#Tripoline

[fvjrbnlkmb]

Teen is taught to show respect (Captions) bonver casino chomutov Big Ass Indian MILF is having fun!!! Eden Sin and Scarlet De Sade share a big cock Leaked homemade sex tape of real Ebony lesbians Ecuatoriana culiando en hotel de manabi Indian guy big dick cum hot estado de mexico Car fucking old head Mi chica adolescente tiene un orgasmo en estilo perrito y vaquera

[lalumieredujour]

Pesto di rucola fatto con rucola, olio evo, pecorino. Cuocere la pasta, scolare, aggiungere il pesto allungato con mezzo mestolo di acqua di cottura, pomodorini a crudo, stracciatella e granella di pistacchi appena tostata.

[disorder-agitation]

talking about pasta with friends and looked up shells to get the italian name and

In the 1930s, fascism celebrated the Italian colonial empire with new pasta shapes recalling the African lands: tripoline (Tripoli), bengasine (Bengasi), assabesi (Assab), and abissine (Abissinia). In 2021, after an outcry in objection to pasta brand La Molisana's advertising campaign, abissine were renamed as "conchiglie". However, some complained, claiming this renaming constituted cancel culture.

god.

il wokismo e cancel culture all'americana...

woah mama mia cunt

[laiqualaurelote]

20 or 29 for the ask meme?

20. favourite Disney Princess movie? Mulan. I know it has its problems but having that movie, as a Chinese girl who had to fight off boys nearly every day on the school bus, was a very big deal.  29. preferred pasta noodle?

Tripoline! It’s sort of like mafalde, only it’s ribbony on one side and straight on the other. I love how it picks up sauce.

weirdly specific asks

[taxevaderoftheday]

Today’s Tax PAYER Of The Day Is:

That Good Good ‘Sta. Ravioli, Macaroni, Tortellini, The Great Stromboli. If You Can Put It In Water And Boil It For A Few Minutes Then Enjoy A Wonderful Meal, Then It’s A Friend Of Ours :O

[ahwalmedia]

مبادرة Tripoline للنقل المشترك في طرابلس ومحيطها تنطلق في أولى رحلاتها

مبادرة Tripoline للنقل المشترك في طرابلس ومحيطها تنطلق في أولى رحلاتها

انطلقت أولى الرحلات على خط طرابلس – الكورة ضمن مبادرة Tripoline غير الربحية للنقل المشترك في طرابلس ومحيطها، حيث تغطي حاجة أساسية للمجتمع الطرابلسي ومحيطه، وهي حق من حقوق كل مواطن. وانطلقت الحافلة على خط طرابلس -الكورة وكانت المحطة الاولى في ساحة النور – طرابلس لتنتهي عند مستديرة بلدة عابا ، ومرت ب 15 محطة في الكورة مخصصة لصعود أو نزول الركاب وفق جدول مواعيد يتضمن 5 رحلات يومية، تنطلق أولى…

[yimra]

Oh you're Italian? Name every type of pasta

Spaghettoni

Spaghetti

Spaghettini

Fedelini

Vermicelloni

Vermicelli

Capellini

Capelli d'angelo

Barbina

Bucatini

Perciatelli

Fusilli lunghi

Fusilli bucati

Pici

Soba - そば (Japanese)

Udon - うどん (Japanese)

Cu mian - 粗麵 (Chinese)

Ziti

Zitoni

Spaghetti alla chitarra

Ciriole

Bavette

Bavettine

Fettuce

Fettuccine

Fettucelle

Lagane

Lasagne

Lasagnette

Lasagnotte

Linguettine

Linguine

Mafalde

Mafaldine

Pappardelle

Pillus

Pizzoccheri

Sagnarelli

Scialatelli or scilatielli

Stringozzi

Tagliatelle

Taglierini

Trenette

Tripoline

Shahe fen -(Chinese)

Biáng biáng noodles - Chinese

Calamarata

Calamaretti

Cannelloni

Cavatappi

Cellentani

Chifferi

Ditalini

Fideuà

Gomito

Elicoidali

Fagioloni

Fusilli

Garganelli

Gemelli

Maccheroncelli

Maltagliati

Manicotti

Marziani

Mezzani pasta

Mezze penne

Mezzi bombardoni

Mostaccioli

Paccheri

Pasta al ceppo

Penne

Penne rigate

Penne lisce

Penne zita

Pennette

Pennoni

Rigatoncini

Rigatoni

Sagne 'ncannulate

Spirali

Spiralini

Trenne

Trennette

Tortiglioni

Tuffoli

Agnolotti

Cannelloni

Casoncelli or casonsèi

Casunziei

Fagottini

Maultasche

Mezzelune

Occhi di lupo

Pelmeni

Pierogi

Ravioli

Sacchettini

Sacchettoni

Tortellini

Tortelloni

Acini di pepe

Bead-like pasta

Alfabeto

Anelli

Anellini

Couscous

Conchigliette

Corallini

Ditali

Ditalini

Egg barley

Farfalline

Fideos

Filini

Fregula

Funghini

Israeli couscous

Occhi di pernice

Orzo (also, risoni)

