who did not grow up. He lived in a place called Neverland. He could fly between our world and his. He could fight against the evil Captain Hook. The only thing he could not do was grow up.

When I was six years old I discovered poem of the ultra-romantic author Casimiro de Abreu "My Eight Years Old." "Oh how I miss the dawn of my life, my sweet childhood, that years bring back no more" ... Casimiro died at age 21, he had barely begun adulthood, and already he was missing his childhood ....

What was it that Casimiro knew? That Peter Pan knew? And I? What was it that I knew? I was only six years old and already knew that would be forever my favorite poem. ... I never wanted to grow up. Oh, yes I knew that I had a very special thing, and that it would not last forever. It did not last. Time came and took it away from me.

The first time I realized this was happening was on that day at the amusement park, when they barred me from entering the jumping house. Too big, they said. Too big? But last year I went in! How am I too big? It was the time playing its tricks on me. Years later, senior in high school, the teacher gave us all, pre-college students, lollipops on Children's Day ... And we mentioned to each other that in college no one would give us lollipops on children's day. Next year nobody would look at us and see a child ... It was time doing it to us again. The merciless time that not even Ziraldo's Nutty Boy could handle. Time came and made us all grow up.

So many kids out there wanting to grow up fast, wanting to be grownups. Ah, I never understood why. Why would you want to leave the simpler part of your life? The more careless part? That part where everything is possible, and where dreams and reality are almost one and the same? So many kids out there having to grow up too soon - for lack of choice that life gives them. Having to be grownups, to take care of themselves and take care of others sometimes. So many kids around having to bear responsibilities that life has brought upon them too soon. And you want to let go of your sweet childhood out of your own free will? Why?

Growing is fun sometimes, it's true. To grow is to live. Life is full of experiences. One after another. And with every new experience, a little bit of the child goes away. A little more of the adult arrives.

Growing up takes away so much ... so many things that we can never get back. The naivety of childhood will never return. The lack of care ... well, we can even have that back, but ... it will give you so much trouble ... better not. Growing up is learning to be responsible for ourselves and for others. It is learning that the only sensible choice is to be responsible.

Growing up, said one of  Marco Nanini's character, is slowly moving away from your feet. Actually, after that belly decides to sit there in the middle, those feet that once came all the way to your mouth, will never get as close and as easily. So it's true. Growing up is inevitable. How sad this fate of ours - Those of us who are classified as living beings in science class, in third grade - they are born, grow up, reproduce, grow old and die. Yeah there you have it - it is written in our homework, in our exam, in our textbook. Just as growing old and dying, growing up  is inevitable. ...

Stop! Stop everything! Says who? Growing up in the outside, yes. Stop being a child inside? Ah, that is optional, brother. Being a child is knowing to dream, to play, to run and to jump, to marvel at the little things of life like they were big things. You sing aloud, dance and act goofy and are oblivious to who's looking or who quit looking.

One day, said Ziraldo, the Nutty Boy grew up. He grew into a nice guy. But a real nice guy. He turned into the nicest guy in the world. And it was then, that everyone found out he had not been a Nutty Boy. He had been a happy boy.

I think the Nutty Boy never stopped being a child inside

Girl

Girl! The day I met you, you were just a child
Now you come to me, out of the blue,
Beautiful, turned into a woman

Girl! How could I love you now ...
I held you in my arms, little girl
I sang for you to sleep ...
I sang for you to sleep ...

Remember an ugly girl
So shy, bare feet on the ground
Today so malicious
She keeps secrets in her heart
Secrets in her heart! ...

Girl! So many times I've made her cry
Finding amusing whenever she said:
"When I grow up I will
Marry you "
Girl!
How could I love you now ...

I've carried you in my arms, girl
I sang for you to sleep ...

