How Long Does Gingerbread Keep In The Freezer

A Success ... 31 members!

31 members for a fantastic race in a landscape unique in the world. The Circolo Vela

Talamone this year can boast of having the ministry among his friends and we Ministar, we can not only confirm this friendship with a club that welcomed us last year and this year it does and still in style!

But what about the ministry? Well a start of the season so great for dusting the Mini 650 class was perhaps not so imaginable, and instead it demonstrates and confirms the viability of this class, which was contaminated when you are unlikely to detach.

They call it "minite", a disease that has no antidote or recipes that allow it to pass. The reasons of infection may be different, adventure, the idea of \u200b\u200bthe ocean, the small boat and large waves, the sacrifices and efforts, the simplicity of human Skipper, the dream of crossing the ocean, or to sum up the whole; Esprit
the Mini that has always distinguished this class!

E-Class 650 Mini Italian is still proving a unique and first in the Mediterranean, another ringing success with a participation of so many enriched by Skipper britannci, French, English.

only class in the Oceanic Federvela can make a boast.

Returning to the race course is beautiful, the tour of the Tuscan Archipelago will give the safe Crew emotions, scents of the islands when you are downwind dawn invade your senses, a mix of thyme rosemary, olive and moist earth, the maquis of the Med that we know well there drunk leaving a wisp of sadness seeing the islands on the starboard side and pull the left without we can arrive, but will be there in that context you satisfy a lot.

The race in past years has been fast enough, will put the Crew ahead of tactics which will probably only local-favored, but the starters are well matched and there are people with no experience recently.

The boats are coming in dribs and drabs, strong winds from the south in recent days have affected the transfers to Talamone, others are coming by road or by forklift truck and will soon be filled docks. All

an invitation to visit us ... when the piers are teeming with people you can appreciate the "Spirit Mini" and the boats are an attraction for solutions and innovations. A

fans Talamone See you!

yourvoice @ oceanitalia

Pokemon Snap Emulator Mac

The musician

The train was about to leave the "big station" Termini and passenger systems, each digging and placing their own "niche" that would serve for the duration of their trip to defend themselves from others, or to try to weave a mundane relationship, so vague and tenuous that it would then melted like snow in the sun, in a flash of time, finished the trip and the need to make a solitude.

few come by train to live, not needed, as most of us passes on a bus, hiding behind the headphones of the iPod, or on the pages of a book or behind the screen of the laptop, someone tries to they see others as human, just like him, but few last Mohicans, scattered on the carriages of our country as a dying breed.

The boy, perhaps as early man, about 35, had his beard a bit 'long, not unkempt, but wanted the CIS, it was clear, gave him an attractive appearance, a bit' as an actor in some TV dramas, is brought a trolley like almost all the trains, but on the shoulders (in the case betrayed the object) also had a guitar. While

settles in at an angle to my place, the guitar and he fell to the ground, uttering expletives so low, but evident from his facial expression, picked it up and managed to find a safe place on the rack above his seat.

He sat by the window and disappeared from the scene, for now, returning to the mass of passengers "lined up and covered" the Frecciarossa about to embark on the mad dash to the Roman countryside, burning times and to act quickly to all of us .

Just when the conductor was about to blow the whistle, a woman arrived breathless, he had run, are often quite out of breath, but recovered quickly, placed the bag next to the best guitar, left abandoned on the seat beside the boy and finally calmed down as the train moved slowly, at the start. The train

left Rome, and while the campaign was beginning to pull out of the windows, somehow the two began to talk, perhaps because he read a few score, and she spoke of a daughter who was studying music ... I do not know, but I heard it in passing.

The words reached me anyway, I was careful about what I read, not too badavo them, but I was curious about the scene. I did not know if it was he who was attacking and trying to talk to the gallant, or simply if they were talking and she just tried to calm exchange of words, as happens every day all of us.

I read and felt at one meter distance that the dialogue continued, and felt that he, the boy was very experienced and versed in music and in the show (indeed one that goes on Eurostar with a guitar sound not just to strum: some will perform in concert, or teach, or study at the conservatory ,.... something "serious" will do it for sure!). The woman

Kedar, spoke and seemed at times more concerned or sometimes reserved, but not at all bothered and the scene continued.

He was keeping the bank, explained and talked, now a little louder, stronger, safer, she followed him: she had been kidnapped.

It also added a third passenger, who was in front of the musician and the thing was developed, then, after a half an hour, slowly subsided atomosfera: the rocking cradle of the train thoughts and reflections and often the eyes are closed, after putting the sign in the book that you read, or you adjust the iPod volume to rock the thoughts and then moved from the sleep train. They, too, the woman and the musician, the pace slowed, but he still occasionally spoke, but softly, always in the background, like a background music ..

I have not heard much that was not my business, but I saw a scene unfold, different yet equal to many others, and when the train slowed ahead of the first station when I saw him get up and prepare his things and look for the guitar, I saw change the environment on the stage.

He got up, she smiled, but shy, very reserved and are greeted with quiet sympathy, no other confidence, evidently he had just spoken, was not one of the "usual" men that we always try ...

When was the space between the seats, he gave the final greeting, shook hands, she handed it to him and there was contact, then ... sudden and unexpected, he brought her hand to her mouth, slightly bowed and kissed it!

fast, effective and simple!