Pastina

Pearl Pasta

Ptitim

Quadrettini

Risi

Seme di melone

Stelle

Stelline

Stortini

Tarhana

[corallorosso]

“Negli anni Trenta l’Italia celebra la stagione del colonialismo con i nuovi formati di pasta: Tripoline, Bengasine, Assabesi e Abissine. La pasta di semola diventa elemento aggregante? Perché no!” Quello che avete appena letto non è, purtroppo, il manuale di storia del food scritto da qualche nostalgico fascista ma un estratto odierno - odierno, badate bene - dello storytelling dell’azienda produttrice di pasta “La Molisana”. “Con questa mission di qualità”, si legge ancora nell’abominevole descrizione, “produciamo ogni giorno oltre 100 referenze di pasta, divise in famiglie di prodotto. Tra queste le classiche: 60 formati di paste lunghe, corte e cortissime, tra cui le Abissine rigate 25, formato dal nome che è già storytelling. Abissine rigate. Avete letto bene. Un nome infame, un nome atroce, il tentativo di normalizzare - attraverso un fottuto formato di pasta - uno degli eccidi più truci del fascismo: oltre ottantamila morti nelle fila dell’esercito etiope; 10 vittime etiope fatte per ogni vittima italiana; l’utilizzo del gas iprite - che bruciava e disintegrava i tessuti del corpo umano penetrando attraverso gli abiti - adoperato sia contro i militari che contro la popolazione civile. Una scelta di marketing abominevole e criminale, perché recepisce - evidentemente - ciò che una parte del Paese è disposta a tollerare o cui, addirittura, ambisce. La normalizzazione, 76 anni dopo, del cancro fascista. L’operazione nostalgia di uno dei periodi più infami dell’umanità. La contronarrazione per cui “Mussolini ha fatto anche cose buone”, persino a tavola. La scelta messa in campo dall’azienda non ha nessuna - nessuna - giustificazione. Adesso hanno corretto il tiro, certo. Hanno modificato lo scempio e - da bravi balilla - dato la colpa all’agenzia pubblicitaria. Come se non fossero stati loro, in ultima istanza, ad approvare la campagna. Viviamo tempi sempre più cupi in cui avvengono cose come questa, impensabile fino a un decennio fa. Di sicuro c’è che non comprerò mai più La Molisana in vita mia e, naturalmente, vi invito a fare altrettanto. Prima di chiudere, però, vorrei dare un suggerimento non richiesto a questi produttori di pasta. Oltre alle Abissine, fate anche il formato L’Appeso. Così, per completezza di storytelling. E per ricordare a tutte e tutti come finisce quella merda di fascismo. Fabrizio Delprete

[vavuska]

Montanelli and the perpetual denying of Italian war crime

Part 1 - Introduction - LINK

Part 2 -  Italian and Colonial Law, Institutions of Marriage in the Erithrean Traditional Constumary Law - LINK

Part 3 - The truth behind the myth of Montanelli - LINK

9. A colonialist type of pasta

In the 1930s, fascism celebrated the Italian colonial empire with new pasta shapes recalling the African lands: tripoline (Tripoli), bengasine (Bengasi), assabesi (Assab), and abissine (Abissinia). Afterwards, to erase references to fascist colonialism, abissine were renamed as conchiglie (shells).

(here you can see how this pasta looks and saw how they are still in stores with the "old" fascist names: LINK)

For all my life I known this kind of pasta as "conchiglie" (shells), because they have been commercialized by Barilla s.r.l. - the main italian agri-food corporate, founded in 1877 in Parma - with this name for years and years.

Same for bengasine, I eaten them with soup as a child and we called them "farfalline" (little butterflies).

I never saw the others and apparently I can't find a safe source to identify them, so checked in Barilla web site - they have a very useful database, based on pasta's pictures - for the others:

- "tripoline" are sold by Barilla as "reginette" (little queens)

- "assabesi" are not easy to identify, but I found them reported as "birilli" in Menucci's pasta catalogue and as "gnocchi" in Barilla's short pasta catalogue, they have a quite peculiar shape, but in "Encyclopedia of Pasta" by Orietta Zanini De Vita they look totally different.