I sang for you to sleep ...
I sang for you to sleep ...
I sang for you to sleep ...

minimum payment

My credit card's jut sent me this month's bill. Nothing beyond the ordinary. There it was my expenses, my reimbursements (for a purchase done and returned to the store 10 minutes later - because I found cheaper stuff at the store nearby), payment date and minimum payment. Yes, of course, the famous minimum payment! That more palatable amount you can pay each month without affecting your credit history.
It was this minimum payment that caught my attention.
The minimum payment, mind you, is $ 2.52
...
$ 2.52 ....
Shoot!! Can you imagine that? Paying $ 2.52 per month for a credit card bill? I guess this is meant to be funny.

Say I never use that card again. Also say that no interest incurs on my outstanding balance each month. Wanna guess when - just a wild guess, no need  to count ... just guess how long it would take me to finish paying my bill if, every month, I made that minimum payment!

Boy, I could not resist. I sat down and added the blessed numbers. Wanna know it? Dying to know? Well then prepare your funeral. Here's the answer:

64 years!! Yes, my friend, this bill gave the Paul McCartney song "When I'm 64" a whole and enlightening new meaning ...

that smell coming from the kitchen

There's a sweet, sweet smell coming from the kitchen, and it is making me sad. It is a wonderful smell. It's not my cooking, but it is wonderful nonetheless.
It makes me sad because it brings back the memories of a time that's all gone.
My husband just bought this liquid potpourri that smells like apple cinnamon. The thing mixes with the smell of fresh bananas and bring me back the memories of boiled plantains.
Boiled plantains means breakfast at grandma. And breakfast at grandma's means my life in Brazil.
Days like today, when I have to stand outside at 7 am in a bitter cold of 41 degrees, make wonder why did I trade my always warm hometown for this ever cold place. What was I thinking? Days like today make me wonder if I am ever going to be warm again.
"Oh, how I miss the dawn of my life, my treasured childhood, that years bring back no more."

Seven years as a Shepherd

Seven years as a Shepherd
Sonnet by Luis de Camoes (free translation by Vika Winters)

Seven years as shepherd Jacob served
Laban, father of Rachel, beautiful mountain girl;
but he did not served the father, he served her
and she was the only pay he desired

The days, in the hope of one day,
he passed, contenting himself with only seeing her;
But the father, using stealth,
instead of Rachel, gave him Leah.

Seeing the sad shepherd, that, by deceit,
he had been denied his shepherd girl,
as if he had not deserved her,

promptly serving another seven years,
said: I'd serve even more, if it weren't
for such great love, so short a life.

don't look American

We went to the Big E for an un-stressing session, much needed after this long, complicated week. We arrived in the middle of a parade and some people were walking around giving out American flags. They offered Dean one. OK... and me?
No, of course they did not offer me an American flag! I don't look American, do I?
Well, obviously not. Since the flag guy walked right by me, without even wondering whether or not I might want a flag.
No one thinks I am American.
But no one ever even suspects I am Brazilian.
Should I mention the amount of people that come to me speaking Spanish as if it was the most natural thing in the world to assume I can reply?
At the subway station, at the Mexican restaurant, at the train station, at Walmart, at the airport ... you name it. Some Spanish-speaker is bound to come to me and try striking a conversation as if it were an obvious, unquestionable fact that I am one of them.
Everyone looks at me and immediately thinks, "Mexican!" "Puerto Rican!" "Hispanic of some sort!"and opens his Spanish dam on me.
Why does it not occur to anyone that I might be from Brazil?
You know, Brazil! That ridiculously huge spot that takes over the majority of the South American map. Right! It's not just a black hole! It's an actual country. I could be from there. Does it not occur to anyone? Oh, of course not. After all, we are only the 5th largest country in the world.
Why does it not occur to anyone that I might be Brazilian and actually speak Portuguese?
Don't take me wrong. I am proud of my language skills. And I love to show off and let people know that I can speak 4 languages.
But I do have a problem with the assumption. Don't assume I can speak your language. That's when I'll try my best ignorant Brazilian accent and go like "No hablo español!"

