Emphasising the curves

Of course not mine! I don't have any! And it's been officialy stated since yesterday... when I bought the smallest size of jeans ever, namely XXS. Well, if I am to be honest - skinny jeans are supposed to be skinny. Does it apply to the one who wishes to wear them? The name speaks for itself, doesn't it? In this way of thinking a croissant - which by definition is bread with a curved shape - is supposed to be with a curved shape, yet not necesssarily bread. We (we?) have to offer much more than that! Saint Martin croissants! Mind you, Poznań Rogal świętomarciński is protected by patent so don't try to fool yourself into believing that you know what it tastes like if you ate it outside Wielkopolska Province. But who am I to say so? Ok, I'm in no way - not in the slightest bit - a legitimate resident of Poznań as:
a) I don't overuse the irritable and omnipresent 'teeeeeej!'(unless for the fun of it);
b) I am willing to change money when somebody needs 2zł to leave the stuff in a library locker;
c) I don't wear red socks with green trousers, a leather jacket and a dazzling pink woollen bag;
d) I don't give a tiny rabbit's ass about whether Lech Poznań wins or loses ;p

But still... if November the 11th* is to be celebrated** by eating (in my case trying) St Martin croissants then I'm 100% on board, especially if I'm given home-baked babies. It doesn't matter they weren't well-advertised as supposedly 'the husband' added too much almond oil as I don't look a gift horse in the mouth and gift sweets under puffy crust. Thus, they were delicious... as pretty much everything that happens to have more sugar than salty sticks (which surprisingly have quite an amount of the sweet substance***). However, the fact that I needed literally two weeks to eat them does not actually add to their excellence but to the fact that my new skinny jeans are not skinny without a reason ;)


* how come the only thing that comes to my mind hearing/writing/encountering/reading dates is the idea/trouble of teaching them to students and the problems they have/had/are going to have/are having/have had/have been having/ (what other tense or structure should I mention?) with remembering that 'in' is for months and 'on' is for dates?
** what a lame excuse we make up for yet another occasion to gorge ourselves.
*** I'm learning to substitute some words and expressions with their synonyms (MA thesis in the making).

Los tres mosqueteros

Ladies and Gentleman, this evening I am more than happy to introduce a highly noble hit of the season (which, by the way, I hope is about to hit more seasons :)) of which I'm in awe and which keeps calm despite the whole fuss I create.
Boys and girls, feel pleased to have the honour of getting to know Mr know-all Walnut, Mrs cuddly Almond and Mr Cashew the Bruiser :D
Something I helped myself to during one of passionate lectures at UAM when every minute seems to be an eternity and every word of the prof. K. seems to weigh thousand tones (nevertheless, I am glad I'm back... There is some magic indeed in those meetings every other week - thanks to my girls, I guess, and my unrestrained hunger for knowledge).
It is how I discovered how brainy Spaniards can be, how expensive it is to travel to the south of Europe, how to make a calorie bomb out of already calorific nuts and... what is the best dummy for a miniature flagpole once you feel like taking a photo for your blog ;)

And in the present state of my mind (what/who is in it), my taste in music (what gives me goose pimples) and my bikini area & legs (how smooth they are ;D) the three musketeers come into even greater prominence. With clean (washed??) conscience and power I can revise (shouldn't I know something in the first place so as to revise? ;p), improve and learn (the last word seems the best)* Spanish.
And so I read what they write on the package and I feel as if my love towards the language is expanding (Dear English, you are still my number one... though sooner or later I'm to have a (secret?) lover) -> "Soy vital" is something I can still react calmly and reasonably to (yet I believe it 100% which is not all that reasonable) but "Bañados en chocolate" literally flies me to the moon. It's pure poetry and I wouldn't put it in a more delicate, ethereal and tempting way myself ;)

Entonces, ya que estoy escribiendo una nota sobre nogales españoles tengo que presentar mi mísero nivel de la lengua ;) Creo que hay un poquitito peligro que mi estimados mosqueteros no van a entender inglés y este sería impensable

* I've noticed there are (too?) many digressions in what I write. I think too much... if it's possible. I guess should clean my mind before cleaning anything else <- nothing particular in mind.