What happened?

La Molisana, popular pasta brand, decide to celebrate the season of colonialism, like Italy did in the '30, with some new pastas: tripoline, bengasine, assabesi, and abissine.

In the product we could read an abuse of linguistic historical adjectives, popularly used during fascism: “striped Abyssinians with a lictorian and colonial flavor”. It was write of a “format with a name that is already storytelling. Does semolina pasta become a unifying element? Why not! Certainly a lictorian flavor, the name of Abyssin Rigate abroad is transformed into shells, conchiglie” . And so on...

After a big shit-storm about accusation of apology for fascism, that is a crime, according to art. 4, law nr. 645/1952, but not one of the most repressed, because, people who live in Italy knows that there are a lot of people who admit publicly and whitout any consequences that they are fascist (and they are not a undergraund movement like naziskin in other countries):

Art. 4. Apologia del fascismo

Chiunque fa propaganda per la costituzione di una associazione, di un movimento o di un gruppo avente le caratteristiche e perseguente le finalità ideate nell'art. 1 [ricostituzione in qualsiasi forma del disciolto partito fascista] è punito con la reclusione da sei mesi a due anni e con la multa da lire duecentomila a lire cinquecentomila.

Alla stessa pena di cui al primo comma soggiace chi pubblicamente esalta esponenti, princìpi, fatti o metodi del fascismo, oppure le sue finalità antidemocratiche. Se il fatto riguarda idee o metodi razzisti, la pena è della reclusione da uno a tre anni e della multa da uno a due milioni di lire.

La pena è della reclusione da due a cinque anni e della multa da cinquecentomila a due milioni di lire se alcuno dei fatti previsti nei commi precedenti è commesso con il mezzo della stampa.

La condanna comporta la privazione dei diritti previsti nell'art. 28, comma secondo, numeri 1 e 2, del codice penale, per usi periodo di cinque anni.

A short story of La Molisana company:

La Molisana S.p.a. was founded in Campobasso as an artisan workshop of the Carlone family in 1912, but it became a leader in the pasta sector within a few decades.

La Molisana won Gold Medal and Grand Palm of Honor in 1927 at the Rome Trade Fair for the production of excellent pasta.

At the turn of the new millennium, the company went through a period of crisis that led it to bankruptcy in July 2004. The company was entrusted to the Maione Group of Naples which rented it, initially for three years and later extended, with the intention to take over control, but in April 2009 the contract is terminated.

The crisis was resolved in 2011 when the company was acquired by the Ferro from Campobasso family for 20 million euros. Ferro are a family originally from Frattamaggiore in Campania, and moved to Campobasso in April 1943 where the Molino di Corso Bucci opens, destroyed in the Second World War and stopped it's activity for three years.

All this seems even more controversial considering that the Ferro family, now owner of the La Molisana pasta factory, has been severely affected by fascism. As Michele Petraroia of Anpi Molise explained to Ansa, the Nazi-Fascists, withdrawing from Campobasso, destroyed the company and in the postwar period, and the progenitor of the Ferro family participated in the signing of the Festa de L'Unità.

After this shit-storm, La Molisana admitted to be wrong and is preparing to change names to their pasta. Has Barilla already did at least twenty years ago.

As always, Italian journalists claimed that La Molisana S.p.a. was victim of “politically correct dictatorship”, because of in Italy we still can't talk honestly about colonialism without falling in the myth of “civilization of Africa” by Europeans.

Here an exemple taken from the journal Il Foglio (LINK).

Also "Gambero Rosso", one of the most famous food and wine multimedial company, wrote about this matter, but it's not a honest food story, just a quite paranoid free-thoughts against "politically correct" that didn't make any sense. (LINK)

Here, we have several issue: the world “eurocentrism” used with a positive connection, the myth of civilization and the victimism about unfair cancel culture on Facebook. Ok. Thank you.

Issue nr. 1 - So called Fiano law has never been approved, in fact has shelved after the approval of the Chamber of Deputy and never been examined by the Senate.

On the same day in which the Senate does not reach the numbers necessary to carry out the law on the so-called Ius soli (reform on citizenship which aims to introduce automatic citizenship for anyone born on Italian territory and no longer only for the children and descendants of Italians, the so-called ius sanguinis), the law introducing the crime of "propaganda of the fascist regime", the so-called Fiano law proposal, passes with 261 votes.

This bill aimed at introducing into the penal code, among crimes against the State Safety, art. 293-bis, which should have punished with imprisonment from 6 months to 2 years - unless the fact constituted a more serious crime - the propaganda of the fascist regime e Nazi-fascist.

