“Never order shellfish on the First Date (or any date)”

Don’t get me wrong, it’s not a question of taste: shellfish are delicious, but they’re the number one enemy of convenience.

Through The Mirror

My friend N. hadn’t been out with a guy for so long that she bought a litter box, which would not have sounded so dangerous in itself if it weren’t for the fact that N. is allergic to cat hair and once almost got killed at a friend’s house with two handsome Persians.

So I did what a good friend should never do: I arranged a date for her with a friend of a friend.

The credentials were there, according to my friend E., but it is always better to check in person, so I first organized a group outing involving the guy. From my careful analysis the guy did not seem to be too bad, his appearance was pleasant, his language colorful but never extremely vulgar, he didn’t have any food worries, he had a moderate passion for soccer but was aware of the existence of trillions of other…

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“A good glass of wine in one hand and a good story in the other!”

And perhaps for this reason it is read more by women than by men. Because we feel more involved, more empathetic with Minù, the aristocratic but unfortunate protagonist.

Through The Mirror

“It was raining the night my father changed the course of my life“[1]

And it was raining the night my mother handed me this book one autumn evening eight years ago. This book was recommended to her in turn by a friend, to whom her mother had given it as a gift, who had read a good review: the writer Benedetta Cibrario [2] was awarded the Campiello Prize in 2008 – and so on …

From woman to woman, this novel has come to me. I think it is a coincidence that no possessor of the Y chromosome has been mentioned, since it is a novel with no pretense of ending up in the “pink” category. A category, among other things, that I don’t particularly appreciate.

And then why pink ? Couldn’t they have been orange novels? Blue or emerald?

Bah.

I take some Rossovermiglio from the cellar…

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“IZombie, Fried Brain and … lots of laughs!”

I recommend you watch it with friends because the life of Liv and her groups is full of adventures to comment on, starting with my favorite part: every time she eats a brain, she takes on the personality of its previous owner. So, we will see her serious and studious, or alcoholic, or brazen or shy. And these sudden personality changes take the narrative to a level of great performance for actress Rose McIver and pure enjoyment for the viewer.

Through The Mirror

Since I have Netflix, I have started to diverge a lot in the choice of TV series, if with generalist TV I was in fact a bit forced to choose between teen drama and crime, now I have any genre at my disposal.

So, while the infernal heat was imminent since June, I looked for something different, funny but also with a good plot, and with a length that was not excessive (like GOT“Power, Seduction, Wine… other Wiiiine!!!”) but not even minimal (like New Girl).

So, I saw the iZombie icon by chance, and I must say I was very skeptical. The zombie stories are not exactly my favorite ones, because they tend to duplication and refer to each other, so watched one, watched all! Furthermore, a few months earlier I had tried to watch The Walking Dead with my friends Federica and Anna with very poor…

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Classics: “The Great Gatsby”

Twenties atmospheres, the age of jazz, prohibition[1], lights, parties, beautiful cars and cocktail dresses. How not to be fascinated? One immediately thinks of jewels, make-up, sets. To wealth!

Through The Mirror

Twenties atmospheres, the age of jazz, prohibition[1], lights, parties, beautiful cars and cocktail dresses. How not to be fascinated? One immediately thinks of jewels, make-up, sets. To wealth!

Probably those who lived these years would not really agree with the imagery that was created around the magical twenties, since struck by lights and colors, it is easy to forget that that decade is right between the two world wars, and that all that exaggeration, display of power, money and happiness served to cover a majority of the population in misery and depression.

The manifesto of the decade, at least of the American one, we know well how different lives were in Europe !, is undoubtedly THE GREAT GATSBY, issued in 1925 by the skilled hands of Francis Scott Fitzgerald (1896-1900). The novel, for those few who did not know it, is based on the indecipherable and ambiguous figure…

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“(Not too) Desperate Housewives”

For eight cutesy seasons (2004-2012), Desperate Housewives kept anxious housewives (and meddlesome husbands) on the screen, becoming a first-time media event that acclaimed illustrious fans such as ex-first lady Laura Bush. A series sui generis, difficult to categorize (halfway between soap-opera, comedy noir and thriller)

Through The Mirror

Apple strudel with phyllo dough

(the recipe is from my dear friend Anna)

Ingredients for 6 servings:

-5 medium sized green Granny Smith apples
– the juice of 1/2 lemon
-150g of granulated sugar
-1 teaspoon of cinnamon
-1 teaspoon of vanilla sugar
-1 tablespoon of flour
-20g of melted butter
-80g of raisins or sultanas
-3-4 sheets of phyllo dough
-1 beaten egg with 3 tablespoons of milk
– icing sugar to taste for dusting

Method:

First, we heat the oven to 220 ° and we grease or line a rectangular cookie sheet with parchment paper.

We peel the apples and cut them into 4 large wedges, remove the core and then cut into very thin wedges. in a dish and sprinkle them with lemon juice.

We mix the granulated sugar, cinnamon, vanilla sugar and flour and pour the mixture into the plate of apples. We mix well to…

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“To Stay or to Go: this is the Dilemma”

Going, looking for prosperity outside, perhaps abroad, totally changing your life and prospects. Or stay, try to change things in your Country, in your home.

Through The Mirror

I am not used to love stories, I think I have repeated it many times, but the fact is that they continue to give them to me, and I, as an avid reader, cannot watch them end up on a shelf collecting dust: I have to read them. Often at the end of reading I regret it, bored to death by the banality of the story, of the characters, of the plots that already reveal the ending in the second line. But sometimes there are some exceptions, a few pearls in the pile of empty shells!

Obviously, those who gave it to me know me best, or maybe it’s simply a coincidence … who knows. The fact is that when my longtime friend gave me Silvia Avallone’s “Marina Bellezza[1]” I was really very skeptical, but three weeks later I changed my mind. Despite being a Christmas present…

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“Let me introduce you the Pearsons”

In short, for me family means love. Unconditional. Without tags, color, sex, blood.

Through The Mirror

Family is a very complicated issue. Should not. In reality it should be very easy to define a family as a nucleus of people who love, support and create problems for each other …

However, this is not always the case, there are those who are tied to tradition and those who have caught up with the concept of “extended family”, those who have had to deal with it and those who pretend that nothing has changed.

For me, the family is not made up of blood or tradition. It is made by the people who have raised me in my life. With severity and affection.

It is made by my mother who prepares the broth for me if I’m sick even if I’m more than an adult. From dad who makes me fill up the car to make me feel safe. From my brother who shares with me this…

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“Grazia, Graziella and … «In search of the lost soldier» “

Therefore, we got there after an hour of travel between buses, metro and other buses, we found ourselves in front of a heap of boys in uniform of all origins and ages, who obviously looked at us as if they had just seen a ghost in a dark and stormy night because usually women never entered there. But we did not know that.

Through The Mirror

I have already told you that I have found one of the notebooks-diaries of the adventures of three high school girls who for privacy reasons and for any complaints we will call Grazia, Graziella and okay, the third one is me, of course …

There are plenty of stories to tell, but for shame reasons and because some are probably not yet fall into statute of limitations, I haven’t written about them yet.

Today, however, I walked past the Cecchignola[1], and suddenly I remembered of another crazy feat of the trio of old friends, which made me smile all afternoon.

The three girls at the time of the fact were about sixteen years old, the innocence and malice of that time is now just a memory, in any case, it was an afternoon like many others, we were downtown,  sitting on the Spanish steps, in Rome,  when…

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