Peas and carrot for peace and quiet

In order to relish tranquility, equanimity, to keep one's head and one's attained weight. I'm telling you, once you notice:
- that the pair of old trousers (the ones that are one size smaller) fits you;
- that your belly does not shake like a bowl full of jelly (regards, Santa!!) once a bus tries to get through yet another street under construction (God, bless EURO 2012!);
- that your legs could not look more gorgeous in the lycra-tights-and-a-smart-mini combination;
- that you intimidate* boys (or should I say men?) and piss off* girls (as I am the only proper woman in a crowd) with your shape (* pretty much everything you wish to do :))
... you feel like peas and carrots are your best friends indeed! The satisfaction is the biggest prize ever.

I am not saying you are to eat vegetables only but rather to be a bit calorie cautious and make use of your counting skills gained during primary school (really! it's all you need -> adding 100kcal contained in 'kefir' and 70kcal contained in one apple does not sound like complex mathematics).
But it's not all I eat, God forbid! There is plenty (a highly subjective issue, supposedly) of room for eggs, TESCO bread (do not confuse with the cheap one), milk and even a square of dark 'Wedel' in the morning (sometimes I feel like this is the only reason why I am willing to get up at 07.07 am ;)).
however, being calorie cautious is a tough choice. People just don't get it! Has everybody got this an-old-grumpy-aunt approach according to which:
- if you devour pretty much everything that is within reach then you are 100% healthy
- if you refuse to eat broth just because you feel like otherwise you are not capable of eating the second course (except for wedding receptions) you definitely must be one of the following: anorexia person, bulimia person, a 5th year student with psychological disorders, a burnt-out English teacher, a single 24-year-old on the edge of commiting suicide, a desperate non-housewife whose e-mail address tells that she is confused and underestimates herself.
Ladies and Gentlemen! I am NOT any of the mentioned above. I just feel like life begins at 24 and I do want to look irresistible at this particular time!! ;D

Citronnelle*

* It had to be French because this is the only language (out of a very limited number of languages I know ;)) in which the name of the drink sounds noble. And noble it has to sound as this is the only alcoholic beverage (out of a great number of all I've tasted) which deserves the title.
First of all, you don't need to struggle with hangover the next day. It stays a mystery to me how it's possible but this is what all the gifts of nature have in common. Though it may get a bit dangerous since one may feel encouraged to drink in the middle of a week regardless of how early they start their work.
Secondly, you don't have to add many other beverages to cover or kill the taste of the Lady in Yellow as this is the very taste of her you want your taste buds to get to know. Call me crazy but a bit of still water is just about enough. It leads me to infer she doesn't like competition very much, although she is a great friend with a straw, a few ice cubes and the glass "Brodnica. Pakuj z nami" (who doesn't get a little friendly with them?). Again, your sobriety is in peril as you might forget you are drinking vodka and put your controlling mechanism in the 'holiday mode'.
Thirdly, she is all so beautiful in her simplicity. The list of ingredients is the shortest ever, yet she needs some time to mature. Even here a low price and a low level of difficulty lurk just around the corner. You won't even manage to look back and you've got a large pot full of lemon vodka; and you've got a weekend ahead of you; and you've got a willing someone asking for a top-up ;)
So maybe, all in all, she is not all that noble. The wolf in the sheep's clothing. Little Red Riding Hood dealt with the wolf pretty well, why shouldn't I?

But don't you dare to think I'm on the verge of alcoholism. I haven't touched a glass with any drink which would even remotely resemble alcohol - let alone our eponymous character - for over a week. (In order to deny all forthcoming slanders and confirm all ongoing concerns -> No, I'm not drying out and yes! I am on a diet).
Hm, so maybe this is why I got down to writing this... out of longing ;) Shit! Now I sound like an alcoholic. Why... I am one, but it is love messages, electronical kisses and hugs I binge drink and I leave hangover for others. I'm Alpha Female!

Her name is Sophia; she is a school girl...

