tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-48391160023273285012024-03-19T13:47:56.667+02:00Girly tough ain't enoughElīnahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10521503680160374034noreply@blogger.comBlogger88125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4839116002327328501.post-48353111590110462652015-05-01T22:46:00.000+03:002015-05-01T22:46:41.719+03:00Sakāpinātais aprīlis /// The hectic, cruellest April<br />
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<br />Elīnahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10521503680160374034noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4839116002327328501.post-9698774577686582612015-01-18T23:08:00.001+02:002015-01-18T23:22:24.201+02:00Elīnas dodas uz Ropažiem. 1. daļa /// Elinas go to Ropazi. Part I<div style="text-align: justify;">
Kad mēs ar Elīnu vienu vasaru devāmies uz Ropažiem nedēļu dejot un dzīvot mazā ciematā netālu no Rīgas, mēs ātri aptvērām, ka viena no satumsušu vakaru jautrākajām izklaidēm ir klaiņošana pa vienīgo ielu un mazākām taciņām. Divām meitenēm ar kameriņu ir visai jautri, un, kad dejošanas nodarbības bija beigušās, mums vienmēr bija skaidrs, ka pienācis laiks pastaigai un tās fiksēšanai zibspuldzes gaismā. Elīnai gan diez ko nepatīk bildēties, man patīk tīri labi, īpaši, ja tā ir Elīna, kas bildē un dod norādījumus, un, ja tas ir Ropažos.</div>
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When one summer Elina and I went to Ropazi to dance and stay for a week in this village not far from the capital, quite early we realized that one of the most fun things to do was strolling the one single street and minor paths. It's fun when there are two girls and a camera. So whenever the dancing lessons were over, it was always clear to us that it was time for a stroll. We didn't forget to record the stroll in flashlight. Elina doesn't really like being photographed, but I don't mind it at all. Especially if it's Elina who's taking pictures and giving directions, and if it's Ropazi.</div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">Upe Lielā Jugla /// River The Big Jugla</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">Lietotas leļļu galvas /// Second hand heads of dolls</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">Ceļš uz Rīgu un atpakaļ /// A road to Riga and back</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">Tas laikam kādreiz bija krogs /// I suppose it was a tavern once</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">Redziet, mēs esam dejošanas nometnē /// Look, we are at a dance camp</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">sarkanmate Elīna /// Elina the redhead</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">Ar līdzsvaru tā vidēji /// The balance is so so</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">kukainis /// An insect</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">Elīnas pozitīvi noskaņotā roka /// Elina's positive thinking hand</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEja4DrsHtUVedriWC9dpkH5j9EDRrUiZ0jNOI4AbM4yOzR-_FM9UeT6-f5AydhhZW4OsjmM8uKHOPP8GuVjtvZmgZXANDsypvdjHkxcAVo6kl6kF1aiGSmFazo-O0TJ9GnVYh6K47RFWTzB/s1600/Ropa%25C5%25BEi-20130729-04885.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEja4DrsHtUVedriWC9dpkH5j9EDRrUiZ0jNOI4AbM4yOzR-_FM9UeT6-f5AydhhZW4OsjmM8uKHOPP8GuVjtvZmgZXANDsypvdjHkxcAVo6kl6kF1aiGSmFazo-O0TJ9GnVYh6K47RFWTzB/s320/Ropa%25C5%25BEi-20130729-04885.jpg" height="300" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">Spokuģīmis! /// The Ghostly Face</span></td></tr>
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<br />Elīnahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10521503680160374034noreply@blogger.com0Ropaži, Latvia56.9753199 24.62961900000004856.958010900000005 24.589278500000049 56.9926289 24.669959500000047tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4839116002327328501.post-81604599318822818412014-12-31T15:05:00.001+02:002014-12-31T15:05:37.648+02:00Mīļākā piparkūku sirds /// The favourite gingerbread heart<span id="goog_1800847805"></span>Šogad es saņēmu savu visu laiku mīļāko piparkūku sirdi - vidēja izmēra sirdi ar glazūras burtiem "Эли-на". Elza bija iecerējusi izrotāt piparkūku ar savu vārdu, pierakstītu kirilicā, taču pa ceļam aizmirsa, kā krieviski raksta "z". Nekas cits neatlika kā pārmesties uz vārdu "Элина".<br />
Slāviskas tēmas mums patīk, mēs daudz laika esam pavadījušas kopā Krievijas impērijas netiešā klātbūtnē un aizņēmušās krievu jaunkundžu sajūtu.<br />
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^^^^^<br />
This year I received my all time favourite gingerbread heart. It's medium-sized, and on it there is written "Эли-на" ('Elina' written in Russian).<br />
Elza was about to decorate the heart with her own name using Cyrillic script but having done the first two letters, she forgot how to write "z" in Russian. There was no way back, so she decided to do "Элина" instead.<br />
We like the Slavic themes quite a lot. Also, we've spent a considerable amount of time in an indirect presence of Russian Empire, borrowing the feeling of girls of somewhere in Russia.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEisvxpIXmlfnEr97IERwmXWACh0c1zmjCZGBfgmoem30jbB0L0BP33GAlVu86bMHvwAvQIXBZ8VsI-MT3Sz-zwpvP13cBXb3s6XiTPX124ms0hyej6M3N26GfNw7WyVhpm-EpH9CIfdkxLG/s1600/R%C4%ABga-20141224-13809.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEisvxpIXmlfnEr97IERwmXWACh0c1zmjCZGBfgmoem30jbB0L0BP33GAlVu86bMHvwAvQIXBZ8VsI-MT3Sz-zwpvP13cBXb3s6XiTPX124ms0hyej6M3N26GfNw7WyVhpm-EpH9CIfdkxLG/s1600/R%C4%ABga-20141224-13809.jpg" height="300" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Элина /// Elina</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrGZsdunWDTmQYxWCA7Ajv1zq2kFRYjM9cv621a-vv6tOknyAZWNZ8pDwEpDgX9C_REQdNhqdIEgKN_xSM3oHwzYnu81lQtPibPj6Oteiha9gq3_Y-N4tX4sldK3fyPSkiiFxAj8XJdDOD/s1600/elza+pie+eglites.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrGZsdunWDTmQYxWCA7Ajv1zq2kFRYjM9cv621a-vv6tOknyAZWNZ8pDwEpDgX9C_REQdNhqdIEgKN_xSM3oHwzYnu81lQtPibPj6Oteiha9gq3_Y-N4tX4sldK3fyPSkiiFxAj8XJdDOD/s1600/elza+pie+eglites.jpg" height="382" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Элза /// Elza</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">seni sunīši /// ancient dogs</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Ērik, paskaties, lūdzu! /// Eric, please, look up!</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">tas ir mans kaķis, kuram ir lentīte /// it's my cat, the one with ribbon</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">mandarīns un samts /// a tangerine and velvet</td></tr>
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<br />Elīnahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10521503680160374034noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4839116002327328501.post-47255331293214922412014-12-14T22:58:00.005+02:002014-12-14T22:58:59.341+02:00Atstātās mantiņas /// Things left behind<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<br />
Ir vairākas lietas, ko nevajadzētu aizmirst un pazaudēt, bet daži tomēr to ir izdarījuši.<br />
<br />
<br />
I. Puķes.<br />
Pārāk dāvinātas (vai dāvināmas) un smukas. Ja viņas kaut kur aizmirst, tad viņu skaistums kļūst nepieejams un ļaunākos apstākļos neesošs.<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqjKIqQSaXw4sfDcK26NbvbscsbtlVg-PBspsGNlzsD1pAIQZ-ncG_O1bHyL9XdkbGbihmFKa4G_H8zlzYSfSn_uR91X2hT1NffcYMEJIkxHuWn5Vs4eNUxOpKNm8kVnueKLACmyRs9Vn8/s1600/R%C4%ABga-20130214-03606.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqjKIqQSaXw4sfDcK26NbvbscsbtlVg-PBspsGNlzsD1pAIQZ-ncG_O1bHyL9XdkbGbihmFKa4G_H8zlzYSfSn_uR91X2hT1NffcYMEJIkxHuWn5Vs4eNUxOpKNm8kVnueKLACmyRs9Vn8/s1600/R%C4%ABga-20130214-03606.jpg" height="300" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">14. februāris, ietve pie "Splendid Palace"</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjU_0g1SuipR6yry31ngdF7RZEoQQl8kJjIOYD6Y0eYxf29k9q_Uq_BH2D6oOqmIntD973FZyAi-dl_P95ysrDg0RPRVh0IJ00_qv2wA5bJh3IVW8zed2K49Wdb1bXNjpLAg3Cfd4WcPC3x/s1600/R%C4%ABga-20140329-07686.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjU_0g1SuipR6yry31ngdF7RZEoQQl8kJjIOYD6Y0eYxf29k9q_Uq_BH2D6oOqmIntD973FZyAi-dl_P95ysrDg0RPRVh0IJ00_qv2wA5bJh3IVW8zed2K49Wdb1bXNjpLAg3Cfd4WcPC3x/s1600/R%C4%ABga-20140329-07686.jpg" height="300" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">29. marts, ietve pie "Splendid Palace"</span></td></tr>
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<br />
II. Spēļmantiņas.<br />
Nu tas vienkārši ir pārāk sāpīgi un neatgriezeniski, nekad tā nedariet.<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjD_T1YZqtvfhibEmGGRzUZHpQVnkkiSX9M_9qddFsF68TDgiGb6NZ_otbN5MJ87j-kdJifokNloGrQCldJIeAYodAYP6-9iR48pYEhiAT2t8dBSr8sr4PoOGE1xfHNNAux-_KOP10syk0z/s1600/R%C4%ABga-20130525-03947.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjD_T1YZqtvfhibEmGGRzUZHpQVnkkiSX9M_9qddFsF68TDgiGb6NZ_otbN5MJ87j-kdJifokNloGrQCldJIeAYodAYP6-9iR48pYEhiAT2t8dBSr8sr4PoOGE1xfHNNAux-_KOP10syk0z/s1600/R%C4%ABga-20130525-03947.jpg" height="300" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">atstāts vienradzis, 25. maijs, Rīga</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">Baltijas jūras krastā izskalots sunītis, 31. maijs, Heiligenhafen, Vācija</span></td></tr>
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<br />
<br />
III. Ēdiens.<br />
<div style="text-align: justify;">
Aizmirst ēdienu ir vismazāk skumji, taču tur ir tāds nevajadzīgi gremdējošs vilšanās raksturs. Visas skaistās ieceres par maltīti vai tās gatavošanu ielien savās peļu aliņās, un kaķītim redzama tuksnešaina istaba bez objekta, kam skatienam pieķerties. It kā pilsēta dod iespējas ar samērā maz pūliņiem atkārtoti iegūt kāroto, taču, no otras puses, vilšanās jau ir notikusi, un tas būtu arī kā nomiruša vilku suņa vietā paņemt vilku suņa kucēnu. Dažiem jau izdodas, taču tā reti kurš dara.</div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">saldējums uz Dzirnavu ielas, karsta maija diena</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjkSeSNV08ETGPOZJv5zBIqJfWXr-Rz4RnBpvgRBKwyKGef3UhxA3E3IUJNCsSdb4wnHyEQU7V0rE2W2uUunHSGgRlnPthyphenhyphenBfXJOA6bgXd90O8Mn4Jxphju7EbPEpAYry7Ad5jipr30dmRm/s1600/R%C4%ABga-20140524-08272.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjkSeSNV08ETGPOZJv5zBIqJfWXr-Rz4RnBpvgRBKwyKGef3UhxA3E3IUJNCsSdb4wnHyEQU7V0rE2W2uUunHSGgRlnPthyphenhyphenBfXJOA6bgXd90O8Mn4Jxphju7EbPEpAYry7Ad5jipr30dmRm/s1600/R%C4%ABga-20140524-08272.jpg" height="302" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">"Tā ir tāda diēta."</span></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td></tr>
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"Tā ir tāda diēta," teica viens no zēniem, ejot garām
atstātajam saldējumam. Varbūt ir tāda diēta, kad barojošas un
cukurotas lietas nopērk veikalā un tad atstāj uz ietves, lai neriskētu apvelties.</div>
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<iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.blogger.com/video.g?token=AD6v5dxyDcW62R435b9bpfSUYnXlCZPruaXr5JYSOa1JNiCAI_w5kl9wwRM5WBYCHVqCtifvwUPhswppRbR4BhRqFw' class='b-hbp-video b-uploaded' frameborder='0'></iframe></div>
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^^^^^<br />
<br />
There's a couple of things one shouldn't leave behind, still some have managed to do that. <br />
<br />
<br />
I. Flowers.<br />
They're given as a gift, or to be given as a gift, and beautiful too. If you forget them to take with you, their beauty becomes inaccessible. Or even worse - non-existing.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqjKIqQSaXw4sfDcK26NbvbscsbtlVg-PBspsGNlzsD1pAIQZ-ncG_O1bHyL9XdkbGbihmFKa4G_H8zlzYSfSn_uR91X2hT1NffcYMEJIkxHuWn5Vs4eNUxOpKNm8kVnueKLACmyRs9Vn8/s1600/R%C4%ABga-20130214-03606.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqjKIqQSaXw4sfDcK26NbvbscsbtlVg-PBspsGNlzsD1pAIQZ-ncG_O1bHyL9XdkbGbihmFKa4G_H8zlzYSfSn_uR91X2hT1NffcYMEJIkxHuWn5Vs4eNUxOpKNm8kVnueKLACmyRs9Vn8/s1600/R%C4%ABga-20130214-03606.jpg" height="300" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">14th of February, pavement next to a cinema</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjU_0g1SuipR6yry31ngdF7RZEoQQl8kJjIOYD6Y0eYxf29k9q_Uq_BH2D6oOqmIntD973FZyAi-dl_P95ysrDg0RPRVh0IJ00_qv2wA5bJh3IVW8zed2K49Wdb1bXNjpLAg3Cfd4WcPC3x/s1600/R%C4%ABga-20140329-07686.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjU_0g1SuipR6yry31ngdF7RZEoQQl8kJjIOYD6Y0eYxf29k9q_Uq_BH2D6oOqmIntD973FZyAi-dl_P95ysrDg0RPRVh0IJ00_qv2wA5bJh3IVW8zed2K49Wdb1bXNjpLAg3Cfd4WcPC3x/s1600/R%C4%ABga-20140329-07686.jpg" height="300" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">27th of March, pavement next to the same cinema</span></td></tr>
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<br />
<br />
II.Toys.<br />
Well, this is simply too painful and irreversible. Avoid by any means. <br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjD_T1YZqtvfhibEmGGRzUZHpQVnkkiSX9M_9qddFsF68TDgiGb6NZ_otbN5MJ87j-kdJifokNloGrQCldJIeAYodAYP6-9iR48pYEhiAT2t8dBSr8sr4PoOGE1xfHNNAux-_KOP10syk0z/s1600/R%C4%ABga-20130525-03947.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjD_T1YZqtvfhibEmGGRzUZHpQVnkkiSX9M_9qddFsF68TDgiGb6NZ_otbN5MJ87j-kdJifokNloGrQCldJIeAYodAYP6-9iR48pYEhiAT2t8dBSr8sr4PoOGE1xfHNNAux-_KOP10syk0z/s1600/R%C4%ABga-20130525-03947.jpg" height="300" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">a forgotten unicorn, 25th of May, Riga</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFhr2BG808STh4O0HNjh2I7hYUL4zCRsMmJ54PUc7RAeekCZPQgQwd7Rwz3hOxPjQhN-dYHWpyJzQX9fdAUGig3e7BqK3W_KZeQSypGsEHf_tb6L0i-3-8KtxKydhuiCDkT6rbwOViAMfR/s1600/DSC02513.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFhr2BG808STh4O0HNjh2I7hYUL4zCRsMmJ54PUc7RAeekCZPQgQwd7Rwz3hOxPjQhN-dYHWpyJzQX9fdAUGig3e7BqK3W_KZeQSypGsEHf_tb6L0i-3-8KtxKydhuiCDkT6rbwOViAMfR/s1600/DSC02513.JPG" height="300" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">this dog has been bathing in the Baltic sea for too long, 31st of May, Heiligenhafen, Germany</span></td></tr>
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<br />
III. Food. <br />
<div style="text-align: justify;">
Forgetting food is the least painful thing, but even this has an unnecessary disappointing quality. All the sunny intentions to prepare a meal find their way into mouse holes, and the cats can see nothing but a deserted room. There's no object that would catch their attention. Although the city offers possibilities to get the needed things one again with minimal efforts, the disappointment has already happened. It's a bit like getting a German Shepperd puppy when your beloved German Shepperd dog has died. Some succeed it pretty well, however not everyone does that.</div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5weR2jw8STqQiMJ9fQ_BLGGkKaVZqAbASIUq39EdgPwr8BCMxVS3oOhSNoA6oA72jsSAtqi4U6WeYt8s9-aF50OvWf3Rb7hRrdkBwkukAmmlAjHNqdoK7BnJ4vPinCAsSMvodpm2cquGM/s1600/IMG-20140524-08268.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5weR2jw8STqQiMJ9fQ_BLGGkKaVZqAbASIUq39EdgPwr8BCMxVS3oOhSNoA6oA72jsSAtqi4U6WeYt8s9-aF50OvWf3Rb7hRrdkBwkukAmmlAjHNqdoK7BnJ4vPinCAsSMvodpm2cquGM/s1600/IMG-20140524-08268.jpg" height="300" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">ice cream in Centre Riga, a hot day in May</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjkSeSNV08ETGPOZJv5zBIqJfWXr-Rz4RnBpvgRBKwyKGef3UhxA3E3IUJNCsSdb4wnHyEQU7V0rE2W2uUunHSGgRlnPthyphenhyphenBfXJOA6bgXd90O8Mn4Jxphju7EbPEpAYry7Ad5jipr30dmRm/s1600/R%C4%ABga-20140524-08272.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjkSeSNV08ETGPOZJv5zBIqJfWXr-Rz4RnBpvgRBKwyKGef3UhxA3E3IUJNCsSdb4wnHyEQU7V0rE2W2uUunHSGgRlnPthyphenhyphenBfXJOA6bgXd90O8Mn4Jxphju7EbPEpAYry7Ad5jipr30dmRm/s1600/R%C4%ABga-20140524-08272.jpg" height="302" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">"It's kinda special diet."</span></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td></tr>
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<div style="text-align: justify;">
"It's kinda special diet," said one of the boys, passing the ice cream on the pavement. There might be a diet, when you buy rich and sugary food and then deliberately leave it outside the shop. Indeed, there's no need to risk you slender shape.</div>
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<br />Elīnahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10521503680160374034noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4839116002327328501.post-11084985284585836442014-09-17T23:33:00.001+03:002014-09-18T08:24:56.909+03:00Biezoknis. Jūsu draudzene tiecas pēc jums, taču izjūt arī bailes!!! Bērnudārza grupiņa gripas laikā<div style="text-align: justify;">
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<span style="background-color: white;">Es saņēmu Biezokņa grupas debijas albuma "Jūsu draudzene tiecas pēc jums, taču izjūt arī bailes!!!" preses eksemplāru (skat. foto zemāk), tāpēc es tagad rakstu recenziju par šo albumu. Īstenībā preses eksemplāru es dabūju tāpēc, ka teicu: "Es rakstīšu par jums recenziju!", taču tik un tā dēvēšu šīs par abpusēji kauzālām attiecībām, kurās viens izriet no otra un otrs izriet no viena.</span><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">daļa albuma noformējuma</span></td></tr>
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Albuma nosaukums man patīk ļoti, ļoti. Domāju, ka viņš ir trāpīgs, patiess pēc satura un labs kā nosaukums. Nekad iepriekš nebiju sapņu tulkus novērtējusi kā noderīgu vai tīkamu literatūru, taču šis albuma nosaukums (skat. sapņu tulkā šķirkli "biezoknis") man liek savu attieksmi pārvērtēt. Visi, kas savos nakts sapņos redzējuši biezokni, ņemiet vērā savu draudzeņu patiesās jūtas, par kurām beidzot esat uzzinājuši. Un viss tikai piecu mūziku un jaunradi praktizējošu jaunu cilvēku dēļ. No otras puses, varam sevi uzskatīt par veiksminiekiem, ka grupu nesauc "Redzēt vafeles", "Jauns džemperis", "Vadmala" vai "Vizītkarte". Tad pie mums atkļūtu albumi ar attiecīgiem nosaukumiem "Liels skandāls", "Peļņa", "Apprecēt vienkāršu jaunavu" vai "Partneris, kura dzīves devīze - apmāni pirmais". (Lai gan pēdējais mani mazlietiņ uzrunā.)</div>
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Neslēpšu, ka grupa "Biezoknis" man ārkārtīgi patīk. Slēpt savas jūtas un radīt objektīva vērojuma iespaidu ir nogurdinoši, un nevienu tas arī pārāk neinteresē. Jūs tūlīt uzzināsiet, kāpēc jaunās supergrupas Biezoknis albums ir brīnišķīgs. Man šķiet, arī jums šī grupa sāks patikt.</div>
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<span style="background-color: white;">No grupas, kurā katram dalībniekam vizuāli konceptuālā izpratne par lietām ir krietni trenētāka un pieradinātāka pie citiem šīs pasaules labumiem, nekā ir viņu muzikālo prasmju noslīpētība, varēja sagaidīt, ka albuma noformējums priecēs. </span><span style="background-color: white;">Patīkami, ka vāka dizaina autore Zane Putniņa ir padomājusi par klausītāju jūtām, un pagrīdes paraugizdevniecība Rakete ir uzmanufaktūrējusi nostrādāti saskrāpētus albuma vāciņus. Zane saka, ka diska vāciņi tik ātri saskrāpējas, ka labāk to izdarīt uzreiz. Un tas strādā; daudz foršāk ir saņemt maigi matēti saskrāpētu albumu, nekā ieraudzīt, ka atkal tava neveiklība un neuzmanība ir novedusi pie jaunas švīkas.</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white;">Es gan gaidīju, ka pats Biezoknītis tiks galā ar vāciņa dizainu. Kad izrādās, ka ne un ka to darīšot Zane Putniņa,jautāju, kāpēc viņi paši to nedarīs, piektdaļa grupas teica: "Tad taču mēs viens otru nošautu!" Pareiza izvēle, jo grupas dalībnieki man patīk, un viņi arī būs nepieciešami koncertos, Jo, jāatzīst, neviens no viņiem nav aizvietojams savā izsmalcinātajā neprasmē spēlēt instrumentu un glītajā personībā.</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white;">Starp citu, nav tā, ka man nepatīk, kā viņi spēlē instrumentus un dzied. Man patīk, taču viņi tiešām īsti tādā ierastā un tradicionālā veidā spēlēt neprot, taču viņiem tas nav nepieciešams. Viņi prot labāk. Citi mūziķi viņiem mēdz jautāt (atzīmēšu, ka pirms plašas popularitātes iegūšanas Biezokņa fanu pulka pamatsastāvu veidoja viņu draugi un citi mūziķi): "Jūs tiešām nemākat spēlēt, vai arī esat superprofesionāļi, kas atsakās no pierastā un visa, ko protat?" Iespējams, ja viņi redzētu grupas dalībnieku nošu pierakstus, viņi tā nejautātu. Katram ir savs, tā teikt, autorpieraksts. Runā, ka viena no meitenēm pat pierakstot tādā kā vienkāršotā nošu rakstā. </span><span style="background-color: white;">Viņi tiešām neprata spēlēt pirms grupas pastāvēšanas, un instrumenti tika lielā mērā sadalīti arī pēc tādiem kritērijiem kā "Roland, tev lielas rokas, spēlēsi basu." </span><span style="background-color: white;">Bet Biezoknītis gudrs; nemācīsies 10 gadus, lai no tā visa atteiktos; </span><span style="background-color: white;">viņi sāks uzreiz ar īsto piegājienu.</span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white;">Runājot par pašu Biezokni un viņu raksturu, viņi ir kā bērnudārza grupiņa gripas laikā. Kad vairums bērnu ar temperatūru un zāļu tējām guļ savas gultiņās mājās, 5 bērni ir palikuši veseli, neskarti un atvesti uz bērnudārzu. Izskatās, ka pieci palikušie nemaz nav ieraduši spēlēties kopā, tāpēc viņiem nekas cits neatliek kā atrast spēļmantiņas, nostāties rindā un spēlēt mūziku. Diena bērnudārzā ir gara, mantiņu daudz un uz viņām maza konkurence, tāpēc pa albuma laiku var paspēt gan daudzus instrumentus paspēlēt, gan daudzus vārdus izrunāt. Cita Biezokņa grūpija Katrīna apgalvo, ka mazā korīša muzikālie motīvi un stāvēšana rindā ir divīzijas pazīme, un kas es esmu, lai viņai nepiekristu. </span><br />
<span style="background-color: white;">Sliktākajos no saviem koncertiem, kad apskaņošana nav tā veiksmīgākā un skanējums mūziķus nepatīkami pārsteidz, viņi atgādina biezoknī apmaldījušos meža zvērus, kas kliedz cik jaudas, lai atrastu cits citu, bet nesanāk un nesanāk, un vispār dzīve nav laba. Taču tad, kad kāds smalkjūtīgs skaņotājs ķēries pie nevienkāršās Biezokņa apskaņošanas, viņi tomēr paši ir biezoknis. Un esiet bez bēdu, ieintriģētie lasītāji, Biezokņa un skaņu režisora Uģa Vītiņa, un Jāņa Dubava (draugiem - Hela) sadarbība ir baudāma. Man šķiet, pašam Biezoknim ir svarīgi, ka viņu skaņu režisors saprot, ka viņi nevar būt ļoti tīri, jo viņi tomēr nav iztīrīta stiga, taču mazliet vietu, kur saulei iespīdēt, arī vajag. Dabaszinības apguvušie mūziķi varbūt par to nav dzirdējuši, taču manā samērā klasiskajā ģimnāzijā bioloģijā mācīja, ka saules gaismas un vēl dažu vielu ietekmē augos notiek fotosintēzes process, kura rezultāti ražo skābekli garu dziesmu nodziedāšanai.</span><br />
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Albums sākas ar "Pirmo ēdienu" un tā upes dūņu un ūdenszāļu skanējumu. Ūdens un zemūdens pasaules tēmas tiek risinātas arī "Otrajā ēdienā", kura zivju tēma ēdienā un kristietībā varētu Biezoknīti ieskaitīt pat kristietīgā roka kategorijā. Savukārt meitenēm veltītajās dziesmās (Ances, Līgas, Amandas dziesmās) ir tik burvīgi meiteņu repi, ka šī grupa varētu jau tik dēvēta par ūdenszāļu kristīgā repa grupu. Taču nav jau tikai reps, ir arī uzmundrinoši bērnu korīši, spocīgas, pieglaimīgas ļaunās raganas balss, kas pievilināšanas nolūkos izliekas laba (Ances dziesmā), Dvīņu dziesmas sākums ir gluži vai paraugs kontrastainos dziedājumos. Šajā dziesmā sajūta ir kā šausmu mājā, kur cauri baismiem gaiteņiem pavada mazliet cietsirdīgas ledus karalienes balss, no gaiteņa malas izlec Rolanda lipīgā balss, kuru gribas nokasīt nost, un tad vēl kā tāds mazs, nejauks joks uzrodas Amandas tiešā iedziedāšanās bez vibrato pazīmēm.<br />
Dziesmās novērojamas pārsteidzošas harmonijas, izšķērdīgi melodiskie motīvi (piemēram, Otrā ēdiena instrumentālās beigas) un draivīgi ritmi, maigums un spars. Spars droši vien vairāk. Vēl ir arī noskumums un mierinājums ("neskumsti, neskumsti, visi ceļi ved uz kino"). Tā kā brīžam izmantotas kultūratsauces, nenāk par sliktu būt viegli izglītotam. Tad būs vieglāk atrasties pasaulē ar "ōmen", Pāvila vēstulēm un "trausliem priekšmetiem (..) maigā krēma pildījumā".<br />
