25 September 2014

E. Gaskell - Wives and daughters

Citesc acum Wives and Daughters, scrisa de Elizabeth Gaskell. Am revazut filmul acum ceva vreme si mi-am dat seama ca trebuie sa fie si cartea pe undeva. Am descarcat-o de pe Gutenberg.org, dar nu am reusit sa o citesc pe telefon. Asa ca am dat peste ea, in cele din urma, la Biblioteca Metropolitana, in limba engleza. Si ce ma bucur ca e nu e tradusa! Pentru ca modul in care Gaskell se joaca cu cuvintele este de-a dreptul fascinat.

Am ajuns sa il opresc din treburi pe domnul sot sa ii citesc anumite pasaje si imi dau seama, dupa privirea lui usor nedumerita, ca sunt un fel de language geek :))


Notez aici cateva pasaje, sa imi ramana la indemana dupa ce duc cartea la biblioteca.

"[that thought] had slipped off the smooth surface of Mrs. Kirkpatrick's mirror-like mind without leaving any impression."

"His thoughts did not come readily to the surface in the shape of words; nor was he apt at giving comfort till he saw his way clear to the real source from which consolation must come."

"He had a large mouth, with excessively mobile lips; and another trick of his was, that when he was amused at anything, he resisted the impulse to laugh, by a droll manner of twitching and puckering up his mouth, till at length the sense of humour had its way, and his features relaxed, and he broke into a broad sunny smile; his beautiful teeth—his only beautiful feature—breaking out with a white gleam upon the red-brown countenance". 

"He was at that age when young men admire a formed beauty more than a face with any amount of future capability of loveliness, and when they are morbidly conscious of the difficulty of finding subjects of conversation in talking to girls in a state of feminine hobbledehoyhood. Besides, his thoughts were full of other subjects, which he did not intend to allow to ooze out in words."

"Her grave eyes opened large and wide at the close neighbourhood and evident advance of "the earl;" for to her little imagination the grey-haired, red-faced, somewhat clumsy man, was a cross between an arch-angel and a king."

"Mr. Gibson had once or twice amused himself, by leading the vicar on in his agreeable admissions of arguments "as perfectly convincing," and of statements as "curious but undoubted," till he had planted the poor clergyman in a bog of heretical bewilderment."

"He was still Mr. Hall the doctor who could heal all their ailments—unless they died meanwhile".

"She had never spoken so long a sentence to him before; and when she had said it, though she did not take her eyes away from his, as they stood steadily looking at each other, she blushed a little; she could not have told why. Nor did he tell himself why a sudden pleasure came over him as he gazed at her simple expressive face—and for a moment lost the sense of what she was saying, in the sensation of pity for her sad earnestness. In an instant more he was himself again. Only it is pleasant to the wisest, most reasonable youth of one or two and twenty to find himself looked up to as a Mentor by a girl of seventeen."

"Molly found Lord Hollingford, the wise and learned Lord Hollingford, strangely stupid in understanding the mystery of "Cross hands and back again, down the middle and up again."

"But to-night they were unusually late, and the aristocratic ozone being absent from the atmosphere, there was a flatness about the dancing of all those who considered themselves above the plebeian ranks of the tradespeople."

"but her words were always like ready-made clothes, and never fitted individual thoughts. Anybody might have used them, and, with a change of proper names, they might have served to describe any ball."

"[about glamorous and agitated Cynthia] If Molly had not been so entirely loyal to her friend, she might have thought this constant brilliancy a little tiresome when brought into every-day life; it was not the sunshiny rest of a placid lake, it was rather the glitter of the pieces of a broken mirror, which confuses and bewilders."

"So she gets wearied and worried by a crowd of people who are all of them open-mouthed for amusement of some kind; just like a brood of fledglings in a nest; so I have to be parent-bird, and pop morsels into their yellow leathery bills, to find them swallowed down before I can think of where to find the next."

"But for Mr. Gibson he had a warm respect, a strong personal liking, which he should be glad to have ripen into a friendship, if there was time for it in this bustling world."

"[London] is so often represented as the centre of dissipation, corrupting country wives and squires' daughters, and unfitting them for all their duties by the constant whirl of its not always innocent pleasures."