My mum used to say: 'ain't no home where there ain't no salt'. Although the source and the profound sense of this commandment appears as a great mystery to me I've been taking it for granted ever since. With the view to enriching the folk wisdom and exteningd its scope I coined a brand-new thought: 'ain't no home where there ain't no salt, ain't no cement where there ain't no wine'. For how one can build a loving and understanding flat community without this drink of the gods? So this is how we happen to be connoisseurs (not to say 'be addicted') of entry-level wine (not to say 'cheap') and how we started sharing our ups and downs, broken hearts, lifted weights, car frauds and picked up ideas (not to say 'gossip' or 'talk behind others' backs'). Not that we are incapable of doing all these when there's no red dry wine coupled with a few ice cubes but it's just more fun.
Wine DOES 'open' interlocutors but it does not open itself all that easily ;D Theoretically she (as I assume wine needs to be female since its dignity and sensitivity on one hand and its strength and self-confidence on the ohter ;)) only lets her friend Mr Crokscrew the Twisted to open her and still he needs to have special approach as she isn't easily accessible (Indeed! She has to be a woman then). But even a well-protected and well-guarded woman can get carried away and get seduced. Believe me! I have 24 years' experience in being a woman (or so I think) and two months' experience in (binge??) drinking ;O (well, what can I say... there always happens to be a good occasion to have a couple of glasses of wine).

A continuación*... theoretically you need a corkscrew, whereas practically you can sod it ;D (British is not only about bon ton*). And when you sod it it's even more fun. This is what happens when Tomu (aka Zbychu who is willing to put up different Grażynas any time they need) leaves and takes the one and only and, thus, so precious corkscrew with him. But as a child I must have watched a lot of episodes of 'Mr Gadget' (although don't remember) and even more of 'McGyver (and this I remember) since I made a perfect corkscrew-like device, a knife-spoon-and-kitchen-cloth bottle opener. Actually WE did as could my dad be more unpredictable and helpful and could Ola be more determined to drink before she hits the floor?? ;D
Basically, first we scraped out half of the cork with a Tom's expensive knife and than pushed in what was left with a nobody's cheap spoon protecting the clothes with a kitchen cloth. Voila!* ;) Pieces of the cork floating in the wine didn't really bother us and the satisfaction was undescribable. Every fool can open a bottle of wine with a corkscrew and this was somewhat more complex.
Now I am seriously thinking about writing some manual as I see its future in bright colours among students, graduates, under-gratuates, post-gratuades, candidates for university seats and those facing make-up exam ;) Brilliant, isn't it?!

* In case you haven't noticed I used three different languages which may mean I am either:
a) well-educated
b) emotionally (?) and linguistically unstable and disloyal
c) a show-off
d) a real artist who gives an outlet for her talent only in the state of high addiction to various stimulants (you choose ;))

A short story about a Good Bread which is NOT a Piece of Cake

Yes! That's right, I'm going to write about (dare say elaborate on) bread. It is a wacky world! ;) But what can you write about bread? Can you discover anything new? Won't people be bored to death after a few lines? And in the first place - why to pay attention to the staple which has been known for centuries, the consumption of which is so obvious and devoid of sophistication and the rumination over which usually lasts about a few seconds and boils down to 'how thick slices should I cut off?' and in the case of a sliced bread - 'how many slices should I take' and 'why the hell are heels always so small?'? (have you noticed this supercalafragilisticexpialidocious question? ;D)
Why? Because as the basis of our diet one should give it some time and should think over what bread is good bread. Otherwise the pyramid will collapse ;p And as a matter of fact it does collapse for (doing a quick calculation)... mas o menos 8 out of 10 people. I know only one person who actually thinks when she goes shopping. The rest seems to switch to 'grey matter at rest' mode ;)
Basically, we may distinguish between three types of bread buyers:
a) 'I-don't-give-a-fuck' type - those people literally pay no attention to what they buy.
Products: White? Sliced? E300? E920? Yeah! Whatever! As long as it isn't stale and not too mouldy.
Excuses: food is full of preservatives anyway so why bother about bread?
my grandma used to bake white bread and I am a traditionalist ;D
Comment: don't get it but I'm not bothered. One thing convinient - price.
b) 'bread quacks' - those people think they buy a good loaf of bread but they buy as shitty bread (or even shittier) as the representatives of the first type.
Products: Dark! Definitely dark! The healthiest. Over and done with! But isn't it dark thanks to burnt sugar? And yes... it has grains and the prettiest seeds but the amount of ascorbic acid would disturb poor Albert Szent-Györgyi.
Excuse: the print on the label is too small to notice it is full of crap.
Comment: get it and I am amused. One thing convenient - half-clean conscience.
c) balanced enthusiasts (close to extinction) - those poeple (I should say 'we') not only know what to buy but they know what they buy and are passionate labels readers ;)
Products: rye bread which is rye and not fake, heavy and not puffed, brown not blushing with embarrassement ;) and which after a few days gets stale not mouldy (which is BTW one of the methods to check the quality of bread).
Excuse: no excuse -> motto then: my body is not a rubbish dump.
Comment: get it and love it, not amused but delighted. One thing inconvenient - it is time consuming to find a loaf of good bread.

