Friday, October 29, 2010

Etc Engine Failsafe Mode

A landscape painter

How does a landscape painter who is preparing to paint a new opera? First, choose an image to portray: it may have been sudden inspiration to convince him of the subject, or there has long meditated, or even been to bring the case where the landscape, for its beauty or for a particular , hit him so that he dangled the idea of \u200b\u200ba new framework.

Anyway, now has its own theme. It sketches the design on paper or take a photo, but this second case involves a technological shift that distorts the whole of his work and makes an interpretation rather than an imitation. Now is the painter in front of the white canvas, Virgin, placed on a tripod. Grab a piece of charcoal and shows the design that has splashed on the paper. Here and there adds or subtracts something, depending on how the memory suggests, maybe sometimes closes his eyes to review the landscape in his mind.

Now is the time to make the palette and brushes: it begins to roll out the background colors, the blue sky, green grass in the foreground, the gray-purple of the mountains. It is probably the most tedious part of work, this preparation, but already on the canvas begins to appear in the soul of the landscape. The beauty is afterwards, when it passes to the finest brushes, and outlines figures that give depth to the picture: a bunch of edelweiss, a fence, two cows grazing, a group of larches. Now move to even smaller brushes and paints the most minute details: the embroidery on the leather band of cow bells, the cones of coniferous trees, the seeds of the edelweiss, the movement of a waterfall in the background there, veins wood of the fence, a snowfield on the far mountain, a hidden refuge, tufts of grass ...

When I write a story, I often act like that landscape painter: it can be sudden inspiration to hit, as news or read the newspaper or a memory out of oblivion by a conversation between friends, read a passage in some book. Or I racking their brains for something that we can tell, review the events of which I was the protagonist in the recent past or even date back to periods further away to friends and people I met, events I witnessed. Or fantastic, I venture into the territories of the absurd, I suppose that time is spent differently or not the past or even transportation facts now in the past or the future, always taking a look at Buzz, the author of my favorite stories .

is the time to make a sketch, not drawing, I write. And generally I write a poem in heroic verse, to be used as a track, more rarely a small stylus on the key points in the story that needs to happen. At this point the painter shows the sketch on the canvas. I turn on the computer, open a word processing program and start to put words - once I took a blank sheet of paper, a pen and began to leave traces of ink in the form of sentences. In this case I would probably have written: "How does a landscape painter who is preparing to paint a new opera?". Sounds easy, but it takes time to compose the opening words: it is one of the most important, especially in a short story, is the key with which they read or the business card that people writes extends to those who will read. And this is a difference between the narrator and the painter.

Then the work proceeds, however, parallel: if there is preparing the background, you write the whole story here. If you go beyond the figures, here they are introduced and re-read sentences and entire paragraphs. When the painter goes to finishing, painting the details, the narrator does the same filing and correcting, changing a word, choosing a different noun. When the last brush stroke and the last point are placed at work, painter and storyteller look as satisfied as they have produced.

Photo © Moritz

Wednesday, October 27, 2010

Houndour Pokemon Silver Gameshark

Guilt Pulp

By now you all know, the news is in the public domain. The octopus Paul, the legendary seer who became famous during the World Cup in South Africa for its weather, fits perfectly, was found dead in his bathtub precious crystal. The keeper of the aquarium Oberhausen Reverse has found lifeless in the water. According to news agencies, poor Paul died of natural causes.

But our correspondent in Oberhausen, the clownfish Nemo, we can reveal all backstage. Now the leaders of the aquarium dell'indovino have suspected that the death was not so clearly natural. Animated After consultations, reviewed all the major detective, Annelore Locascio, an employee of Italian origin has suggested to call the Inspector Montalbano. These, it was time for a holiday in Boccadasse flirt with Livia, already was tired and jumped at the chance to reach Oberhausen - also would investigate the torture of the flies but to abandon the oppressive and jealous girlfriend.