The Fiano law was proposed by the PD (Democratical Party) during a summer characterized by several media cases, such as the fascist beach of Chioggia, on the display of symbols linked to Benito Mussolini and the Nazi-fascist regimes, and after the success of Casapound (extreme right party/movement of clearly fascists inspiration, because has been named after Ezra Pound, poet, fascist collaborationist and admirer of Hitler and Mussolini) in the administrative elections of 2017. The feared "black wave" had inspired a law which, however, after the rapid passage to the Chamber of Deputies was, as often happens, shelved in the Senate of the Republic.

The Fiano law project, very simple and consisting of a single article, would have affected the Nazi-fascist propaganda ranging from objects dedicated to Benito Mussolini and Adolf Hitler to fake news on Facebook, but has never been approved, so no one could be punish by Fiano law proposal because it was just a proposal and not an actual law.

This is a proof of how ignorant is this guy.

Issue nr. 2 - Fascism during it's colonial program really tried to delete culture.

Fascism in Italy tried to delete my culture. From the fire of the Hotel Balkan in 1921, when a mad crowd (during a fascist demonstration in Trieste) assaulted the Hotel, that was the main site of Narodni Dom, a cultural Slovenian association in Trieste, and set it in fire, to all the laws purposely made to refuse to Slovenian, German and Croatian minorities to speak their language and learn it in schools. Fascism also removed Croatian, Slovenian and German minorities from their public offices and gave them to Italian people, changed names to people and places, created concentration camps in Jugoslavia in clear purpose of deleting minorities' culture and history.

I won't wrote about this matters, because this would be dispersive to the main point of this post, so I will concentrate of the main symbol of Fascism appropriation of other cultures: the Obelix of Axum.

Rome has a long history of stealing Obelix from other countries, expecially from Egypt, but this one comes from Ethiopia.

At the end of 1935, following the Italian occupation, Italian soldiers found King Ezana's obelisk of Axum fallen, broken in three sections, and semi-underground, having been toppled during a 16th century Muslim rebellion. The stele was one of about fifty obelisks in the city of Axum at the time of the discovery. In 1937, it was taken as war booty and moved to Italy. The monolith stele was cut into five pieces and transported by truck along the tortuous route between Axum and the port of Massawa, taking five trips over a period of two months. The weight of the fragments pushed the limits of military vehicles and makeshift roads and bridges built by the Italians. It arrived via ship in Naples (on a ship called Adwa), on March 27. It was then transported to Rome, where it was restored with metal rods embedded in concrete, reassembled and erected on Porta Capena square in front of the Ministry for Italian Africa (later the headquarters of the United Nations's Food and Agriculture Organization) and the Circus Maximus. It was officially unveiled on October 28, 1937 to commemorate the fifteenth anniversary of the March on Rome

After years of pressure from the Ethiopians, Italy agreed in 2002 to return the 1,700-year-old monument.

Its return ends a dispute that has raged since 1947, when Italy signed a pledge to the United Nations to give back all the property plundered from Ethiopia.

As the obelisk was unloaded, Giorgio Croci, professor of engineering for ancient monuments at the University of Rome, said: "Inevitably this could open the floodgates. This is a part of the Ethiopian culture and history and we realise how important it is to this country and its people."

The restoration made it difficult to disassemble, but the obelisk was dismantled at the end of 2003 from where it stood near the Circus Maximus in central Rome.

Ethiopia has turned down an Italian offer to build schools or hospitals in a trade-off for the obelisk. Foreign Minister Seyoum Mesfin said the obelisk was 'of paramount importance... it is our identity, it is part of us'.

The 15,000 residents of Axum have signed a petition calling for the return of the monument. The authorities plan a national holiday for the day it returns. But it remains unclear when that will be.

Shipping the obelisk back, along the path it took more than 60 years ago, is no longer an easy option - Ethiopia has been landlocked since 1993 when Eritrea declared independence. And the only airstrip big enough for the plane required is at the capital, Addis Ababa, more than 100 miles from Axum. Ethiopia's dusty roads and tracks are hardly fit for the transport of heavy loads. The runway at Axum airport was then upgraded specifically to facilitate the return of the stele and on 19, 22 and 25 April 2005 the thee pieces of the Obelix were finally arrived in Ethiopia.

The operation cost Italy $7.7 million. The stele remained in storage while Ethiopia decided how to reconstruct it without disturbing other ancient treasures still in the area (especially King Ezana's Stele). By March 2007 the foundation had been poured for the re-erection of the stele near King Ezana's Stele, structurally consolidated in this occasion. Reassembly began in June 2008, with a team chosen by UNESCO and led by Giorgio Croci, and the monument was re-erected in its original home and unveiled on 4 September 2008.

