50 shades of Grey, yes me too

Yes me too,

I went to see the movie today with 3 more friends/ladies 2 of them moms like me, what makes us falls into the book’s category of mom porn which bothered me for several reasons, first I had to go around the fact that I would force myself to find a 27-30 year old guy attractive, being over 40 it never occurred to me, mainly because I tend to find men who are at least old enough not to be almost my kids attractive.

It also bothered me because I am for our rights, I like when my husband opens the car door for me -yep he still does that for almost 20 years- I also like when he does the driving, the wine picking, but that’s pretty much it, never turned on to spanking or any of that. I am surely not into pain and pleasure, but I don’t judge others, who am I to?
So people think I was into that because I both read the Trilogy and went to see the movie? Isn’t that obvious? I read the book series which was lent to me, I got curious and got carried away so the first book lead to the second that had to finish on the third. Then there was the movie let’s go see what they have done to it.

Did I like it?

Neh, too shallow, so you take a book that is not well written-I know I know- but yet captivates millions of women (mainly over 40 like me) and make it even a worse movie? Of course that was more to it than BD&SM, though the movie did not exploit that either, it introduced to it, I think, and did it not show how she was caught in the web of pure seduction, fetishism, fanaticism that is in ‘devoting to a person’s body’. A good illustration to it is this talented musician Sam Smith he goes and writes this song “Stay with me”, nice and all but next sentence he goes like “you are all I need”, cool, but in real life I would run fast and far, this guy would stick to you like a maniac, crazy glue and all, he would call and manipulate you 24/7. This is what it is all about.

Anyway the feeling I had was that they torn the whole book threw the pages into the air and the ones they picked -by chance- were the scenes they decided to write the script out.

Yeah, enough said, it won’t change my mind, as I heard a guy on an interview saying “this book will change your wife”. My life should be pretty empty for that to happen.  I might crochet something based on one of the books, I don’t know yet maybe the cover of the book or something, not a whip though for sure.

What I liked about the book is the complexity of character and the innocent girl thinking she could ‘rescue’ him, she kind of did, because it is fiction and ‘love’ prevailed, and the way he worships her all through the trilogy. Some of us women have tried to love and save the bad guy we were once with, and we all know what happens. We can’t. We just don’t have this power.

Bottom line is I come back home, after a nice time out with my friends, to my dear beloved hard to have found husband, lover, and friend who unquestionably showed me 50-whole- colors of love and being loved-not only shades.

You take care,

Drikka.

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Funny Little thing- Love talk- Valentine’s Week!

Us

Us, though she was only 6 back in this picture

Is this thing we call love…The other day my daughter asked me how she would know, or better yet how I knew when “he” -her daddy- was the one, and how would she know? She was genuinely puzzled, despite the fact she is only turning 9 next week, (though I’ve heard some stories that a few kids have boyfriends at the age of 5 (!?!) I ‘calmly’ popped the question “Do you have a boyfriend sweety?”-please say No, I thought to myself.

“No Mom it is just that I see you guys and I want to be prepared.” In that I believe, she is the most concerned kid I’ve ever seen, always telling her friends not to jump there, not to run over there, “I don’t think it is a good idea” she says.

“So what did you say”, my co-worker asked me when I mentioned it later on once at work. “Well it is hard to say” I for once did kiss a lot of frogs, though I know some of them were the princes at the wrong time in my life, what made me the “frog” for them per say, I knew that was not the most appropriate answer to have given her.

“Well darling you talk a lot and see you have a lot in common, then you start going on a few dates with the him, dinner, dancing, movies, a game, and you like to hang out, you will see.
But most of all you have to feel good when you are with him, and not down, or angry, or mad, or fighting all the time. And when you are without him, you should be fine too, not super scared about what he is doing, this is not love. That is passion and you are going to live through that too, we all do, I wish I had a magical power so you my little one would not, but it is part of life. And we will be there to see you through. And you will find another person. And try again. That is how you find out, but you have so much yet to come before that lots of playdates, sleepovers all those other fun things.”- she  was pretty satisfied with that.

You know how mothers are, I could be wrong as well. She might find it another way. I hope I can be there for her,  like my Mom was for me, many times, sometimes not even saying a word, just touching my forehead, or cheeks, or calling the guy on the phone to know what happened. Yeah, I’ve been through it all.

Because I am a true believer I went down the deepest side of my own, some therapies, some lots of crystal work and meditation, lots of dancing with friends to wash away the grief or only to flirt and have some fun. This is how I finally found out that love should bring you peace at heart and push us to be the best we can possibly be, then I married the man who made me feel this way, and I try to make him feel the same in return. I found what I was looking for in this terms.
I am fully aware that everyone has their own journey to find what they yearn for and should give it a try. It honestly pays off. All the tears, anxiety excruciating pain they all pay off, when you let the guards down when you are willing to compromise and learn from your mistakes.

Funny little thing. Such a small word in most languages I guess, and the biggest, most daring  hunt of every single one of us. Dearest than the most exquisite gem, is the heart in love, accomplished and fulfilled.

go for it, or celebrate yours,

Drikka.