I stood open-mouthed, so to speak ...

Then he drew back, he gave her a last goodbye and turned to start at the door with a guitar on his back. She

quiet, watched her, and withdrew his hand as if everything was normal, we went back to reading the book in her lap.

From the whole scene just maybe I was impressed, or, who knows ... maybe not. I smiled to myself. At a time when almost one claims to be ignorant and insulting one another or many others, or to be arrogant because they feel strong and confident, at a time when there is full of arrogance even when discussing trivial, a man, Young 's modern era, with a simple gesture, from another time, overturned, in a fraction of a second atmosphere, throwing the empty the train, but then who knows if a true vacuum, a gesture, a way to do, to be (do not know whether sincere or not, it does not matter!), surely a gesture of respect, a small, trivial and simple, but different.

Today I still see that image in front and I am grateful to that musician that I never see again, that scene in that split second. A gift, like a simple daisy caught in a meadow, always has a value and we carry with us forever.

Life makes a lot of gifts ...

Giant Woman With High Heels

Walter Bonatti - "Lost World" -

I must have been more or less between 8 and 10 years when a small still with the boy shorts, in the magazine rack, wooden living room of my house, I found a magazine in black and white and color that had perhaps (forse!) just the cover, whose title was "TIME".

I remember the pages with the corners a bit 'curled, the "ears" he called my dad, and I remember very vaguely, I saw a name written on a service within that review: W. Bonatti.

I was a kid, I knew nothing of mountains, except what little I saw in the summer when, with my parents, I walked the paths of the Dolomites, gray and sharp-edged ridges, but that neither felt the beautiful sunset pink that would cause so many emotions years later, in my heart.

When about twenty years later walked down stairs, some climbs that I was to approach the name of Bonatti had become a myth, but the past, now in the history of mountaineering, and almost unattainable, which I had read anything, even young ignorant, tense as I was climbing myself, without investigating the reason of many ways that covers ...

Then, a year ago, right in the twenty-first century, now that man in mature age, a gionro I was in line to wait my turn to pay a bank account in a post office, as well as those where that the operations of mail today, you also do the shopping ... (Modern conquest progress!) and gaze fell on a white volume of which struck me the title, but the author: W. Bonatti. It was offered at the discounted price, but what matters is that it was written by Bonatti that now that forty years ago, wrote in the magazine with the "ears" at the corners of your pages. And then a flash in the living room of my parents, the chair and the magazine and those photos ... and I leafed through the book, inside of me decided that I would have bought it, whatever the cost.

As with the books that I feel are worth, I have not read in one go, but I sipped, as I always like a nice bottle of port. And I have not regretted it.

does not tell the climbing, this time, but that Bonatti's career has taken a turn put the boots to the nail, when, in 1964, to quote his own words: "meanness and misunderstandings more profuse in the world of mountains, had come to make me finally get out of that environment, "beginning the following year left for the profession of Epoch. (In 1965 I was 9 years and so my memories were not totally wrong ...)

In this book the mountaineer-turned-explorer, collects some of his writings produced between 1964 note, and 1976, in which travel stories always undertaken with the spirit of sports with intent not discover, or to taste heroic enterprise, but to go to understand, descending in places and among the people of those places that looked, what was in the same places, living thing and held the living areas was gradually crossing, most often on foot and alone , almost always without risk of weapons while guess some tiger or some bear.

We go from cold Siberia to Africa desert, from Antarctica to Easter Island, crossing deserts and endless places, leaving the reader to sognre, as when, guys, you read books of adventure, except that here talk about real adventures and experienced.

What emerges, in my opinion, is a man that respects the place where everything goes to pass, that seeks to understand rather than attack it and tame it, what is striking is the feeling of admiration and wonder at natural phenomena, to even imagine the things most of us, but above all by the genuine curiosity to learn, as Man, Serber then things in her heart and whose pictures or words, now will bring, if not fleeting glimpses that will affect whether or not the imagination e.. the heart of the reader, with the heart.

lucky man and I guess you could say is the truth, although willing to trade security and certainty of a living "normal" with the uncertainty of a work that could also bring him to end his days, a sudden .

When closing the book (in 2009), Walter Bonatti has almost 80 years and what strikes me is the kind of thoughts and sincere respect and intrinsic and not merely formal, that I feel in him, to the environment in we live in, to the whole earth, the discovery of how the man himself is the cause of his illness, which is slowly eroding the land on which they live and from which it draws life. Do not complain, not the usual howls of a dog beaten and old that many elderly people do, but merely a light exposing facts, reality, before the eyes of someone who wants to see, who reads and wants to understand.

closing its pages, a soft smile remains in my heart the memory of a sentence that is given to him during the journey to find the headwaters of the Amazon, when an Indian, whose simple life of poverty and took place between those mountains of the Cordillera Chila where Bonatti with a friend, was to explore, accommodates tired and hungry, in his poor hut and offers them a simple soup that has food for himself and his family, sharing with them, which occurred there all'iimprovviso: "I greet you and ask you to serve as a brother, sure to have your help in need! "

This spirit, simple, sincere, straightforward and without frills, I still really like a treasure in a corner of the heart, as taught by an Indian unknown to me as a man of twenty-first century, immersed in globalization.

of this seemingly trivial and silly "teaching" to me for anything valuable and trivial, I say thanks to this man from another era!