Nothing could have gotten me out of my state of despair these last days. Well, nothing is the wrong word, coz there was something. It was something small, something i could not control, something money could not buy... There were short shots of happieness: When I saw black birds against the sky, the red sun behind clouds, the colourful autumn leaves; when a fresh breeze touched my face like a friendly hand...
Well, I think it can explain a lot when you find a cucumber in your backpack one week after buying. Yes, the backpack I carry each day with me. Yes, I carried a salad cucumber one (!) whole week with me - each day.
I do not know what you like to eat, but here noodles are alltimes a great dinner. We usual have several different sorts at home and nearly each Saturday it is our meal by choice.
Today I tried something special. I have a new cooking book. It is about Italian cuisine. And it had a recipe for noodles. So I tried noddle dough. It was easy done. I formed the noodles and put them in a bowl for drying.
Well, I guess the bowl was not the best idea. Only some dried and the rest formed a big sort of a round stucture. So I had to form the big mass again and tis time i gave each noodle a place for its own. Tomorrow is Saturday. Our meal of choice? Homemade noodles.
I never know how one can have enough cookies. Here selfmade cookies seem to be inhaled. I made a quick recipe for oatmeal cookies. It is really fast, you do not need much for it and they are delicious. Well, I have to say the last batch was eaten in a swoop. To not coming in conflict with my diet - my sister told me one cookie one point of 18 I am allowed per day - I made big cookies (8 cookies out of a recipe for 50). So I have no problem to get them fit into my diet. Now I have to run - they smell delicious...
Sometimes my ramblings seem to make no sense at all.
I am on holiday - let's enjoy it....
Well, a crazy thing but it is very hard for me to enjoy something.
It is hard to feel proud of something.
It is hard for me to tell my wishes.
I can only explain it with the old story of how I was brought up.
I think it is a story I share with a lot of people.
My parents are/were loving people, but they had their difficulties.
One difficulty they had was that they wanted me to fulfill their standard of dreams.
I was the one they wanted to be the best, most loveable, beloved daughter.
They could not tolerate when I had an other opinion.
I can still recall the time my mother told me to stop laughing in public coz an aunt had told her my laughing was not nice (comparing my laughter with the bellow of goats). Or the time I had to stop playing cards with my family coz it bothered my mother that i won very often (just luck, no cheating).
It is very hard to believe that I am loveable. That I do not have to be the best alltimes. That I need not to work harder. That I am o.k. how I am.