The humming bird

A long time ago, there was a fire in the forest. All the animals in the forest started running away. In the middle of all this mess, while lions, leopards, monkeys, birds, giraffes, elephants, bears and armadillos ran for their lives, a little humming bird traveled back and forth.

The little humming bird would fly all the way to a brook, get a drop of water in his beak, then fly all the way back to the fire and drop the water on it. He did that again and again.

One of the animals, noticing the attitude of the humming bird, laughed at him, and asked, “What are you doing, humming bird? Don't you see you'll never put out this fire all by yourself?”

The humming bird replied, “I am doing my part.”

Eighty years young and a tragic end

She was a young lady of eighty years. She had so many stories to tell ... if she could talk. But she did not speak. She did not know how. She told her story in her wrinkles and her size. The task of speaking was left to others. And one thing she did better than anyone - she was always there for all of us - calm, imponent, shady - as a mother looking after her children wisely. How many times we've ignore her. How many times have we thought she would always be there. Under sun and rain, wind and snow.
 
Until, one day, they came after her. It was a Tuesday. And when I left for work, she was still there.

And on that day they came. Mercilessly, they toppled her. She said nothing. She did not ask for help. She could not. She did not know how. She was silent ... until her death.
 
When I came home that day, I saw her no more. She was gone. Gone was her trunk, her branches, her leaves. Gone. Never to return. Only the stump still reminded us that she had existed. For eighty years she existed. And, unannounced, she left us. Without even giving me a chance to say goodbye.
 

Who was she? Eighty years ago, it was planted by our neighbor and his first-grade classmates in front of the school where they went. A tribute to their retiring principal. For eighty years this tribute grew and gave us all shadow and protection. ... Until the day that unscrupulous people came to destroy it. Without mercy. Without even the right to do so.

Underneath its roots, protecting a secret, a time capsule. A capsule we all still hope to find, and finally provide her this final honor - At least the dignity of having the secret entrusted to her, and held until death, rescued into the world.

To me, I can only say what I wasn't allowed to before: Goodbye.

Heights and coasters

Ok, so I am a wimp, ok! Yes, I am afraid of heights, darn it! I admit it!

Dean and I love to find new places to go for a walk and this other day we followed the train tracks to a bridge. 

He asked me to walk over the ridge with him. I said yes, of course! But, as soon as I looked down, I began hyperventilating. He was already halfway through to the other side, and here I was, looking down, petrified, hyperventilating.

He laughed at me.

Wait ... HE LAUGHED AT ME??? NO ONE LAUGHS AT VIKA!!! ... Well, except for her husband.

Now, wait a minute, you ask, how does a roller coaster fan is afraid of heights? Simple, very simple, my friend – Fear excites me as long as I know I can't get hurt. People don't plunge to their deaths while riding roller coasters. Except, of course, in the case of that girl at the Hopi Hari park, who was ejected from a defective seat of one of those shoot-up tower rides. But, think with me, if there is a chance of a ride seat being defective and killing,, how much greater are the chances that, while walking on abandoned train trail bridges, a quarter mile above a river, you will step on with missing parts and rotting wood and fall to your death!

You know when they say in the movies, “don't look down!” and someone does look down? And then they fall and die, don't they! Well, I will bet you a million dollars that would be me:

“Vika, don't look down!”

And, on my gravestone, one will read, “Her last word was 'What?'”

life soundtrack

Do you imagine your life with a sound track? Do you have a theme song? I can't imagine my life without music in the background. And for everything I do, there is a song playing in my mind in the back ground.

Does that sound weird? How could it be any different? If you grew up in the same time I did, and in the same situation I was, you'll understand it.

I have grown up in a time where lives of people, real ones and imagined ones, were told on TV every day, all the time, as series, shows, novelas, movies, music videos, commercials and anything else one could fit in that little blue light screen.

I have also grown up in a time where we could carry our music with us everywhere we go. In the car, in the purse, attached to our bodies.

Then every where I go there is music playing. The mall, the store, the restaurant, the school. Music is everywhere in the background.