Vairāk nekā puse albuma ir veltījuma dziesmas, un tas mani silda. Cilvēkam ar vārdu dziesmas nosaukumā droši vien ir ļoti nozīmīga katra rindiņa. Piemēram, Amanda Amandas dziesmas laikā bieži pie sevis ķiķinot, jo dažas frāzes viņa ir teikusi, dažas rakstījusi Lāsmai vēstulītēs, taču mēs pārējie, kuru vārdi nesaskan ar dziesmas nosaukumu, neesam atstāti novārtā, jo poētiskais līmenis padara tekstu pieejamu arī mums, neizredzētajiem. Pieņemu, ka ir arī iespaidīgi klausīties dēlam pasūtītu savu bēru dziesmu. Piekritīsiet taču, ka savās bērēs vairs sev veltītu rekviēmu nenoklausīties. Un, piemēram, tikai lasot albuma avīzīti es atskārtu, cik gan tomēr ļoti aizkustinoša ir kāda rindiņa ("Kurmīt, mana ziemeļmeita"). Man šķiet, ka šis lingvistiskais solis nozīmi būtiski izmaina, un vispār tā ir ļoti sirsnīga dziesma.<br />
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Nobeigumā vēl mazliet par Biezokņa attiecībām ar toņiem un notīm. Biezokņa ieraksti ir ļoti interesants frekvenču izmantojuma gadījums. Lai gan nav tā, ka dziesmās grūti atrast notis to ierastajos augstumos, jūtams zināms izbrīns par iedibināto harmoniju sistēmu un tās ierobežotību. Nevarētu teikt, ka viņu pieeja ir klasiska un ka viņu izdziedātajām skaņām varētu būt bieža atbilstība ar, tā teikt, sfērām. Tas ir drīzāk tāds patiess haoss, jo viņi izmanto frekvences, kas staigā pa pārsteidzoši neizmīdītiem celiņiem no mūsdienās dominējošās skaņkārtās takām. Varētu teikt, ka Biezokņa pieeja mūzikai ir nematemātiska, savā ziņā antipitagoriska un elastīga attiecībā pret 12 toņu hromatiskā skaņojuma sistēmu. Tas tomēr ir patīkami, kad pret mūziku izturas kā pret poētisku lauku, nevis eksaktu zinātni. Šī ir vairāk instinktīvāka pieeja, un pašiem jāsaprot, kas ir labs un kas ne. Iespējams, muzikālās harmonijas izjūta mūsdienās joprojām ir pārlieku matemātiski konstruēta un skaitliskos aprēķinos balstīta, iespējams, harmonija vairs nav skaistuma mēraukla.<br />
Tas var padarīt dziesmas grūti kaverējamas un karaokējamas, bet tas nekas. Gan iereibuši kruīza braucēji sev atradīs citu repertuāru. Būtībā tā ir tāda meža zvēru pārvietošanās pa meža biezokni, nevis Prusta varoņu sestdienas pastaiga. Taču Biezoknim zvēru pasaule tuva, viņi dzied par "zvēriem, ēdienu un visu svarīgo" (te es kaut ko citēju, tikai nezinu, ko).<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">aprindu hroniķes Katrīnas foto</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">Lāsma no Biezokņa</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">3/5 Biezokņa un fane</span></td></tr>
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Albums varētu citēt rindiņu no Otrā ēdiena: "Baudiet un redziet, cik es esmu labs." Un vai tad labais nav tas, pēc kā tiekties un kā sabiedrībā vēlēties uzturēties.<br />
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Albumu var klausīties <a href="https://biezoknis.bandcamp.com/releases">šeit</a>.<br />
Par muzikālajām, aktivitātēm uzzināt - <a href="https://soundcloud.com/biezoknis">šeit</a> vai <a href="https://www.facebook.com/pages/Biezoknis/571196299570997">šeit</a>.<br />
Albumu ar avīzīti iegādāties var pie Biezokņa vai grupas menedžeres Sandas Ziemeles.<br />
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Elīnahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10521503680160374034noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4839116002327328501.post-524127512941535272014-04-21T11:15:00.001+03:002014-04-23T11:39:38.951+03:00Sākt ar mazumiņu katolisku jūtu /// Step by step with catholic sentiments<div id="MainContentZone_columnDisplay_ctl00_controlcolumn_ctl00_WidgetHost_updatepanel" style="text-align: justify;">
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Kā jau ar neticīgajiem tas parasti mēdz būt, arī mani viegli aizrauj katolicisms. Ja es gribētu ļaut kādai reliģijai un konfesijai sevi savaldzināt, es gribētu, lai tas ir katolicisms. Līdzās pastāvīgajai jūtu ekspozīcijai, kurā reizēm mans skatiens vēršas pret Dienvideiropas katoļu sievietēm, altārzēniem un latīniski deklamējošiem priesteriem un viņu uzmanībai pret krāsu izvēli, manas māsas brauciens uz Poliju bija īsts pienesums manu katolisko sapņu ziņā. Tas ir neticami, cik dzīvīga nodarbe tur ir katoļticība. Lāsma stāstīja, ka lietoto apģērbu veikalos par 7 zlotiem tur varot iegādāties altērzēna tērpu (dažiem noteikti noder), uz ielas cilvēki redzēti līksmojam pie krusta, un, kad viena Klāva kursabiedrene kā otras studentes raudāšanas iemeslu izdibināja gredzena pazaudēšanu, abas divas metās ceļos un lūdzās Svēto Antoniju, pazudušo lietu aizgādni. Piezīmēšu, ka arī pavasaris vroclaviešiem ieradies agrāk - es domāju, ka poļi labi lūgušies par pavasara atnākšanu, un Dieviņš devis pavasari.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">Kas noticis? Kāpēc tu raudi?</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">Es pazaudēju gredzenu, šņuk šņuk šņuk!</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">Lūgsimies Svēto Antoniju!</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">Svētais Antonij, pazudušo lietu aizbildni, palīdzi atrast gredzenu!</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">Klāvs skatās uz savām katoliskajām poļu kursabiedrenēm. </span></td></tr>
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Lāsmas Polijas brauciens mani iedvesmojis gandrīz tā, it kā es pati būtu tur paviesojusies. Pēkšņi gribas skatīties uz Jāņa Pāvila II attēliem un katoļu garīdznieku ordinācijas ceremoniju bildes. Romas katolicisms ir tik krāšņs, pašapmierināts un pašpārliecināts, garu tradīciju un droši vien tikpat garas 'melnās dzīves' pilns, un tas ir kaut kas tik ļoti rietumniecisks, tik ļoti Vakareiropeisks. Tas ir tā kā jūgendstils vai itāļu dārzi, skaisti izskatās un raisa virspusēju patiku. Un tas bija pat vēl pirms es saņēmu absolūti brīnišķīgās un trakās dzimšanas dienas dāvanas no Vroclavas - slāviski neminimālistisku apsveikuma kartiņu ar pufīgu Jēzus uzlīmi otrā pusē, marcipāna Dieva jēru (es kā aprīlī piedzimusī arī esmu Auns, vai arī Aita, vai Jēriņš), bagātīgi dzeltenu Lieldienu olas formas cepumu ar Dieva jēra trīsdimensionālu rotu un aizgrābjošu polisku baltu lakatiņu ar košu puķu rakstu. Lāsmu arī pastiprināti kustina kristiāniskās tēmas, un, saprotams, viņu uzrunāja Vroclavas muzeja viduslaiku un renesanses Jēzu skulptūras un džeka ar mazu bērnu skulptūra - Jēzus ar Marijas dvēseli.</div>
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Bet būtībā mana ikdiena ir ārkārtīgi laiciska un nereliģioza. Diezgan bieži redzu baznīcas, šad tad kādā arī ieeju, svinu galvenos reliģiskos svētkus nereliģiozā manierē. Kaut kad es sapratu, ka es taču pat negrēkoju, jo nereliģioziem cilvēkiem grēki nepiemīt.</div>
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Taču tā es domāju līdz trešdienai.</div>
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Pirms pāris dienām manā jaunajā darbā Maruta, stāstīdama par manu darba tērpu, teica, ka rotaslietas es varu arī no mājām paņemt, ja man kaut kas piemērots ir. "Man diez vai būs kaut kas no jūgenda," es reālistiski atbildēju. "Ai, var jau arī ne no jūgenda laika, mēs jau te visas grēkojam."</div>
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Tajā brīdī man taisni vai uzzibsnīja atskārsme - pavisam drīz es sākšu grēkot! Uzturēšos autentiskā izskatā atjaunotajā interjerā ar izrotātu un milzīgu cepuri galvā, kuras uzdevums būs apmeklētājiem aizmālēt acis, lai es varētu grēcīgi izrotāties ar 20.gs. krietni vien vēlos gados tapušu piespraudi un valkāt caurspīdīgu staipīgas mežģīnes blūzi ar augstu apkakli.</div>
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Šis darbs man liks kļūt par grēcinieci. Un tad es domāju, varbūt tas ir pirmais solis uz kristietību? Sāc ar grēku, turpini ar grēku nožēlošanu.Viena no manām mazajām, ne pārāk stiprajām vēlmēm ir kādreiz aiziet pie priestera un caur restītēm nožēlot grēkus. Tad es justos kā ļoti kulturāla meitene, sastapusies ar ilgo un lēni gaistošo katolisma elpu. Bet tad jau drīzāk man piederēs smaragdu kaklarota, nekā es aiziešu pie katoļu priestera uz grēksūdzi, ja domājam reālistiski.</div>
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Elīna: Lai slavēts Jēzus Kristus!<br />
Priesteris: Mūžīgi mūžos. Āmen.<br />
Elīna: Nāc, Svētais Gars, apgaismo manu prātu, lai es pazītu savus grēkus; modini manu gribu un sirdi, lai es par tiem patiesi nožēlotu un vaļsirdīgi tajos atzītos; dāvā man spēku, lai es tos labotu un par tiem gandarītu. Svētā Marij, grēcinieku patvērums, nāc man palīgā!<br />
Priesteris: Dieva Tēva un Dēla, un Svētā Gara vārdā, Āmen. </div>
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Elīna: Es esmu grēkojusi, Tēvs. Tēvs, es krāpos un autentiska gadsimtu mijas laika tērpa vietā valkāju jaunlaicīgas rotas.</div>
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Priesteris: Nav nekā tāda, ko Dievs nevarētu piedot. Vai ir vēl kas, par ko Dievam vēlies lūgt piedošanu?</div>
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Elīna: Jā. Arī mana blūze tikai maldina cilvēkus un nemaz nav no jūgendstila.</div>
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Priesteris: Dievs, žēlsirdīgais Tēvs, kas ar sava Dēla nāvi un augšāmcelšanos samierināji pasauli ar sevi un grēku piedošanai nosūtīji Svēto Garu, lai tev caur Baznīcas kalpojumu dāvā piedošanu un mieru. Un es tevi atbrīvoju no taviem grēkiem Dieva Tēva un Dēla, un Svētā Gara vārdā.<br />
Elīna: Āmen.<br />
Priesteris: Slavēsim Kungu, jo Viņš ir labs.<br />
Elīna: Jo Viņa žēlsirdība pastāv mūžam.</div>
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Priesteris: Dievs tev ir piedevis grēkus. Ej mierā.<br />
Elīna: Paldies, Tēvs!<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiipOExVLjm8sFiLHCnoZzvnt4Qkop7FW-Vunjono5UeijuEgyZoGlzS8ZV44D6R_o8aEpntTW02273xDmmWA0JTgOCgUc9kH95LBJIVh0v01YRgStw1wDnSb60StM6bquX6yL0NC1XAtn9/s1600/8.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiipOExVLjm8sFiLHCnoZzvnt4Qkop7FW-Vunjono5UeijuEgyZoGlzS8ZV44D6R_o8aEpntTW02273xDmmWA0JTgOCgUc9kH95LBJIVh0v01YRgStw1wDnSb60StM6bquX6yL0NC1XAtn9/s1600/8.jpg" height="400" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">Elīna: Es esmu grēkojusi, Tēvs. Autentiska gadsimtu mijas laika tērpa vietā es valkāju jaunlaicīgas rotas.</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">Priesteris: Dievs ir Visulabs, Viņš piedos visus mūsu grēkus.</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">Elīna: Arī blūze man nemaz nav no jūgendstila laikmeta. </span></td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">Priesteris: Es tevi atbrīvoju no taviem grēkiem Dieva Tēva un Dēla, un Svētā Gara vārdā.</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgo1XC2oCi8qN20yQPolAgesL_kAj-4t3QIAnYjJempVkCOfz-ZC79obnkaHULeHuaKy_MXVK_v-BsezdzCqmnXGdeCWwsH3cBs_zc5eKsNthoA8afa_zi-WGZnFmEObXGuWkRZaGlWKE21/s1600/13.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgo1XC2oCi8qN20yQPolAgesL_kAj-4t3QIAnYjJempVkCOfz-ZC79obnkaHULeHuaKy_MXVK_v-BsezdzCqmnXGdeCWwsH3cBs_zc5eKsNthoA8afa_zi-WGZnFmEObXGuWkRZaGlWKE21/s1600/13.jpg" height="400" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">Priesteris: Ej mierā, mans bērns.</span><br />
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^^^^^ </div>
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As it happens with nonbelievers often enough, I am lightly fascinated by Catholicism too. If I were to allow one religion and one Church to enchant me, I wish it would be Catholicism. Besides the permanent exhibition of sentiments, where my gaze follows the Southern European catholic women, altar boys and priests reciting Latin and paying attention to the choice of colour in their garments, my sister's trip to Poland was a splendid contribution to my catholic dreams. It is unbelievable how lively Catholicism is in Poland. Lasma told me that for 7 Zloty in second hand shop one could buy a costume for altar boy (I'm positive someone might find it useful), merry people were seen rejoicing on the streets next to a cross. Also, when one of Klavs' new classmates was crying, and another one got to learn it was because of a lost ring, they both got on their knees and prayed Saint Anthony, the patron saint of lost items. I should remark that for Vratislavians the spring has come way earlier - I suppose God gave the Polish spring due to their diligent prayers.</div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">What happened? Why are you crying?</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhawd_UpA4Pn4s2J-StT0-nWLHs-mGtEw4JHGhrSUXDlJzK2ai8dJJpxD8EJtl1xy2abt7dewvlqJujh5LFFzjjHryM2OK2tRdM6-obH91d-TwtSZeo7tWdfpJJTzoDWkQaD9bnu8lhmXXP/s1600/2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhawd_UpA4Pn4s2J-StT0-nWLHs-mGtEw4JHGhrSUXDlJzK2ai8dJJpxD8EJtl1xy2abt7dewvlqJujh5LFFzjjHryM2OK2tRdM6-obH91d-TwtSZeo7tWdfpJJTzoDWkQaD9bnu8lhmXXP/s1600/2.jpg" height="300" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">I lost my ring, sob sob sob!</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh98_ujd5040vrGcd8kdKqSQTYDJqZdnl7b6FRuwfPjk0a2dVt8xzWuyabU2Uty63-5_5iadM1rD99F2Hd2WcOmbE6RclMNFKIYL57QIcM-3rnjYKoep4ll16LyARmaDDP4MdMQLi3YblkJ/s1600/4.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh98_ujd5040vrGcd8kdKqSQTYDJqZdnl7b6FRuwfPjk0a2dVt8xzWuyabU2Uty63-5_5iadM1rD99F2Hd2WcOmbE6RclMNFKIYL57QIcM-3rnjYKoep4ll16LyARmaDDP4MdMQLi3YblkJ/s1600/4.jpg" height="300" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">Let's pray Saint Anthony!</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjRRPERRJMTvoMcRIjYoBNDqDkHGLaTDHTDTsnUhfJEN7A1uUWPFm9SXi_g0k_GQHVSFvpvcitW_ET-gPPTH3StwSQ63UObhyphenhyphen-ezLM2EeWAAPomd8VfhRB2K2s1IeA3wyrEcT7psy0mW1xn/s1600/3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjRRPERRJMTvoMcRIjYoBNDqDkHGLaTDHTDTsnUhfJEN7A1uUWPFm9SXi_g0k_GQHVSFvpvcitW_ET-gPPTH3StwSQ63UObhyphenhyphen-ezLM2EeWAAPomd8VfhRB2K2s1IeA3wyrEcT7psy0mW1xn/s1600/3.jpg" height="300" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">Saint Anthony, patron of all things lost, please let us find the lost ring!</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhs8xd00550xJ3j1_qyJVNOoYb9tR-QUJAq6CwprJZ2M8Zdp223ezLWj_GA4XQ85CSu7WqHDHVHLqnQuxFzClWt_f8sgOpTrcqX8VNl5CoFUZnG8ll3D4IYk3co7Q2W1TVsQmwkGMtIEn2m/s1600/5.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhs8xd00550xJ3j1_qyJVNOoYb9tR-QUJAq6CwprJZ2M8Zdp223ezLWj_GA4XQ85CSu7WqHDHVHLqnQuxFzClWt_f8sgOpTrcqX8VNl5CoFUZnG8ll3D4IYk3co7Q2W1TVsQmwkGMtIEn2m/s1600/5.jpg" height="400" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">Klavs looks at his Polish Catholic classmates.</span></td></tr>
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Lasma's trip to Poland has inspired me almost as if I went there myself. All of a sudden I am tempted to look at pictures of John Paul II and the Catholic clergy ordination ceremony. The Roman Catholicism is so splendid, smug and self-confident, full of long traditions and most likely full of hidden underground life too; it is something very Western, very Western Europe. It is like Art Nouveau or Italian gardens; it does look beautiful and invokes superficial liking. And it was so even before I got the completely wonderful and impressive Birthday gifts from Wroclaw - a Slavic non-minimalistic floral card with a puffy Jesus sticker on the back, a marzipan Lamb of God (born in April, I am a Ram, Sheep or Lamb too), a generously yellow-glazed Easter cookie with yet another decor of Lamb of God and a Polishly thrilling white scarf with bright florals. Lasma has a strong liking towards the Christian themes, so it is only natural she enjoyed the Middle Age and Renaissance period sculptures of Jesuses in the local museum. Also the guy with a tiny child in his hands, who turned out to be Jesus with Mary's soul.<br />
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For all that, my life and everyday is very secular and irreligious. I see churches quite often, now and then I go inside one, I celebrate the main religious festivities in irreligious fashion. At some point I realised I didn't even sin, since nonbelievers cannot have sins.<br />
But that is what I thought til Wednesday.</div>
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A couple of days ago at my brand-new work Maruta, when clarifying me my work outfit, said that regarding the adornments, I can bring my own, in case I have something suitable. "I don't think I have something from Art Nouveau," I realistically answered. "Oh, it doesn't have to be exactly from Art Nouveau, we all sin here in this matter."</div>
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At that moment almost an illumination occurred to me - I am to start sinning very soon! I will be walking the rooms of authentically renovated interior with a huge and decorated hat on, whose task will be to trick the eyes of visitors, letting me sinfully adore myself with trinkets produced well in the 2nd half of the 20th century and wear a see-through stretchy lace high-neck blouse. </div>
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This job will make me a sinner. Then I thought, might this be the first step to Christianity? Start with a sin, keep on with penance. One of my tiny, not overly strong wishes is at some point of time to visit a priest and confess, hearing his serene voice through the grate. Then I would feel as a very cultural girl, facing the lengthy and slowly vanishing breath of Catholicism. But then, of course, I would rather own an emerald necklace sometime in a distant future than go to a Catholic priest to confess, if we judge in a realistic manner.<br />
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Elina: Come Holy Spirit into my soul. Enlighten my mind that I may know the sins I ought to confess, and grant me your grace to confess them fully, humbly, and with a contrite heart. Help me to firmly resolve not to commit them again. O Blessed Virgin Mary, Mother of my God, intercede for me through the Passion of your Son, that I may obtain the grace to make a good confession. All you blessed Archangels, Angels and Saints of God, pray for me, a sinner, that I may repent from my sins, and that my heart may be forever united with yours in eternal love. Amen.<br />
Priest: In the name of the Father, the Son and the Holy Spirit. Amen.<br />
Elina: Bless me, Father, for I have sinned. Father, I was cheating and instead of an authentic attire from <i>Fin de siècle</i> I sported too recently made trinkets.<i><br /></i><br />
Priest: There is no such thing that God could not forgive as. Is there anything else you wish to confess?<br />
Elina: Yes, there is. My blouse does nothing but mislead people and it is not from Art Nouveau either. <br />
Priest: God, the Father of mercies, through the death and resurrection of his Son has
reconciled the world to himself and sent the Holy Spirit among us for the
forgiveness of sins; through the ministry of the Church, may God give you pardon
and peace, and I absolve you from your sins in the name of the Father, and of the
Son, and of the Holy Spirit.</div>
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Elina: Amen.</div>
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Priest: May the Passion of our Lord Jesus Christ, the intercession of the Blessed
Virgin Mary and of all the saints, whatever good you do and suffering you endure,
heal your sins, help you to grow in holiness, and reward you with eternal
life. Go in peace.</div>
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Elina: Thank you, Father!</div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiipOExVLjm8sFiLHCnoZzvnt4Qkop7FW-Vunjono5UeijuEgyZoGlzS8ZV44D6R_o8aEpntTW02273xDmmWA0JTgOCgUc9kH95LBJIVh0v01YRgStw1wDnSb60StM6bquX6yL0NC1XAtn9/s1600/8.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiipOExVLjm8sFiLHCnoZzvnt4Qkop7FW-Vunjono5UeijuEgyZoGlzS8ZV44D6R_o8aEpntTW02273xDmmWA0JTgOCgUc9kH95LBJIVh0v01YRgStw1wDnSb60StM6bquX6yL0NC1XAtn9/s1600/8.jpg" height="400" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">Elina: Bless me, Father, for I have sinned. I was wearing recently produced jewellery instead of Art Nouveau style jewellery.</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEioaj1AvVHh8BtH10f_kCSLJ3mxn8tu-QceMyXj5NP8aVYE8l0KYqzV9x8w6E6LDT7TQOpCxG0PQiiPlfhEqY-1Js4lXxEj2fPfizG42zsu09PH351bgzyTC4nFdDIkh-iwCeGNltHo_hMf/s1600/9.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEioaj1AvVHh8BtH10f_kCSLJ3mxn8tu-QceMyXj5NP8aVYE8l0KYqzV9x8w6E6LDT7TQOpCxG0PQiiPlfhEqY-1Js4lXxEj2fPfizG42zsu09PH351bgzyTC4nFdDIkh-iwCeGNltHo_hMf/s1600/9.jpg" height="400" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">Priest: God is omnibenevolent, He will forgive us all our sins.</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgftLv-FaRcjcC_Tkl03IavocCd9Kuy0HiVGVXh3w2soBeQbuk4cX729LlTj8Pu-QEaVWWM0hSBuQcJ6nhpGq4ZII-4UX33pjWZuS5_F4KuBG-O7reor3EtsLkZAqAzS3-P96ub1IVPKecZ/s1600/6.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgftLv-FaRcjcC_Tkl03IavocCd9Kuy0HiVGVXh3w2soBeQbuk4cX729LlTj8Pu-QEaVWWM0hSBuQcJ6nhpGq4ZII-4UX33pjWZuS5_F4KuBG-O7reor3EtsLkZAqAzS3-P96ub1IVPKecZ/s1600/6.jpg" height="300" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">Elina: My blouse does not come from Art Nouveau either.</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjiBJTjcpv0Js-e1Zx1wzstsGvwfV1DijWpJjRlnJf60TO0i3nHS2YVAdK7xTfIdN4Am64_NFc6fhQuhjyD3bQ4lYmnZ-EBJBjGz3KO8CcDKkXhgndDl5Ty8iMUTP9pDOhwFMrssf2SGE4/s1600/11.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjiBJTjcpv0Js-e1Zx1wzstsGvwfV1DijWpJjRlnJf60TO0i3nHS2YVAdK7xTfIdN4Am64_NFc6fhQuhjyD3bQ4lYmnZ-EBJBjGz3KO8CcDKkXhgndDl5Ty8iMUTP9pDOhwFMrssf2SGE4/s1600/11.jpg" height="400" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">Priest: I absolve you from your sins in the name of the Father, and of the
Son, and of the Holy Spirit.</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgo1XC2oCi8qN20yQPolAgesL_kAj-4t3QIAnYjJempVkCOfz-ZC79obnkaHULeHuaKy_MXVK_v-BsezdzCqmnXGdeCWwsH3cBs_zc5eKsNthoA8afa_zi-WGZnFmEObXGuWkRZaGlWKE21/s1600/13.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgo1XC2oCi8qN20yQPolAgesL_kAj-4t3QIAnYjJempVkCOfz-ZC79obnkaHULeHuaKy_MXVK_v-BsezdzCqmnXGdeCWwsH3cBs_zc5eKsNthoA8afa_zi-WGZnFmEObXGuWkRZaGlWKE21/s1600/13.jpg" height="400" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">Priest: Go in peace, my child.</span></td></tr>
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Elīnahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10521503680160374034noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4839116002327328501.post-92039895724592593302014-04-09T16:19:00.000+03:002014-04-09T16:19:33.525+03:00Pikniks ar zēniem /// Picnic with boys<div style="text-align: justify;">
Man šķiet, šodienas ieraksts ir saistīts ar manu brīnišķīgo nagu lakas toni. Es, protams, gribētu spēt izteikt šīs rozā krāsas iedabu, bet vienīgais, ko es zinu, ka krāsa ir ļoti laba, ar pavasara dabu un viņai ir sakars ar aveņu krāsu. Varbūt tā pat ir aveņu krāsa.</div>
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Visiem patīk pikniki, jo tur ir ēst, var gulēt zālītē un tādi cilvēki, kuri patīk, jo, cik zinu, neviens neiet piknikā ar kādu, kurš viņam nepatīk </div>
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Ar zēniem ir forši iet piknikā, jo viņiem patīk ēst (gandrīz tikpat ļoti kā dzert), viņi gūst no labuma esot ārā - var smēķēt, kad vien gribas un nav jāiet ārā uzsmēķēt, un man ir skatāmviela. Smēkēšanas pluss ir vides maiņas iespējas, taču reizēm ir labi palikt vienā vietā un pārvietoties maz. Mūsu piknikā spīdēja saule, nelija lietus, bija ēdiens un dzērieni, bezierobežojumu smēķēšanas iespēja, trīs draudzīgi piknikotāji, līdz ar to patiesi bezrūpīgs pikniks.</div>
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Bilžu būs ļoti daudz, jo man ļoti patīk šīs bildes, un ir aizraujoši vērot Jāņa sejas straujo mainīgumu attiecībā pret Ričarda sejas mazmainīgumu. Un es neesmu šeit paredzējusi izvēļu izdarīšanas treniņu. </div>
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^^^^^</div>
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I am quite certain (although not entirely certain) that today's post comes from my nail polish shade. There is no doubt I would be glad to be able to express the character of the pink, but for now all I know for sure is that the colour is really good, it has got spring in it and the pink shade has something to with raspberry colour. It might even be raspberry colour.</div>
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Everyone likes picnics, as there is food, grass to lie on and a likable company. As far as I now, no one goes to picnic with someone he doesn't like.</div>