"Montalbano".
"Pleasure, I am the director of the aquarium. As I mentioned over the phone, we would investigate the death of Paul "
" Paul ... the purpo? "
" Yes, poor Paul. "

cataminò Montalbano, turned around the casket in which lay still catafero the purpo, Tupputi on the glass, as if hoping that Paul could arrisbigliari, then beginning to spy on some asking:

"Dutch around if they are not seen?"
"No, sir . We thought that we wanted revenge for the prediction of the final "
" The Germans instead? "
" No, the Germans loved him, everyone. After the 4-1 to England, then ... adored him "
" Sure there is around a few pieces of cheese, you know, the one with the red rind? "
" No, I assure you "
" Ah, but the Dutch are the main suspects ... However, potatoes? Tomatoes? Peas? You did not find the sauce? "
" No, but he says? "
" I thought ... No, you know, a good stir-fried "
" The octopus is there "
" And Ahmadinejad? "
" Like Ahmadinejad? "
" No, because he'd long ago shed words on the decadence of western people, our counter-charms ... You did not find an assassin around Iran? Qualichiduno varB longa with suspicion and fog? "

Suddenly ciriveddro of Montalbano addrumò like a light bulb, its scent hound's diciva qualichicosa that there was boring place. He noted a display case next to that of Paul purpo, intifica accurate, but vacant.

"And what is this? Secunda the home of Paul? "
" No, it's another tank: until recently there was a female of Octopus Vulgaris "
" No, let me know Pirch, explain better
"There was Mary, a female octopus. We moved to the aquarium of Genoa
"Genova ... Macari her! "
" How well? "
" No, look, do not worry. I was thinking about my girlfriend. "

Montalbano took a seat and you assittò front of the tank. Thallium purpo in the eyes. The look languid from cephalopod was even sadder off. "Epperforza, is dead," whispered the little voice in his head According to Montalbano. "Not now, I'm investigating." Thallium in the purpo longo and persuaded surfaces.

"Your purpo Paul was killed"
"But who says?"
"Suicide d'Amuri was"
"Love?"
"Paul and Mary were like one soul. When you transferred air attract Mary, Paul did not care to live longer. Accussi killed himself by beating his head on the edge of the rock. It is not known because the vucche, yes, the tentacles are all 'nzemmula, but the exterior shows the hematoma. He did it for so 'zita. I explained? And now I can tell the best Italian restaurant nearby? "
" There's Fork Golden
"He for the case of tilefono nummer?"
"Yes, look, it is written on the fold: it is an agreement with the 'aquarium'
...
"First, the fork of gold? Montalbano. I prenotari between half an hour for lunch? Okay. There the ancestral purpo in the wet? "

Tuesday, October 26, 2010

Butal Apap 325 Caff Mik

TICKETS CHRISTMAS DECORATIONS CHRISTMAS

I made some Christmas cards ..

this is the overview, the next days I will post the individual tickets.

To realize I have used 3D decorations purchased in Austria (thanks !!!), Katia colored card, pasta snow, gel pens and colored ribbons.

this is the first ticket ..

.. and this is the second .. I also added details
(pictured to the right are the details of the interior of tickets)

Cheat Chao Black Gpsphone



I know, Halloween has not arrived yet but are already struggling with the Christmas decorations. . in fact a bit 'soon, but soon I will be very busy and away abroad for work, so I decided to put me on ..

I realized of hearts in felt, embroidery floss with string and decorated with the ribbons .. What do you think?!?!

Advantages Histograms

A gift for me ...

Hi girls how are you?
here in Rome began to make a bit cold, and waiting for the right job-stage (because the proposals received so far have declined), I seek 'inspiration for some work.
Yesterday a friend of mine came to tea and tried to teach the use of ferri.Diciamo that I can but I much prefer my magic wand, that is the hook.
In the meantime I did not realize that a little bit, I will publish a gift from my girlfriend's cousin, at my specific request and supervision (as they are pretentious) just for me! A wonderful bag
wool bag with pom-poms! beautifully hot hot! Tell me if it is not delisioza!

Sunday, October 24, 2010

Women Adult Diapers Security

like every year .. HERE IS HALLOWEEN PUMPKIN!