Love and Soul

It is not rare to me to find the need to talk about LOVE, to its largest extent. Say I love Love.

Love does hurt sometimes, though we usually find out later that was not love but Passion. And yet passion is a practice to love.

Unconditional love is almost impossible, for if my beloved husband has an affair this to me will not be acceptable.

Eternal love is desirable, though as the years fly by people change, so if you do not find the reason why you too are hung together, there might be a chance that the person you became, or the other party, will tear up what once was the reason for being together.

We change. The Universe changes. So bearing this and so many other topics relate to this in -my- mind I would like to invite you to follow my new page that has nothing to do with pure material crafts, but a lot to do with the Art of Love, please don’t read a Kama Sutra kind of love for I never learned much about it.

Mentioning the books I read and base my ideas upon: by Leo Buscaglia Love, Living Loving Learning, Loving each other,Bus 9 to Paradise and Born to love; Louise Hay  Heal your body, You can heal your life, Heart thoughts, Love your body; Are you the one for me by Barbara D’ Angelis, Men are from Mars women are from Venus by  John Gray, and many others I can’t remember as of now.

So let’s embark this journey I hope to be fun.

I let’s talk about what moves us, our feeling, fears and thoughts. Hoping it to be a pretty interactive page: Pelase visit and bookmark: Love and Soul.

 

Rose in Prairie Garden- AB CA

Rose in Prairie Garden- AB CA

Take care,

Drikka

‘Tis the time for simpathy

What a horrendous tragedy reached us and surprised us in such a painful way.
Took our breath away, swept us from the ground and in a fraction of a second threw everyone right on the bare floor, with a heavy thud.
We, from all over the world, felt astonished, appalled, shocked as earlier today the news announced that once again shootings had taken place and involved, interrupted small innocent children’s lives in a school in Connecticut -US.

In a few minutes 20 adorable beautiful little angels were gone, not to mention the 6 other adults.
Uncountable irreparable scars in so many others were also left.

My deep feelings for all that, I wish to let you know how sorry and heavy heartened I feel today!

I would like to invite you all to share this image, and help me pray for all of them, them more prayer the better!
I share this with you this, from my heart to yours:

prayer for Connecticut victms

prayer for Connecticut victims

Out of all the sins of the world, carrying innocent blood…

Let us pray.

Take care,

Drikka.

A bitter sweet Christmas Tale- true story

Note: If you’re a vegan, I don’t think this piece of writing is suitable for you, I’m sorry.

Our very own crochet Christmas banner at the door- decoration by Betty

Our very own crochet Christmas banner at the door

I love Christmas, guess I always will. I cry out of most Christmas songs and feel deeply touched, emotionally connected with pretty much everything that has to do with this time of the year.
When I was a little girl, my dad always ‘took care’ of the meat we ate at home, at these festivities the pork was divine.
Dad loved baking it in honor of his deceased mom. He grew up in an underprivileged environment therefore having pork once a year alone meant Christmas for him and his 7 siblings.

So, after he got married, every year around April he would go down to a local farm choose a piglet, start to “feed” (at home he would spare food for the piglet, we never got to know all that for sure -I mean I guess he did say it over and over, but then again we wouldn’t listen) and pay for it. By the end of the year that would’ve been paid in full and his to take home and bake for Christmas.

My Mom was in charge of the many desserts, granny made the Christmas cake, and some Brazilian traditional treats, she did it like no one else does, or ever will -after all she was my granny-. As for the rest of the family my uncles and aunties would bring other foods along with their presence and love.

Then Daddy died in one May that was so unfair! My elder brother and I were living away and used to go home on weekends and for holidays. That year we had a series of financial setbacks, but we managed to buy a nice huge chicken, Mom was still shaken by the fact of not having him around, granny too old and busy taking care of my grandpa in bed. So I stepped up and offered to do most of the cooking, when I thought about to the poultry: a chicken… I would have to season it to perfection to make up for not having the usual turkey, not having my Dad’s seasoning, and having no idea  what Daddy used besides love to make his food taste so like Christmas. I had to make sure my little siblings wouldn’t miss him that much. And I was left with a chicken.

One day before Christmas Eve a man knocked at our door asking for Mom. He told her that earlier that year Daddy went to his farm picked a piglet and was sending it food as usual then he stopped. Because that particular year daddy had paid in full, he never did that before, the man assumed daddy would go and fetch the pork. Much to his surprise he learned the daddy had passed away early in May, so he decided to take it himself and hand it to Mom.

Mom almost fainted, feeling sorry for both her and the pig, not knowing what to do with it, and my brothers gladly carried it into the kitchen. We never knew for sure if daddy had paid for it in full or not, it was so not like him.
Anyway, now I had to be quick, still no clue, but much more material to work with. I was deeply touched, daddy looked after us. Turned on the radio, to “fill up my tank” and cooked like crazy.

Do I have to say that luckily I found in the rear back of a cupboard a large variety of seasoning labeled with his handwriting? Do I have to say that our dog who was always beside him while cooking, was now restlessly beside me? Do I have to say that there were no mourning tears for that Christmas Day? Some relatives showed up, even one wealthy uncle, he could not resist trying what he said was: “-Some delicious turkey!”?