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It's nice to go on a picnic with boys because they like to eat almost as much as they like to drink, they are pretty entertaining to look at, and boys profit from the outdoors - they can smoke whenever they feel like it, which they do often. Usually the good thing about smoking is the easy possibility to change the environment, but sometimes it is good to stay at the same place and not to move around much.</div>
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Our picnic had light and pleasant sunshine, no rain at all, food and drinks, unlimited possibility of smoking, three friendly picnickers. So, this means we had a truly carefree, happy-go-lucky picnic.</div>
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There's gonna be volumes of pictures, I love these pictures too much. And it's quite exciting to observe the rapid changes of Janis' face in relation to Richard's relatively fixed expressions. Also, I didn't make this post in order to practice decisiveness. </div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">Elīna izgāž vīnu /// Elina spills out her drink</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRN3UpMUsDwrzi0lrYDUw8BHR4uOsVho30g3fWTqhBHJ4WXHLRoABSvJgIy0eVUDz_7SdgEeOtRLTW1u0mSDj6RXWsO8nWY0ixR1_u2N6xWZPHrVf2xblbKUzv-j4kJfCpL0_QOYzqegoW/s1600/DSC00580.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRN3UpMUsDwrzi0lrYDUw8BHR4uOsVho30g3fWTqhBHJ4WXHLRoABSvJgIy0eVUDz_7SdgEeOtRLTW1u0mSDj6RXWsO8nWY0ixR1_u2N6xWZPHrVf2xblbKUzv-j4kJfCpL0_QOYzqegoW/s1600/DSC00580.JPG" height="300" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">vīna augšāmcelšanās /// the resurrection of white wine</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEijeThLl3pCGnzrLaVi6kATDAaA2kUYeAP8U6faluVT5tTKwGlXpbAsDI3DSJrUqsKkHdygrI2ENj2a-g-j90EaPlz-6W2R_0mMZsqtm90mg0Fg6r3-1ayVJHB0dVmheesNObqySNalGUBv/s1600/DSC00585.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEijeThLl3pCGnzrLaVi6kATDAaA2kUYeAP8U6faluVT5tTKwGlXpbAsDI3DSJrUqsKkHdygrI2ENj2a-g-j90EaPlz-6W2R_0mMZsqtm90mg0Fg6r3-1ayVJHB0dVmheesNObqySNalGUBv/s1600/DSC00585.JPG" height="300" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">domīgs Ričards, domīgs Jānis /// thoughtful Richard, thoughtful Janis</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgxO9tR6cBGSC_tCkyGxljkllNWp-tYiHZuahUDbQBkVaYFMX9oI1qkh_WiY9c2y-ZO9v5KGZDXrK4x2DvItREFFazP4ujDUvMnn2pe1jiArYL0rYkzTrroSJsxt6rsH1CMM2BAVVOzaTUl/s1600/DSC00597.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgxO9tR6cBGSC_tCkyGxljkllNWp-tYiHZuahUDbQBkVaYFMX9oI1qkh_WiY9c2y-ZO9v5KGZDXrK4x2DvItREFFazP4ujDUvMnn2pe1jiArYL0rYkzTrroSJsxt6rsH1CMM2BAVVOzaTUl/s1600/DSC00597.JPG" height="300" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">pieļauju, ka arī šeit viņi domā /// I suppose they have some thoughts in their minds here too</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEip9SpU9hcCiISSMBB84UmzvqXJFESfQKVFyPNvbsPEBha_M9HOZsXPYPbl-aZ49lE0tOJN38LxStyZDG9aYJBCTDX7-oYZ-nX9rkaVMo0xY1HweSPnxJU-BEtXWzoOdVq5rM7vWB9pK89C/s1600/DSC00604.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEip9SpU9hcCiISSMBB84UmzvqXJFESfQKVFyPNvbsPEBha_M9HOZsXPYPbl-aZ49lE0tOJN38LxStyZDG9aYJBCTDX7-oYZ-nX9rkaVMo0xY1HweSPnxJU-BEtXWzoOdVq5rM7vWB9pK89C/s1600/DSC00604.JPG" height="400" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">ļoti labi /// very good</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhes1z3jLGPeDrGgK-e8T2u3TfhmKCeTVeKk5JUGbvLHPtznNmkRAyUKBof1iZasdWVb_ei6I0-e1u14w7czEXaFpO000UcAQMFBmXgHyAtU6Vrx8e01Mi2zNGwKZszdsqv1r65-XBkNrtd/s1600/DSC00613.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhes1z3jLGPeDrGgK-e8T2u3TfhmKCeTVeKk5JUGbvLHPtznNmkRAyUKBof1iZasdWVb_ei6I0-e1u14w7czEXaFpO000UcAQMFBmXgHyAtU6Vrx8e01Mi2zNGwKZszdsqv1r65-XBkNrtd/s1600/DSC00613.JPG" height="300" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">mēs ar Ričardu mazliet saskaņoti zili balti rūtainajā /// Richard and I matching each other through our blue - white checked choice</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOl1H-BYo4hN-0bibs99027s4nzbdCGv5AVT4sIWWQfI72wVGE0w7b6JiyTv76vxJZsx9UygNFBi-9BpYYcSzt9gYtN92DmcxYTnXTd-1uE-SotKsq9xw-2TZxEDPnNDhlw-kUm1w2DpEG/s1600/DSC00608.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOl1H-BYo4hN-0bibs99027s4nzbdCGv5AVT4sIWWQfI72wVGE0w7b6JiyTv76vxJZsx9UygNFBi-9BpYYcSzt9gYtN92DmcxYTnXTd-1uE-SotKsq9xw-2TZxEDPnNDhlw-kUm1w2DpEG/s1600/DSC00608.JPG" height="400" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">skaistais ēšanas process /// the beautiful process of eating</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhrSnQoLycWr6VJLU8cpZBeMa5qv2RKzjoS2TEBreMCRZ5UfODs5cSwU8brcVoR5Q9ExQfDStzW8xFmxCT2VIDcRxP7PhPECbkMtZKM3mxsw8OZNrD82-RJIWZ-F4KQFcZcLSDnxKY3OeOg/s1600/DSC00620.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhrSnQoLycWr6VJLU8cpZBeMa5qv2RKzjoS2TEBreMCRZ5UfODs5cSwU8brcVoR5Q9ExQfDStzW8xFmxCT2VIDcRxP7PhPECbkMtZKM3mxsw8OZNrD82-RJIWZ-F4KQFcZcLSDnxKY3OeOg/s1600/DSC00620.JPG" height="300" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">un mums ar Jāni baltie laukumi /// white for both of us</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEijQeqoAJE0K7GsfK73KhbQ4YYEmjJG1edIm0JUf-VzKqrIz7KWj5T4wG1TvMqaIP-itUvMAyZc5ngksQveh002OKPIcfqdVo6Oo1qdVB_JvohXlZaJ43M9bfGg7Hk4gOFCFkkvSzfWq0or/s1600/DSC00623.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEijQeqoAJE0K7GsfK73KhbQ4YYEmjJG1edIm0JUf-VzKqrIz7KWj5T4wG1TvMqaIP-itUvMAyZc5ngksQveh002OKPIcfqdVo6Oo1qdVB_JvohXlZaJ43M9bfGg7Hk4gOFCFkkvSzfWq0or/s1600/DSC00623.JPG" height="300" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">(Jānim un Ričardam toties abiem ir džinss, bet es nezinu, cik tas skaitās) /// (Janis and Richard have opted for denim although I am uncertain whether that counts)</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMwrOUR6oiEeRHGScGGEUIrONSwxxrHAg1OYT07uzFyhT3vMcjHXVweVYH5PTFbOp_zKwUIkCwcD7OBtfGsktqOg6iEAdkXytPBsSWfxKd0PYKtAp-u8cPgBRQ66Xb0h2EToinr0Tvkdjl/s1600/DSC00625.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMwrOUR6oiEeRHGScGGEUIrONSwxxrHAg1OYT07uzFyhT3vMcjHXVweVYH5PTFbOp_zKwUIkCwcD7OBtfGsktqOg6iEAdkXytPBsSWfxKd0PYKtAp-u8cPgBRQ66Xb0h2EToinr0Tvkdjl/s1600/DSC00625.JPG" height="400" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">Jānis un Ričards mēģina doties pēc dzērieniem 1 /// Janis and Richard trying to go to buy something more to drink 1</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiEP826rbmd1LlKO6vl2arYYJSaSttMDH1b6FX3H1favsaP6I_JHHNbpiuAwlKDIQUYi6IvR56FvGSYN2nyidRZP1OENTS-KbP8brVM2EKjVbvtAMV6n8EhYu35gzyhjymf30K7fX1KHsfm/s1600/DSC00630.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiEP826rbmd1LlKO6vl2arYYJSaSttMDH1b6FX3H1favsaP6I_JHHNbpiuAwlKDIQUYi6IvR56FvGSYN2nyidRZP1OENTS-KbP8brVM2EKjVbvtAMV6n8EhYu35gzyhjymf30K7fX1KHsfm/s1600/DSC00630.JPG" height="400" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">mēģinājums 2, jauki apspīdēts /// Take 2, nicely illuminated</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi24P8azXAacaeGgp619JzJUoKy-IQm8a7BNuMeiVRaCpHDrYiYcFZ5Ia9mlvSMeiQQZPpRo6t_pHfFl6PvD-ABGVYgPrW3KZj_gu6tObxrYih8yB6Vh4K6HAFbVPHqD7CxLPZxLV597q33/s1600/DSC00637.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi24P8azXAacaeGgp619JzJUoKy-IQm8a7BNuMeiVRaCpHDrYiYcFZ5Ia9mlvSMeiQQZPpRo6t_pHfFl6PvD-ABGVYgPrW3KZj_gu6tObxrYih8yB6Vh4K6HAFbVPHqD7CxLPZxLV597q33/s1600/DSC00637.JPG" height="400" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">Mēģinājums 3, parasts un rezultatīvs /// Take 3, ordinary and successful</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgeP5EFqOKNbcpcBw4ZqQKhPuReiPEFIHPT5KHfhdwqogAI2nEOY7uPgnDfO2CxesrwkM4AS9lwmpzDzN6M2Mz0_pWRCBAnlbkx3t0SoDTaiEH09h1DAn2b7MStziFtCLSWYyk4QIu2_BEj/s1600/DSC00640.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgeP5EFqOKNbcpcBw4ZqQKhPuReiPEFIHPT5KHfhdwqogAI2nEOY7uPgnDfO2CxesrwkM4AS9lwmpzDzN6M2Mz0_pWRCBAnlbkx3t0SoDTaiEH09h1DAn2b7MStziFtCLSWYyk4QIu2_BEj/s1600/DSC00640.JPG" height="400" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">zēnu prombūtnē es neaizmirstu par zēniem /// I don't have to forget the boys during their absence</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiyEjSvhj5WNAwg6gtR1qN3oH23QpAx5Kdm8WUJnY9v0-uZauPBdAydwHd9SyJJUfFrgrZ5koe7VcxM3fJLavQt3ebDZcNN4Z3pxi8PN_ihumGq-5HyVhSi4xStKil27Ivxzqbaq3LWVJZu/s1600/DSC00651.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiyEjSvhj5WNAwg6gtR1qN3oH23QpAx5Kdm8WUJnY9v0-uZauPBdAydwHd9SyJJUfFrgrZ5koe7VcxM3fJLavQt3ebDZcNN4Z3pxi8PN_ihumGq-5HyVhSi4xStKil27Ivxzqbaq3LWVJZu/s1600/DSC00651.JPG" height="300" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">Piknika sala /// The Picnic Island</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiF_zy3vbcriw35kpbXghmFTKbcVQqwol6Gnh-WbjgEZbZJtjg-kgq2kqET-s-z3-XQGXqCDL5_83hdIddGc929R1YFpZAb8h2vgCj-cBGNhZuw8CBkyIyCpGp9uAl7reLzT6WPiCocXcV5/s1600/DSC00781.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiF_zy3vbcriw35kpbXghmFTKbcVQqwol6Gnh-WbjgEZbZJtjg-kgq2kqET-s-z3-XQGXqCDL5_83hdIddGc929R1YFpZAb8h2vgCj-cBGNhZuw8CBkyIyCpGp9uAl7reLzT6WPiCocXcV5/s1600/DSC00781.JPG" height="300" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">tikmēr novēroju apkārtni /// in the meanwhile I observe the surroundings</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgCS6zZgIRdCVTaPrFeBHrJc4lgNjut7RpePG63hcLrux_olNG3hBlocwD0VPWxEW3tU1e3QbX3m6q3pMbfL5MSD4E07lt3Fhl4hcTHH-gC9Gv6RUFeEEoTDuJwqF96YQTkTZs7WYC6x5J3/s1600/DSC00657.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgCS6zZgIRdCVTaPrFeBHrJc4lgNjut7RpePG63hcLrux_olNG3hBlocwD0VPWxEW3tU1e3QbX3m6q3pMbfL5MSD4E07lt3Fhl4hcTHH-gC9Gv6RUFeEEoTDuJwqF96YQTkTZs7WYC6x5J3/s1600/DSC00657.JPG" height="300" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">viņi nāk atpakaļ! /// They're getting back, don't you see!</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgp32bi13mDUzaLwbMdcsDE1dD_aNAGXBJgO3DZALhj3Y4yj26YEWq7iOKdkp-Nmm_IgRl02oV5hYUuX2Jpc6oxMhogtx309uiF9BKzfbKprxrnuiac0S3mKnb3qHu5pNWVT2PiN2VxVVpv/s1600/DSC00685.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgp32bi13mDUzaLwbMdcsDE1dD_aNAGXBJgO3DZALhj3Y4yj26YEWq7iOKdkp-Nmm_IgRl02oV5hYUuX2Jpc6oxMhogtx309uiF9BKzfbKprxrnuiac0S3mKnb3qHu5pNWVT2PiN2VxVVpv/s1600/DSC00685.JPG" height="400" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">lokālie dzērieni /// local drinks</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQgLQksJUhoESKjHH-Lrf43TM8zaFzLbaqeTn3I03oef-LoaYEsJGJOfc54Ag4WLAG7jJkASTRtVv1xPjUNRFx-L_IgIcwcQHC12v8mAWWN5zA0Q74y8-HJFQv2cLZ-QyBqYm1op3sNrkO/s1600/DSC00733.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQgLQksJUhoESKjHH-Lrf43TM8zaFzLbaqeTn3I03oef-LoaYEsJGJOfc54Ag4WLAG7jJkASTRtVv1xPjUNRFx-L_IgIcwcQHC12v8mAWWN5zA0Q74y8-HJFQv2cLZ-QyBqYm1op3sNrkO/s1600/DSC00733.JPG" height="300" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">laiks kutināšanai /// time for tickling</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzbEqSSF03XhIL3NFXLST0x_Ps6R8wnWliowgEaw4CerMk72iAlguxyp-waD7HjV1ApSgt0pgFERcjPwx6BdQxw5b1uAkq2UEf8eMabbwWMmK7msvLQxID3j-gh2W7tjSdNlx0hG2wH09u/s1600/DSC00758.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzbEqSSF03XhIL3NFXLST0x_Ps6R8wnWliowgEaw4CerMk72iAlguxyp-waD7HjV1ApSgt0pgFERcjPwx6BdQxw5b1uAkq2UEf8eMabbwWMmK7msvLQxID3j-gh2W7tjSdNlx0hG2wH09u/s1600/DSC00758.JPG" height="400" width="300" /></a></div>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVzdtDC_94x9vNbseWD5Am_yMpKr0RgC84E2D0nJesa0FxAIKb40M0u2VhaNMR_JaVSaEIDUPbDlf-FqcluqWgVNeHKrCy3dJP99c53ceUF2wm1Fz8Jx0OA-sZg6JGmpzfEEaS7GgDYx1F/s1600/DSC00759.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVzdtDC_94x9vNbseWD5Am_yMpKr0RgC84E2D0nJesa0FxAIKb40M0u2VhaNMR_JaVSaEIDUPbDlf-FqcluqWgVNeHKrCy3dJP99c53ceUF2wm1Fz8Jx0OA-sZg6JGmpzfEEaS7GgDYx1F/s1600/DSC00759.JPG" height="400" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">pati piknicība /// the epitome of picnicness</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDRst3AxSqsyAFAmJdmbDudL5UzfVvUT4UMQLlAR_HbnUp8sKUcDQlc8jSbzKlAu-oqYa0bcrWFZwymOY4VhyphenhyphenndfJ94XgDo7xZPKoWRp7c0wL3Fd3RIz1kptATlVpyYOZO2ZfgbgqK4CEp/s1600/DSC00760.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDRst3AxSqsyAFAmJdmbDudL5UzfVvUT4UMQLlAR_HbnUp8sKUcDQlc8jSbzKlAu-oqYa0bcrWFZwymOY4VhyphenhyphenndfJ94XgDo7xZPKoWRp7c0wL3Fd3RIz1kptATlVpyYOZO2ZfgbgqK4CEp/s1600/DSC00760.JPG" height="300" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">vasaras laiskums /// the idle summertime</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_GEyF5JTikddbD4iBJzDYPVTHJA18ZhUAi361zu_Xo47hbmJxVY5Jyg8pLWakJNqftlH40Bamfdt2fRkJFNm0TTr81x_YZohyQ4GyALr_fLMvAyBgtyWwqPra_5r0jdRx2mxcIjIP4hSf/s1600/DSC00761.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_GEyF5JTikddbD4iBJzDYPVTHJA18ZhUAi361zu_Xo47hbmJxVY5Jyg8pLWakJNqftlH40Bamfdt2fRkJFNm0TTr81x_YZohyQ4GyALr_fLMvAyBgtyWwqPra_5r0jdRx2mxcIjIP4hSf/s1600/DSC00761.JPG" height="300" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">taisns leņķis /// a right angle</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjEug1WTwTXyYVeg2XlrnNf9uOxE3BtR3QV8JuJr7kXkLAnG1D5Fvxxsn7qIYAueC8RomQ9pivzkZBpGgl4BusZXj7QMuEK9rYTt4l7B5SqWC6HuCLGqxwvrCISRZxXEouYmDjayBn3XUMi/s1600/DSC00762.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjEug1WTwTXyYVeg2XlrnNf9uOxE3BtR3QV8JuJr7kXkLAnG1D5Fvxxsn7qIYAueC8RomQ9pivzkZBpGgl4BusZXj7QMuEK9rYTt4l7B5SqWC6HuCLGqxwvrCISRZxXEouYmDjayBn3XUMi/s1600/DSC00762.JPG" height="300" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">dzērienu līnija /// the line of beverages</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqfFoj8H06PncSWEgLk8Ppu_AotwvqYXQ18LgA0uUUHWRwYVvPY2m_IofOO_GH7YWNXBPPSb6iIBuC99GIlnYw428VXRkJ0yZPumdZC9Ps63D9vG7EjebIkNCbvHaRVdRNa9fq_ue12L53/s1600/DSC00764.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqfFoj8H06PncSWEgLk8Ppu_AotwvqYXQ18LgA0uUUHWRwYVvPY2m_IofOO_GH7YWNXBPPSb6iIBuC99GIlnYw428VXRkJ0yZPumdZC9Ps63D9vG7EjebIkNCbvHaRVdRNa9fq_ue12L53/s1600/DSC00764.JPG" height="400" width="300" /></a></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHlkXwALkyhx711TDBM0O2dIicOoUHXkDCBLnqJHNoXuee6OLCVaJBOjwQM0qTqtT_AYxrRr1y0RFzXj_Lr658MGxymprtHZQB0xA8yF42yke7zWlvMRo1LGQJ7VZcFh599mgMNpT6j6Hj/s1600/DSC00768.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHlkXwALkyhx711TDBM0O2dIicOoUHXkDCBLnqJHNoXuee6OLCVaJBOjwQM0qTqtT_AYxrRr1y0RFzXj_Lr658MGxymprtHZQB0xA8yF42yke7zWlvMRo1LGQJ7VZcFh599mgMNpT6j6Hj/s1600/DSC00768.JPG" height="400" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">puse acu atvērtas /// half the eyes open</span></td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdqctk92ABwtF3mL0ePY6MDrOhGff0wj58TCMjox8OY8jBglMtEZNFJags1TYyAy8Qh0H_Dk2Xma1hrU-S8ZY-nVdLXUlM2eN2TMgOqr2rM-E5eYZ-VX1_cjCV6plXO97L4OyMeiRm4mli/s1600/DSC00769.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdqctk92ABwtF3mL0ePY6MDrOhGff0wj58TCMjox8OY8jBglMtEZNFJags1TYyAy8Qh0H_Dk2Xma1hrU-S8ZY-nVdLXUlM2eN2TMgOqr2rM-E5eYZ-VX1_cjCV6plXO97L4OyMeiRm4mli/s1600/DSC00769.JPG" height="300" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">dūmu gredzeni, vai arī gandrīz /// smoke rings or close to that</span></td></tr>
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhMd_AG-0fLtpHZYxCPjbSuAO9VR42obPzVN14KBJiCifmBkW5JWHHojawpHd5emFNNN3xyxUGd0KbnJ0wn8Kf5pFYLyh37NQMoz9zcfR_G5cOmSnI3F3qhtgwsuv3IpEdq1gmYYwiKlw0t/s1600/DSC00776.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhMd_AG-0fLtpHZYxCPjbSuAO9VR42obPzVN14KBJiCifmBkW5JWHHojawpHd5emFNNN3xyxUGd0KbnJ0wn8Kf5pFYLyh37NQMoz9zcfR_G5cOmSnI3F3qhtgwsuv3IpEdq1gmYYwiKlw0t/s1600/DSC00776.JPG" height="400" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">skatiens kamerā I /// Looking into the camera I</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMwJMCyLen4cS2rqZY9vLnTxqc4NpheWGBwmjNLLsYxqRYIzJmijo3P-qfPAOUUEEm4M7ylTe3rJkwiKVZhd1hk0TPvxXqbFumoFnhaRRMPe7LKTYCXh3ZIpObnjj406GS2-Znc5d6n5Ij/s1600/DSC00777.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMwJMCyLen4cS2rqZY9vLnTxqc4NpheWGBwmjNLLsYxqRYIzJmijo3P-qfPAOUUEEm4M7ylTe3rJkwiKVZhd1hk0TPvxXqbFumoFnhaRRMPe7LKTYCXh3ZIpObnjj406GS2-Znc5d6n5Ij/s1600/DSC00777.JPG" height="400" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">skatiens kamerā II /// Looking into the camera II</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgKrSrpXFkOPoUi12WLMdhmSzfnesYz7sgYxYFZXYwEDcZGFM08RfUuX9WwMI3InT3p1nEppDRLv5EwyRxZ42IoMjJzjdM1rWBnTpvdjbKw-mf7ngKnD6q3Vp4yCllplmF4OreJSUzOafV5/s1600/DSC00779.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgKrSrpXFkOPoUi12WLMdhmSzfnesYz7sgYxYFZXYwEDcZGFM08RfUuX9WwMI3InT3p1nEppDRLv5EwyRxZ42IoMjJzjdM1rWBnTpvdjbKw-mf7ngKnD6q3Vp4yCllplmF4OreJSUzOafV5/s1600/DSC00779.JPG" height="400" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">neviens neskatās kamerā III /// No one is looking into the camera III</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfRLIqIAEc8pbJG6Gw-eTmhMk_jToATf_s2fLLQitQCETAsOrZsTQSMjUtkrisS_bp8hWQ8VIPk12GVnlwxqlm7IZxDIuNuOpTb_bl6g1Wgakt391JOegmEyx21CKm2nvE6gA3DXxy7SOB/s1600/DSC00780.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfRLIqIAEc8pbJG6Gw-eTmhMk_jToATf_s2fLLQitQCETAsOrZsTQSMjUtkrisS_bp8hWQ8VIPk12GVnlwxqlm7IZxDIuNuOpTb_bl6g1Wgakt391JOegmEyx21CKm2nvE6gA3DXxy7SOB/s1600/DSC00780.JPG" height="400" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">piknika sastāvdaļas /// the contents of a picnic</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEilWLEzzICUFGDme3k85OdCDLq1zwDVRMit1NjhKLdMKyEOKJ9Segn8TUF51sgBwUmmSnUhfb_cNWg05D5MpbA__Al8UJqsgu_S7uH1cAfc5gVmorKIz-JzMjZVxCxcWfHNp_SVv5xtOzsU/s1600/DSC00782.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEilWLEzzICUFGDme3k85OdCDLq1zwDVRMit1NjhKLdMKyEOKJ9Segn8TUF51sgBwUmmSnUhfb_cNWg05D5MpbA__Al8UJqsgu_S7uH1cAfc5gVmorKIz-JzMjZVxCxcWfHNp_SVv5xtOzsU/s1600/DSC00782.JPG" height="300" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">neapdomības rēta uz pieres /// the recklessness scar on the forehead</span></td></tr>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgXiy2OuRrMcMALCgEKuad9_vIENKRaTFnHFFQjP7jzjFDRLLrXYcYc52FDZ5H6P7I2YscIr_KjNaurMbmeKxezsOvezGCF3ey9UYF3ODWcJngLF19_pQGstCs2WJN4p-QaXRQuz9GxIzwp/s1600/DSC00785.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgXiy2OuRrMcMALCgEKuad9_vIENKRaTFnHFFQjP7jzjFDRLLrXYcYc52FDZ5H6P7I2YscIr_KjNaurMbmeKxezsOvezGCF3ey9UYF3ODWcJngLF19_pQGstCs2WJN4p-QaXRQuz9GxIzwp/s1600/DSC00785.JPG" height="400" width="300" /></a></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhTOm-TOphYgASXCRXVUbp0dEgE2Q_SKUWYOiQlzgj8_TrrkTQsYm-6USrntFqa_IAU81Uykds9H_VL-2XnFm1C8dP6cFGIsts4b9dTe2LwAaOnvxJmYxXXW08DPKhPnuJ-GQKiO8GBiQnr/s1600/DSC00787.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhTOm-TOphYgASXCRXVUbp0dEgE2Q_SKUWYOiQlzgj8_TrrkTQsYm-6USrntFqa_IAU81Uykds9H_VL-2XnFm1C8dP6cFGIsts4b9dTe2LwAaOnvxJmYxXXW08DPKhPnuJ-GQKiO8GBiQnr/s1600/DSC00787.JPG" height="300" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">mazāk taisns un vairāk mīlīgs leņķis /// less right, but closer angle</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">vasaras pēdas /// summer feet</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiAOGaI78_iPia8DAZ8lTqhf5-Pwmvty23ZcVxpORy_I5WcaZFTwmHbExSAcz-JRChw0rNIwjOSka22kc9MivhXPdFZuHXwAzAbFsusYRLrWFlf7IQcm17ds7uIKG4Ra2n6RQBGa9IfxPhR/s1600/DSC00791.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiAOGaI78_iPia8DAZ8lTqhf5-Pwmvty23ZcVxpORy_I5WcaZFTwmHbExSAcz-JRChw0rNIwjOSka22kc9MivhXPdFZuHXwAzAbFsusYRLrWFlf7IQcm17ds7uIKG4Ra2n6RQBGa9IfxPhR/s1600/DSC00791.JPG" height="300" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">izskatās grūtāk par pikniku /// looks harsher than a picnic</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">trīs rokas uz Ričarda /// three hands on Richard</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">Jānis izskatās pēc koalas /// Janis reminding a koala</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">vasarīgs miers /// summer serenity</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">beigas /// the end</span></td></tr>
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Elīnahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10521503680160374034noreply@blogger.com0Torņakalns, Zemgales priekšpilsēta, Rīga, Latvia56.931769772753178 24.08589363098144556.923105772753175 24.065723630981445 56.940433772753181 24.106063630981446tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4839116002327328501.post-74478303855893318492014-03-14T21:18:00.003+02:002014-03-14T21:19:22.847+02:00Roken is dodelijk<div style="text-align: justify;">
Kad es braucu atpakaļ uz mājām no Vācijas, man patika puse dienas, ko es pavadīju pārvietojoties ar vilcieniem un meklējot īstos peronus tuksnesīgās vai līdzīgu kustību pieblīvētās stacijās, gaidot rīta tukšos peronos ar cerību, ka vilciens apstāsies vietā, kur es stāvu, un bārstot izkaisītus soļus un čemodāna līnijas pilsētās, uz kurām es varu mazliet paskatīties kā skatlogā. Vēl man acīmredzami patīk gari teikumi.</div>
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Aptuveni 6:30 mikroautobusiņa vadītājs ar plašu žestu, kurš man lika domāt par (es laikam nevaru teikt, ka atgādināja, jo man nav tādas patiesas pieredzes) šoferiem uz dzelteniem Amerikas rietumu ceļiem, izcēla no busiņa manu čemodānu un parādīja, kurā virzienā ir vilciena stacija. Ceļā uz Libeku dzelceļa sliedes gāja cauri Ziemeļvācijas mežiem, un tie meži, ak, viņi bija burvīgi. Mazliet pirms Timmendorf vilcienam abās puses bija lapu koku plantācijas, un zeme mitra, brūna un pārredzama. Vilcienā uz Hamburgu policistam labi izskatījās viņa tumši zilais formas džempītis, un uz Brēmeni es virzījos kopā ar klasi vācu pusaudžu. Kad no rīta Inga man iedeva līdzi sataisītas maizītes un ingverūdeni, es teicu, ka jūtos kā vācu skolēns, un Ivars teica: "Bet mīļi, ne?" Un es teicu, ka jā, ļoti. Un es lēnām ēdu maizītes, kā vācu skolēns, man ļoti patika. Meitene, kas sēdēja man blakus, aizņēmās no manis pildspalvu.</div>
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Man patīk pārvietoties, ceļošana ir tik patīkama nodarbe, ja vien nav pašas rociņām jāpārvieto arī bagāžas krāvumi. Ja mantas ir vieglas, tad sēdēt vilcienā un pūlēties nenokavēt īsto pieturu, sēdēt vilcienā un bezrūpīgi skatīties, kā garām skrien koki, jo jāizkāpj pēdējā pieturā, sēdēt vilcienā un pavirši redzēt cilvēku pārvietošanās laika ieradumus vai darbības, tā ir ļoti laba lieta, ko darīt. </div>
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Lidmašīnā es iekāpu samērā vēlu, bija palicis maz vietu, manā skatiena lokā nevienas pašas pie loga, un es apsēdos blakus pavecākam eiropietim, kuram no daudzām pusēm bija lielu bērnu vai mazu pieaugušo izmēra būtnes. Ar atvieglojumu par atrasto sēdvietu bija pietiekami, lai es iesākumā neaptvertu situāciju, kura solīja bērnu un viņu skanīgo balstiņu ielenkumu uz divarpus stundām. Lidmašīna gatavojās pacelties, stjuarts neizturēja un, demonstrējot drošības noteikumus, dusmīgi apsauca bērnus, lai viņi beidz bļaustīties, un es nospriedu, ka šis būs mans nemīļākais lidojums mūžā, un ka man ir bijuši pietiekami daudzi jauki braucieni, lai šis kļūtu par nemīļāko.</div>
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Es nevarēju skatīties ārā pa logu, tāpēc mēģināju lasīt filozofijas tekstus. Mēs ar blakussēdētāju bijām jau apmainījušies ar maznozīmīgām bezrūpīgas intonācijas frāzēm angliski, kas skāra sēdvietas pieejamību vai lūgumu palaist garām, un viņš man teica, ka šī laikam nav labākā vieta, kur lasīt, un es atteicu, ka laikam jau nav gan, bet es tik un tā mēģināšu. Viņa izteiksme bija ļoti patīkama, laipna un bezrūpīga. Man šķiet, mani bieži uzrunā bezrūpīgas, silti pateiktas un ne pārāk svarīgas svešu cilvēku frāzes. Tāpēc, lai gan man nav ieraduma mesties komunikācijā ar lidmašīnas blakussēdētājiem, kad daudzbalsu murdoņa un lidmašīnas trokšņu sajaukums man sāka kļūt pārāk viendabīgs, lai izšķirtu un pārāk svešs, lai atpazītu, es viņam pajautāju, kas tā par valodu, kurā viņi runā.<br />
"It's Dutch."<br />
"Oh, I couldn't recognise it."<br />
Viņš teica, ka viņi esot no Holandes un braucot uz Latviju apmaiņas projektā. Vienu gadu latviešu klase brauc uz nedēļu pie viņiem, nākamo gadu viņi uz Latviju. Tad es sapratu, kad man parādīja, ka viss bērnu bariņš ir nīderlandiešu klase, un pāris nosvērtu pieaugušo izkaisītajam pūlim malās, kas izskatās starp vecpuišiem un beznesmeņiem, ir skolotāji. Un viņu saucot Jans.<br />
Mēs mazliet parunājām, un tad sarunā iesaistījās Jana blakussēdētājs, kustīgs un blonds zēns. Tā kā zviedru šokolādīšu baltzobis, tikai, nu, citādāks: "Tell her that we will go to Latvia and we will do lots of fun things!"<br />
"What are you going to do there?"<br />
"We will play ball, eat, swim in the sea. What should we eat?"<br />
Es nevarēju neko īsti tipisku Latvijai iedomāties, un teicu Latvijas virtuve jau ir tāds diezgan sajaukums un garšīga ir maizes zupa, lai gan dažiem riebjas, un melleņu kūka.<br />