18 September 2014

3 scurte cu bicarbonat

1. curatat argintul
- am cateva bijuterii de argint, pe care nu le-am mai purtat de ani buni. O parte din ele se ingalbenisera tare de tot, cateva erau atat de negre de nu credeam ca mai pot fi salvate
- le-am curatat cu o carpa uda inmuiata in bicarbonat, apoi le-am clatit sub jet si tadaaaaaa zici ca-s noi :)

2. spray pentru picioare
- 30 ml de apa calduta in care se dizolva 3/4 lingurita bicarbonat (+/- cateva picaturi de ulei esential de lavanda)
- se pune intr-o sticla cu fas sau pe niste vata si se da pe picioare inainte de a ne incalta

3. odorizant pentru pantofi
- se amesteca parti egale de bicarbonat si amidon alimentar, se adauga niste picaturi de ulei esential, se amesteca si se lasa intr-un vas acoperit cateva ore (eu am amestecat totul intr-o caserola cu capac, pe care am lasat-o pe masa de seara pana dimineata)
- se pun in saculeti de panza sau pe patrate de panza pe care le legam apoi cu snur (sa iasa tot ca un fel de saculet). Nota: panza trebuie sa fie foarte deasa, altfel curge destul de tare amestecul de bicarbonat si amidon
- se pun in pantofi atunci cand nu ii purtam

15 September 2014


Imi amintesc o singura prima zi de scoala. Nu mai stiu exact in ce clasa eram, in I-V oricum. Eram nitel incordata, pentru ca nu aveam flori. Trebuia sa ni le aduca un prieten de familie, direct la scoala, pentru ca bunicii lui cresteau crizanteme.

Prietenul nostru era deja in V-VIII, nu se grabea foarte tare. Stateam in fata portii verzi, cu vopseaua scorojita (simt si acum mirosul de metal ruginit, incalzit de soare) si ma uitam in vale, dupa el. In cele din urma a aparut: purta un sacou galben canar si avea in mana doua buchete imense de crizanteme galbene. Galben chihlimbar, galben lamaie, galben pai, galben auriu, in bataia soarelui; florile mari si carnoase, de iti venea sa musti din ele. Si mirosul acela crud, usor amarui, care de atunci incolo pentru mine inseamna miros de toamna.

Cum crizanteme galbene nu am avut, azi am sarbatorit cu miros de carte noua.

Mult spor!

12 September 2014

De weekend

Eram cu fetele in Tineretului, la roata mare, alergam dupa ele printre statui. O domnisioara-statuie citeste o carte. Ma apropii sa vad ce citeste. Ma opresc dupa "I'm watching you, Bella!" si zic ioaaaaaaai sa vezi ca au pus astia in parc o statuie care citeste Twilight, atunci cand Edward n-are somn si vine sa se uite la fata aia cum doarme :)))))

Din fericire era altceva, am rasuflat usurata :))))

Sa aveti un weekend frumoooooooos!

11 September 2014

Cartea lui Moş Oposum despre Pisicile Poznaşe

Sa mai zici de serendipity :)

Eram la un moment dat la biblioteca si una din cartile de pe unul dintre rafturi era putin iesita in afara. Suficient cat sa vad jumatate din fata unei pisici si sa imi dau seama ca e ilustrata de Axel Scheffler, unul dintre ilustratorii mei preferati din toate timpurile - cel care a lucrat pentru mare parte din cartile Juliei Donaldson. Am sarit (si nu glumesc) in sus de bucurie :)

Este vorba de Cartea lui Moş Oposum despre Pisicile Poznaşe (Old Possum's Book of Practical Cats) a lui T.S.Eliot. O colectie de poezii care sta la baza musicalului Cats.

pisicile poznase

Cartea a aparut la Humanitas, e o editie care arata splendid (coperta caserata - daca asta e termenul corect, supracoperta, foi groase, lucioase, ilustratii incredibile, dupa cum bine se poate vedea :P)

Nota 10 si pentru traducere! E destul de dificil sa traduci poezie in genere, dar cand ai si numele secrete ale pisicilor in ecuatie, treaba se complica :))

Puteti vedea mai multe pagini din carte si pe site-ul Humanitas

08 September 2014

Anotimpurile - copacul

O activitate atat de simpla si ataaaaat de ieftina, dar de foarte mare efect. Combinatia ideala, daca ma intrebati pe mine.

