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About nostalgia

Pituitary me tired. And also the hypothalamus. Over, releasing the little fuck that half of winter kept me on the surface and łubudu - lie. The pluses - a week has passed soon, though only because on Tuesday remain in a kind of stuporze. Even after the transfusion of jujitsu mats did not help *.

As a result, I decided to bake again this weekend, because it somehow helps. Even went to Polish shop, and there attacked me nostalgia. Miejsza already potato flour, which was in the basket I grabbed the still in question. I got a curd. But only at home, it turned out that I bought a pound of oatmeal! I do not know how or why, because as I live I do not remember I ever get them interested. And what's with them to do now? Indian Flakes? I think that it will not accept.

* admit that the workouts take on color: "Together legs. I know - the instinct, but fight it Fight! Knees together." In the male group, in a sense. Mina passing drivers - priceless.

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About Wanda

Again I dripping with happiness. I apologize in advance - last something like that comes out and admit that at times even slightly thought about some drama, tragedy, or even as a last resort upon reflection. Another upsurge

probably owe endorphin increased sporting activity. Apart from the usual frolics distance and a gym - I found another industry group of jujitsu. Yes - the vast majority of sport which is obłapianie and flipping the mats. Contrary to appearances, the extremely good taste. As if it was not most people do not feel the reflex of the train to the person dialing the moment we hand in the strange side and thrusting a knee into his ribs. So at least I have (usually). Waiting for lessons or even typically defensive, as a smokescreen to powder, or sneaky shot lipstick.

And the usual moves - the cookie. This time, inspired by the recipe found on the web , a blog White Plate (which I like very much and am a regular basis).

like to bake, though usually not long, so the perfect recipe. I certify that it was nice, nice and easy, no - except maybe the time in which each kicked in a jar of jam. It is - if Germany had such cookies, Wanda she could live.

with modification - raspberry jam messed 1:1 with blackcurrant and made them smaller. Well, I did not have paper for lining the molds, so I experienced moments of drama with a fork and spatula. No loss, thankfully.

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About Music

I love music. She's obviously me, too. Unfortunately - if you love her more stately and less passionately, it falls on its part is already in a mild obsession and stalking. We all remember that I lived at one time a wall in the wall of unfulfilled rock musician, n'est-ce pas?

przemrówkowałem As if there were * some time ago to Promyczka and everything was beautiful. Actually, for all is still good, but ... I see, "but." At our lives, no joke - the opera singer. Fortunately it is heard rather infrequently, though occasionally doors ... practicing. The first time it actually do not even believe.

above us and the lives of Irish couple who are clearly enthusiastic about classical hardshoe . What hardshoe ? Please:



Well, every morning starts with ballet. Podjrzewam that attach the bricks to the feet and occurs in the window on the door het, on ref. Probably not always work out, because sometimes he throws it against the door, and she smack him a stool. Are lovely, but seriously - sometimes I feel that the two of them fighting to the rhythm of furniture Gaelic folk.

dripping with happiness. I suppose the lack of problems would be able to bring everyone to tears by a psychotherapist. Though upon my word, once wypełznę of expression of the sixth, wespnę up the stairs and bite rate of the lap.

* means every day parenaśnie to come by with a backpack on the previous locale and amounted to little things. How so go on, you end up somewhere in the middle of March.