"Blueberry pie, mmm". (Teikums jāiztēlojas ar pašu izteiksmīgāko un jūsmīgāko mīmiku.)<br />
Jūsmīgo zēnu sauca Braiens. Braiens pirmo reizi lidoja ar lidmašīnu, viņam viss patika. Jans bija daudz nosvērtāks, arī viegli iepriecīgs. Viņi man sāka mācīt holandiski un es viņiem izdzīvošanas frāzes latviski. Man liekas, ka ir kaut kāds pamatpieņēmums, ka pats pamatiņš un būtiskākais ir pieklājības frāzes. Šķiet, ja būsi pieklājīgs, izdzīvosi un nekur nepazudīsi.<br />
Braienam labi sanāca latviešu akcents, un viņš par to sapriecājās. Ar holandiešu "sveiki" es tiku galā pietiekami labi, taču, protams, izaicinošā holandiešu burta atnākšana bija neizbēgama. Braiens man līksmi nodemonstrēja "88", kas, jādomā, ir izslavēts mēles mežģis. "Achtentachtig" var izskatīties pēc nekaitīga kustonīša uz papīra, taču tas ir īsts nezvērs, kad jāmēģina izrunāt. Es padevos un teicu, ka viņu burts ir drausmīgs. Par laimi, "astoņdesmit astoņi" viņu ausīm arī lika svilt un mēlēm kalst.<br />
Vienīgais, ko es jebkad esmu zinājusi holandiešu valodā, ir frāze, kuru man Lāsma lika minēt, kad viņa ar Klāvu stopējot uzturējās Amsterdamā.<br />
"I think I know one phrase in Dutch. Roken is dodelijk, something like that?" protams, bez valdzinošas izrunas.<br />
"Yes, yes! Roken is dodelijk!" viņi abi līksmi izsaucās, un Jans izvilka no kabatas uztinamo tabaku, kurai virsū gozējās gluži šāds pats uzrakstiņš. <br />
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Kad Braiens nevarēja izdomāt kādu frāzi angliski, viņš pateica Janam
holandiski, un Jans man pārtulkoja angliski. Dažbrīd Braiens nevarēja
atcerēties kādu angļu vārdu, un tad viņam parādījās mokoša sāpju
izteiksme.<br />
"I can't speak English! It's so hard!" Braiens teica ar izmisušo izteiksmi.<br />
"Oh, you're gonna be so tired after this week in Latvia, speaking English every day."<br />
Braiens
teica, ka gribot runāt tā kā es, un, kad es teicu, ka vispār jau viņš
runā ļoti labi, un es viņa vecumā runāju daudz sliktāk, viņš tik ļoti
atplauka, it kā viņam nupat būtu uzkritusi virsū cerības sedziņa. Vispār
tās viņa apburošās izteiksmes, viņas bija tik strauji mainīgas, no
nepacietīgas sajūsmas līdz nogurušam sadugumam, un viss viņa sejā bija
tik uzskatāms, pārsteigums, vilšanās, interese. Šitā jau vairs nebija
atvērta grāmata, 4d kino tad drīzāk.<br />
Braienam kaklā bija ID karte, mēs tur kaut ko runājām, ka mums tās pagaidām vēl opcionālas, un es redzēju viņa uzvārdu, kurš sākās ar "van der". Ak! "Van der" ir mans favorītvariants uzvārda daļai. Es vislabprātāk gribētu būt "Elīna var der kaut kas" (nu tikai ne "van der Bērtule"), otrajā vietā ir "Elīna Della kaut kas". Bet nu, Latvijā nav cerību uz ko tamlīdzīgu, es mazliet bēdīgu novilku.<br />
Braienam bija 13 gadi. Es teicu, ka man ir 23, un viņam parādījās tā pārsteigtā un bēdīgā sejas izteiksme. "23?!"<br />
"You're way too old for him!" Jans pasmējās. Pirmo reizi kāds man tā teica, nebija slikti.<br />
<br />
Braiens vēl pastāstīja, ka viņš dejojot hiphopu, es teicu, ka man šķiet, viņam piestāv hiphops, un es mēs vēl par šo un to ar viņiem abiem parunājām, un tas bija tik pacilājoši un priecīgi, nu tiešām. Lidmašīna jau bija nolaidusies, Braiens pagriezās uz aizmuguri un sāka runāt ar savām klasesbiedrenēm.<br />
"He's giving a report on your conversation," Jans teica, un tā apmēram arī bija. "She's a student, she's going home. She dances too." Kad viņš kaut ko aizmirsa, pārjautāja Janam vai man.<br />
Braiens bija aizņemts, dodot ieskatu sarunā, un Jans klusāk piebilda: "He's a very sweet boy, Bryan. He comes from a harsh family situation, his father abused his mum, so he's quite insecure. But so sweet." Tik jaukiem zēniem vajadzētu labākus tētus.<br />
Jaukais zēns Braiens man vēl pajautāja, ko es tieši dejoju, un es viņam atbildēju, ka drusciņ laikmetīgo deju.<br />
"I dance too, we both dance hip-hop," teica viena klasesbiedrene.<br />
"I don't dance," teica otra, un tad es censtos uztvert vienlaikus vairākus trīspadmitgadniekus, kuri man mācīja dažādas sasveicināšanās frāzes holandiski. Ļoti mīlīgi, man patika.<br />
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Lidmašīna bija nolaidusies, holandiešu klase palika salonā pēdējie, un mēs atsveicinājāmies. Šitais bija viens no maniem mīļākajiem lidojumiem, kaut arī es nesēdēju pie lodziņa. Es jau gāju pa stiklotām kāpnēm, kad redzēju, ka Jans ar Braienu ir pievienojušies krāsainam bērnu un rāmu skolotāju bariņam lidlauka malā. Es viņiem pamāju, viņi man māja pretī, es gāju tālāk prom un turpināju māt, un bija kaut kā žēl un viegli skumji iet prom. Es būtu gribējusi ilgi viņiem māt un redzēt, kā viņi tur ir, bet man arī likās, ka nevajag tā darīt, un ka vienkārši vajag iet tālāk. <br />
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Vēlāk es atcerējos, ka man vajadzēja pateikt par biezpienmaizītēm. Latvijā jāēd biezpienmaizītes, man šķiet.<br />
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^^^^^<br />
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When I was getting back home from Germany, I liked the half a day I spent on trains, looking for the right platforms in deserted train stations, or train stations filled with similar movements, waiting on morning-empty platforms and hoping that the train will stop right in front of me, and then leaving some footsteps and luggage lines in cities I could shortly look at. I obviously appreciate long sentences too.<br />
Around 6:30 am the minibus driver took out my luggage with a wide gesture that made me think of (I guess I can't employ the word "reminded" since I don't actually have this kind of experience) car or truck drivers on yellowish West American roads. He pointed to the direction of the train station. Whilst heading to Lubeck the railway went through Northern Germany's woods. Oh those enchanting woods! Right before Timmendorf there were deciduous trees' plantations on each side of the train, and wet, brown, well visible soil. On the train to Hamburg the policeman looked swell in his navy uniform sweater. To Bremen I was going <i>zusammen mit</i> a whole student class. When earlier in the morning Inga gave me a sandwich and ginger limo, I said I felt like a German student. Ivars added: "But it's sweet, isn't it?" And said that yes, very. On the train I ate my sandwich, felt like a German student, liked it very much. The girl sitting next to me borrowed a pen.<br />
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J'adore moving around, and traveling is such an adorable way to pass time, unless they are my own hands that have to carry the heavy luggage. If the luggage is light, sitting on the train and not missing the right stop, sitting on the train and carelessly watching the quickly passing trees and not getting off before the last stop, or sitting on the train and superficially watching the traveling habits of people, these all are splendid things to do.<br />
<br />
I got on the plane pretty late, and there were few seats left, let alone those at the window. So I sat down next to an older European man who was pretty much surrounded by creatures in size of big kids. I was too relieved by the fact that I managed to find a seat to realise the promise of a 2h30min long concert of kids' well tuned voices. When the plane was about to take off, the air-steward lost his temper and told the kids to calm down. I declared to myself this as my least favorite flight in my life. I had had enough nice flights, so I could afford to have one less nice.<br />
<br />
Since I was unable to stare through the window, I gave a try reading some philosophy. I had already exchanged a couple of courtesy phrases in English, pronounced in a nonchalant manner, with the man sitting next to me, and then he noted that this probably wasn't the best place for reading. I answered that it most likely wans't but I'd try anyways. His way of speaking was pleasant, kind and easy-going. I think I tend to be touched by warm, nonchalant and not too important things said by strangers. So, despite lacking the habit of chatting up persons sitting next to me on plane, when the noisy many-voiced murmuring became too homogenous to distinguish and too unfamiliar to recognise, I asked him what was the language they spoke.<br />
"It's Dutch."<br />
"Oh, I couldn't recognise it."<br />
They were from Holland, going to Latvia for a school exchange project. One year Latvians go to them to Netherland, the next year they visit Latvia. I wasn't bright enough to figure it out on my own that all that kiddy crowd was one Dutch class, and the few considerate adults with a vibe between businessmen and bachelors were teachers. And he was called Jan.<br />
We chatted for a little while, then a blond and agile boy next to Jan got himself involved into the conversation. He reminded me the Swedish chocolate white-toothed boy, only, well, different: "Tell her that we
will go to Latvia and we will do lots of fun things!"<br />
"What are you going to do there?"<br />
"We will play ball, eat, swim in the sea. What should we eat?"<br />
I couldn't come up with anything very typical for Latvia, as the Latvian cuisine is more or less a mix of the cuisines of near regions, and said that the sweet rye bread soup tastes good, although some hate it. And blueberry pie.<br />
"Blueberry pie, mmm". (Verbal language accompanied by the most expressive and delighted facial expression.)<br />
The enthusiastic boy's name was Bryan. Bryan was having his first flight, he liked everything. Jan was a lot more composed, lightly cheery too. They taught me some Dutch and I in return taught them some phrases in Latvian for the purpose of survival. I guess there's a basic assumption that the very foundation and most important thing in a language is greetings and courtesy phrases. It seems that politeness will make you survive and you won't get lost.<br />
Bryan was brilliant at Latvian, his accent was so clear, and he naturally was very glad about it. I myself got through Dutch "Hi!", but, of course, the arriving of the dreaded Dutch letter was inevitable. Bryan cheerfully demonstrated "88", which I suppose is a renown tongue twister. "Achtenachtig" might look like a harmless creature on the paper, but it's beast when you actually try to pronounce it. I gave up admitting that their letter was horrible. I got lucky that "astoņdesmit astoņi" - "achtenachtig" Latvian equivalent - sounded horrific to them and made their tongues twist.<br />
The only thing I've ever known in Dutch is a sentence that Lasma made me guess when she and Klavs were hitch-hiking and stayed in Amsterdam for a while. <br />
"I think I know one phrase in Dutch. Roken is dodelijk, something like that?" naturally, without an adorable pronunciation.<br />
"Yes,
yes! Roken is dodelijk!" they both shouted out cheerfully, and Jan took out of his pocket a pack of tobacco with a like expression on it.<br />
<br />
When Bryan couldn't come up with a phrase in English, he said it to Jan, and Jan translated it for me in English. Sometimes Bryan couldn't find a word in English, and his face turned into a painful expression.<br />
"I can't speak English! It's so hard!" Bryan said in a desperate manner.<br />
"Oh, you're gonna be so tired after this week in Latvia, speaking English everyday."<br />
Bryan expressed his wish to be able to speak like me, and when I mentioned that actually his English was very good indeed and that at his age my English was a way worse than his, he brightened up, as if a duvet of hope had covered him. And all those adorable expressions of his, they changed so quickly and were always so extreme. From impatient elevation to tired to despair, everything was so obvious in his face, surprise, disappointment, interest. This was no open book, more like a 4D cinema.<br />
Bryan had ID card neck strap, so when the conversation turned about them, I saw his last name which started with "van der". "Van der" happens to be my favorite among surname prefixes. I'd prefer to be "Elina van der Something" (but not "Elīna van der Bērtule", please), the second preferable would be "Elina Della Something". But in Latvia there's no hope for prefixes in surnames. (If I decide to take things in my own hands and actually do something about it, I'll have to marry a Dutch, or at least an Italian.)<br />
Bryan was 13 years old. I said I was 23, and he immediately got his surprised and then sad face. "23?!"<br />
"You're way too old for him!" Jan laughed. This was the first time someone said it for me, wasn't bad.<br />
<br />
Bryan also told that he was dancing hip-hop, and I could easily imagine him doing that. We talked about this and that with both of them, and I felt so bright and cheerful. The plane had already landed, and Bryan turned away to his classmates sitting behind him. <br />
"He's giving a report on your conversation," said Jan, and he was quite precise. "She's a student, she's going home. She
dances too." Kad viņš kaut ko aizmirsa, pārjautāja Janam vai man. Had he forgotten something, he just asked Jan or me. <br />
Since Bryan was busy informing the girls, Jan added in a lower voice: "He's a
very sweet boy, Bryan. He comes from harsh a family situation, his
father abused his mum, so he's quite insecure. But so sweet." Boys this nice deserve better dads.<br />
The nice boy Bryan asked me what exactly did I dance. "Contemporary dance, a little."<br />
"I dance too, we both dance hip-hop," one of his classmates said.<br />
"I
don't dance," said another, and then I had to try to catch speeches of several 13 years olds who tought me how to greet in Dutch. Formal style, informal style, standard. This was sweet, I enjoyed it.<br />
<br />
The plane had landed, the Dutch class stayed on the board the last ones, so we said goodbye. This was no doubt one of my favorite flights, and I didn't even have a window seat. I was on the stairs with glass walls, when I saw Jan and Bryan having joined the crowd of colourful kids and calm teachers on the side of the airfield. I waved, they waved back at me, I continued to walk away and kept waving, and it was somehow sad to leave. I would have wished to stand there and wave, and see them being down there. But I also knew that I should simply keep walking away.<br />
<br />
Later I remembered the curd cake with raisins, had to tell about it. In Latvia one has to taste curd cake, I think. <br />
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Elīnahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10521503680160374034noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4839116002327328501.post-66307117725405972332014-02-14T12:28:00.000+02:002014-03-09T21:29:32.713+02:00Pirmdzimtais pikniks /// Picnic, the firstborn<div style="text-align: justify;">
Valentīna dienai piemīt sarežģīta, ierobežota estētika, kuru pagaidām nešķiet viegli izvērst (un, visticamāk, tas nemaz nebūtu jādara, tie nav nekādi februāra Ziemassvētki), taču ir viena līnija, kura man šķiet brīnišķīga un viegli uztverama.</div>
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1975. gada Austrālijas filmā "Picnic at Hanging Rock" darbība notiek 1900. gada 14. februārī, kad meiteņu skola rīko izbraucienu uz klintīm. Meitenēm ir gaiši rozā kūka sirds formā, baltas kleitas ar mežģīnēm, melnas zeķes un zābaciņi, nogurdinošs dienasvidus karstums un vilkme doties pētīt klintis. Dienvidu puslodē 14. februārī var doties piknikā; Ziemeļu puslodē šajā laikā var slidot un sapņot par piknikiem.</div>
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Vai arī var atcerēties, jo ir, ko atcerēties. </div>
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Tas bija pirmais pikniks siltā jūlija dienā, kad mēs ar Katrīnu bijām nolēmušas īstenot plānu sēdēt zālītē un ēst labas lietas. Mēs abas tajā dienā strādājām, un pa dienu bija silts, taču pa laikam degunu pabāza lietus, un es sāku satraukties, ka pievakarē līs, un mēs nekādā piknikā neaiziesim. Es pažēlojos kolēģim, ka varbūt nevarēšu iet piknikā, jo līs lietus, un viņš teica, ka esmu jauna, skaista un neprecēta, un man nevajadzētu neiet piknikā. Un tā ir, mēs ar Katrīnu esam diezgan drosmīgas meitenes (Katrīna ir drosmīga, un kopā vieglāk uzturēt drosmi) un neļāvāmies lietum mūs iebiedēt.</div>
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Mēs gājām uz Viesturdārzu pa Kluso centru, kurš mums ir mīļš rajons un kuru mēs esam kopīgi apdzīvojušas ar uzslāņojumiem. (Bet pirms tam un joprojām mums viņš patīk arī atsevišķi.) Prātojām, ka varbūt kādreiz esam spēlējušās vienā smilšu kastē, vai vismaz uzturējušās parciņā vienā un tajā pašā laikā, un pievērsām uzmanību vēstniecībām. Un vispār mēs tik priecīgi runājāmies, brīnišķīgs esamības stāvoklis, un jūlija dienas pievakares skaistums. Brīžiem uzlija, dieviņš varbūt pārbaudīja mūsu uzticību piknika idejai. Mēs nepadevāmies, taču man nebūtu nekas pretī, ja nebūtu pārbaudījis. Divatā lietus piknikā nav tik nepārvarams, un piknika norise bija gluda. Mūsu pikniks un pēcpiknika pastaiga bija maģiska, sāka krēslot, un tas parasti nodrošina zināmu skaistumu, tomēr es līdz īsti nesaprotu, no kurienes ieradās maģiskums.<br />
<br />
<br />
^^^^^<br />
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<div>
Valentine's Day has got this difficult, limited aesthetics, and as for now, I don't find it easy to get past the initial phase of red hearts (and most probably, I shouldn't even be doing that, since I'm alright with red and hearts, and after all this is no Christmas in February). Still there is one asthetic direction I find utmost bewitching and easy to grasp.</div>
<div>
In the Australian movie "Picnic at Hanging Rock" (1975) the whole mystic string of events started on the 14th February 1900, when girl's school was having an outing on the rocks. The girls had blush pink Valentine's cake in the shape of a heart, white lawn dresses with lace, black socks and lace boots, a tiring midday heat and a longing to go explore the rocks. In the Southern hemisphere on the 14th February one can go out for a picnic; those inhabiting the Northern part of the globe get to ice skate and daydream on summery picnics.<br />
Or one can look back for memories on picnics, if there's something to recall.<br />
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<div>
That was the first picnic in warm July, when Katrina and I had decided to carry out our plan to sit on the urban grass and eat nice things. We both were working during the day, and it was pleasantly warm during the day, but now and then some very rainy raindrops introduced us to themselves. I started to worry that there wouldn't be any picnic after all. I mentioned my poor prospects of picnic to a colleague, and he said that I was young, beautiful and unmarried, so I shouldn't not got to a picnic. He was quite right about it; Katrina and I are decently brave girls (at least Katrina is, and braveness comes easier together), so we didn't let the rain frighten us off.</div>
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We went to the Viestudarzs, making our way through the Still centre, which we have grown fond of. (Until then each of us had stories about the Still centre of our own and we still do.) We think that maybe sometime in our early days we were on the same playground, or at least visiting the same park in the same time. We paid attention to the embassies too, there were lots of them. Mainly we spent our time cheerfully chatting, this was a marvelous way of being, the beauty of early evening in July. Occasionally we got some raindrops visiting, probably god was testing our devotion to the idea of picnic. We didn't give in, still I wouldn't have mind he didn't test us at all. For two together rain on a picnic is not that insuperable, and all in all all went smooth. Our picnic and after-picnic walk was magical, the twilight was breaking out and this usually ensures certain amount of beauty. But I don't entirely understand where did that magic come from.</div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">vēstniecību apkārtnē /// around embassies</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">lietusmētelis lieliskais /// Raincoat the Great</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">lietus krāsu intensitātei nāk par labu /// rain is doing good things to the intensity of colours</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjyXHnhmcrMXlWMVxqvbrPg8AohyphenhyphenDTsknVfVbgaYiLPRgLg-X8eM6rQ4gRkrJLMYmvuaXvodVNeOudQpMAXJjfs_dXfMIBXnlKmYMzIFRxcPgbxm2Y6_gAF80v0LlWlL74Ekme1FjaHfLLY/s1600/Ri%CC%84ga-20120718-03855.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjyXHnhmcrMXlWMVxqvbrPg8AohyphenhyphenDTsknVfVbgaYiLPRgLg-X8eM6rQ4gRkrJLMYmvuaXvodVNeOudQpMAXJjfs_dXfMIBXnlKmYMzIFRxcPgbxm2Y6_gAF80v0LlWlL74Ekme1FjaHfLLY/s1600/Ri%CC%84ga-20120718-03855.jpg" height="300" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">Sarta "Nelabums" ar nelabu vāku /// Sartre's "Nausea" with slightly nauseous cover</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">melleņu tēma /// blueberry theme</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">ugundzēsēu depo /// a fire station</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">Forumīša gaismiņas krēslā /// magic lights in twilight</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">koku rinda /// trees in a line</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">vislabākā gaisma /// the best light</span></td></tr>
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Elīnahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10521503680160374034noreply@blogger.com0Rīga, Latvia56.9496487 24.1051863999999856.672694199999995 23.459739399999979 57.2266032 24.75063339999998tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4839116002327328501.post-87215342086339242942014-02-04T19:57:00.001+02:002014-02-15T22:34:26.728+02:00Sojas piena gadsimts /// The century of soy milkĪss pārskats par tēliem:<br />
īsi, ruļļaini mati - Lāsma<br />
bize - Elīna<br />
protagonists - garais gadsimts<br />
antagonists - sojas piens<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">E: Žēl, ka nav piena. L: Aizej pakaļ!</span></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">E: Tu traka esi?! Ārā taču ir tik auksts un vējains!</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5wzjqDSEmQeOIfwc5sWExFWU4RgzjaiVKz9LQPKIHCC1tXgyIqVEmxykI3f15FL3dbkEh2uzMlFVwR42-dsEcWG3eBGdCArkfLiQTh1vJSnohRB-5u0K0hL3GRdQwvViGVpaTK4edvneq/s1600/3...jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5wzjqDSEmQeOIfwc5sWExFWU4RgzjaiVKz9LQPKIHCC1tXgyIqVEmxykI3f15FL3dbkEh2uzMlFVwR42-dsEcWG3eBGdCArkfLiQTh1vJSnohRB-5u0K0hL3GRdQwvViGVpaTK4edvneq/s1600/3...jpg" height="300" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">L: Labi, labi, man likās, ja tas ir tik svarīgi..</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjCHIpr_QtT-PiY2fxXztXbU7dYvutdODLa90eursrakwz8kBLGRE9Z1maLpo3Uq7icTs05qtdOjGDKM810f1dNHw3zqxBdWQu_gElRJoHwtboLAI_VODGvhn-AA4AWEwuubD5HpZJx4vSL/s1600/4...jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjCHIpr_QtT-PiY2fxXztXbU7dYvutdODLa90eursrakwz8kBLGRE9Z1maLpo3Uq7icTs05qtdOjGDKM810f1dNHw3zqxBdWQu_gElRJoHwtboLAI_VODGvhn-AA4AWEwuubD5HpZJx4vSL/s1600/4...jpg" height="300" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">E: Nē, tas nav samērīgi.</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">E: Es atradu, kur Dāvis Sīmanis runāja par 19.gs. un pārģērbšanos. L: Meklēji "Dāvis Sīmanis 19.gs."? E: Jā, "Dāvis Sīmanis gadsimts"</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6vzSSrA1iFzniIFpiIn_eIasAj9RvUjj6ppsWyU_MxxaN52JS-91YEUGL-ktCDz-Bnv1-Zxj1pFcUz_eUQAkU78-uUanWIjpz18klKm0ggIy9pzLuse8E0GloxpgTjalfk_nADoDvJxrw/s1600/6...jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6vzSSrA1iFzniIFpiIn_eIasAj9RvUjj6ppsWyU_MxxaN52JS-91YEUGL-ktCDz-Bnv1-Zxj1pFcUz_eUQAkU78-uUanWIjpz18klKm0ggIy9pzLuse8E0GloxpgTjalfk_nADoDvJxrw/s1600/6...jpg" height="300" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">E: Patīkami, ka vēl kāds vēlas pārģērbties pirms vakariņām.</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHVfl591VDpB1XHTTkL5TkjUB7j_JpG0DCg2f3H-wIR_ZeBaSWCEdAJ7oTDyZnTDLFlSLxFmAGxvQfOB3Q8ACP67BY9BITW_VovxWGWQAKcsAaBYgNdn5qswgNZ19j1kmFZ81iqwKVCO-p/s1600/7...jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHVfl591VDpB1XHTTkL5TkjUB7j_JpG0DCg2f3H-wIR_ZeBaSWCEdAJ7oTDyZnTDLFlSLxFmAGxvQfOB3Q8ACP67BY9BITW_VovxWGWQAKcsAaBYgNdn5qswgNZ19j1kmFZ81iqwKVCO-p/s1600/7...jpg" height="300" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">E. ierauga uzrakstu.</span> <span style="font-size: small;">!!!!</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7onLPFRTkjR7-qqHa-7OqCHVbhR2LsyWIICDnS0OpNb4Li7v5nHtcQCEC4_ZvR3HRmxxtm454lFl6BbNdI13u7roApYdfDzshK3rTJls8elSyxMXTcooH_iEj6DpySfw2Rq4jDV2xiq5q/s1600/8...jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7onLPFRTkjR7-qqHa-7OqCHVbhR2LsyWIICDnS0OpNb4Li7v5nHtcQCEC4_ZvR3HRmxxtm454lFl6BbNdI13u7roApYdfDzshK3rTJls8elSyxMXTcooH_iEj6DpySfw2Rq4jDV2xiq5q/s1600/8...jpg" height="300" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">L: In your face.</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5luiwyW70wOvoIQnvU-vtJjTulMl07u31Yg-dXblgC_JzCrXG_BjPWF-FY29Lx1eOgyqiT_L3pxnNvTWb_wv-lWCsoyjIprrzggBZM-EvyKRogCA-dqZUJIWQnVeuzDSsn_u4xurFdagJ/s1600/9...jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5luiwyW70wOvoIQnvU-vtJjTulMl07u31Yg-dXblgC_JzCrXG_BjPWF-FY29Lx1eOgyqiT_L3pxnNvTWb_wv-lWCsoyjIprrzggBZM-EvyKRogCA-dqZUJIWQnVeuzDSsn_u4xurFdagJ/s1600/9...jpg" height="300" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">E. un kafija ar 21.gs. produktu.</span></td></tr>