The hero of the story with a friend made in Japan ;)

Are you aware how hard it is to find not even good but simply real bread? Several dozen of shelves in a supermarket and only one for bread to which I am willing to devote some time. And still... half of those goodies have something that spoils them and makes me put it back onto the shelf.
What disturbs me a lot is that many respected companies produce a shit spelled with a great 'S'. And they charge enormous prices. I don't know about you but I personally don't feel like eating shit and being force to pay for it ;)
But, do not worry. Helathy bread does exist but you need to lose some time in order not to lose your hope ;)
P.S. Shoo! The longest note about an alleged bore :)

Debauchery - limited edition

Whenever I go home I'm 100% sure my stomach will be pleased, my nostrils will be spoilt and my taste buds will explode because of all the variety of tastes. Now, when I've been living in exile for nearly a year it is impossible to go home and not to eat a proper meal. It's not that I feel obliged to have family dinner but I just keep forgetting how broth tastes and how to chew a piece of a chicken breast. Thus, visiting my family house is the best opportunity ever to... eat. Why? Because I'm living with a cook who doesn't cook at home, I have more time which I think I don't, I'm not forced by anyone to eat which I dare say every now and then sucks.
And what is great about it, is that my parents really find pleasure in offering me all they have. Sometimes I think they wish to put the refrigerator on my back and wish me to travel light ;)

LOVALOT

And once at home, there's no criticism left. I don't judge, I don't frown, I don't demand too much, which is so unlike me! ;) I'm so positive with my parents around, in the place I truely love and which truely loves me. This is where I feel love and where I feel safe and where broth tastes the best not because of a well-balanced amount of pepper and salt but because of this piece of heart put into it. (Fuck! Why am I so sensitive today?) Anyway, the broth was fantastic and I felt like its temperature just melted my heart and again it was terribly hard to go back to Poznań.
Green beans, cauliflower and fried cabbage a'la my grandmother made it even harder. Figuratively because I had to leave my hearth; literally because I ate more than I had thought I am able to.

All the good things and a wholly good daddy ;)

Today I finally rose to the decision I'm going to start cooking and in order not to lose the zeal and to make it work I chose weekends for the time when the kitchen's going to change into a small restaurant (one-person restaurant but still). My next step towards being a valuable woman. The first one was when I put my tattoo idea aside... It wouldn't look good if and when one day my baby would stretch it ;O

As if I was a queen ;)

Who said that beer needs to be served in an unsexual can, a heavy bottle, an unhandy mug or - the worst case scenario - an ordinary glass? (I used the same opening last time - am I getting into a rut? Hope not!)
Those smart ones must have noticed my aversion towards the aforementioned containers. Those who are none too clever probable shouldn't be reading it ;p
So yes! What I pour my beer, wine, vodka (?) in is of the same importance as the alcohol itself and I swear to God that shape does make a difference (whereas size - in this case - doesn't ;)). The same wine served in two different glasses doesn't taste the same.
I can't say, tough, that a beer needs a fancy glass and actually the wine glass presented here wasn't a must at all. However, they were the only 'reasonable' containers we had and they were big enough to hold the whole can of beer (I still maintain that size doesn't matter - not that I suffer from any inferiority complex ;p)


Only in black and white does the Queen look serious and dignified ;)