Every year I like to carve a pumpkin for Halloween, and this year .. My father in law has grown especially for me with giant pumpkin seeds brought from America by my brother in law .. regalone that, in all senses!
do not know if you understand the photos, but the pumpkin was really big (weighing 50 kilograms will be!), Against the background of a picture you can see the little head of My cat .. You can get a sense of proportion!

pumpkin by day ...
pumpkin .. and by night!

Special thanks to Leardo who devoted part of his garden to grow these giant pumpkins .. I should go next week to carve another pumpkin .. I have some ideas for the next!

Friday, October 22, 2010

I Want To See My Mums Anus

A veteran

From a stack of paper sheets between whites and others, half-written with old thoughts and old heroic verse, is checked for that enchantment which is capable only time one of your old photograph. It's a long shot of the beach: you, in the foreground, sitting on a deck covered with a red towel in a line of umbrellas. Behind you can see the lifeguard with his striped shirt, later, after other swimmers, the sea of \u200b\u200bblue almost gray under a clear sky. Your hair is strangely free on the back - usually with a rubber band instead collect them - and you look like a vestal or a deity of the classical world. You wear a bikini, white, with little drawings, and with the right foot games in order to dig in the sand, then ricomporrai. I am the photographer of course, as always: my eye behind the lens for groped to stop time, to tear to shreds infinitesimal bits to be subtracted from oblivion. I did, though now rest thrilled to watch this small rectangle of glossy paper that tells me you can do more than the latest technological devilry.

After thirty years I am surprised that resemblance to your father at that time I did not notice: the mouth, the cheekbones are the paternal inheritance from your mother you've got the character and the ease in communicating with the world to me is so very difficult. Then you will have been sixteen, seventeen, perhaps. I, for one year Senior badavo to your exuberance, your body growing and I felt alive and pulsating breathing next to me in the long afternoons, evenings of music and bar, on the nights of moons and stars.

I think of Propertius, the Roman poet and Cynthia, his beloved: "Cynthia was the first, Cynthia will be the last ...". I take the blue book of his elegies in my library, looking up your photograph that I brought to mind: "I'm not for her what I was: a long journey changes the girls, much love in a short time is lost!" . There it is, it's really true: the trip in this case is the time, but the result does not change. For you are no longer what it was. Holding hands in this simulacrum, this brief moment etched in my memory, I feel like a veteran to come back from a long war, after thousands of miles, with tattered clothes and weapons lost: his world is changed and looks dismayed.

Kazuya Akimoto, "Woman lying on the beach"

Monday, October 18, 2010

A Lot Of Creamy Cm After Ovulation

CAP "CHANEL" Jacket



Buondi to all! is a quiet period, so I'm thinking and realizing the little things to wear all strictly handmade crocheted.


The thing that inspires me is the only creativity that slips out and suddenly I realized that it engages the idea shortly after, in fact for this hat took me a few hours.


I basically had 4 disks that form the dome, and have them sewn calculated above the empty space left, so did the fifth disc ce cucito.poi I clearly remained open areas (after merging circles) and then I made four roses and applied to cover them.


The style is a bit of Chanel cap 20 years.


I hope you'll like.


Hello girls!




Sunday, October 17, 2010

How Do I Turn On Camera For Oovoo On Macbook

RANGE OF SOCKS FOR BAPTISM ..

At the baptism of little Edward I presented my gift (a pair of pants and socks) in the form of a bouquet of roses:)


I rolled over their socks and then I decorated with a bouquet of fake leaves and crepe paper (to make a better idea of \u200b\u200bthe flowers).
Here are some details:

the roses and leaves ..

the base of the bouquet is a pair of pants rolled up ...

Here I leave you the link to which I was inspired for this bouquet of socks .. I hope it will be an inspiration for you and for gifts vs!