The Obelisk at Axum in 1805

Issue nr. 3 - What means “eurocentrism” and “civilization”?

The term 'Eurocentrism' denotes a world-view which, implicitly or explicitly, posits European history and values as “normal” and superior to others, thereby helping to produce and justify Europe's dominant position within the global capitalist world system. At the heart of Eurocentrism lies a binary way of thinking which constructs a white, progressive, modern and civilised European identity and juxtaposes it to a black/indigenous, underdeveloped, traditional and barbarian Other in the colonies.

Now, try to imagine something more eurocentric than using "eurocentrism" as a positive value in a sentence. This happen because the journalist missed totally the point of what eurocentrism means.

Cambridge dictionary gives a definition of civilization as “human society with its well developed social organizations, or the culture and way of life of a society or country at a particular period in time.”

African people had well-developed social organizations, so they can't be "civilized" because they already had civilizations, complex human societies that have certain characteristics of cultural and technological development different from Europeans, but this never meant they were less civilized than Europeans colonizers. You would consider a certain population "uncivilized", only because you see them with the eyeglass of your own Eurocentric mentality on.

So, this journalist have the same way of thinking of dead and racist colonizers. In 2020.

5 - The false myth of Italian "good-hearted" Colonialism and Italian Society Nowdays

Italian Prime Minister Giuseppe Conte on 11th October 2018 visited Ethipia and Eritrea to support peace and renovated commercial and diplomatical relationship between the two countries. Italy still plays a significant - arguably neocolonial - role in Ethiopian economic development. Still, reporting on official visit obfusctes significat issues, such as the ongoing refugee crisis, and the current media reports makes no reference to dealing with Italy's colonial past, instead referring to the relationship between the countries as "long-standing". Italy present itself as the purveyor and supporter of peace in a oblique way of hiding the truth of it's past aggression: in the word of Ethiopian writer Igiaba Scego, Italian colonialism remains a "wound that has not healed, a wound poorly stitched up, a memory erased".

("Neocolonialism and Built Heritage: Echoes of Empire in Africa, Asia, and Europe", Daniel E. Coslett)

How Italy arrived in Africa is known history. Giuseppe Sapeto, priest, explorer and spy bought the Bay of Assab for the Rubattino company which sold it to the Kingdom of Italy in 1884. The following year the first Italian contingent landed undisturbed in Massaua thanks to the British intercession. Without the knowledge of the place and the means necessary for the company - an enterprise strongly desired by the monarchy, the shipowners and the colonial circles - the Italian authorities established the new order by means of summary trials, extraordinary incarcerations, deportations and executions.

Although defeated in the battle of Dogali by the Ethiopian neighbors, the Italians expanded their control in the region and officially constituted the Eritrean colony. The governors Orero, Gandolfi and Baldissera continued the repressive work against the civilian population. The last of the three declared that "Abyssinia has to be ours, because such is the fate of the lower races; the blacks gradually disappear, and we must bring civilization to Africa not for the Abyssinians but for us ".

The methods used against the Eritreans were so violent that eventually a parliamentary commission of inquiry was born, promptly boycotted by the monarchy. Although the allegations were documented - the memorial of the carabinieri lieutenant Livraghi was reported in the newspapers that reported the massacre of 800 colonial soldiers first hired by the army and then liquidated because they were considered unreliable - in the end the process was resolved in favor of the suspects.

And so in Eritrea the violence continued inside and outside the 7 prisons wanted by the colonizers. The worst of these was the one located on the island of Nocra. Despite the torrid climate, it even reached 50 ° C, the internees, who worked in stone quarries and slept in tents, received rationed doses of stagnant water. Captain Finzi of the navy described them as follows: “The prisoners, covered with sores and insects, slowly die of hunger, scurvy, other diseases. Not a doctor to cure them, 30 cents for their livelihood, ischeletrites, filthy, largely have lost the use of reduced legs as they are constantly living chained on the plank one meter high from the ground.” The escape attempts were punished with shooting.

Thousands of people passed through Nocra. Initially ordinary prisoners, then all those who opposed the Italian domination in the Horn of Africa: the Eritrean anti-occupation elite, the Negus officials after the conquest of Ethiopia, even the monks of Debra Libanos who survived the fury Murderer of Graziani was interned there.

The camp remained active until the Italian capitulation in East Africa in 1941.

This summer has been finally released Silvia Romano, who returned in Italy wearing a jilbab because she decided to convert to Islam with the name of Aisha during her prisony in Somalia. Aisha Romana was an international cooperator and she was kidnapped on November 2018 in the village of Chakama, in South of Kenya.

