The thing about having so much time in your hands (and zillions of cable TV channels) is, once in a while, you come across some pretty good stuff.
An amazing martial art practiced in India, in Kelara. Two things made me thoughtfull, one,the fact that women are only allowed to practice until they get married (then they are expected to give up everything,( though most of them are fiery good at it) to look after their hubbies, full time, full stop.
The other thing was a familiar sensation I have every time I come across ex colonies, the conquered lands….the fact that during the British Empire ocupation of India, kalaripayattu was banned, and, though practiced clandestinely, it died significantly.
When I went to Egypt (5 months pregnant, one of the most amazing tripps of my entire life), I kept laughing at the statement you hear in many sites: and the other arm (or column, or vase, or plate) is at the British Museum……
The amount of precious stones that were shipped out of my mother land, my Brasil, by the Portuguese,(O Santo do Pau Oco, lembram-se?) the amount of Pau Brasil (the tree which gave our country it's name) that desapeared in the hands of said conquerors, the amount of indians (aboriginals, natives, wotever you wanna call them) who were killed in the process of *civilization*…..oh well, life, oh life, oh life….
And was watching Tv also that Sarita and I came into a deep conversation about life and dead, coz I (who had never seen an entire program with the Croc Hunter, appart from one in which his subject were snakes) started complaining about the guy doing what he was doing, whilst his (very small, very young, very cute) little daughter watched him, and cried to her mum for Daddy…and that lil voice: Daddy, be carefull, Daddy!!!!
I am concious of the fact that Sarita's birth put a lot of common sense and responsability in my life. I have done pretty stupid risky stuff (some not so stupid too), some in pursue of jobs, some in pursue of pure adrenaline…..but after her birth the motherly instinct came in.
I have survived a lot of my friends. It hurts.
I love all foot wear, have owned the most amazing boots, sandals, shoes….
After january 2003, when they replaced my hip (and didnt work) I was presented with an extra 3 and 1/2 cm height. Only in the one operated leg though (the right ), but not to worry, my consultant said: We ll give you the same extra height when we operate the other leg!!!!!!! …… fine, only I dont want to let them anywhere near me again.
They opened me up 4 times in the same leg, and that same leg hurts more than the other one, which is supposed to hurts lots more as it doesnt have a hip joint (arthrosis, arthritis, bone erosion, I was born with two dislocated hips, didnt walk till aged 5)…. maybe I forgot to say that I nearly had a heart attack after the last op, in dec 05….and there is the meds, Oh, the meds….but I am, again, navigating away from the subject.
So they made me taller,yay! but I have one leg slightly shorter than the other, none can tell, but it s coz I wear a bit of a shoe rise…which brings me into the point: I cannot wear just any pair of shoes. (unless I wanna limp, and I dont ;hurts more) Cowboy boots, for example, my all time fav, they cannot be made into the shoe rise.
But there is this shop in Camden High St, all jewelry is a quid, £1…..I have a treat a week, that works almost as well as CBT (Cognitive Behavioral Therapy, not the *other* kind of cbt!!!). Now they have shoes, zillions of shoes……and they are only £5…..Ah, sweet temptation…. They have boots too, for £10, which isnt much, but I dont really like them… anyway, I m almost sure I cant wear these shoes either, but will buy them as pressies for my friends and family (when we travel x Xmas), so I put them up at Flickr for them to choose….
I'm gonna go, otherwise Sarita wont *unglue* of the tele, she needs shower, tomorow's school…
the shoes…the shoes…the shoes………
(I made a mess of these, didnt I? need to learn how to change them…)