Friday, October 15, 2010

How Does Abortion Paper

Reunion

Here we are, around a table in the garden of a restaurant closed for the weekly service, in front of the cups of coffee, sugar sachets, bottles of mineral water, glasses with a finger of whiskey, ashtrays that smokers filled with cigarette butts. So many years later. Too many years later. Sitting in rehashing the past, to reconstruct pieces of lives and days and years, to remember who did not come to this reunion, watching those faces so changed since the last time we met, those bodies greased, his hair graying or thinning .

Gianni's telling of when he was in Thailand, we are explaining the wonders of a night club in Phuket. Listen to him as we listened to then, when we talked in the canteen of the world outside, that was not the College, the school. The Board

we were this morning, we had lunch there in that same dining hall, so changed since then: smaller, the walls painted orange, the modern tables, chairs colored plastic. At that time there were wooden chairs and tables covered with Formica, the walls were clear, a pale yellow. We remember well that color, when they punished us for some reason, even just for a glass of water spilled on the tablecloth, and remain standing for long minutes gazing at the wall. "Something to Telefono Azzurro" said Gianluca, "now denounce them all." Gianluca, "Vampire" because of its sharp teeth, is now revived in hospital and in the heart of Africa, children should be free to care for two months per year in Burundi. When we were at the bar for a drink, he told us of the endless misery that is there, moved us when we spoke of a beautiful child who was unable to rescue because it is over the local el'ambulatorio oxygen tank could not afford more. Now there is not, Gianluca: he returned to Milan, is on call tonight. But there was when we looked back corridors of the College, to sit and observe in classrooms, gazing at the mosaic that depicts a schoolboy to run in the rainbow. What a contradiction: to run in the corridors was considered a great failure, as well as shouting. But a couple of hours ago we laughed and ran, adults in those corridors that once had seemed so big to us, we stopped to observe the class photo to recognize in those guys so changed to recognize those who are not here today and to blame someone who has not even bothered to respond to the invitation. It's Patrick, "Cat", especially to be disappointed: he has arranged everything, he is the historical memory of our class: for each face of the photographs can give a name, know where he lived, and tell anecdotes of the times of the College . When I called to find new addresses, I immediately turned to help him.

And now we are here at the restaurant of Marco, who was unable to come to lunch because he had to work at noon. In fact the last customers were leaving when we arrived. Tonight is closed and we remain what we want. Marco Pierre continues to look: it is changed. We are all changed, except the few who have visited occasionally over the years. Paul seems lower, Gianpietro instead is higher as we point out, the other Gianpietro could not come - is in bed with the flu - but now everything is on the phone to tell us his regret. The cell "Cat" goes hand in hand: say goodbye to everyone, I salute you all. We will meet soon, we promise: Marco we will reserve a room. One winter evening we will meet again, all of them, many more.

Above we pass white light clouds in the blue sky: Year after year, I think. Pierpaolo perhaps intercept my eye: "Of course I have gone for years, guys. Think about that next Sunday I leave for Egypt, have been married for twenty years ... "

True, much time has passed. Too. We read in the wrinkle, in spectacles, in the receding hairline, the hair loss. But we are still us, the children's section A, as if we had these thirty-two years extra life on his shoulders, as if instead of the car in the parking lot there was still the bicycle leaning against the wall, as if at home instead of his wife, the companion, the mother of his girlfriend was waiting for us for dinner ...

Friday, October 8, 2010

View/view.shtml Liveapplet

In this uniform your soldier (3 )


(continued)

14. Merano, Delegation of the garrison, Monday, March 6, 1989 (44 sunrise)

to five. The Marshal and the police have now crossed the green gate and are returning to their homes. Spring spreads its effluvia, with the cherry trees in bloom on the hills, a pleasant warmth in the air. This infinite sweetness that comes with the sunset comes from the warm sun of freedom or the new sirens that enchant me? Throw the tennis ball in the yard. We begin to play soccer with the little ball using a solid green gate as the door. Beyond the railing is alive with the life flowing cars, motorbikes and bicycles. The orange buses stopping in the Municipal and leave loading and unloading people, the blue of the company entering the Dolomite deposit near, others share. The sun and in the valley of the mountains now darkness falls. Just a few days to leave, I boat in this new situation, I feel that all the efforts of one year fade slowly into the taste of freedom I am going to try again.