No, I don’t, because that very Christmas taught me we have to bury our beloved dead ones, pay them respect, share our love, and keep going. Once in a while we weep, then we keep going. That is life, with all there is to it.

…           …         …          …        …

If you ask me what our plans for this coming X’mas are, I ‘ll have to say: we don’t know yet.  Because we did not quite fit in the Brazilian communities up here, and do not have close Canadian friends, to share such a family event together, we might either spend the three of us, eating my food, again; or travel somewhere interesting and have a good time.

It takes about 2 days to go back to Brazil and the tickets for this time of the year are shamefully too expensive. Of course I miss my family which is kind of large, and my in-laws too, after 16 years together they are kind of my own family extended.
I don’t regret being here especially because my daughter is so happy, I am not sorry for us, we all know that in one way or another we will end up having what is takes for a perfect Season, that is being among the ones we love and care the most.

Thank you for passing by,

take care,

Drikka.

“Hey, Look at me!”

As I looked at her, all by herself against the white fence of the house opposite to mine, I thought to myself, poor little one…

It all started early that Friday, about a month ago, but I had seen it coming, it started a few days before. The way the girl was constantly hanging around, asking everyone, even my Betty, to play with her.

Yes, Betty did play with her once in a while, though given to the fact that their ages differ a bit (Maggie had turned 11 and Betty is only 6), there were few games left for them to play with.

As the days went by, summer was even nicer, warmer, brighter; all Maggie wanted was a bit of attention. Her mother was a sort of unknown character, never seen around. It was said that she had left them a few years after Maggie was born, along with a brother. Apparently she has now a step mom, some say she is her aunt. We don’t know for sure.

All I know is that, that Friday, her “mother” did it! She came by for the first time and she saw her “daughter” sulky, lonely and upset. She wondered why. Maggie promptly replied, “Everyone is being rude to me”.

Feeling uneasy for once she bluntly asked, “How rude? ” “They keep saying mean things to me,”Maggie answered. “They who?” asked the mother.

Maggie pointed at the third house next to where she was. From my upstairs window, behind the drapes, I was able to follow her with my eyes. She dashed to the house’s backyard, knocking at the glass door there was no answer. She did not have better luck at the door bell either. She turned to Maggie and said, “Come on, let’s go, I’m calling the police”.

At those words, I went after her to try to understand what was going on. “Hi, can I help you?” She simply looked at me, turned around and left, cell phone on her right ear.

I called Maggie. “Hey, what is going on?” She was afraid,”Nothing,” and ran home as fast as she could.

Betty and her friend Lisa were playing in the basement. I said, “Lisa, fetch your mom, I want to talk to her.” But she had gone to the mall. Her brother was supposed to baby sit her. “Ok, so you stay here. Maggie’s mom called the police and I don’t want little girls around when they come.”

… … …

It turned out she didn’t call the police, but the afternoon was covered with failed attempts of mothers trying to talk to each other. Other neighbors were getting involved when the truth started to come out. Maggie had been left aside for having done things such as:

-bringing her dog to frighten the small kids;

-spitting and peeing in people’s backyard at daylight;

-using kids’ toys without permission, and running away not to give the toys back;

-having a dirty loud mouth.

Maggie is a good-looking slender, blond, blue-eyed pre-teen. She is also such a tom boy, parents don’t want their kids to have anything to do with her.

On the other hand, she was the only one who didn’t laugh at Betty when she accidently fell into the pool, and ran back home crying out of humiliation. Betty remained home for the rest of the day, being Maggie the only one she allowed near her. Maggie never spit in my yard or said the “s” word, never being unkind to Betty. To me, she was just trying to call people’s attention.

Her mother never bothered to acknowledge that.

… … …

Later that afternoon, Betty and I left to see a movie.

The offenses between both moms went on. At a certain time, Lisa’s mom was pushed and said, “now I’m calling the police!”

And they came indeed.

Everyone was against Maggie, she was sort of banned and advised by the cops to stay away from the little kids.

Poor little one! Maggie, who had no one to play with, had now been banned! It hurt me so much not being able to say a word on her behalf when it all took place. I wish I could have done something for her. I wanted her to be happy, feel loved, to feel special. Instead the only thing she was is set aside.

What is in store for her? She is only 11, I mean, she is already 11!

Take care,

Drikka.

Crochet towel edge+ pattern

Hi,

After yesterday, with the nominations, those kind replies and all, life goes on. I should not forget to mention this nice blog Crochet Thought,by Misty, I just found out today, who has also nominated mine as a Versatile Blog, and made me feel happy all over again.
I will keep it i my heart as part of the nice new acquaintances I am now able to make due to this blog.

…      …      …

I have been crocheting a hat for my little one, haven’t finished it yet. Hope I do by next week.

I would like to show you this towel edge I made 2 years ago for my daughter’s bathroom, and I brought along with us, today I found its pattern, though as usual I’ve made a few changes, the original is adorable too!

Here is the towel:

I think it is a nice idea for a heirloom, for an afghan edge, or a T-shirt you want to recycle. I pretty much did the last 7 rows, and left the last one out too.

Crochet away, and have fun!

Drikka.