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^^^^^<br />
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A short overview of the main characters:<br />
short, curly hair - Lasma<br />
braid - Elina<br />
protagonist - the long 19th century<br />
antagonist - the soy milk<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhd1_ezqH8w_B1CK8Fcciz5T04bMGrh1WOsuUD1bWZkxnpEWT8EeOXUuM9tMDupzHMiMC3nRnaF3K6aGiGlgfxxrYNJnP9Te7XjSr1CGqL5VngAkMbhDjmVhynbdP02uRxR0UHXaJVw5AZj/s1600/1...jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhd1_ezqH8w_B1CK8Fcciz5T04bMGrh1WOsuUD1bWZkxnpEWT8EeOXUuM9tMDupzHMiMC3nRnaF3K6aGiGlgfxxrYNJnP9Te7XjSr1CGqL5VngAkMbhDjmVhynbdP02uRxR0UHXaJVw5AZj/s1600/1...jpg" height="300" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">E: It's a pity there is no milk left. L: Go and get it!</span></td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwd2E2omM3vU-kip1MQCl032hyphenhyphenFpp-ZpNngST6IMD-0SA7SnVUqLpqLwXsOYLDXHEq1HiJ6GdJ0J_4wSdB2n3iywhp70xbXN-X59nTAE1tiehwnOE-0rXyiMi6lAasAMbEqI_U-BPOEjRf/s1600/2...jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwd2E2omM3vU-kip1MQCl032hyphenhyphenFpp-ZpNngST6IMD-0SA7SnVUqLpqLwXsOYLDXHEq1HiJ6GdJ0J_4wSdB2n3iywhp70xbXN-X59nTAE1tiehwnOE-0rXyiMi6lAasAMbEqI_U-BPOEjRf/s1600/2...jpg" height="300" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">E: You're crazy?! It's too cold and windy outside!</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1PQz7ATbqYUaGgZiejecd3KMJXMQthWwHfbetEjf8h5uHAU_kzRP28qZ8i0GcQ3m4jtZ1tcTwJKMYyN66YZK72L3VIPi8-VpSNWy8Fa_vY034mfMsf3iyooQNDkjLJS3XYK6gmBb9Nk-z/s1600/3...jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1PQz7ATbqYUaGgZiejecd3KMJXMQthWwHfbetEjf8h5uHAU_kzRP28qZ8i0GcQ3m4jtZ1tcTwJKMYyN66YZK72L3VIPi8-VpSNWy8Fa_vY034mfMsf3iyooQNDkjLJS3XYK6gmBb9Nk-z/s1600/3...jpg" height="300" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">L: Okay, okay, I thought it's very important..</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhxJcD_UCUfFAbe_xWyAheV-iKUXYbpuJ8LCqRUcoc41GUTaTDt7-VbdTIP_MpNbKnh_B9RCpC7255l3dwv5xYdCK4TmRHbYuS4-O_tC4Bv0t5RbDOfSRTNS3njp_9kbs3rHWs9V4LzGYyA/s1600/4a...jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhxJcD_UCUfFAbe_xWyAheV-iKUXYbpuJ8LCqRUcoc41GUTaTDt7-VbdTIP_MpNbKnh_B9RCpC7255l3dwv5xYdCK4TmRHbYuS4-O_tC4Bv0t5RbDOfSRTNS3njp_9kbs3rHWs9V4LzGYyA/s1600/4a...jpg" height="300" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">E: No, that wouldn't be adequate.</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUaHMNyugLA9FQDQ-d-6TyS9td5Ye14cNrdQWnokEt6NxEeJz4QwcwVfVPpkbQwHTquGWU23fTQVA0HSFBXkRXDTrv7jiA7jgdCO5j-O69ClADYI3WDTsRbLa5K0h61eH2A3XxiGu1WQRP/s1600/5...jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUaHMNyugLA9FQDQ-d-6TyS9td5Ye14cNrdQWnokEt6NxEeJz4QwcwVfVPpkbQwHTquGWU23fTQVA0HSFBXkRXDTrv7jiA7jgdCO5j-O69ClADYI3WDTsRbLa5K0h61eH2A3XxiGu1WQRP/s1600/5...jpg" height="300" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">E: I found where Davis Simanis was talking about the 19th century and changing attire. L: Did you search for "Davis Simanis 19th century"? E: Yes, "Davis
Simanis century"</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibyVVeRfoz-u1KssvKmn3aUZSWkOfWi6o1GhlZRW9Y8Lahe7RVI8pIluajIy0JMyvKW2bxWP9ReM0SGCyc89WxUPW8cF0WruPYielf7jF8H4dOoLxOELlNFvMj3PO7XXQfeIWQNZG1l1lr/s1600/6a...jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibyVVeRfoz-u1KssvKmn3aUZSWkOfWi6o1GhlZRW9Y8Lahe7RVI8pIluajIy0JMyvKW2bxWP9ReM0SGCyc89WxUPW8cF0WruPYielf7jF8H4dOoLxOELlNFvMj3PO7XXQfeIWQNZG1l1lr/s1600/6a...jpg" height="300" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">E: It's nice to know that someone else would like to change before dinner.</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgssXTgVlPvnDq-uERxiomwh904TqPZN8vB1UjSkaJw5iesjAi7mvKXYQO775Fdw4PZ3xeqyKDgNjHFjSHsK-zs3XiNKkvPRmtv1g0n_C1XudIghMmKj9zT7YTqX0egMomiMQaDx3VZmt-Y/s1600/7a...jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgssXTgVlPvnDq-uERxiomwh904TqPZN8vB1UjSkaJw5iesjAi7mvKXYQO775Fdw4PZ3xeqyKDgNjHFjSHsK-zs3XiNKkvPRmtv1g0n_C1XudIghMmKj9zT7YTqX0egMomiMQaDx3VZmt-Y/s1600/7a...jpg" height="300" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">E. notices the short text on the box !!!!!</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjeI7htR00xT5TDM-6gIp3LpfxXhcZxjNyHop9rPOxE4wTE5nsaoAz6tcBuf_Lu_i04_M1pv1i7kCuNDFlyuwNE8tP0RrweJNzA0A4I1cuorPUEeTEUZZm6bwvE8jIcK9rawauM1Y5iPFsG/s1600/8a...jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjeI7htR00xT5TDM-6gIp3LpfxXhcZxjNyHop9rPOxE4wTE5nsaoAz6tcBuf_Lu_i04_M1pv1i7kCuNDFlyuwNE8tP0RrweJNzA0A4I1cuorPUEeTEUZZm6bwvE8jIcK9rawauM1Y5iPFsG/s1600/8a...jpg" height="300" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">L: In your face.</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5luiwyW70wOvoIQnvU-vtJjTulMl07u31Yg-dXblgC_JzCrXG_BjPWF-FY29Lx1eOgyqiT_L3pxnNvTWb_wv-lWCsoyjIprrzggBZM-EvyKRogCA-dqZUJIWQnVeuzDSsn_u4xurFdagJ/s1600/9...jpg" height="300" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" width="400" /></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">E. and coffee with a product of 21th century</span></td></tr>
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<br />Elīnahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10521503680160374034noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4839116002327328501.post-64128780330061345592014-01-31T17:10:00.001+02:002014-01-31T17:11:14.349+02:00Lamāšanās televizorā /// Cursing on TVMaza Paula pieredz lamāšanos televizorā un apšauba, ka ir tiešām tik slikti tikt nosauktam par pludmales sauli.<br />
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^^^^^<br />
Little Paula witnesses cursing on TV and questions, whether it is really that bad to be called that name.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgki-Dp9u0fdr1Bm4aaEe-JNT7pWHbQxDXJdRtV1XeO9y8UJSQcI7kwxfSRNU2nSijAm-zJrEPkJ31xEiDTbJ-E9dN1uoQHuerc66I6Hyujc3KGkUCiZhXoK2dxG02hJ0zTAN9GQkRN9Ow6/s1600/1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgki-Dp9u0fdr1Bm4aaEe-JNT7pWHbQxDXJdRtV1XeO9y8UJSQcI7kwxfSRNU2nSijAm-zJrEPkJ31xEiDTbJ-E9dN1uoQHuerc66I6Hyujc3KGkUCiZhXoK2dxG02hJ0zTAN9GQkRN9Ow6/s1600/1.jpg" height="400" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">You, sun of a beach!</span></td></tr>
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<br />Elīnahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10521503680160374034noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4839116002327328501.post-60139744232444684852014-01-07T19:52:00.002+02:002014-01-09T21:51:37.716+02:00Kopsavilkums: Ziemassvētki /// Summary: Christmas<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.youtube.com/embed/YVGKfDoANRA?feature=player_embedded' frameborder='0'></iframe></div>
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Es esmu tik laimīga par Ziemassvētkiem, tas bija tik skaisti.</div>
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Es šogad nolēmu nopietni pievērsties Ziemassvētkiem; tā bija mana iespēja pēc pagājušā gada neveiksmes, kad es tikai sapņoju par pudiņu, un beigās attapos Ziemassvētkos bez pudiņa, ar Ziemassvētku kūku. Nebija slikti, nepavisam nebija, mani Ziemassvētki tādi nekad nav, taču es būtu priecājusies par iespēju maķenīt vairāk par viņiem pajūsmot pirms tam. Tā vietā es tikai žēlojos kolēģīšiem un cietu par savu nevaļu.</div>
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Šogad es nolēmu vairs nebūt tik vieglprātīga. Es patiesi uztvēru to nopietni.</div>
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Jau novembrī man parādījās vēlme klausīties sildošas 50.gadu izpildījuma Ziemassvētku dziesmas, decembrī es sāku klausīties arī zēnu kora eņģeļu balsis. Patiesībā mana pievēršanās Ziemassvētkiem ir ar ne tik daudz produktīviem rezultātiem (tādiem ekonomistiski produktīviem), cik ar nodošanos Ziemassvētku apcerei. Lielākā daļa manu decembra domu vērsās ap Ziemassvētelīgām bildītēm, recepšu lasīšanu, pētījumiem par monētām un gredzeniem - kura priekšmeta iecepšana kūkā nes kāda veida laimi, un kura Latvijas monēta nesatur niķeli (esmu dzirdējusi, ka niķelis kaitīgs, un man nepatiktu, ja veiksmes vietā kāds saindētos). Es lasīju arī kādas 5 izglītojoša rakstura grāmatas par britu Ziemassvētkiem, "The Great British Christmas" un "A Country Christmas" bija manas favorītes. Tiešām, visi Ziemassvētku grinči, lasiet šīs grāmatiņas, tas var palīdzēt. Un pārējie lasiet, jo lieliski.</div>
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Un kad decembra sākumā uzsniga pirmais sniegs, ah, nu tas bija neaprakstāmi. Es daudz neskumu, ka uz Ziemassvētkiem sniega nebija nemaz. "Skotiski," es parasti domāju šādos laikapstākļos, kad ir +5-8 grādi, sauss vai viegli mitrs, un zaļa zāle. Nu jā, bet tas sniegs, aww. Bija viegli silts, tāpēc sniegs pielipa pie koku zariem, un divas dienas bija tas sapņainais skats, ko mēs šajos platuma grādos vienmēr jūtamies pelnījuši. Mēs ciešam ar īsiņām ziemas dienām, tāpēc mums pienākas skaisti sniegi!</div>
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Vienā no šajām apburošajām dienām es devos pie Katrīnas uz Adventes laika branču, kas pārauga tējas laikā. Mēs dzērām branča tēju, un mēs dzērām tējas laika tēju. Es pat nevaru pastātīt, cik tas bija izcili. Pārsvarā mēs sēdējām un runājām apmēram tā "Vīī, Ziemassvētki!" un "Nēe, to taču nevar izturēt, tik lieliski!" Mēs mazliet skatījāmies uz augšu pa logu, uz koku zariem un tumstošām debesīm, sajūta bija kā kotedžā, kur mums apkārt lauki, bet mēs leduslācīša mājīgajā namiņā. Katrīna bija ziemas laika mājas tērpā, un es Ziemassētku gaidīšanas tērpā, un mēs kopā parasti esam tik priecīgas. Un, ja vēl ar mums ir Ziemassvētki, tad priecīgums ir ļoti liels un sprēgājošs. </div>
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Katrīna izgāja mani pavadīt, un mēs gājām pa ielām, sniga lielas, mitras pārslas, mēs vērojām trušus. Tur bija arī Sātana trusis, melns trusis ar melnām acīm, man šķiet, ka viņš trenca prom mazu tumši pelēku trusīti.</div>
Pirms tam vel mājās. K: "Man tik ļoti patīk spēļu trusīši!"<br />
E: "Vai tev tik ļoti patīk arī dzīvi trusīši?"<br />
K: [mazliet bēdīgu sejiņu] "Nē, ne tik ļoti."<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">Elīna: "Ziemassvētki, ahh, tas ir tik brīnišķīgi!" Katrīna: "Ziemassvētki!" "Man tik ļoti patīk trusīši."</span></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td></tr>
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Visa mūsu kopābūšana bija īsts Ziemassvētku iemiesojums. Katrīna ir mans labākais Ziemassvētku draudziņš, mēs kopā jūsmojam un apceram, tikai es šogad biju labākā pozīcijā, jo man nedraudēja nekāda sesija, un manā ģimenē visus interesē eglīte. Es jau ar citiem arī gribu runāties par Ziemassvētkiem, bet citi ar mani ne vienmēr. Mājās mani, man šķiet, uzskata par mazu āmuļfanu vai ko tamlīdzīgu. Kad es biju aizgājusi ciemos uz FreshStep, un Pēteris jautāja, kā man iet, es atbildēju kaut ko, ka man ir ļoti labs Adventes vainags izdevies, un jautāju, vai viņiem ir. Sākumā viņi teica, ka nav, un tad, ka aiz aizskariem ir. Es paskatījos, un tur bija tikai maziņš kaktusiņš. Tā ka Adventes vainags tur ne visai bija. Pēteris piebilda, ka esmu pirmais cilvēks, kas ienācis pa durvīm un sācis runāt par Ziemassvētkiem, man vēl pie zābakiem (maniem pekainīšu zābakiem) tikai vajadzētu zvārgulīšus.</div>
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Bet vispār es domāju, ka ir labi likt arī nogurušiem un neieziemassvētkotiem cilvēkiem par to visu padomāt, kaut kāds prieciņš var aizķerties. Vai arī tādiem, kas vienkārši pagaidām vēl nav tik tālu tikuši.</div>
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Tagad mazliet nodarbošos ar Ziemassvētku grāmatvedību. Iespējams, tā nemaz nav grāmatvedība, es nekad neesmu bijusi grāmatvede, un grāmatveži par mani varētu sprauslāt tā, kā es sprauslāju par runīgiem cilvēkiem, kas kā savu patiku norāda "filozofēšanu". Es nevaru ar jums draudzēties, cilvēki, kas nelietīgi izmanto filozofijas vārdu!</div>
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Manas galvenās Ziemassvētku neveiksmes:</div>
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1) es sapņoju par pudiņu, taču uztaisīju Ziemassvētku kūku. (Bija ļoti garšīga vegānu kūka, drusku mitra kā pudiņš. Un es priecājos, ka nosliecos par labu vegānu variantam, jo mani vilka gan "pašu tradicionālāko ēdieniņu, lūdzu", gan "man patīk taisīt ko tādu, ko visi ēd", jo kolektīva viena un tā paša ēdiena ēšana man ir visai svarīga.)</div>
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2) dāvana tētim laikā neatkļuva pa pastu, tāpēc man nācās sacerēt komiksu par lidmašīnu nokavējušu pidžamkrekliņu. Man patīk sacerēt komiksus, bet patīk arī laikā atnākušas dāvanas, kuras var nolikt zem eglītes un nodot aptaustīšanai un Ziemassvētku noskaņu uzslāņošanai.</div>
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3) man nebija neviena paša āmuļa vai akmensozola zariņa! Es šogad daudz apcerēju britu Ziemassvētkus, un man ļoti gribējās tos mūžzaļos zariņus. Toties Zariņš novembra beigās, kad izdomāja, ka varētu mani aizvest uz filmēšanas laukumu, uzdāvināja manu pirmo Ziemassvēku dāvaniņu. Zariņš sagribēja kafiju, jautāja man, kā man iet un ko es daru, es teicu, ka domāju par Ziemassvētkiem. Zariņš jautāja, vai kleita svētkiem jau skaidra, un mazliet bēdīgi novilku, ka galīgi vēl ne. Mēs piebraucām pie benzīntanka, tur jau pie durvīm sastutētas stāvēja mazas, tuklas eglītes, viņš iznāca ar kafiju un "Serenādi". Ar visu to fonu un priecīgumu, es to tiešām jutu kā pirmsZiemassvētku dāvanu, tik forši. Turklāt Jaungadā Katrīna man uz tāfeles bija uzzīmējusi āmuli. Un vispār es nolēmu, ka ņemšu vērā savu asins sastāvu un izturēšos kā ziemeļniecei pienākas, un rotāju savu apkārtni ar eglītēm, priežu zariņiem, brūklenītēm un sūnām. Very Latvian, stiept dabas veltes uz namiņu. Ah, un jā, (es nevaru par šo tēmu runāt maz - es par to esmu pēdējā laikā domājusi tik daudz!) Jaungadā arī apjautājos Timam par āmuļiem un akmensozoliem, un viņa amerikāņu bērnībā tādi bija, taču viņš tiem nepievērsa pārāk lielu nozīmi. Uzreiz tāda sajūta, ka viss ir pareizi, maziem amerikāņu bērniem ir viņu pašsaprotamie āmuļu zariņi.</div>
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4) būtu paticis aiziet uz baznīcu. Paskatīties uz zēnu kori un viņu korāļiem, piemēram. Kopš es vairs neeju skolā, man mazliet pietrūkst baznīcas pirmsziemassvētku laikā. It kā jau daudz to baznīcu, bet es jūtos apmulsusi šajā izvēlē.</div>
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Labie lēmumi un paveikšanās (man parasti vairāk veicas, nekā es labi izvēlos, taču es arī reizēm labi izvēlos):</div>
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1) vilkt to pašu zaļa samta kleitu, ko iepriekšējo gadu. Lietu atkārtošanās un atkārtošana rada kaut kādu saslēgtību ar nozīmības sajūtu, un kleita ir tik skaista un tik piemērota Ziemassvētkiem, un man patīk dot drēbēm vairākkārtējas iespējas sevi izdzīvot.</div>
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2) Adventes vainags bija tiešām izcils, manuprāt. Es tagad jūtos kā bērzu zaru - smaragda zaļo sūnu - brūkleņu mētru - melnu čiekuriņu - lentīšu Adventes vainagu speciāliste. Manā vainagā vēl bija guļošs stirnēns, stāvošs stirnēns un sarkankrūtītis. Katrīnas "Jaungada Adventes vainagā" bija baltas, izskatīgas ogas, kuras es nezinu, cik ilgi turējās, taču sākumā bija izteiksmīgas.</div>
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3) savlaicīga pievēršanās dāvanu papīriem un lentītēm. Dāvanas es nesasaiņoju laicīgi, taču man bija glīta izvēle, un tikai un vienīgi glītas lietas, no kā izvēlēties, un tas procesu atvieglo. Ik pa skaistai lietai nav jāuzlūko neglīta un jānodrebinās. </div>
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4) es visas Ziemassvētku dienas darīju pareizās lietas. Tieši to, kas jādara, un nepieļāvu nekādas kļūdas.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">kaķi Ziemassvētko</span></td></tr>
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I am so happy about this Christmas, it was sooo beautiful.</div>
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This year I decided to be serious about it. It was my chance after last year's failure, when I was only dreaming about the Christmas pudding, but didn't get any. I made Christmas cake though, which was quite enough for me. The Christmas days themselves were not bad at all, it's not in my habit to have bad Christmas. Still, I would have enjoyed some extra opportunities to reflect on Christmas before it was actually happening. So I was just complaining to my nice co-workers and suffering for not having enough time for Christmas.</div>
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So this year I was determined to drop that careless attitude of mine. I took Christmas really seriously. </div>
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In November Christmas songs from 50ies seemed the oblivious choice. They have such a warming effect. In December I added the angelic voices of boys choir to my list. I don't think my focus on Christmas was very productive (like, in the economic sense), however I was reflecting on these themes a lot. Most of my December thoughts were connected to pictures containing decorations, to recipes, to the research on coins and rings - which one brings luck, and which Latvian coins don't contain nickel (since I have heard of its poisonous qualities, and I wouldn't have liked it if someone got poisoned, instead of having luck). I was also reading 5 educative books on British Christmas. "The Great British Christmas", as well as "A Country Christmas" were my favorites. I advice to read them to all the Grinches, it might help. And I recommend them to the decent Christmas lot too, 'cause they are great.</div>
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When the first snow in the early days of December was falling down, it was, ohh, I won't be able to describe it. I wasn't very sad, when on Christmas Eve there was no snow at all. "It's very Scottish," I usually think when the weather is like that - +5 - 8 C, rainless or slightly humid, and the grass is green. But still, that snow, aww. It was quite warm, so the snow was sticking to the trees well. For two days the dreamy sight of everything-all-white didn't disappear. We, the ones living in the rather northern latitudes, always feel we deserve this kind of beauty. Having (or sometimes suffering from) the tiny winter days, beautiful winter snow is simply well deserved!</div>
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One of these pretty days I spent at Katrina's, having Advent brunch which gradually grew into teatime. We were having tea for brunch, and then we were having tea around teatime. This was splendid. For the most of the time we were talking something like "Christmas, aww!" or "This is just too much, soo great!" Looking a bit up, bare tree branches and darkening sky were well visible. It was like being in a cottage with fields around the house, a polar bear's cosy home. Katrina was in wintertime loungewear, and I was dressed in my waiting-for-Christmas garments. When we get together, we are almost always cheerful. And if there is Christmas to await, then the joy is big and sparkling.</div>
Katrina went out to see me off, and while we were walking the streets, huge, moist snowflakes were falling down. Then we got to observe rabbits in their Rabbit Kingdom. There was also Satan's rabbit - a black rabbit with black eyes. I think he drove away a small dark grey rabbit.<br />
Beforhands at home: K: "I like toy rabbits so much!"<br />
E: "Do you like real rabbits just as much as toys?"<br />
K [with slightly sad face]: "No, not so much."<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">Elina: "Christmas, ah, that's awesome!" Katrina: "Christmas, aww!" "I like rabbits a lot."</span></td></tr>
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I wouldn't dare to underappreciate our Christmasing. Katrina is my best Christmas friend, we gush together and reflect on it. I did try to lead a conversation about Christmas with others too, but not everyone was very interested. I guess at home I am considered a little mistletoe fan or something like that. When I was visiting one production company, Peteris asked, how was I doing and those sorts of things. I said that I was doing well, had made a really good Advent wreath, and asked if they had one. At first they denied having one, then they said that actually there was a wreath behind the curtains. I checked it out but found nothing but a tiny cactus. So, there wasn't really an Advent wreath. Peteris also mentioned that I was the very first person to cross the door step and to start to talk about Christmas. And that I needed to attach some tiny bells to my boots.</div>
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For all that, I find it good when tired or not yet Christmased-up people get to think about Christmas time, they may catch some winter cheer.<br />
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Now I am planning to do some Christmas book-keeping. It's probably no real book-keeping, since I have never been an accountant. Maybe real accountants would snort their disapproval of the word's misuse, just like I snort my dissatisfaction about chatty people who indicate their liking for "philosophy" and "philosophizing". I can't be friends with you, people, who caddishly misuse the name of philosophy!</div>
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The main Christmas failures: <br />
1) I was dreaming about pudding, but made a Christmas cake, again. (It was a tasty vegan cake, moist enough to remind of pudding. I am also glad I decided to go for the vegan version, since I am usually torn between the wish for "only the most traditional for me, pls" and "I want to make something that everyone eats",'cause eating collectively the very same dish is quite important to me.)</div>
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2) the present for dad didn't make it in time, so I could do nothing but make up a comic about flannel pajamas, that had just missed their flight. I like to draw comics, but I also like presents that arrive in time, so that I an put them under the Christmas tree. And then they can be touched, and they add something to the Christmas feel. </div>
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3) I didn't have any mistletoe or holly, not even the tiniest twig! This year I was contemplating a lot on the British themes, and I would have so loved to have these evergreens. At least Zarins [in latvian Zariņš means "twig"] in late November, when he gave me a lift to the location, he also gave me the very first Christmas gift. He wanted some coffee, and asked what was I doing those days. I said: "I think about Christmas." He asked whether my dressing choice for the Christmas Eve was made yet, and I sadly answered that this was still unclear. Then the car approached gas station, where chubby Christmas trees were leaning towards the door. Zarins came back with coffee and a chocolate for me, and with all that cheerful mood and sudden background decorations, I had to conceive this chocolate as a pre-Christmas gift. Besides, on New Year's Eve Katrina had drawn for me a mistletoe on the blackboard. And actually I decided to take into account my blood and to behave in a way that suits northerners. So my surroundings were decorate with fir-tree, pine branches, lingonberry and moss. It's very Latvian indeed, to carry home different kinds of plants. Also, (it's impossible for me to talk only a little about this topic when I have been thinking about it volumes!) on New Year's Eve I got ask Tim about mistletoes and holly leaves, and they indeed were present in his American childhood, although he didn't pay much attention to them. It felt right, little American kids and their obvious mistletoe.</div>