My beloved brother Ricardo (m ɪ ʃ j ə !!) once said: 'Tyskie ponad wszystkie' ;) and he quiet clearly highlighted the beer's position and splendour among other Polish beers. Since Tyskie is said to be royal it seems blatant for both the glass and the drinker to maintain the status. Well, you can see the sophistication of the glass with your own eyes and I guess nobody would ever question my queen-like manners ;)
So this is how we spiced up our conversation about lovers, boyfriends-to-be, ex-boyfriends, boys, guys, mates, men and louts ;) sitting on a balcony on the ninth floor with the wind blowing and the music playing in the distance.
Cause sometimes I feel like girls ;D
cause sometimes it's advisable to downgrade this and that
cause sometimes it is well-seen to use something unused
cause it is open-minded to look at the world from the ninth-floor perspective
cause it broadens your mind to understand how to pour the sand*

* Hold it loosely with an open hand - the sand remains where it is.
The tighter you grasp it the faster it trickles through your fingers.

Birthday isn't easy / Cumpleaños no es un evento fácil *

And it's not in the slightest bit caused by the fact that you are turning twenty-four and you are a year older... however, time should stop right about now ;)
It's not difficult 'cause of the need to keep up with the guests and the speed at which they consume vodka.
It's not difficult to run headlong in order not to miss the bus and not to be late for the birthday supper at Pizza Hut and then eat the whole lasagne.
What I have in mind is the (a)mount(ain) of sweets you are given (Thank God there is Cristobál who is always willing to pick his favourite candies and gulp them down).
You get the sweets from the significant ones since they know better than you what a great sweet tooth you are.
You get them from those who believe a book is not enough and a huge box of chocolates will perfectly fill in a birthday bag (sometimes the size of a gift or a bag does matter).
You get them from those who are invited yet do not know you well enough to get sth that would completely fit your interests and a good-quality chocolate (or rather bought at a high figure) seems to hit the bull's eye.
You get them from those who suffer from a low budget but are courteous enough not to turn up empty-handed and sweetless.
You get them from everybody... so did I really have to write all these, I'm wondering?


from the left: a piece of heaven, hot chocolate with ice cream and the cave of debauchery

And your duty is to eat it. Not because the givers may feel offended or think they had thrown the money down the drain (however little they spent). They probably won't even care about it except for those who share the flat with you and who have this great urgency to be praised for what they're doing (in this case for what they are giving).
First of all, the temptation is too big (there is no need to comment on this).
Secondly, one would be a foolish fool to let a chocolate go to waste. One cannot do it to chocolate. What has she (I personally believe chocolate must be 'she') done to you to deserve such indifference?? ;p
Thirdly, a piece of chocolate a day makes your smile wider and if administered wisely, it is not that harmful.
Fourthly, how far can you go refraining yourself from pleasure? One life (unless reincarnation is a real thing. Anyway I'm going to come back as a tigeress ;) and my staple is not going to be chocolate) and one birthday in a year.

* learning of Spanish in progress ;)

POORridge

... since it's always been poor. Not until a few weeks ago did I decide to have myself a merry little breakfast, sth different (not necessarily more luxurious) from ordinary sausages, toasts and scrambled eggs; and since, upon my arrival in Poznań, I discovered oatmeal I thought it could be quite an idea to try this notorious bugger, which so far I had known only from English commercials and cartoons. We all know it comes 1st (ex aequo with spinach) in a 'Top Food Tastes Kids Love to Hate' competition and children have been threatened with it more successfully than with a bogeyman for ages ;) However, as a big girl I've managed to pluck up enough courage to face the children's nightmare and in fact it turned out not to be that scary at all.


I sweetened it up with my beloved raisins and gobbled it all. It might look a bit dry, but it's due to the fact that it had to wait for me for over an hour till I finished my private classes. I guess oatmeal must have absorbed the milk somehow (my powers of deduction are amazing ;D) and instead of a soup-like breakfast I had a pulp - still tasty and nutricious ;) I even like it more this way. Since then I've had it once more as I discovered that its GI is too high. Not that I strictly follow the rules (have just officially admitted to it and I'm not proud of myself at all), but if I can choose what to eat and all four options sounds alike to me, I'd rather go for meat and proteins. Especially now, when delicious pork chops, pierogis and fasolka po bretońsku (food supplies from my mummy) are waiting for me in the fridge (and for Cristóbal, of course), I will give porridge a miss.