She has been prisoner since that date and during her prisony she was transferred in Somalia, another former Italian colony. Her she learned Arabic and only book she was allowed to have to spend her time was the Qur'an.

A typical racist claim I have heard is always: "help them in their homes", meaning that western people must help African people not welcoming in Europe migrants, fleeing from wars caused by western powers, but helping them in Africa. Well, Aisha Romano did it and has been insulted in a lot of ways.

Since her return in Italy she has been accused to a lot of false claims: marry her kidnapper, being pregnant of her kidnapper, having planned a fraud with his lover (and kidnapper) to have ransom money from Italian Government and live togheter in lust. All this accusation made me thought of what happened to Italian colonials soldier made prisoner after Adua Defeat, because sources reported to be treated very well by Ethiopian people.

On 1 March 1896 in Adua, Ethiopia, the colonial army of the Kingdom of Italy undergoes a colossal by the negus Menelik II.

Defeat was predictable. The Italian army - thanks to the short-sighted nationalist government of Francesco Crispi - was thrown into turmoil by a depressed commander (General Oreste Baratieri) and equipped with less resistant forces (20,000 armed men against 120,000 by Emperor Menelik). Thus 289 officers and 4,000 soldiers remained on the ground, as well as 1,000 ascari, Eritrean soldiers enrolled in the army of the Kingdom of Italy.

The toll was 5500 fallen Italians, 1000 Eritrean askari, thousands of wounded, including many indigenous Italians whose right hand and left foot were cut off; finally 2,000 prisoners were made that Italy had to redeem for the incalculable sum of 10,000,000 gold lire of the time.

Result: Prime Minister Francesco Crispi was forced to resign and the African ambitions of the Kingdom of Italy had to be limited to Eritrea, only to re-emerge with the war in Libya (1911-1912). As for the Italian prisoners, their memoirs confirm the very humane treatment they received in those months, after a long transfer march: the officers were treated like local nobles, while the ordinary soldiers acted as waiters for them. Many eventually succeeded in imposing themselves on their kidnappers and had close relationships with local women. Menelik even offered the officers a farewell lunch. All were released within a year after the peace treaty.

As always in Italian history, there was very little understanding for the losers.

The Italian prisoners of Adua who were then "bought" by the King of Italy for a weight of gold long after the battle, were landed in Naples at night so that they could not see them, hooded with uniforms taken at random (grenadiers' trousers and the jacket of the genius) and sent home with a small sum, so that they would be silent, so as not to be seen. So here, we saw the lack of national identity, the sense of being a community that is now been evident in Aisha Romano's case: people never forgive who wants generously want to help African people as they didn't want to forgive who lost a war of invasion in Africa. Only in the battle of Adua more Italians died than in all three wars of independence. Unfortunately, the "dream" to become a colonial power never died with them.

On 3 October 1935 the Second Italo-Abyssinian War (also referred to as the Second Italo-Ethiopian War) began when Italian forces crossed into the territory of present-day Ethiopia (also referred to as the Ethiopian Empire or Abyssinia). Tensions between the countries dated to at least 1887, when Italy first invaded Ethiopia. The second war was expected and tensions had been growing since the December 1934 Wal Wal incident in which Ethiopian and Italian soldiers clashed at a fort constructed by Italy at an oasis at Wal Wal.

The fort was on Ethiopian territory and Italy, in constructing it, meant to provoke a border demarcation dispute between Ethiopia and Italian Somaliland.

The war is also remembered for Italy's successful use of chemical weapons,primarily the blister agent sulphur mustard, that was banished from the Geneve Convention of 1925.

The use of sulphur mustard was particularly effective because the Ethiopian soldiers wore traditional light desert garb that exposed the skin. In addition, Ethiopian soldiers typically wore sandals or were barefoot.

Chemical weapons do not appear to have been used in the war until Ethiopia launched its ‘Christmas offensive’ of 1935, which blunted an Italian offensive and succeeded in temporarily cutting off some communication and supply lines. In December 1935 Italian aircraft dropped tear gas grenades and asphyxiating gas over the Takkaze Valley in north-eastern Ethiopia. Italy controlled the air and initially dropped sulphur mustard air bombs but later shifted to the use of aerial spray tanks.

Sulphur mustard air bombs reportedly caused most of the chemical weapon casualties. The use of sulphur mustard played an important role in shifting the momentum of fighting in favour of the Italian forces and in demoralizing the Ethiopian forces. Its use resulted in many long-lasting, painful injuries and in a significant number of deaths.