Nu mai stiu exact unde (in minunata lume a internetului mamicesc) am dat peste ideea asta:

Pe o bucata de carton, am desenat cu markerul un copac

Din hartie verde am taiat rapid niste muguri, pe care Maria i-a pus pe copac

Si din hartie roz am mototolit niste flori - a venit primavara!

Primavara a fost soare, dar a venit si ploaia (facem ca ploaia, cu degetele pe carton si dam mugurii si florile la o parte). In locul lor am pus frunze mari, verzi. E vara!

Incet incet, frunzele verzi se schimba cu unele galbene si portocalii. A venit toamna!

Toamna, vantul bate tare tare de tot si ia toate frunzele din copac (suflam pana cad toate frunzele). Apoi incepe sa ninga (aruncam de sus ghemotoace de vata). E iarna!

Dupa ce ne jucam, impachetam mugurii, frunzele, florile si zapada intr-o cutie. Data viitoare incepem cu sortarea lor :)

Investitie minima, bucurie maxima :))

03 September 2014

Despre racoare, bucurie si CS Lewis

Simt ca revin la viata. Dimineata, cand am iesit din casa, era aproape frig. Racoare proaspata de dimineata, care mi-a trecut prin corp ca un impuls electric si m-a pus pe picioare, dupa ce caldura de oras incins m-a tinut sub bocanc atat de mult timp. Iubesc frigul, ma umple de energie si de chef de viata. Iubesc racoarea din serile si diminetile de vara, modul in care se simte ea pe umeri, pe maini si pe fata. Ma duce intr-un loc din trecut, un loc nu foarte clar ca timp si ca spatiu, dar un loc similar ca stare. Ma umple de...o stare pe care nu pot sa o descriu in cuvinte.

Cred ca C.S.Lewis a pus in vorbe cel mai bine starea asta:

“I call it Joy. As I stood beside a flowering currant bush on a summer day there suddenly arose in me without warning, and as if from a depth not of years but of centuries, the memory of that earlier morning at the Old House when my brother had brought his toy garden into the nursery. It is difficult to find words strong enough for the sensation which came over me. It was a sensation, of course, of desire; but desire for what?...Before I knew what I desired, the desire itself was gone, the whole glimpse... withdrawn, the world turned commonplace again, or only stirred by a longing for the longing that had just ceased... In a sense the central story of my life is about nothing else... The quality common to the three experiences... is that of an unsatisfied desire which is itself more desirable than any other satisfaction. I call it Joy, which is here a technical term and must be sharply distinguished both from Happiness and Pleasure. Joy (in my sense) has indeed one characteristic, and one only, in common with them; the fact that anyone who has experienced it will want it again... I doubt whether anyone who has tasted it would ever, if both were in his power, exchange it for all the pleasures in the world. But then Joy is never in our power and Pleasure often is.” 

01 September 2014

Mitr. Antonie Bloom

Sermon preached on Sunday, 18th August 1991
The Rich Young Man (St. Matthew XIX:16-26)

In the Name of the Father, the Son and the Holy Ghost. The Lord warns us today of how difficult it is for a man who is rich to enter the Kingdom of God. Does it mean that the Kingdom of God is open only to destitute, to those who are materially poor, who lack everything on earth? No. The Kingdom of God is open to all who are not enslaved by possessions. When we read the first Beatitude, 'Blessed are the poor in spirit for theirs is the Kingdom of Heaven’, we are given a key to this saying: the poor in spirit are those who have understood that they possess nothing which is their own. We have been created as an act of God, loved into existence; we are offered by God communion with Him to which we have no rights. All we are, all we possess is not our own in the sense that we have not made ourselves, we did not create what is seemingly ours — every thing which we are and which we have is love, the love of God and the love of people, and we cannot possess anything because everything is a gift that escapes us the moment we want to have possession of it and say, "It is mine".
On the other hand, the Kingdom of God is really the kingdom of those who are aware that they are infinitely rich because we can expect everything from love divine and from human love. We are rich because we possess nothing, we are rich because we are given all things; and so, it is difficult for one who imagines that he is rich in his own right to belong to that kingdom in which everything is a sign of love, and nothing can be possessed, as it were — taken away from others; because the moment we say that we possess something which is not given us either by God or by human care, we subtract it from the mystery of love."

"(we have been) loved into existence". o minte omeneasca nu cred ca putea sa spuna asta :)