Now you do not see hardly any, the lights of the street, illuminate the windows of buildings. I place the ball and close the office. Ferrario door of the greenhouse Carabinieri Nucleo. Rossi looks at us in his new uniform and with his usual air of "What am I doing here?". I can not find words, but another look of melancholy beyond that gate where the road runs noisy. The apathy of a Monday when nothing else helps the relentless continuous flow of fine sand in the hourglass. I watch the last light falling on the mountains: I have an infinite tenderness in his heart.

15. Merano, Barracks Battisti, Thursday, March 30, 1989 (20 sunrise)

are the "Max" now. It's nice to get into a dormitory for grandchildren and others to be envious because I am parting. Do not take advantage of the situation, it is not my style. I want you to remember me as a "Max" and human understanding. Moreover, acts of hazing I've never suffered. Only a few "sbrandata" by congedanti. It was enough to make the bed and everything was all.

No, I do not miss this jargon barracks: I do not miss the "vurìa never", the "giassài," the "a bit 'mass'. I do not miss the "do not spend more," the "towers", the "Superpippo. Clear that it is a language for the initiated, that does not make sense out of here: Publishing would "definitely not" "sure", a disrespectful attitude towards a higher degree of band, a way of saying that time does not pass to make a certain thing, the Alto Adige and wool knickers.

I will miss the city, that is. I will miss the friends I've known this, and hardly know that I shall see. But, no more sadness, came into the room and scream: "Erect, by God, enters the Max!"

16. Verona, Porta Nuova, Tuesday, April 4, 1989 (15 sunrise) launches Verona

neon lights in the window glass mat and dusted. I'm going home for the other half of the ordinary license. I preferred to break it in two, eleven days instead of yarn I have chosen the way five six. I'll be back in Merano Monday. And I begin to anticipate the freedom in those six days home. The train stop in Porta Nuova is an hour-long strike of drivers. Behind the station there is a sky illuminated the sky of Romeo and Juliet - I am thinking. I know that that balcony and courtyard, the color of love written on the walls of the house. I know the ark in which every lover prays and throws his letter full of passion.

is a fairy this morning and blood of Verona: the watch from outside the station. It is as if the city had taken on the face of Juliet, her long fingers, his way of smiling, modesty, as if it were really made of the same stuff of dreams. I do not have time to reach the center: the train will start again soon. He proclaimed. Greeting Juliet, Verona greeting, I get in the cab thinking that in two weeks, I lay off ...

17. Merano, Lungopassirio, Tuesday, April 18, 1989 (a dawn)

They gave us permission to leave for the afternoon, we are swarmed by all Bosin in the April sun, light, like ghosts - in the jargon of the rest of the congedanti the barracks are called "ghosts" or "bourgeois." It comes after the compulsory levy of blood. Before that, in the past month we have called "Max" and when we walked into the room, shouting "Erect, by God, enter the Max." Now we sing "Alarm, we are middle class! / Son day and am not months. "

some days are planting the poles in the river, large dredgers stop on the rocky shore near the bridge Passer walkway that leads to a very remote areas. How Green 's water: it looks like opal! will be because of the spring.

And walking the walk behind the Protestant church, we paused to watch the workers who work in the warm air, asking the purpose of these posts, knowing a touch of pride that we'll leave before they end up, without knowing it.

The afternoon light flowing, the air of spring warms the heart. In the old way we finally enjoying the freedom that tomorrow will bring. We admire the windows and the orders of the downtown shops, the benches on the riverfront Liberty we stop lounging and watching the swirling white, well aware that this will disrupt our company tomorrow. We drink beer at the bar of Forst, wandering lost in the afternoon. Characters of a book by Hermann Hesse, have dinner together as a celebration of the return to life, free when you return soon the sun shine.