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4) I would have enjoyed to go to a church. To watch a boys choirs and to listen to the corals they perform, for example. Ever since I have abandoned the habit of attending high school, I miss a little bit church in December. There are heaps of them, those churches, still I somehow feel confused presented with this wide choice.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjIcIDM3nDeu5leUI4xQla_QhU_YuUKbzOFAeFOh8JCrfybbXE_AXet7Tm05hZNGdo7-sSUV6z6_dgJnfXd4P6SRhbudlNrO-OXm7HjscPuJcUq8z_bN48dTnf3lIP2jA5QyTcJYRKhj_HD/s1600/14010106.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjIcIDM3nDeu5leUI4xQla_QhU_YuUKbzOFAeFOh8JCrfybbXE_AXet7Tm05hZNGdo7-sSUV6z6_dgJnfXd4P6SRhbudlNrO-OXm7HjscPuJcUq8z_bN48dTnf3lIP2jA5QyTcJYRKhj_HD/s1600/14010106.jpg" height="225" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
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The right choices and luck (usually I am better at the luck department than at making choices, but sometimes I manage to choose well): </div>
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1) to wear the same dark green velvet dress, that I wore a year ago. The recurrence of things and repeating things creates some kind of closure, it feels important. And that dress is so beautiful and suits Christmas so well. I also like to give garments several chances to live themselves through.</div>
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2) according to me, the Advent wreath was pure perfection. Now, having made two, I feel as a specialist at making wreaths out of birch twigs, emerald moss, lingonberry bushes and little black cones. In my wreath there were a standing bambi, a lying bambi and a robin. In Katrina's "New Year's Advent wreath" there were white good-looking berries. I don't know for how long did they managed to look good, but in their early days they looked impressive enough.</div>
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3) I started to collect gift wrapping papers and ribbons well in advance. I didn't wrap the presents well in advance, but at least I only had pretty things to choose from. That makes the whole thing easier. One doesn't have to see an ugly thing between all the prettiness, so there is no need to shake that disturbing feeling off.</div>
4) I was doing the right things during the Christmas period. Nothing but the right things, and made no mistakes.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjlutyHmOoh-7jsn8F28gk-1ukjD9IgQYIt2gf_TSrzlAolmMV713EDSBdO9YM8KwTzIxU1MfCHOTecCJDHuGmtpqadZzAYY0QxwkfAAfGJMStKY-9Cc0NrvwjPgaKoA7YL35l2utVL-kl7/s1600/DSC08592.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjlutyHmOoh-7jsn8F28gk-1ukjD9IgQYIt2gf_TSrzlAolmMV713EDSBdO9YM8KwTzIxU1MfCHOTecCJDHuGmtpqadZzAYY0QxwkfAAfGJMStKY-9Cc0NrvwjPgaKoA7YL35l2utVL-kl7/s1600/DSC08592.JPG" height="300" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">cats Christmasing</span></td></tr>
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<br />Elīnahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10521503680160374034noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4839116002327328501.post-16226990365098286312013-11-01T22:37:00.001+02:002013-11-02T00:52:28.853+02:00Visi svētie šodien /// All the saints todayEs nobijos dienu pirms un Visu Svēto dienā, pašā Visu Svēto dienas priekšvakarā tikai ēdu saldumus.<br />
Dienu pirms Visu svēto vakara mēs ar Lāsmu iekāpām liftā, un mirklīti pirms braukšanas uz sekundi izdzisa gaismiņa, un lifts bija pilnīgi tumšs. <br />
Visu Svēto dienā es muzejā vēroju japāņu rotaļlietas, noliecos tuvu pie mantiņām, un pēkšņi tīģeris man uzkustināja galvu (20. gs. papīrs, Japāna).<br />
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^^^^^<br />
I got scared the day before Hallowe'en and on All Saints' Day. On the Hallowe'en itself I prefered consuming sweets. <br />
The day before Hallowe'en Lasma and me, we got into an elevator, and for a tiny moment before going up, the lights went off, and we were left in darkness.<br />
On All Saints' Day I was observing Japanese toys in museum and bent down closer to the toys, when suddenly a tiger (paper, Japan, 20th century) moved his head. Toy tiger moving his head is frightening.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0128YrXax6FtwY3cTZuWFa2nI08J1X0JlZ6nB8ce0yhB8tuWPckvLR1ZSHlAg-RmkBjlWMkDBNA1aLWWNc0k4_FNZ7kKYWxOfi00z78uLw_c4Wqhx4O4isnxzElgU1LyB6oTBf_Gq46sY/s1600/IMG-20131024-06768.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0128YrXax6FtwY3cTZuWFa2nI08J1X0JlZ6nB8ce0yhB8tuWPckvLR1ZSHlAg-RmkBjlWMkDBNA1aLWWNc0k4_FNZ7kKYWxOfi00z78uLw_c4Wqhx4O4isnxzElgU1LyB6oTBf_Gq46sY/s400/IMG-20131024-06768.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">"Dragon warns you!"</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhT6rqzRSYqRKA_GoBN4rLscqEa35zqLCEaTB9iFhIxxrw3cHbWLT48RG-rNokFLxlllo5Pt-Crq4lFdgWYbTpL1pXJDLNVhCRelbIpQQvtLzFnA2aJIfD_OzNxReftb5KA16MiPvH6PMR4/s1600/IMG-20130915-06029.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhT6rqzRSYqRKA_GoBN4rLscqEa35zqLCEaTB9iFhIxxrw3cHbWLT48RG-rNokFLxlllo5Pt-Crq4lFdgWYbTpL1pXJDLNVhCRelbIpQQvtLzFnA2aJIfD_OzNxReftb5KA16MiPvH6PMR4/s400/IMG-20130915-06029.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">Katrīna pēc tenisa, tūristes Somijā /// Katrina after tennis, tourists in Finland</span></td></tr>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_e8_ge7yHrXyMSKZqbyZsomG0n2VJSzH05-g8Qd4jcYQjvQqgHYoPvGsqVz2q8yffZAxLqHfh2aa7ihvF8SBFa6f1229YLt_LGFid39nxkd9saGhf0vYi7zhthBsIpr1d1Xz57t7iGdlD/s1600/R%C4%ABga-20130915-06031.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_e8_ge7yHrXyMSKZqbyZsomG0n2VJSzH05-g8Qd4jcYQjvQqgHYoPvGsqVz2q8yffZAxLqHfh2aa7ihvF8SBFa6f1229YLt_LGFid39nxkd9saGhf0vYi7zhthBsIpr1d1Xz57t7iGdlD/s400/R%C4%ABga-20130915-06031.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">bēbju daudzveidīgās formas /// the various forms of babies</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">soviet</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">Anders Petersen</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">indonēzieši /// Indonesians</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBA3hyphenhyphenv_54QJ7AzGEaPqIegfw4k21TLbhWZP5nKExh0Do9MTiPm_BdMMdVLET1Vxrqmym61yuQB31mrNyJZtQdySeOhF5d9TLiSPbN1vr0cS5ZFSw399VYAQMpYNmAJ3CfrlSgX9WiDKbY/s1600/IMG-20131101-07009.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBA3hyphenhyphenv_54QJ7AzGEaPqIegfw4k21TLbhWZP5nKExh0Do9MTiPm_BdMMdVLET1Vxrqmym61yuQB31mrNyJZtQdySeOhF5d9TLiSPbN1vr0cS5ZFSw399VYAQMpYNmAJ3CfrlSgX9WiDKbY/s400/IMG-20131101-07009.jpg" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">sencis /// ancestor</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhTxHeHh6VB3GCMpO9h2M3yqEfqnt4mRIOiXnTGIImXyNIY4n_LyJbpRmalgH3Ff1FR8No9hzhYdPIklml90xo21_aupmZtNKKJTEzKz47II-dNmcNkifkEbzw-We56EakP7sgwylsVl4v0/s1600/IMG-20131101-06981.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhTxHeHh6VB3GCMpO9h2M3yqEfqnt4mRIOiXnTGIImXyNIY4n_LyJbpRmalgH3Ff1FR8No9hzhYdPIklml90xo21_aupmZtNKKJTEzKz47II-dNmcNkifkEbzw-We56EakP7sgwylsVl4v0/s400/IMG-20131101-06981.jpg" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">Vai skaistuma ideāli ir mūžīgi? /// Are the ideals of beauty eternal?</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">Venerai smieklīga frizūra. /// Venera's got some funny hairdo.</span></td></tr>
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<br />Elīnahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10521503680160374034noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4839116002327328501.post-87281374312915541862013-10-17T23:51:00.000+03:002013-10-17T23:53:35.497+03:00Pirms jaunais gadalaiks pienācis /// Before the new season has come<br />
Šogad ziema pienāks agrāk.<br />
^^^^^<br />
This year winter will come earlier.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Esplanāde, Rīga</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Vērmaņdārzs, Rīga</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Bolderāja</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">todien laikam bija biezas debesis</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Berlin</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">somewhere in Poland</td></tr>
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<br />Elīnahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10521503680160374034noreply@blogger.com3Riga, Latvia56.9496487 24.1051863999999856.672694199999995 23.459739399999979 57.2266032 24.75063339999998tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4839116002327328501.post-43947347070666238022013-09-12T16:27:00.000+03:002013-10-06T23:34:54.419+03:00Kur paliek pazudušie joki? /// Where do the lost jokes go?Vai ir kaut kas lieliskāks par jokiem? Varbūt ir.<br />
Vai daudz kas ir lieliskāks par jokiem? Nē.<br />
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Lāsma, mana izcilā māsa, bija tikko pateikusi kādu mazu, neuzkrītošu joku, kuru droši vien būtu iespējams arī nepateikt, man viņš ļoti patika, īsi un ļoti, nekas tajā brīdī nebija labāks par to joku, un tad viņa vairs nebija, un man kļuva skumīgi par visiem tiem jokiem, kas uz mirklīti uzšvirkst un tad pazūd. Kur viņi visi paliek, izbijušie joki? Viņi taču rodas atkal un atkal, visu laiku, un pazūd un zūd, un nevar viņus paturēt prātā. </div>
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Man nekad nebija pienākusi sajūta par joku pārejošuma skumīgumu. Kur visi mazie jociņi dodas, kad ir izteikti un uztverti? Viņus neviens ar sedziņām neapsedz un nesamīļo. Un vispār jau izšķerdīgi, tik izcili joki aiziet nesasniedzamībā, atstāstīt grūti un nav gluži tas, trūkst elementu, kuru ietekmē viņi radās.</div>
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Man reizēm gribētos, lai visi zinātu, kādu lielisku jokus kāds ir pateicis, tajos brīžos, kad man gribas dalīties. Dažreiz es arī mēģinu, un reizēm sanāk vāra smieklīguma atblāzma, ja pareizi uzsveru vajadzīgās vietas, taču ne tik ļoti smieklīgi kā bijis, un citreiz sanāk pavisam tizli. Kad man negribas dalīties un es turu jociņu pie sevis, viss ir ļoti labi, vienīgi ārkārtīgi ierobežots daudzums joku, ko var paturēt pienācīgā atmiņā. </div>
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Protams, nav jāsaka joki visur un ar visiem. Ne visas vietas ir attiecīgas noskaņas rosinošas. Man šķiet, ka neviens cits nezina, cik mana Lāsma prot lieliski jokoties, jo visu labāko viņa pietaupa man. Es vienkārši gribu pateikt, ka, ja neveidojas jokus ģenerējoša atmosfēra un nav joku indikatora, tad jociņu nebūs, un ļoti iespējams, ka ne tāpēc, ka otram netīk smieklīgas lietas. Piedāvāju dažus izskaidrojumus, kāpēc tad tā:</div>
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1) jūs neesat pietiekami labi pazīstami,</div>
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2) otrs ir introverts un nedāļājas pa pasauli ar saviem izcilākajiem sasniegumiem jokzinībās,</div>
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3) jums nav un visticamāk nekad nebūs joku konekšens,</div>
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4) tu vai kāds cits ir gaisotnes maitātājs,</div>
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5) tu esi galīgi dumjš un otram negribas jokot,</div>
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6) tu neesi īsti gudrs un neuztvēri smalkas asprātības.</div>
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Un vispār jau žēl, ka es nekad neuzzināšu, cik kādam labi joki tikai tāpēc, ka slikti iedarbojos uz viņa joku produkciju. Lai gan, ne tik žēl kā par joku zūdamības likumu. </div>
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Joki ir ekskluzīvi, gaistoši un neatgriezeniski. It kā pa īstam, it kā ne, jokos nevar samelot, no jokiem taču negaida patiesību. Viņi ir tāpat vien, bet var izrādīties, ka ne gluži, šī jaukā nenoteiktība. Man jau arī vienmēr patīk, ja mani izklaidē, un joki ļoti labi izklaidē,
tas ir inteliģenti un priecīgi, visiem taču patīk būt izklaidētiem un
sabiedrībā ar labu noskaņojumu.</div>
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Un es domāju, ka cilvēki, kuri saka jokus, ir gudri un tādiem var uzticēties. Asprātībām taču nepieciešams ass prāts, hoho, un neuzkrītoša novērtēt un uztvert prasme, žigla reakcija, atmosfēras un savstarpējo attiecību izjūta, laba gaume, un arī laba atmiņa jokošanai diez vai ir nodarījusi kaitējumu. Vārdu sakot, cilvēki, kuri saka labus jokus, saprot lietas. Sasmīdināt nav gluži vienkāršākais darbiņš pasaulē, nav arī gluži sirds transplantācija, taču dzīvīguma uzturēšanai visai esenciāli. Pat, ja visi joki nav labi, ja joku kopiespaids un to lielais vairums ir forši, daži kritieni ir jāpiedod. Es mēdzu uzskatīt, ka labāk būt lielā mērā foršam un mazā mērā neforšam nekā nekādā mērā foršam un nekādā mērā neforšam. Labāk izteiksmīgais komplektiņš, vai ne. Var jau arī gadīties, ka es kāda joka lieliskumu nespēju aptvert vai nu savas nesaprātības dēļ, vai arī nespējas distancēties no personiskās iesaistības dēļ. Man liekas, tik daudzi joki būtu vienkārši dievīgi, ja vien nebūtu vērsti pret mani, bet, kad mazliet padomā, tie tik un tā ir labi joki, un cilvēki ar labiem jokiem arī parasti ir labi, un vispār, tie, kas pārāk daudz pret mani vērš jokus, man mēdz būt ļoti mīļi. Un ļoti bieži tie, kuri mani gluži vai izaicina uz jokiem par sevi, man ir ļoti mīļi. Iespējams, otrs variants, ja viņi nav mīļi, tad viņi ir kaitinoši, un ironija novada tracināšanas potenciālu. </div>
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Mēs ar Katrīnu reiz runājām, ka tas ir ārkārtīgi aizdomīgi, ja kāds cilvēks nemaz nejokojas, tādiem nevar īsti uzticēties. Jābūt taču spējīgam uz vissīkāko jociņu kādā izmeklētā sabiedrībā, uz tik sīku, ka to var nepamanīt, taču jokotiesspēja, tas ir svarīgi, jā. Ironiskiem cilvēkiem galējos gadījumos var pārmest tikai robežu izjūtas trūkumu vai neiejūtību, bet pamatā jau spēja ironizēt liecina par cilvēka spējām, un diemžēl katra jūtas ir viņa paša darīšana un lauciņš, ar ko tikt galā.</div>
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Tas droši vien ir saistīts ar mirstīgumu, joku gaistošums atgādina par
nāvi, vai ne, vai ne. Kas tik neatgādina par nāvi, ja tā padomā un arī,
ja nepadomā. Tāpēc jokot ir drosmīgi, dzīvelīgi un derīgi, un visiem nāk
par labu. Pieļauju, ka civilizācija var būt dzīvotspējīga ar pārliecību par pēcnāves eksistences neesamību, bet bez smieklīgā un jokainā, nu nē, nu nē. Tā nevar. Tā ir viena no retajām lietām, kas skaistuma trūkumu apkārtnē padara mazāk nomācošu.</div>
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Un varbūt tomēr ir kāda vieta, kur pulcējas un drūzmējas visi pateiktie, novērtētie, nenovērtētie un noklusētie joki, un tādā vietā cilvēkam būtu grūti, jo būtu pārāk daudz jāsmejas, jābūt viegli aizkaitinātam par muļķīgiem joķeļiem, un vēl citus nesanāktu saprast vispār, taču visticamāk, tādas vietas nav, un lielākā daļu joku, ironisku piezīmju, apslāpētu smīniņu un zīmīgu saskatīšanos pagaist un nenokļūst nekur. Un vienīgais mierinājums, ka jokošana ir pietiekami mūžīgs mehānisms.</div>
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^^^^^</div>
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Is there anything<span style="background-color: white;"> greater than jokes? Possibly yes.</span><br />
Are there many things greater than jokes? Nope.<br />
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Lasma, the splendid sister of mine, had just uttered a tiny, subtle joke, which might had stayed unsaid, and I liked it so much, briefly and very. At that moment there was nothing better than this joke, and when it was over, I got sad about all those jokes that gleam lightly for a moment and then get lost for good. Where do they all go, the former jokes? They appear anew all the time, they vanish and disappear, and they don't really stay well on the mind.</div>
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Never before the sadness of the passing of jokes had occurred to me<span style="background-color: white;">. Where </span>do all those tiny jokes end up, once they are expressed and perceived? <span style="background-color: white;">No one tucks them up in bed, no one wishes them goodnight.</span> Actually, it is such a waste to let brilliant jokes leave for good, all alone and unattainable. It is difficult to retell them and it is never<span style="background-color: white;"></span> the time, cause the <span style="background-color: white;">elements that made them arise a</span>re missing.</div>
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Sometimes I wish everyone got to know some excellent joke that someone has told me; a situation like this may occur to me during the moments when I'm willing to share. Occasionally I do try to retell a joke, and now and then some reflection of 'funny' can be spotted, if I manage to press on the vital points. Still, it is never as funny as it once was, and there are times when the retold joke comes out clumsy and useless. When I don't want to share and I keep the joke to myself, everything works quite fine. The only thing is, the amount of jokes I can keep in my mind properly, is quite limited.</div>
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Of course, jokes don't have to be told everywhere and with everyone. Not all places are joke-friendly, not all of them favor the birth of the funny. I suspect that people rarely realize Lasma's joking abilities, since she saves the very best of it for me. What am I trying to say is, if t<span style="background-color: white;">he atmosphere does not support sallies, nor is there a joke indicator,</span> there won't be any jokes. The creation of a joke is unlikely not because the person you are talking to doesn't appreciate funny things. I propose several reasons why someone might not joke in the presence of yours:</div>
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1) you are not familiar enough,</div>
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2) the other one is introvert and doesn't<span style="background-color: white;"> scatter all over the world </span>all his highest achievements in joke studies,</div>
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3) you haven't got, and never will,<span style="background-color: white;"></span> the joke connection,</div>
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4) you or someone else spoils the atmosphere,</div>
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5) you are quite dumb, so the other one has no desire to joke in your presence,</div>
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6) you are not smart enough to catch subtle wit.</div>
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Actually it's a pity that I'd never know how great someone's jokes are just because I affect badly their production of jokes.<span style="background-color: white;"> Not as pity as </span>the law of the destruction of joke, though.</div>
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Jokes are exclusive, transitory and irreversible. They are a bit true, a bit untrue, one cannot lie when joking, no one expects<span style="background-color: white;"> truth, or seriousness. Well, at least one shouldn't. They are just so, but it can turn out, that they are not entirely just so - the pleasant vagueness. I always like to be entertained, and <span style="background-color: white;"></span>jokes do that very well. It's intelligent and fun, everyone likes to be well entertained in the comp</span>any of good mood.</div>
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I also think that the persons who joke are intelligent and reliable. Wit calls for an acute mind, doesn't it, as well as for subtle abilities to perceive and evaluate, quick reaction, sense of the atmosphere and interconnections, good taste, and so far good memory has not done any harm either. Shortly, people who tell good joke understand things. To make someone laugh is not the easiest task in the world,<span style="background-color: white;"> nor is </span>it a heart transplantation, still, in order to keep up the liveliness, laughing is quite essential. Even if not all of the jokes are good, those few falls should be forgiven, if the majority of jokes and their overall appearance smells fine. I tend to think that it is better to be a lot nice and a little nasty than to be not nice at all and not nasty at all. Always choose the set with more qualities, right. I keep in mind that I might be unable to get the greatness of a joke due to my lack of sagacity or due to being too much personally involved in it. I guess so many jokes would seem brilliant if they weren't pointed at me. But when I think for a little while, I have to admit that they still are good jokes, and people who tell good jokes usually are good people. Also, the ones who make fun of me tend to be very dear to me, and conversely, the ones that I can't resist to make fun of are very dear to me too. Unless instead of being dear they are irksome, and can do nothing but use some irony to prevent madness.</div>
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Once we talked about it with Katrina, that it is highly suspicious when someone doesn't joke at all. You can't trust people like that. One has to be capable at least of the weeniest joke in a carefully selected society. It can be so weeny, that nothing might be easier than missing it out, yet the joking ability does matter, indeed. In extreme cases ironical people can be only reproached for their lack of the sense of boundaries or for their insensitivity, although fundamentally irony proves the abilities of a person. Also, unfortunately, <span style="background-color: #ffd966;"><span style="background-color: white;">one's feelings is everyone's own business and one has to cope with them by himself.</span></span></div>
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It's probably linked with mortality, the passing character of jokes reminds of death, doesn't it. Is there really anything that doesn't remind of death, if I come to think of it and also if I don't come to think of it. Therefore it is brave, lively and useful to joke,<span style="background-color: white;"> it is good for everyone's health and well-being. </span>I suppose a civilization may be viable even if it had adopted belief in the non-existence of afterlife, but without the funny, it would be oh so impossible. The funny and comical is one of the few things that almost make up for the shortage of beauty in near surroundings, and make it less unbearable.</div>
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For all that, there still might be a place, where all the said, appraised, understated and unsaid jokes gather and crowd. It would be hard for a person in such a place with too frequent laughing, light irritation about silly <span style="background-color: white;">sallies, loads of jokes, that one is not even able to get. The most likely though, there is no such place at all, and the vast majority of jokes, ironic comments, choked grins </span>and meaningful exchanging of looks vanish and get nowhere. The only comfort we are given is the fact that joking is mechanism eternal enough.</div>
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<br />Elīnahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10521503680160374034noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4839116002327328501.post-69754586711251746792013-09-03T00:24:00.002+03:002013-09-03T00:24:35.913+03:00Mājas dzīve piekrastē /// Coastal home lifeDarba ainiņas no mājas dzīves, kad jūnijā dzīvojos ar Lauru un Eko.<br />
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^^^^^<br />