How could I possibly view life in any other way but with a sound track?

Things I love about about people on TV

You know those times when you're sitting down watching your TV show or movie and then the people in the screen do something that you go like - that only freaking happens on TV!!! 

Yeah, TV people are funny. They do things that no one in real life does! I am not talking about time traveling or flying with a cape on, or jumping off a cliff on a motorcycle and make your way into a flying airplane. No, because, when you watch a fiction story, you sort of expect those things to happen. I am talking about daily things that they do that makes no sense whatsoever. Only on TV. I'm talking about things that look normal, but, well, aren't. 

Usually they have to do with sex, but not always. I'd say don't read this if you are underage, but hey, you've seen this on TV, so go ahead and read for fun... just don't try it at home ...

Here is a few examples:

Example #1 – A couple went to bed last night and they made love. Then they fell asleep. It's morning and they get up from bed - they have clothes on! Whoa! Did they master the art of having sex with underwear on or the art of changing back into exactly what they had on the night before under the covers without anyone noticing the commotion?

Example #2 – A couple wakes up in the morning and starts kissing passionately … without brushing their teeth!!! What is wrong with this picture? Well, unless I am the only weirdo who suffers from morning breath and does not wish to share with my husband, they either secretly sucked on breath savers right before they opened their eyes or they have a strange addition to nasty tasting kisses.

Example #3 – NOT A SEX ONE! When a person is being chased inside their house they run upstairs. Because the safest place to be when fleeing a maniac is cornered at the top of a tower.

Example #4 – Another one on waking up in the morning. Everyone wakes up perfectly made up, shaved and with their hair done. I want the number of their hair salon.

Example #5 - Nothing ever possibly goes wrong before wild sex. Nothing! The clothes come out like butter. Hair is always lose but it doesn't accidentally end up on partner's mouth. No one goes like... I haven't showered today yet.

If you think of more of this stuff, (again, it doesn't have to be about sex scenes...), send it over the comments. I would love to hear your TV insights.

See you next week!

Afraid

In these past days I've been following my little plants growing. My tomato and pepper flowered. And I thought, gee I'm not a total incompetent. Is it going to bear fruit soon?But at the same time, when I stop to think more deeply on the subject of planting and harvesting, I'm afraid.This week I went with my husband to Plymouth, the city started by the Pilgrims who fled religious persecution in England.They have a village called Plimoth Plantation, which recreates life in 1627. Each family has its home, each house with its garden. They planted and ate the fruit of their labor. There was no electric light, no telephone, no mall. But everyone had enough to eat, what to wear, and how to protect themselves from cold. They landed there in 1620, a desert land (because the local Indians had been decimated by disease), and in less than seven years had a self-sufficient life.And we? We depend on the fragile technology that surrounds us. What would we do if, suddenly, we had no electricity? We lost all ability to survive - the one our ancestors had mastered so well.Is our life more fragile today than it was back in 1620? We have cures for many diseases, better control of nature, but not by our own abilities - it's thanks to technology - technology based on electricity. If we lose our beloved electricity, what have we left? we are accustomed to a life of comfort, and forget that it could collapse any time. And if it crumbles, what have we left?And why go that far? Why go back to 1620?My grandmother certainly led a life far more self-sufficient than me. My grandmother certainly had more knowledge of how to survive than me. That was 70 years ago! How is it that in three generations all that knowledge that was passed on from parents to children has been lost? Knowledge of thousands of years ... lost - because the current technology made it unnecessary. But the current technology lives literally hanging by a thread. What if the thread breaks? How unprepared we are to survive! We do not know how to treat animals for own consumption, plant gardens for subsistence - in school I learned that whoever did that was the poor peasant. We, people of big city, practice the following subsistence culture - the supermarket. We don't even know how to make our own clothes! 
 I'm afraid - afraid that much valuable knowledge is lost forever. And one day we might need it.As I wish I could bring back the tradition of passing knowledge and traditions from parent to child.