NOONE BEHIND A GREAT WOMAN

How many times have you heard of a husband or boyfriend who sacrificed his career for his partner? How many times have you heard that a man copied his wife’s stories or poems at night? How many men do you know who have helped a woman to make a career, to get to the top, to become someone? Tell me one name of a man! Who are these men who gave up their lives to make her take flight? Could she make it to the finish line? please give me some names. Because there are thousands and millions of women who have done this, but no one comes to mind. Indeed, men are usually the ones who hate that women can go ahead and do something for themselves. Men want them and their family and children and the house and the kitchen to be first and then more. Who are these men who said to their partners: “Leave everything alone and go, I’ll take care of it here”? Have you read it in what blog? Let me know. Women have always sacrificed themselves in everything for men, in the name of love, and they should kill this love, since in the end they do not get anywhere and often remain fooled by that feeling It is said that behind a great man there is a great woman. But behind a great woman there is no one because no man ever renounces himself, neither for love nor for anything else. And tell me some names that prove the opposite!

MY GREEN FINGERS

After returning from vacation, I went to the garden and found the first tomatoes. Considering how much it rained this year it was a nice surprise not to find everything already destroyed. So I’m glad I had the first tomatoes and today for lunch I made a nice salad with tomatoes, onions, oregano and olive oil.

You know, in my family my mother always made fabulous minestrone. He got up early in the morning and started cutting cabbage, carrots, cabbage, onions, broccoli, potatoes and parsley. Then he cooked separately and legumes, sometimes lentils, sometimes beans or chickpeas, and then he passed them making them creamy and added them to the soup. My mother cared a lot about our diet and wanted us to always eat lots of vegetables, fresh and without pesticides. So my father had garden cultivation as a hobby. aI was not very happy to eat minestrone but I must say that until I was 22 I never had health problems. Then when I went to live away from mine and my mother’s soups, my health deteriorated greatly. So please do a great thing for your children, make them eat fresh vegetables every day.

This is the soup I made two days ago after picking, cleaning and cutting the vegetables from our garden. It’s not my mom’s version but it’ll be fine anyway. Try it too. I put zucchini, cabbage, onion, parsley, cabbage and escarole.

These are some of the vegetables cut into small pieces. It was tiring but smelling the scent of the minestrone brought me back to the past and it was nice to remember everything my mother did for us, to make us grow well.

These are two zucchini from our garden.

This is the freshly picked escarole.

ONLY A WOMAN

The real woman will be criticized for its superficiality, laughter too shrill, the lightness with which problems are faced. Will be judged for the leggings and the short shirt, for immaturity in love, its being unpredictable and moody. You will call her “little girl” for exaggerated reactions, I manage insane, for the perennial desire to be in the bed curled up rather than in the kitchen. Life for its inconsistency, the confusion and its insecurities. You will label it as unsuitable, exaggerated. Yet the real woman is the one who breaks the expectations of others, as a price for his happiness.

I fell in love with you. Yes, I’m madly, inexplicably in love with you. You know, I wonder why, but then I look at you and I understand it, you are that someone I would like by my side and not because you are tremendously beautiful and charming, but because I like you, as a person. I would like to hate you for the simple fact that you feel nothing for me, but then you smile and I fall in love even more. With those green and smiling eyes, with that I know everything and with that certainty that only a few have. I would like to hug you, finally smell your smell and feel your hands caress my hair. Sometimes, I just wish I could look you in the eye and make you understand what I feel, because to tell you verbally I would never make it. I look at you from afar, with protective eyes, in silence, staring at your movements, your ways of doing which for me are simply perfect. I would like to take you by the hand and talk to you about my things and hear all your talk, which may seem nonsense, but which I somehow understand. I imagine a we that will never be there, a us that only I give importance to. I would like to forget you, hoping it will be easy for the simple fact that the two of us have not lived anything together, but I’m wrong, I try but it’s impossible for me. I am not enough for you, I know this, you would like the perfect girl, not one with a thousand problems and insecurities, with a moody and unstable character, with a life of regrets and disappointments, with one who knows she has lost from the start . But basically I have to admit that I hope so, I hope you accept me for who I am. But I have to stop thinking about you, it’s the only way to stop hurting myself. Because yes, I’m hurting myself in loving you. But know that as long as I love you, I will be here waiting for you with a mad desire to be by your side and to love you even more.

I love the sea, the sound of the waves, the beach. I hate almost, maybe, monosyllables. I give weight to the words. I cry for a movie, for the ending of a book, for people who are going away. I am angry enough, but a little word is enough to get me through, I can’t keep a nose at the people I care about. I always believe that the last attempt is the penultimate, and I believe that good things are not achieved if you do not fight. I’m paranoid, impulsive, I’m terribly jealous and I’m moody. I’m into complicated things, but I can’t last long. I don’t know how to say goodbye. I just know that I stay, stay if I believe in something.

You are complicated. Sometimes you get so paranoid that it’s almost impossible not to hate yourself. You don’t like yourself because you’re not perfect. And yes you are not perfect, but who is? You complain all the time about your defects, you are moody, insecure, a total nonsense. But you are also the most sensitive and sweet person. You hide behind layers of sarcasm, you pretend to be a bitch, but you are not … you get lost in a hug. You get attached easily and you would give your heart to those you love. You love so much, you love strong and never halfway. and you stay even when they distance you, they hurt you, even when they don’t deserve it, you stay until the end, even at the cost of losing yourself.