Some work sights from home life, when I was spending my time in June with Laura and Eko.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">Laura, Eko</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">Lauras tēta īpašais lācītis /// The special bear of Laura's dad</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">Lauras īpašais krekliņš un Zvaigžņu karu grāmata /// Laura's special sweatshirt and Star Wars book</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">Eko pašā slinkumiņā /// Eko at his laziest</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">Valdzinošie bērnudārza mirkļi /// The old charming kindergarden times</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">Lana, be our guest</span></td></tr>
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<br />Elīnahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10521503680160374034noreply@blogger.com0Heiligenhafen, Germany54.369679899999987 10.97560999999996154.332676899999989 10.89492899999996 54.406682899999986 11.056290999999961tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4839116002327328501.post-25507915203382437352013-08-27T23:37:00.000+03:002013-09-03T00:19:46.996+03:00Ko darīt Parīzē /// What to do in ParisParīze, pilsēta, kur meitenēm ciest.<br />
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^^^^<br />
Paris, a place for girls to suffer.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7kd1aD_GOwgV-LJ9HEIKD11lEAX4BWZipy9_wzzTLAT3SqtkJf1NhQkiv7B3Vdy6UVkP_XknOZX9EFLP93UyjqDmR2hcGYw_zMs2CfvMdkmeAQGyLD8rAA0Q6xSJZpSNHOhU0rjb2Eiaf/s1600/481410_454245334612423_1406379165_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7kd1aD_GOwgV-LJ9HEIKD11lEAX4BWZipy9_wzzTLAT3SqtkJf1NhQkiv7B3Vdy6UVkP_XknOZX9EFLP93UyjqDmR2hcGYw_zMs2CfvMdkmeAQGyLD8rAA0Q6xSJZpSNHOhU0rjb2Eiaf/s400/481410_454245334612423_1406379165_n.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">La Défense</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHlL1tvjhVX-oLcSO9p5WYGW9aAUg8ykylvQhFMrLb86cq4X77ug12iu_wGKDfgzvPk2_iBvFXG5L9pCDNcXv0zQfLI6jaNw9GrJ8RFwG00J3vIfOCy6BeU4HKs87RfnU31lzA9rjMlkBu/s1600/izlaiduma_gads_parizes_filmesana_0175.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHlL1tvjhVX-oLcSO9p5WYGW9aAUg8ykylvQhFMrLb86cq4X77ug12iu_wGKDfgzvPk2_iBvFXG5L9pCDNcXv0zQfLI6jaNw9GrJ8RFwG00J3vIfOCy6BeU4HKs87RfnU31lzA9rjMlkBu/s400/izlaiduma_gads_parizes_filmesana_0175.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">Montmartre</span></td></tr>
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<br />
(photos: Romans)<br />
Paris, October 2012<br />
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<br />Elīnahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10521503680160374034noreply@blogger.com1Paris, France48.856614 2.352221900000017748.6894645 2.0294984000000178 49.0237635 2.6749454000000177tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4839116002327328501.post-90080947022751448122013-07-29T14:17:00.000+03:002013-07-29T17:09:36.019+03:00Aitu vērotāji /// Sheep watchersRičards: "Katrs Auns dzīves laikā ir pelnījis lodi pierē."<br />
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^^^^^<br />
Ricards: "Every Aries deserves a bullet in the head once in a lifetime."<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3iKlKYBltuUbb97rri_GMLZ7W-F5vKXT05rjkdsbQZf8w9paGE4Lpf6rohrlfJp2PahyhVV8pMDWBNj5l6JTbuS1bG5wb00ZnO_1jp0eUp2OttVJvkVVOMhSaGr06JNtSF5STqN-bUrkQ/s1600/P3230670.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3iKlKYBltuUbb97rri_GMLZ7W-F5vKXT05rjkdsbQZf8w9paGE4Lpf6rohrlfJp2PahyhVV8pMDWBNj5l6JTbuS1bG5wb00ZnO_1jp0eUp2OttVJvkVVOMhSaGr06JNtSF5STqN-bUrkQ/s400/P3230670.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">Drumnadrochit village</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">Svaru vērotāji /// Scale watchers</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">River Enrick</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhk-K_vFDGziL6bEQupfbyOjSamKzlCbix0Ra5NCIoAaZllCOo1vr6FvwQicDtUCjYTCf799kBIYhagbfjEylGpt3r4_UDBrWFpBd8R07ySnZSLbqswft49zn5rnw4jc1s_fC9F5GIbRGoX/s1600/P3230532.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhk-K_vFDGziL6bEQupfbyOjSamKzlCbix0Ra5NCIoAaZllCOo1vr6FvwQicDtUCjYTCf799kBIYhagbfjEylGpt3r4_UDBrWFpBd8R07ySnZSLbqswft49zn5rnw4jc1s_fC9F5GIbRGoX/s400/P3230532.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">aitiņas bēg prom /// sheep running (or moving) away</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUEzshKaDjZ4QCS_qDPVyhOC47o2VfUu33rcIZeUQJ3SLb57D-g3TL2Y06hqME0yMZq4I35yIyHRC-GxVaiQLdNb1FLUuIDVbtTKt4PtBVRbFqFWsLfp-DxSsMkXerv0xiQmV9NMykWJG-/s1600/P3230539.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUEzshKaDjZ4QCS_qDPVyhOC47o2VfUu33rcIZeUQJ3SLb57D-g3TL2Y06hqME0yMZq4I35yIyHRC-GxVaiQLdNb1FLUuIDVbtTKt4PtBVRbFqFWsLfp-DxSsMkXerv0xiQmV9NMykWJG-/s400/P3230539.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">forši koki alejā, vai ne /// cool trees, aren't they</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">aitas paparaci /// sheep paparazzi</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgj2UvJSszgV-7LFyngCHclP97LNyW7ZT8GD_BX3k-G0CT_ocLQeyQvsg7EcJ9G9NUJRovMKnScjyQuIF_mNN3sItcAPOINeUwxANvls7E0KSlyBILy9ZqbKvxlqjMQYqyf3MMk8vwOk8zx/s1600/P3230553.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgj2UvJSszgV-7LFyngCHclP97LNyW7ZT8GD_BX3k-G0CT_ocLQeyQvsg7EcJ9G9NUJRovMKnScjyQuIF_mNN3sItcAPOINeUwxANvls7E0KSlyBILy9ZqbKvxlqjMQYqyf3MMk8vwOk8zx/s400/P3230553.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">mākonīši ar sejiņām peld pļaviņā /// clouds with faces on the field</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiB8G2bSzv4FzpGLS-zXPxKlfdBEud7nfbJEyJm0H-P8V5shljrGRTHPMFnEnpc7QAeNWfoF_cbBWz_kcA5PwmHPhQ1tQdzgN0dCZVjp9SvEXOIzJ5T_F8U_jOTcjn4-ss-DdnEu8UCrtyE/s1600/P3230574.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiB8G2bSzv4FzpGLS-zXPxKlfdBEud7nfbJEyJm0H-P8V5shljrGRTHPMFnEnpc7QAeNWfoF_cbBWz_kcA5PwmHPhQ1tQdzgN0dCZVjp9SvEXOIzJ5T_F8U_jOTcjn4-ss-DdnEu8UCrtyE/s400/P3230574.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">kadiķu ziedi /// juniper blossoms</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">Urquhart Castle</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">Lohness un viņa pelēkie viļņi /// Loch Ness and its grey ripples</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">Libra, Aries, Leo</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">auna piere </span></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQoMLnsJMVHAdJn_AECqgJQEKn5hK39M2_Oe-k6aTDoKIpr8WVQO6334TPLESrF_XIf8ju51tOcZh-jhVjo6nq8UAZXbgyhefERVCLgYMWGOdGKWmLcaLJWx24dkm747o_ZuTPU8J0lY3o/s1600/P3230557.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQoMLnsJMVHAdJn_AECqgJQEKn5hK39M2_Oe-k6aTDoKIpr8WVQO6334TPLESrF_XIf8ju51tOcZh-jhVjo6nq8UAZXbgyhefERVCLgYMWGOdGKWmLcaLJWx24dkm747o_ZuTPU8J0lY3o/s400/P3230557.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">aitu pilna nogāze /// a sheepful hillside</span></td></tr>
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Jānis, Ričards un Elīna ciemos pie Nesijas Lohnesa ezerā 2011. gada 1. aprīlī; dienā, kad pasauli papildināja bariņš jaunu jēriņu.<br />
<br />
^^^^^<br />
Janis, Ricards and Elina visiting Nessie in Loch Ness on the 1st of April, 2011, the day when a bunch of brand-new lambs were imported into the world.<br />
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<br />Elīnahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10521503680160374034noreply@blogger.com3Drumnadrochit, Highland IV63, UK57.334499 -4.478961000000026657.3002135 -4.5596420000000268 57.368784500000004 -4.3982800000000264tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4839116002327328501.post-91428231987345122072013-07-08T23:44:00.000+03:002013-07-09T01:19:44.063+03:00Fabula par dziesmīšiem /// Fable on the Song fest<div style="text-align: justify;">
Es vakar un aizvakar biju laukos, vakar un aizvakar bija Dziesmu svētki, aizvakar vecāmammai izbira uz galda sāls.</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br />
Vecāmamma.: Būs jāstrīdas!<br />
Es.: Ar ko nez?<br />
Vecāmamma.: Gan jau ar Visvaldi, viņš tāds strīdīgs.<br />
<br />
Vēlāk vakarā.<br />
Vecāmamma: Deju svētkus tu vispār nevari paskatīties, vienu deju! Kas tas ir -
viena deja! Tev tikai krievus paskatīties, latviešus vispār nevari
skatīties.<br />
Visvaldis: Rīt būs atkārtojums.<br />
Vecmamma: Kāds atkārtojums!! Rīt būs Noslēguma koncerts!<br />
Visvaldis: Nu, to pašu, tikai dziedās.<br />
Vecāmamma: Ka nevar saprast - Noslēguma koncertā citu dziedās!<br />
Visvaldis: [meh] Var taču iet skatīties uz otra televizora. Ir taču divi televizori, jomajo!<br />
Vecāmamma: [pauzite, neitrāli] Mazs ekrāns. Tev tikai krievus un čigānus. Latviešus izturēt nevari, pff.<br />
<br />
Morāle.<br />
Neizbērt sāli Dziesmīšu laikā, ja nealksti nacionāla rakstura strīda ar savu tuvāko.</div>
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^^^^^<br />
<div style="text-align: justify;">
Yesterday and the day before yesterday I was in the countryside, yesterday and the day before Latvian Song and Dance Festival [huge festivities once every five years] took place, the day before yesterday my grandma poured salt on the table unintentionally.</div>
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Grandma: It means I'll have a fight with someone.</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
Me: Who might that be?</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
Grandma: Visvaldis, most probably. He's quite quarrelsome.</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
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Later in the evening.</div>
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Grandma: You can't even watch the Dance festival properly, the maximum you're able to stand is one dance! What's one dance?! You'd rather watch nothing but Russians, you can't watch Latvians at all.</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
Visvaldis: They'll rerun it tomorrow.</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
Grandma: Rerun, yeah, right! They'll show the gala tomorrow!</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
Visvaldis: Well, that's the same, only singing.</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
Grandma: What's here so impossible to understand - they'll sing very different songs from the ones they dance to today!</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
Visvaldis: [meh] There's still an option to move to the other room to watch this on the other TV. We've got two TVs, for God's sake!</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
Grandma: [pauses, neutrally] The screen's small. You want nothing but Russians and Gipsies. You can't bear Latvians at all, pff.</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
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Morals.</div>
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Don't pour the salt on the table, unless you crave a national problem disposed fight with your next of kin.</div>
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<br />Elīnahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10521503680160374034noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4839116002327328501.post-69280499780296232212013-06-27T17:43:00.000+03:002013-07-02T23:45:15.326+03:00Šīs dienas tēma: Jēzus Tevi ienīst /// Today's Topic: Jesus Hates You<div style="text-align: justify;">
Man tik ļoti patika pavadīt bērnu uz baznīcas kori. Tā bija pirmā diena, kad es Lauru pieskatīju, un mēs ar riteņiem braucām pa ceļu, pa kuru es vēl nebiju braukusi. Tas ir brīnumdaiļš ceļš, zaļas lapiņas ielenc no abām pusēm un mainās, un braucot pārsvarā ir jādomā par to, ka vai, vai, vai, cik skaisti. Saule nepārblieza krāsas bālas, tradicionālā izpratnē saules nebija. (Protams, ja es būtu piecgadīgs bērnudārznieks, kurš nesen kā uzzinājis, ka vienmēr, kad ir diena, Saule ir uzlēkusi, es tā vis neteiktu. Kad mums bērnudārzā bija mūzikas nodarbības, mēs iedziedāšanos sākām ar dziesmiņu "Šodien ārā saulains laiks," vai "Šodien ārā mākoņains." Un kad bariņš vecāko bērnudārznieku apjauta Saules klātbūtni jebkurā mākoņainā dienā, mēs vienmēr dziedājām tikai par saulaino laiku.)<br />
Man bija pusnakts zila kokvilnas kleita un košāk zils mētelis, ļoti piemērotas drēbes, lai dotos uz baznīcu, manuprāt. Ja apkaimē Jēzus ir aktuāls, var pilnīgi mierīgi vilkt kleitu vai svārkus, braucot ar riteni, jo par svārku plīvošanas piedienību taču būtu jāparūpējas Jēzum.</div>
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Es biju patīkami iepriecināta par Hailigenhāfenas kristietisko raksturu. Tā jau vāciešiem laikam ir, taču tas piemirstas un ir īsts svaigumiņš. Vēl svarīgāk par Jēzu Hailigenhāfenā ir burāšana un visi maritīmie aspekti, un tāpēc kristietības un kuģniecības sadarbība šķita īpaši mīlīga. Baznīcā saprot, ka kuģi ir hailigenhāfeniešiem ir sirdij tuvāki par Jēzu, tāpēc stiepj viņus tik iekšā baznīcā. Šur tur randomā pilsētiņā bija pāris krusti, un savukārt baznīcā no griestiem karājās vairāki kuģu modeļi, kas maskējās par svečturiem izmēra un smalkuma ziņā. Tas bija tā ļoti uhh, man patika, tiešām ļoti mīļi. Būtībā esmu arī par saprātīgu eklektiku, kad saliek kopā visu, kas patīk, un kāpēc gan ne burinieki un krusti.</div>
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Mēs ar Lauru braucām pa baznīcas pakalnu, tobrīd notika kāzas, mēs izbraucām cauri kāzu viesu grupiņām. Zvanīja baznīcas zvans, vīrietis ar cilindru galvā gaidīja pie mašīnas durvīm, cilvēku skatieni uzmanīja baznīcas durvis. Braucot gar baznīcas sānu sienu, zvani turpināja zvanīt un no otras puses uz manu pusi lidoja nedaudzi ziepju burbuļi. Es skatījos, kas ir viņu autors, taču nevienu neredzēju. Neuzķēros jau uzreiz uz dievišķu zīmi, burbuļiem, kas paši pūšas, taču reizēm ir tik patīkami, kad pūles nevainagojas panākumiem. Tajā brīdī es domāju, cik man ļoti patīk tas, kas man jādara, jāpavada bērns uz baznīcas kori, un patīkamu lietu vienlaicīguma maģiskums, kurā es iebraucu un no kuras izbraucu, pirms tas vēl ir beidzies.<br />
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It was so adorable to take the kid to the church choir. It was the first day when I was looking after Laura, and we were riding bikes on a road which I hadn't seen before. It was a marvelous road, green leaves enclosing from both sides and changing as fast as I rode. While riding, the predominant thought was 'oh, oh, oh, all this is so beautiful". The sun didn't over-illuminate the colors to the paleness; there was no Sun in the traditional sense of 'Sun'. (Of course I wouldn't say this if I was a 5 years old kindergarten kid, who had recently got to know that actually the Sun was present whenever it was day, and not only during the sunny days. In kindergarten we were in a habit of beginning the singing practice with a rhyme - "It's sunny today" on the sunny days or "It's cloudy today" when it was dull outside. When the older kids had grasped the presence of Sun on every single morning, no matter the weather, we kept singing nothing but the "sunny" rhyme.)<br />
I was wearing my midnight blue cotton dress and brighter blue summer coat - very suitable clothes to go to church, I think. If Jesus is trending nearby, one can sport dress or skirt while riding bike with no worries. One can be pretty sure Jesus would take care of the decency of one's skirt's fluttering.<br />
I was pleasantly surprised about the Christian characteristics of Heiligenhafen. I suppose it is nothing outstanding among Germans, still for me it was something quite forgotten and therefore fresh. For all that, sailing and all the maritime aspects count among the very highest ones, so the collaboration between Christianity and sailing is such a sweet one. In the church they understand, that ships are closer to the hearts of Heiligenhafen inhabitants, and that's why they bring them into the church. Here and there in the village some random crosses can be found, whereas several ship models can be seen hanging from the ceiling and disguising themselves as chandeliers, due to their size and delicacy. That was something impressive, very sweet indeed. Fundamentally I am in favour of reasonable eclectism, putting together everything one likes. And why shouldn't it be ships and crosses.</div>
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Laura and I were riding on the church hill, and at that time a wedding took place there, and we passed the groups of wedding guests. The church bells were ringing, a man with top hat waiting at a decorated car, guests keeping an alert eye on the church door. While riding along the church, the bells kept ringing, and from the other side a few soap bubbles were approaching me. I looked for their author, but couldn't find anyone. I wasn't so naive to buy immediately that this was some divide providence - the bubbles, that blow themselves -, still occasionally it feels really nice, when the efforts do not result in any success. At that moment I was thinking, how very much I enjoyed what I had to do, to take a kid to church choir, and the magic of simultaneity of pleasant things. I got into it and got out of it before it all had ended.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">Wo sie auch ruhen im Meer und Land</span> <span style="font-size: small;">/// Kur viņi dus gan jūrā, gan zemē /// Where they rest in see and land</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">/ Sie sind gefallen in Gottes Hand /// Viņi ir iekrituši Dieva rokā /// They have fallen into God's hand</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">Baznīca, kurā kuģu modeļi karājas pie griestiem tikpat bezrūpīgi kā lampas. /// A church where ship models hang in an equally nonchalant manner as chandeliers</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">Little Lord Jesus</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiINOJ7kSQn6Bheg3sEtTtOBuneRddxQRJLQ4JM3EQnPVluOY6Lozph4rKckSTa-IfYgC0Hhp9DESohM6Z4KH9uXRumgXuyKrbdBiFs_dwaOrlOvx8IwNRVNO347Xjzt3M7i-igyaogOn_4/s1600/IMG-20130605-04220.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiINOJ7kSQn6Bheg3sEtTtOBuneRddxQRJLQ4JM3EQnPVluOY6Lozph4rKckSTa-IfYgC0Hhp9DESohM6Z4KH9uXRumgXuyKrbdBiFs_dwaOrlOvx8IwNRVNO347Xjzt3M7i-igyaogOn_4/s400/IMG-20130605-04220.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">Es piemērotā apģērbā pie baznīcas. /// Me dressed suitably for the church.</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjby-JwUJv4fMSSi-A1sSQj40lM2i4gFPGOzA5dp4w2jE2qBPQWGGAnlmUc5kImMzNcdXuG_II1ZrW4ec5y08zWvBVIliakM2eRX6CW9v9Ooeb9oXcbvjJlkBQhLoozptkchyphenhyphenm-JK3q34m_/s1600/IMG-20130602-04080.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjby-JwUJv4fMSSi-A1sSQj40lM2i4gFPGOzA5dp4w2jE2qBPQWGGAnlmUc5kImMzNcdXuG_II1ZrW4ec5y08zWvBVIliakM2eRX6CW9v9Ooeb9oXcbvjJlkBQhLoozptkchyphenhyphenm-JK3q34m_/s400/IMG-20130602-04080.jpg" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">Pie Jēzus lielā galda - kora notis un pleimobiļa cilvēciņi. /// At the huge table of Jesus - Choir sheet music and Playmobil people</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFEZCeKMHGGVUyGw-okXgnac05pDBGDZ69I9ZiQ2JYZehTlsBgFaXFwgTax-zAgerteLJmHKZBIQkRnu7J7niXTX8d3d5AlbfxzJwHqtfcWZVQhHdba12Szu0YBViMxaoRZW0YL5vvFPa3/s1600/IMG-20130603-04132.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFEZCeKMHGGVUyGw-okXgnac05pDBGDZ69I9ZiQ2JYZehTlsBgFaXFwgTax-zAgerteLJmHKZBIQkRnu7J7niXTX8d3d5AlbfxzJwHqtfcWZVQhHdba12Szu0YBViMxaoRZW0YL5vvFPa3/s400/IMG-20130603-04132.jpg" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">Ētika 3a /// Ethics for 3a</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">Izkrāso Ābramu un Sāru! (Ētikas burtnīca) /// Paint Abraham and Sarah! (Exploring Ethics' notes) </span></td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPn45GurcqnsIAUiAI6YzCF3HvETeR8gN13c82r14LgUwnd94pvWfPf3dqf7nxu5qwlHuDPeGWspDYudi6KnJLHUUpmejc_2_6jxk5X1YiO9x_2LZBK_4ejI1PKfSZxVQ_5pnOQOwszoPo/s1600/08einmal.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPn45GurcqnsIAUiAI6YzCF3HvETeR8gN13c82r14LgUwnd94pvWfPf3dqf7nxu5qwlHuDPeGWspDYudi6KnJLHUUpmejc_2_6jxk5X1YiO9x_2LZBK_4ejI1PKfSZxVQ_5pnOQOwszoPo/s400/08einmal.jpg" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">Jāzepam vienreiz bija sapnis. /// Once Joseph had a dream.</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgE5WaRTPOnDyEY8Y2v4SZGRWANYPtzbxhY4RF_A8SwpCgtMonfbvYC6Qa4krrH93PnItjWXaXzDRSWLoEQBbvdjSqAeDgArnUDsC9kwQg1cx6BHH-VnYteHtL2MOW6pXAlMPQu77V34rL3/s1600/09pharao.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgE5WaRTPOnDyEY8Y2v4SZGRWANYPtzbxhY4RF_A8SwpCgtMonfbvYC6Qa4krrH93PnItjWXaXzDRSWLoEQBbvdjSqAeDgArnUDsC9kwQg1cx6BHH-VnYteHtL2MOW6pXAlMPQu77V34rL3/s400/09pharao.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">Jāzeps izpalīdz faraonam. /// Joseph helps out the Pharaoh.</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjRCzP-eqKE6Jgq3ZSxDUoM6fGcusnHIUJ-K1zyEx5wkQ1Oaot-j2QAGjCOCsA9FdbrsISnOX0RD9c2upXOHHwT8btEzK9QSA9NxdPDkjGROxNe2L2paIB4IuBDObZfn3jOvNBNTclVRHwp/s1600/010tiere.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjRCzP-eqKE6Jgq3ZSxDUoM6fGcusnHIUJ-K1zyEx5wkQ1Oaot-j2QAGjCOCsA9FdbrsISnOX0RD9c2upXOHHwT8btEzK9QSA9NxdPDkjGROxNe2L2paIB4IuBDObZfn3jOvNBNTclVRHwp/s400/010tiere.jpg" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">Izmirstošie dzīvnieki, pret kuriem jāizturas ar žēlastību. /// Endangered species that deserve mercy.</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgE1jHcUerUgOcKmXaEZI5Gwbchj_a08nQjSZt9HuO2amwMy5BkHP2VB9RBW7z8zb09IGWGCG1LzFwni2_VoKrzfpq6qcClNjqM7luDlekg1FCSUx9Y2ED1NZ6LzwMb-ROg_k_UK0PJ5dvj/s1600/011hase.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgE1jHcUerUgOcKmXaEZI5Gwbchj_a08nQjSZt9HuO2amwMy5BkHP2VB9RBW7z8zb09IGWGCG1LzFwni2_VoKrzfpq6qcClNjqM7luDlekg1FCSUx9Y2ED1NZ6LzwMb-ROg_k_UK0PJ5dvj/s400/011hase.jpg" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">Trusis un, hm, tārps? /// A rabbit and, well, a worm, I guess.</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgD-B-oNwY6rLygRHjVabENq-X4LegctBVF7nM7aEvP0Jphx18fv5hWy-FOQjJOO_PNFoUo3ssAcQzT7aziT3Zo3N9LQzdCzI_YK8mpFqDfKVk8su2lRl0zd-4BznD04u-jhdBFm6w39V5o/s1600/IMG-20130603-04097.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgD-B-oNwY6rLygRHjVabENq-X4LegctBVF7nM7aEvP0Jphx18fv5hWy-FOQjJOO_PNFoUo3ssAcQzT7aziT3Zo3N9LQzdCzI_YK8mpFqDfKVk8su2lRl0zd-4BznD04u-jhdBFm6w39V5o/s400/IMG-20130603-04097.jpg" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">"Jēzus sirds!" Apgaismotā Jēzus sirds! Nevis "parastā sirds, bič." /// "Heart of Jesus!" The illuminated heart of Jesus! Not any "ordinary heart, bitch."</span></td></tr>
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Es pēdējā laikā esmu daudz laika pavadījusi televizora tuvumā. Piedevās apkopoju neaizmirstamākās frāzes, kuras es, saprotams, būtu aizmirsusi, ja nebūtu pierakstījusi, un par dažu precizitāti man joprojām ir šaubas, taču es izvēlos izlikties, it kā tas uz mani neattiektos. Citāti avoti gluži precīzi attēlo pārraižu spektru, kuru ietekmes laukā esmu atradusies. (Izņemot dažas multenes un muļķīgu ārstu seriālu, kurā nebija nekā citējama.)</div>
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Kobra, viens no Semīriem francūzim: "Izņem no mutes varžu kājiņas, tad runā ar mums."<br />
Simpsoni: "Kādu dienu tu kādu slepkavu padarīsi ļoti laimīgu, taču tas nebūšu es."<br />
Garfīlds, tikko izmetis Odiju ārā no mājām: "Reizēm kucēniem nepieciešama skarbāka mīlestība. Tas norūda raksturu."<br />
Smalkais stils, Onslovs: "Cilvēks nevar but maizes pelnītājs un dzejnieks vienlaikus." <br />
Smalkais stils, Hiacinte Ričardam: "Es raugos, lai tava dzīve plūstu kā rāma un mierīga upe, un tā tu man atmaksā."<br />
Simpsoni: Šīs dienas tēma: "Jēzus Tevi ienīst."<br />
Smalkais stils, Onslovs: "Es te sēžu pilnīgi nevienas alus pudeles ielenkumā!" <br />
Simpsoni, Homērs: "Bārt, Bobs tagad ir ģimenes cilvēks. Tu nevari būt slikts cilvēks, ja tev ir ģimene." <br />
Puaro, Puaro: "Mazas dāvaniņas reizēm var būt tik satraucošas."<br />
Puaro, kapteinis Heistingss: "Būt izskatīgai meitenei reizēm var būt grūti."<br />
Puaro: "Jūs vienmēr iežēlojaties par jaunām,
daiļām dāmām, bet es vienmēr izjūtu žēlumu pret vecām, slimām kundzēm."<br />
Smalkais stils, Onslovs: "Es nesaprotu, ja mums ar pērtiķiem kopīgi ir 985 gēnu un cilvēka gēnu ir tikai 2%, kāpēc man no rīta gribas smēķi, nevis banānu."<br />
Simpsoni: "Paldies, ka izvēlējāties mani par savu slepkavu. Jūs
sekosiet Sokrāta, Viržīnijas Vulfas, Ernesta Hemingveja, Hantera S.