Italy also used chemical weapons in the Battle of Shire (29 February–2 March 1936), the Battle of Maychew (31 March 1936) and in attacks on the remnants of Ethiopian forces in the Lake Ashangi region starting in April. The last reported use of chemical weapons by Italy was in April 1936. That month the Ethiopian Government also provided a list of towns it said had been attacked with chemical weapons.

Italy’s use of chemical weapons had a strategic effect on the conduct of the war and, as operations progressed, Italian forces were able to deliver large quantities of sulphur mustard against target areas. Chemical weapons were used to protect the flanks of Italian supply routes and lines of attack and as a ‘force multiplier’ to increase disruption in the Ethiopian forces by hindering communication, demoralizing troops and confusing troop movements.

Soviet estimate states that 15 000 of the 50 000 Ethiopian casualties in the war were caused by chemical weapons.

(SIPRI Arms Control and Non-proliferation Programmme, October 2009, "The use of chemical weapons in the 1935–36 Italo-Ethiopian War" by Lina Grip and John Hart)

10. War Crimes Committed Against African Women by Italian Colonizers

Fourth Geneva Convention (1949) recognize that widespread forms of sexual violence purposefully inflicted by military forces upon civilians, expecially when they are part of a minority, as war crimes. Explicitly the Conventions refers to "rape, enforced prostitution, or any form of indecent assault."

In this war scenario, one of the aspects on which it is more difficult to find information is the violence suffered by African women, despite having appeared in recent years some precious works that focus, from a gender perspective, on the condition women in Africa occupied by Italians (Barrera, 1996, 2002; Poidimani, 2006; Sòrgoni, 1998, 2001; Stefani, 2007). These works mainly analyze two sides: the representation of women in the cultural imaginary of Italians e sexual relations between African women and Italian colonizers.

Regarding the first aspect, the studies emphasize that Italians, at least until the time of the conquest of Ethiopia, were in line with the “Porno-tropics tradition” (McClintock, 1995), based on the metaphor of Black Venus, which reduced the image of the African woman to mere dimensions of exoticism and eroticism. The black woman was recognized only on her sexual dimension. A sort of "colonial harem" ensued (Alloula, 1986;see also Gautier, 2003) which had the function of making ai desirable Italian workers transfer to the colonies.

After the foundation of the empire,when the emphasis was placed on the fight against hybridisation, the regime muted this depiction. The image of the black Venus was replaced by representations of an ethnographic type, which highlighted physical traits considered a sign of inferiority, in order to reaffirm the "natural" superiority of Europeans and the legitimacy of their colonization.

As for the second aspect - sexual relations between African women and Italian colonizers - since the pioneering work of Gabriella Campassi (1983), in which possession of the body of the subjects of the colonies was interpreted as metaphor of territorial possession, the studies have devoted a lot of space to relationships di madamato (“temporary, but not occasional, relationship between a citizen and a indigenous subject ”, Sòrgoni, 1998, p. 74), which characterize the entire first phase of the Italian occupation, until the abrupt break made by fascist politics in concomitance with the proclamation of the empire. From that moment they came implemented a series of legal arrangements aimed at controlling the behavior of Italians and "subjects" to reaffirm the prestige of whites.

Marital and extra-marital relations between different "races" were prohibited, prohibited the legitimacy and adoption of children born from the union of "citizens" with "subjects", established a widespread racial segregation. The "mestizos" were driven back into the indigenous communities and any institutions previously created for their assistance was outlawed. The aim of these measures was the desire to strengthen the pyramid ethnic and not to allow, within it, any "gray area", to guarantee the "Italian race" a prominent place among the colonizers.

Other information can be found in the works of Sòrgoni (1998) and Barrera (1996), who reviewed the sentences issued by the Addis Ababa's Courts. Sòrgoni (1998) analyzes, for example, two rape trials. In the first - "Violent rape" - the victim, Desta Basià Ailù, is a nine-year-old girl, segregated against her will, for several days, in the accused's home.

The latter is tried for rape, not kidnapping, e obtains the extenuating circumstances on the basis that it was an abandoned child and therefore, according to an Italian translation of Fetha Negast, a text that contained i Abyssinian criminal customs, it could be taken into the house by anyone. The second case it concerns the rape of a thirteen-year-old girl, Lomi, who also had denounced having been, after the violence, tied up "for punishment". The accused was in the first instance acquitted because the judges declared that at thirteen an Abyssinian was "the age of sexual development". He was later convicted by the Court of Appeal for not having behaved according to the dictates of the civilizing mission of the superior race.