18. Merano, Bosin Barracks, Wednesday, April 19, 1989 (Dawn)

We could not sleep tonight. We were anxious that we waited congedanti dawn: the new sun that would bring freedom, a turning point in our lives after a year away from home. The adrenaline, anxiety, anguish we have allowed only brief intermittent sleep. It spoke in a whisper. Finally, the large windows of the room, overlooking the inner garden, in the East, the first light is filtered. "It's over! It's over, "echoed yell," Finished! After him, "said other items," It's over, "I cried too enthusiastic.

I had breakfast, thinking that for the last time I had that bowl of metal, those biscuits wrapped in foil cubes, that fruit juice for a toast to the handle of the fork. And then the parade, the last one. We congedanti already dressed in civilian clothes, with his hat on his head downhill at attention while the anthem played while the flag was hoisted on the flagpole. "Break the line!", The last command. So in the dormitory to take the mattress and sheets to deliver them in stock. "It's over!"

The captain gave us an appointment for ten o'clock in the lounge area. It came with the leaves, and one by one we signed. Major Cornacchione we gave a little speech about the future, about what awaits us out of here, on what is expected of us. As a father, gruff bearded man apparently was moved almost dark. We ran into the dormitory to take the bags, the precious rolled sheet in hand.

Varco for the last time the gate of the barracks: between me and freedom are now only a few meters. I greet the guard opens the gate, I look back once again to look at the walls painted yellow and brown, the flag flying in the sky, unsure of the meeting in April on the flagpole in the yard, the trucks that travel the avenues of barracks, the chores that sweep the sidewalks, life continues unchanged in this small world.

I'm out, I take off my hat with a black pen, surplus to life and I realize only now have found freedom, I am now going to taste the dirt road that leads to the road main. I look at the river sparkling in the sun in the morning: I had never seen so even when I crossed the bridge of the Holy Spirit returned from the Post. Now I see with the eyes of freedom and looks even more beautiful, with sky-blue clouds that are broken.


Merano, Barracks Bosin Leone ", April 19, 1989: Dawn

Wednesday, October 6, 2010

Where Can Buy Casings

URN BAGS FOR COLLECTION OF WEDDING MENU

always the legendary Silvia Bridal made the urn for the collection of the envelopes by tracing the romantic and sentimental mood of the bride (see also tableu tables).


Silvia was great for me! visit his blog ( http://thewonderemporium-mimmi.blogspot.com/ in the list of my links on the left)!

Nice Messages New Baby



These are the menus that I handed out on the tables for the wedding party .. I rolled to the center of the colored sheets to collect the dedications of the others ..


the idea of \u200b\u200bputting the sheets to each table came from the fact that a single book / notebook is likely that not all were able to leave a dedication because the book was not the around all the tables .. I do not know if this solution worked, when the newlyweds return from their honeymoon I'll find out:)

Complaints With Royal Canin

TABLEU DE MARIAGE

My colleague Silvia mythical finally realized this wonderful tableu de mariage! For me it was wonderful idea, which follows the romantic and dreamer the bride ..


it is a castle with the bride and groom placed on a drawbridge .. and now some details:


here is the bride and groom (note the chain of the drawbridge!)



.. there are flags and banners!
thanks Silvia!

Maytag Performa Vibration

handmade crocheted hot hot!

Hello to all girls! It was a long time since I graduated but I was away at specialist economics and management, and long vacations at sea, so forgive me but I had a bit to do!

But here I am with a new job, more like a draft-proof, since I never tried to prepare an article of clothing for adults.

First I want to tell how it went: I went to Lidl to shop, and a basket full of packages I have seen so many balls of wool ... the winter is coming and I want to be taken "crochet" But I had no idea what to do ... The patterns of the newspapers know that you know how to read them because I do not understand anything, so with all the points I made up my creativity and design.

Monday the brainstorm: to create a head that too 'I could make, and here is a special boat-neck cape, smooth up to the breast and big surprise .... disks attached to finish the front and back!

All repeat completament invented!

I hope you like it, perhaps a curious starting point for you!

ciaoooooooooo