Tompsona un Freda Kanikī pēdās." <br />
Simpsoni: "Sevi nogalināt nav tik viegli, kā uzvilkt neglītu džemperi - kā jūs to izdarījāt šorīt."<br />
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^^^^^<br />
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Recently I have spent quite some time near TV. As a side dish I'll be serving here a collection of the most unforgettable quotations, which, of course, I had easily forgot unless I didn't write them down. The accuracy of some of them is still questionable, but I've decided to pretend that this didn't concern me not to the least extent. The choice of quotations shows very well the range of broadcasts, that I have spent my time with the most. (Except for some cartoons and a silly doctor TV series, they didn't have anything quotable at all.)</div>
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Alarm for Cobra 11, one of the Semirs to a French man: "Take those frog legs out of your mouth, then talk to us."<br />
Simpsons: "You know, you'll make some murderer very happy one day, but it shan't be me."<br />
Garfield, having had just thrown out Odie out of the house: "Sometimes puppies need a little rougher love. It toughens personality."<br />
Keeping Up Appearances, Onslow: "One can't be breadwinner and poet at the same time."<br />
Keeping Up Appearances, Hyacinth to Richard: "I"m trying to make your life flow as long, quiet river, and this is how you repay me."<br />
Simpsons: "Today's Topic: Jesus Hates You."<br />
Keeping Up Appearances, Onslow: "I'm sitting here surrounded by not a single bottle of beer!"<br />
Simpsons, Homer: "Bart, Bob is a family man now. You can't be a bad person if you have a family."<br />
Poirot: "Little gifts can be so upsetting."<br />
Poirot, Captain Hastings: "A good-looking girl has a hard time of it."<br />
Keeping Up Appearances, Onslow: "I don't understand, if we share 98% genes with primates like apes and have only 2% human genes, why in the morning I want to have a smoke and not a banana."<br />
Poirot: "Ah, Hastings. Always you are full of charitable feelings to the young ladies, who are beautiful, huh? As for me, I am always full of the charitable feelings to the old ladies, that have maladies."<br />
Simpsons: "I am so honored that you've chosen me to murder you.<br />
You'll be following in the footsteps of Socrates, Virginia Woolf, Ernest Hemingway, Hunter S. Thompson and Fred Kanickee."<br />
Simpsons: "Killing yourself isn't as easy as putting on an ugly sweater like you did today."<br />
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<br />Elīnahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10521503680160374034noreply@blogger.com0Heiligenhafen, Germany54.369679899999987 10.97560999999996154.332676899999989 10.89492899999996 54.406682899999986 11.056290999999961tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4839116002327328501.post-41657878341632644562013-05-15T22:27:00.000+03:002013-05-15T22:28:52.876+03:00Ej prom, dzīvā daba! /// Go away, you living nature!<br />
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Elīna, Jānis un Ričards piknikā. Dievinu mājas video.<br />
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^^^^^<br />
Elina, Janis and Ricards on a picnic. Love home video.<br />
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<iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.blogger.com/video.g?token=AD6v5dyNDdHIzDq4evW5uV3dl-_Woj2tLdxF6fsY2csAOwkogE6LSVSiH67Fm1eOxNyx8tV--6VXOMX_-5tkYOmbqg' class='b-hbp-video b-uploaded' frameborder='0'></iframe></div>
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<iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.blogger.com/video.g?token=AD6v5dz-Nylb9UX6fwU4seonciA4ltMnpLa5hYw0cSKKJhETcytJEBvLigcxxtj3kn9qlJZHQrUC9QY_HwEUj3_z6w' class='b-hbp-video b-uploaded' frameborder='0'></iframe></div>
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<br />Elīnahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10521503680160374034noreply@blogger.com0Riga, Latvia56.9496487 24.1051863999999856.672694199999995 23.459739399999979 57.2266032 24.75063339999998tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4839116002327328501.post-33725105985620670492013-05-08T23:03:00.000+03:002013-05-08T23:03:02.092+03:00Saudzēt kaķa jūtas /// Spare the feelings of catMamma Lāsmai, kad viņa mēģināja apsēsties pārāk tuvu kaķim, lai viņš ne mazākajā mērā netaptu traucēts: .. saudzē vismaz Likija jūtas!<br />
Elīna: Viņa nezina, kā tas ir, saudzēt jūtas.<br />
Lāsma: Kā, es regulāri saudzēju jūtas!<br />
Elīna: Manas?<br />
Lāsma: Nē, tavas es audzēju.<br />
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^^^^^<br />
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Mum to Lasma, when the latter one was about to sit down on sofa too close to not disturb the cat, so that he wouldn't get disturbed not even to the least extent: .. at least spare the feelings of Likijs!<br />
Elina: She doesn't know how is it, to spare someone's feelings.<br />
Lasma: What? I spare feelings on a regular basis!<br />
Elina: Mine?<br />
Lasma: No, yours I grow*.<br />
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* Originally in Latvian "to grow" rhymes with "to spare" in a beautiful manner. It would sound like "spare" and "pare", in case this "pare" had the desire to mean "grow". Which it unfortunately doesn't. I really don't envy translators, you can't spare everything nice.</div>
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<br />Elīnahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10521503680160374034noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4839116002327328501.post-66159439496505857582013-04-13T17:59:00.001+03:002013-04-15T22:34:06.734+03:00Vai tu jau esi dzērusi šampanieti? /// Have you tasted Champagne yet?<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Jānis: Daudz laimes dzimšanas dienā, Elīn, un es ceru, ka tev ir visādas manierīgas dāvanas un pārsteigumiņi.<br />
Elīna: Tev tiešām šķiet, ka mana raksturīgākā iezīme ir manierīgums?<br />
Jānis: Jā, tā ir.<br />
Elīna: Es cerēju, ka tu teiksi, ka nē, ir vēl arī visādas citas iezīmes un īpašības.<br />
Jānis: Nē, manierīgums un koķetērija pašai ar sevi. Es pat teiktu - koķetērija pašai ar savu esamību un savu dvēseli.<br />
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^^^^^<br />
Janis: Happy Birthday, Elin, and I hope you got heaps of manneristic presents and little suprises.<br />
Elina: So you really think mannerism is my most characteristic trait?<br />
Janis: Yes, that's how it is.<br />
Elina: I was hoping you'd say that no, there were other traits and qualities as well.<br />
Janis: No, mannerism and coquetry with yourself. I'd even say - coquetry with your own existence and your soul.<br />
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Fotoreportāža par dzimšanas dienu pirms gada. Fakultātes bildes: Katrīna<br />
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^^^^^<br />
Pictures from birthday a year ago. Pictures from uni: Katrina<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEioVyNwY9Uk2tn9yTnHC1FpnkNaO7bjKqLldE4XPsiwH9cQxNAbzuXBRxQYiEPuPSR0tzxqoJMZN94lQUGifXU-qeCbGCHnFntX0H_C5mrCpnYUmeS-bkUcNZlCG9oxhx75NFesIz4oI5bC/s1600/IMG-20120411-WA000.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEioVyNwY9Uk2tn9yTnHC1FpnkNaO7bjKqLldE4XPsiwH9cQxNAbzuXBRxQYiEPuPSR0tzxqoJMZN94lQUGifXU-qeCbGCHnFntX0H_C5mrCpnYUmeS-bkUcNZlCG9oxhx75NFesIz4oI5bC/s400/IMG-20120411-WA000.jpg" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">Kanta laikā un pēc Kanta - Ričards, Elīna, Jānis un Katrīna labā <span style="font-size: small;">un ļaunās </span>ēd kūciņas /// <span style="font-size: small;">During and after<span style="font-size: small;"> "</span>Kant<span style="font-size: small;">": </span></span>Ricards, Elina, Janis and Katrina eating the good and the evil cupcakes</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjsQV59HgiKg7WG2DK7VtOB2Gmws1xXgWvAE7_-6HrIvZEwwCS18DcN3nKEOfLh9PclIgLrtevAKnvIg1SE6mQ5OHokRpCi-5VaKAsqBh2oN6akDiT3TcyEqdeCPC-ux_5GsSTeLSwkRDrQ/s1600/IMG-20120411-WA001.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjsQV59HgiKg7WG2DK7VtOB2Gmws1xXgWvAE7_-6HrIvZEwwCS18DcN3nKEOfLh9PclIgLrtevAKnvIg1SE6mQ5OHokRpCi-5VaKAsqBh2oN6akDiT3TcyEqdeCPC-ux_5GsSTeLSwkRDrQ/s400/IMG-20120411-WA001.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">Katrīnai pirmā bija jāēd ļaunā (šokolādes) kūciņa, viņa to apzinājās. Mums ar Ričardu arī laikam ļaunās kūciņas. /// Katrina had to eat the evil (chocolate) cupcake as her first one, she was well aware of it. Looks like Ricards and me are also having the evil cupcakes.</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEilTo1swiBm9TMs3pncNKODMCD1qxXJwv4FpIhvX4eO91f5jrgpaw3h88PWpXR67XZsNYT47pO0wl_e8t3akQtIZ-_amyU6YzuxVe60_HNFXin-vqfcC6a7DCFyKvkNm6foay8UwquDQ1cA/s1600/IMG-20120411-WA012.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEilTo1swiBm9TMs3pncNKODMCD1qxXJwv4FpIhvX4eO91f5jrgpaw3h88PWpXR67XZsNYT47pO0wl_e8t3akQtIZ-_amyU6YzuxVe60_HNFXin-vqfcC6a7DCFyKvkNm6foay8UwquDQ1cA/s400/IMG-20120411-WA012.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">Ētikā seminārs par līķiem /// Seminar in Ethics on corpses</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZnwliYtXSC2yDOnIFqBwQs53mLfq8fttAHm_tf60DHg4l5CwcA_6YxVE7xBV2HuE07t6o2xjXh2H3MKB86PN7tUjTSBM5s9AO9AMjJuyHYH8IzwXnkRfNEsit0Vh-68Wz4sdUV-IlCY54/s1600/IMG-20120411-WA014.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZnwliYtXSC2yDOnIFqBwQs53mLfq8fttAHm_tf60DHg4l5CwcA_6YxVE7xBV2HuE07t6o2xjXh2H3MKB86PN7tUjTSBM5s9AO9AMjJuyHYH8IzwXnkRfNEsit0Vh-68Wz4sdUV-IlCY54/s400/IMG-20120411-WA014.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">Dzimšanas dienā nebūtu jādomā par līķiem /// One shouldn't think about corpses on one's own Birthday</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFFO0fD48LV566_1KhkRyXWeYkG0dw_H4kRUuGv-zfr_lWA2l9ZbmlMZfmRP_RVtPtDImXYCu70hKIQ4sSX_HD9KmPEcv1v-OuYaryNKat1tlNtSLpIdFU3DOyymc1ZJGKemyicu1VDzwO/s1600/R%C4%ABga-20120411-00256.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFFO0fD48LV566_1KhkRyXWeYkG0dw_H4kRUuGv-zfr_lWA2l9ZbmlMZfmRP_RVtPtDImXYCu70hKIQ4sSX_HD9KmPEcv1v-OuYaryNKat1tlNtSLpIdFU3DOyymc1ZJGKemyicu1VDzwO/s400/R%C4%ABga-20120411-00256.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">es un smuks galds /// me and pretty table</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhBOXgn6_JsFuo0sNiNNNxwibxUS4SO1UKOL11XYHfF5ivAiYQsIQF4tJANctP6SV6iVSl3niLsjL2YeudFA_tVxn28ApDN6fSH_d2Cm__83FQR6JLdM-oMzgCcLjyMia8y2XURm849X8dt/s1600/R%C4%ABga-20120411-00258.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhBOXgn6_JsFuo0sNiNNNxwibxUS4SO1UKOL11XYHfF5ivAiYQsIQF4tJANctP6SV6iVSl3niLsjL2YeudFA_tVxn28ApDN6fSH_d2Cm__83FQR6JLdM-oMzgCcLjyMia8y2XURm849X8dt/s400/R%C4%ABga-20120411-00258.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">dvīņu dzimšanas dienas kopbilde, ar koncentrētu skatu uz jaunu gadu /// Birthday picture of twins and their focused stare at the year to come</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimbbxETevwAiP7FcPhSoRinvmmpBxN3wXpJ9BBxtlJbve65d1RNKtkiwUyW_Pcv-GriYzDrYins8g3vhsLGp8ttvtjrdTTZj3VeZ3ZdQlhzF3azcjMXQBQabME368TEcYHXZo0E3yPFHpQ/s1600/R%C4%ABga-20120411-00259.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimbbxETevwAiP7FcPhSoRinvmmpBxN3wXpJ9BBxtlJbve65d1RNKtkiwUyW_Pcv-GriYzDrYins8g3vhsLGp8ttvtjrdTTZj3VeZ3ZdQlhzF3azcjMXQBQabME368TEcYHXZo0E3yPFHpQ/s400/R%C4%ABga-20120411-00259.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">Elīna, Lāsma, citplanēšu gaisma /// Elina, Lasma, aliens' light</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbL7dvloTMmBhDpY3DyxqJBmnvZqnottjDLs-8iPZCyHZ9Nm3rPTcHaJ3jHZiZls_Du3B5c5LZ_YKCBL_stfD1v12rZhtaTXRQXqvSa1Ei0q7LP3mOgysBGiRfFbrhdFMCavM6Oh0VQj3F/s1600/R%C4%ABga-20120411-00262.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbL7dvloTMmBhDpY3DyxqJBmnvZqnottjDLs-8iPZCyHZ9Nm3rPTcHaJ3jHZiZls_Du3B5c5LZ_YKCBL_stfD1v12rZhtaTXRQXqvSa1Ei0q7LP3mOgysBGiRfFbrhdFMCavM6Oh0VQj3F/s400/R%C4%ABga-20120411-00262.jpg" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">"For my Little princess"</span></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPJ0a16eIhpC6d8iG_Nnv8RRmKrcZZIU42kRb6gr1POpJdMrWae7D40oDXro5OrkkoZbPCUZUF7C22Y4UeV0gytd6H_uO9ITbHew2X4kg1npF04oARyxKjo6dn439r1yy1CcCGgukC8r4V/s1600/DSC09370.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPJ0a16eIhpC6d8iG_Nnv8RRmKrcZZIU42kRb6gr1POpJdMrWae7D40oDXro5OrkkoZbPCUZUF7C22Y4UeV0gytd6H_uO9ITbHew2X4kg1npF04oARyxKjo6dn439r1yy1CcCGgukC8r4V/s400/DSC09370.JPG" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">Saturs "Manai princesītei" /// Content of "For my <span style="font-size: small;">L</span>ittle <span style="font-size: small;">p</span>rincess" - chapters Knight's Code of Chivalry, You are special, interesting, beautiful, Teenager on the phone, Why do we cry etc.</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiKNonnZ-xHonroNjRXWfvxpxLoS_b-yE38Jdv4yoW7eJc7NJsjcpkR5PxVnj4NjgRCEGclm8rjM_mjmMmvLJEkt9c3E4hq9EC7jVZoWPn8r6JawKXSU8MBV-MMdopjYBZMA5_D0T07RkxE/s1600/DSC09368.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiKNonnZ-xHonroNjRXWfvxpxLoS_b-yE38Jdv4yoW7eJc7NJsjcpkR5PxVnj4NjgRCEGclm8rjM_mjmMmvLJEkt9c3E4hq9EC7jVZoWPn8r6JawKXSU8MBV-MMdopjYBZMA5_D0T07RkxE/s400/DSC09368.JPG" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">Dzīvnieks nav rotaļlieta /// A pet is no toy, Little princesses wardrobe, Have you tastes champagne yet?, Cocktail party at Little princesses place, Don't get bored and don't let others bore etc</span>.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQCwxarHYwxJw2xyoegN4enR1xcTnEmvoRVAJZZP6THAX9vtNoh5O2hZ6u2B79l2PVPZo08bXdEvwC_FXDCbvrFfNh9xFapIcHRnmdQmyJPwH6WsMF31krdcOi-ORDBR5CVUUpCyqxpHNa/s1600/DSC09365.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQCwxarHYwxJw2xyoegN4enR1xcTnEmvoRVAJZZP6THAX9vtNoh5O2hZ6u2B79l2PVPZo08bXdEvwC_FXDCbvrFfNh9xFapIcHRnmdQmyJPwH6WsMF31krdcOi-ORDBR5CVUUpCyqxpHNa/s400/DSC09365.JPG" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">Labi sabalansēta literatūra /// Well balanced literature - The Wind in the Willows, The History of Fashion, For my Little princess, Donald Duck</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">Vienmēr paticis ēst šokolādes galvas /// I have always enjoyed eating chocolate heads</span></td></tr>
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<br />Elīnahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10521503680160374034noreply@blogger.com0Riga, Latvia56.9496487 24.1051863999999856.672702699999995 23.459739399999979 57.2265947 24.75063339999998tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4839116002327328501.post-82095052302085889402013-04-09T21:43:00.000+03:002013-04-18T12:05:59.022+03:00Laikapstākļi II: Neveiklās epizodes ar lakricu, ziemu un kabatlakatiņu /// Considering weather II: Awkward moments featuring liqourice, winter and a tissue<div style="text-align: justify;">
Lielākoties tagad, kad pavasaris tā arī nav pienācis, vairs pat nav ļoti slikti un briesmīgi, tikai visai savādi. It kā Latvija būtu iekļuvusi atriebīga maga uzmanības lokā un uz mūžiem būtu aizmirsta mīnus grādos. Liekas, ka pavasaris šogan vienkārši nav noticis, nav tādas lietas kā pavasaris. Un, skatoties uz piesnigušiem kokiem, baltu perspektīvi un ziemas blāvām debesīm, brīžiem pat nav pārāk slikti. Vizuāli tas izskatās labi, pusastoņos vakarā, kad joprojām norisinās gaisma.</div>
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Vienīgi, tā kā nenotiek pavasaris, man vairs nav drēbju, ko vilkt, un, kad es visu laiku velku vienas un tā pašas drēbes, es viņās iesalstu. Katrīna to noformulēja kā iesalušas drēbes -> iesaluši noskaņojumi, un tā ir tā biedējošā iestigšana. Šogad ziema turpinās un turpinās, tikai kļūst arvien gaišāks (iespējams, drīz tiks sasniegts polārajai naktij līdzīgs un pretējs stāvoklis - polārā ziema gaismā). Un, lai arī gaišāks kļūst un katru vakaru novērojami netradicionāli dabas skati ar piesnigušām ainavām gaišos, vēlos vakaros, nekas jau īsti nemainās, un man nešķiet, ka kādam vēl ir cerības uz patiesu pavasari. Tomēr laikastākļi jāpārspriež ir regulāri, jo tas ir tas, kas interesē un satrauc.</div>
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Reizēm gribas novērsties no ārpasaules ar visiem viņas stindzinošajiem sniega pūtieniem, citreiz stoiciski jāskatās ārā pa logu, un objektīvi nav neglīti. Tas tikai nav tas, ko šobrīd gribas. Kaut kā neveikli šogad sanācis.</div>
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Es Lieldienu brīvdienās 3-4 dienas neizgāju ārā no mājas un dzīvojos naktskreklā un halātā, un daudz skatījos seriālu. Es daudz mājās biju viena pati, tas man patika, es biju lācītis midziņā, un man nebija nekā kopīga ar āru. Varbūt vienīgi tas, ka mums abiem sanāca drusku neveikli - āram ar Lieldienu ziemu un man ar kabatlakatiņu.</div>
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Es tumsā viena pati skatījos seriālu, un tā kā seriālā bija diezgan šausmīgi, man 20 minūtes bija ļoti jāraud, un es pa tumsu meklēju kabatlakatiņu. Pirms pāris dienām bija bijusi filmēšana, un es joprojām visas mantas nebiju līdz galam sakārtojusi. Es pasniedzos pavirši ārā izvilktu mantu klājienā pēc kabatlakatiņa, taču seriāla asaras diemžēl nebija viņa pirmā profesionālā pieredze kabatlakatības karjerā.</div>
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Kad filmēja biroju un man īsti nebija, ko darīt, es slaistīgi gaidīju tādā kā recepcijas daļā, kur bija akvārijs ar zivtiņām, dažādu krāsu mapes un pīts saldumu trauks. Es biju rūpīgi iepazinusies ar zivju dzīvi, mapes mani neinteresēja, un es nolēmu izpētīt saldumu trauka saturu.</div>
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Es ieraudzīju mazus, melnus gumijainus nieciņus, taču man vairs nepietika laika aptvert, ka viņi izskatās pārliecinoši negaršīgi. Pirkstiņi jau bija pastiepušies pēc melnā nieciņa, un saprāta brīdinājumiem vairs nebija laika. Tas bija slikti, tas bija lakricīgi.</div>
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(Lakricas pretīgums, šķiet, ir universāli zināms fakts, un tie, kam lakrica garšo, tiek uzskatīti par dabas īpatņiem. Kad es gāju atjaunot e-talonu uz Rīgas satiksmi, darbieki tur nebija sevišķi steidzīgi, viņi diezgan daudz runāja, un tas, kurš mani apkalpoja, neatceros kādā ceļā tika līdz tēmai par norvēģiem, ko viņa kolēģis attīstīja līdz lakricas līmenim. Viņš piebilda kaut ko tādu kā "norvēģiem taču garšo tā lakrica, kā var garšot lakrica" vai ko tamlīdzīgu, un es uzreiz dedzīgi pamāju ar galvu un iesaucos: "Jā, tā lakrica!" Pašā pirmajā brīdī viņš pārprata: "Tev garšo?!" Bet es uzreiz teicu, ka nē, lakrica ir pretīga. Un mēs vienojāmies tādā savstarpējā sapratnē par lakricas vispārejo pretīgumu.</div>
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Un vidusskolas laikā man bija klasesbiedrs, kuram garšoja lakrica un kuram patika ļauni izturēties pret cilvēkiem. (Piemēram, kad mēs brīnījāmies, kāpēc Klāvs, kurš sportā sasista pirkstu, dodas ārā pa skolas vārtiņiem uz Traumpunktu, jo tas nozīmētu, ka viņš ir bijis pie ārkārtīgi satrauktās skolas medmāsas, izrādījās, ka viņu ir nosūdzējis viņa draugs un lakricas cienītājs Vaļinieks.) Viņš mēdza iemest mutē lakricas konfekti, piedāvāt klasesbiedriem, un tiem, kas spiedzot un viebjoties atteicās, apsēsties blakus, lai apveltītu ar savu lakricas elpu. Es domāju, ka, ja māc nepieciešība tikt vaļā no nevēlamām personām, tikai jāievieš savā ēdienkārtē lakrica. Tāpat pirmais solis, kā iepatikties cilvēkiem, ir pārtraukt attiecības ar lakricu.)</div>
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Es nevarēju ar to glumekli tikt galā, tuvumā nebija nevienas miskastes, kad viņu tikt sasodīti vajadzēja, un man neatlika nekas cits kā ietīt mazo melno noziedznieku kabatlakatiņā, kuru es nobēdzināju, un kuram es atkal uzdūros Lieldienu brīvdienu laikā.</div>
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Lai nu kā Lieldienās piestāv ciest, un mums ar laikapstākļiem abiem Lieldienu laikā bija neveiklas epizodes. Varbūt uz kopīgas pieredzes un asociēšanās spēju pamata man tagad pret laikapstākļiem būs iecietīgāka attieksme, bet visticamāk, ja vien nepienāks pavasaris, diez vai.</div>
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Mostly now, when the spring has decided not to come this year, it is not even awful or terrible anymore, it feels merely strange. It's like some revengeful wizard has taken an interest in Latvia and has left it forever ever in temperature below zero. It seems as this year spring simply has not happened, there is no such thing as spring. While gazing at snow-covered trees, white pavements and the pale sky of winter, sometimes it's not too bad after all. Visually it does look good, at 7.30 pm, when the daylight is still present.</div>
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The only thing is, since the spring is not happening, I don't have anything to wear anymore, and when I wear the very same clothes over and over again, I freeze into them. Katrina defined that frozen clothing -> frozen states of mind, and it is frightening to stick in. This year the winter goes on and on, only the only difference being the evenings gradually getting lighter (probably soon enough there will be opposite/ similar state of polar night out there - polar day in wintertime). And, although it's getting lighter and one can regularly observe unconventional sights of snow-covered landscapes in late evenings full of daylight, nothing really changes. I don't think there is anyone who is still expecting a true and blossoming spring to come. For all that the weather has to be discussed regularly, as it is something that really matters and upsets (and thrills at its best, not now though). </div>
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Sometimes the best way to face all this misbehavior of weather is to turn away from the outside world and all its icy blasts of snowy winds. Other times I stoically look through the window, and objectively judging it isn't ugly. It's just not what I want right now. Quite awkward it is this year.</div>
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During the Easter holidays I didn't leave home for like 3-4 days, I stayed in my nightgown and dressing robe and was watching Downton Abbey most of the time. Mostly I was all alone in the flat, I liked that, I was a bear in its den, and I and the outside had nothing in common. Maybe apart from the fact that we both had some awkward episodes - the outside world with the winter during Easter and me with a tissue.</div>
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I was watching an episode on my own, and as the plot was so unbearable (Season 3, you know), I had to cry for 20 minutes, and in the dark I was trying to find a tissue. A few days ago I had had a shooting, and there were still some things to put in order. I placed my arm into a layer of things and took it out as soon as I felt the familiar texture of tissue. Unfortunately tears caused by heartbreaking events in TV series was not the tissue's first professional experience.</div>
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When they were shooting the office and I didn't have anything to do, I was dawdling the time away at the office reception. There was an aquarium with a bunch of fishes, files of different colors and a wicker bowl for sweets. I had well acquainted myself with the lifestyle of fishes, I couldn't take any interest in the files, so obviously I decided to explore the bowl of sweets.</div>
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I spotted tiny, black, rubber-like bits, yet there wasn't enough time left to realize how convincingly nasty they looked like. My unstoppable fingers had already reached out for one tiny black bit, and there was no time for a warning of reason. It was disgusting, it was liquorice.</div>
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(I guess the disgust of liquorice is a generally acknowledged fact, and those, who do happen to enjoy liquorice, are treated as the marvels of nature. Nothing but a marginal minority. When I went to renew my transportation card, the employees there were not in hurry at all, they were engaging into a conversation, and the one I was being served by, I don't remember how, got to the subject of Norwegians. His colleague then took it further to the level of liquorice. He said something like "Norwegians eat that liquorice, how one can eat liquorice at all" or something in like manner, and I ardently nodded and said: "Yeah, liquorice!" At the very first he misunderstood: "You like it?!" But I corrected myself at once, I said that no, it's disgusting. And we shared a brief mutual understanding of the general disgust of liquorice.</div>
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In the high school I had a classmate who enjoyed liquorice and who also enjoyed occasional cruel action towards other kids. (For instance, when we were wondering how did Klavs, having beaten his finger, end up walking out of the school and heading to the hospital for an examination, as it would have meant that Klavs had seen the hysterical blond middle-aged school nurse, it turned out that it was his friend and liquorice fan Valinieks who had reported Klavs to the school nurse. ) Valinieks used to take a liquorice, then offer them to other kids. Then he sat next to the ones who had refused enthusiastically, screaming and pulling faces, and endowed the chosen ones with his heart-melting liquorice breath. I strongly believe that the first precautionary measure to keep away unwelcome persons is to finish meal with liquorice. Likewise, the the first step to get people's affections is to break every single relation to liquorice.)</div>
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I couldn't finish that slimy object, and unluckily for me there was no single bin to be found when it was so desperately needed. I had no choice but to wrap that little black delinquent in a tissue, which I hid away, and which I unfortunately came across during the Easter holidays. </div>
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Nonetheless, suffering becomes Easter, and the weather and me, we both shared some awkwardness during the Easter. Maybe this mutual experience and ability to associate myself with the weather could cause my attitude to become slightly more lenient, still, unless the spring came for good, I wouldn't think so.</div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">Decembris 2012, pēc skata līdzīgs Aprīlim 2013 /// December 2012, resembling April 2013 </span></td></tr>
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Elīnahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10521503680160374034noreply@blogger.com0Riga, Latvia56.9496487 24.1051863999999856.672694699999994 23.459739399999979 57.2266027 24.75063339999998tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4839116002327328501.post-9212861120347867792013-04-08T23:46:00.000+03:002013-04-09T00:46:20.107+03:00Laikapstākļi I: 08/04/2011 /// Considering weather I: 08/04/2011<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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2011. gada aprīlis, Stonheivena, Aberdīnšīra, Skotija. Mēs ar Aline priecīgas siltumiņā vērojam Dunnottar pilsdrupas. Maija vējš, pilis un viņu drupas, kas mums nepavisam nav apnikušas, adiktīva kadiķu ziedu smarža, kafija pie jūras un savvaļas narcišu jūras, tas viss mums patīk.</div>
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The 8th of April 2011, Stonhaven, Aberdeenshire, Scotland. Aline and me happy and warm looking at the Dunnottar Castle ruins. Wind of may, castles and their ruins nowhere near to start to bore us, the addictive smell of juniper flowers, coffee at the beach and yellow seas of daffodils, we like that all.</div>
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<br />Elīnahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10521503680160374034noreply@blogger.com0Stonehaven, Aberdeenshire, UK56.963660999999988 -2.20928800000001556.929030499999989 -2.2899690000000152 56.998291499999986 -2.1286070000000148