Analyzing the letters of expulsion of Italians from the colonies for behavior unworthy (scams, thefts, beatings, murders often committed for futile reasons), Barrera (2002) found some who report sexual harassment, mixed with pressure and threats aimed at the families of the victims. Always Barrera (1996) refers to some trials in which the Italian defendants had been reported for having beaten African women with whom they had a relationship. In one of the cases, the accused was acquitted of madamato's charge, because the violence committed proved proved the existence of an emotional relationship.

In the period following the enactment of the racial laws and the consequent prohibition of any relationship of a marital nature between Italians and "indigenous", there was one resurgence of acts of violence. According to Barrera (2002), oral sources and Archival records reveal a considerable increase in rape and harassment sexual during the conquest of Ethiopia, acts that did not cease with the end of hostility, but continued into the following period. Also Maria Messina, an Italoeritrea born in Asmara in 1917, interviewed by Barrera (1996), testifies a increase in harassment and rape after the conquest, attributing it to the arrival blackshirts, much more violent than the "old colonials". Ladislav Sava, a Hungarian doctor who was in Addis Ababa at the time of the occupation Italian, he told the London weekly New Times & Ethiopia in 1940 News, directed by Sylvia Pankhurst, to have personally witnessed the “Deportation of Ethiopian women to homes forcibly converted by the Italian military in brothels ".

Other testimonies have recently been published by Stefani (2007, p. 137), which, citing the diary of an officer, Mario La Sorsa, recounts the attack carried out by two Italian soldiers against an indigenous woman and the wounding of husband, who rushed to her defense. Rivello (2006), on the other hand, reports a sentence, issued by the First Army Military War Tribunal in February 1943, which he condemned some Italian soldiers for a manhunt against the inhabitants of a Tunisian country, Kisbet al Medionni. Two drunken Italian soldiers had entered private homes to rape the women who were there. Blocked by the Arabs, unarmed, they returned shortly afterwards with dozens of fellow soldiers shooting and killing the locals. ("Violence against women in the Italian colonies. Psychosocial perspectives of analysis" by Chiara Volpato)

("Mussolini's colonial race laws and state-settler relations in Africa Orientale Italiana (1935-41)"by Giulia Barrera)

("Italy's Margins: Social Exclusion and Nation Formation since 1861" , by David Forgacs)

("Dangerous Liaisons: Colonial Concubinage in Eritrea (1890-1941)" by Giulia Barrera)

("Etnografia e colonialismo. L'Eritrea e l'Etiopia di Alberto Pollera 1873-1939" by Sorgoni Barbara)

("Parole e corpi. Antropologia, discorso giuridico e politiche sessuali interrazziali nella colonia Eritrea (1890-1941)" by Barbara Sòrgoni)

("Colonia per maschi. Italiani in Africa Orientale: Una storia di genere" by Giulietta Stefani)

("Il ruolo della magistratura militare" , in "Crimini di guerra. Il mito del bravo italiano tra repressione del ribellismo e guerra ai civili nei territori occupati" by Pier Paolo Rivello)

Conclusion

There is not a "good" side of colonialism and we need to stop talking about who is more criminal than others: this actually leads to free rapers, war criminals and racists from responsibility and create a situation where everyone tries to palm off responsibility on the historical context and the overcoming power of Nazi Germany on it's allies.

We already saw this last year, when a lot of white italian journalists started to defend Montanelli and all the historical period of violence against poeple who lived in the colony, without making a real condamn on what happened.

Let's start to talk to children about the atrocities and war crimes committed by Italians, this is the only kind of context we need to understand that every try to defend Montanelli and La Molisana pastas is standing on defence to colonialism, fascism, racism, war crimes and sexual violence against black women.

We must stop defending criminals, when a minority is the victim, and begin to punish the crime. Saying that Montanelli was "son of his age"(the statue was built in 2006) because in Africa was / is normal to rape children or young girls, and that some pasta's name are completely neutral historical testimonials to a very positive moment of both Italian and Abyssinian hystory, means defending the oppression of the white people on black people. Montanelli and all those white journalists are a part of a special boys club that loves to tell minorities what is racist and what is not, basing the valutation on eurocentrical criteria made up by themselves. For example, they are the one who decide what is a war crime or not: Italian fascists never been under trial for their crimes, even if the Chart of Nuremberg of 1945 opened this possibility, by their intend to persecute and punish every war crime, crime against peace and crimes against humanity committed by European Axis.

Obviously, recognizing the violence committed by Italians against African people would be very damaging for United Kingdom, France and other colonizer powers. Again, life of African are less important than European ones.

That special boy club loves also to control black women bodies and applies a double standard of valuations on sexual violece: raping a 12 years old white child is not the same as raping a black child of the same age, said Montanelli. Why? Because a black girl is not equal to a white girl. The white girl has an higher value.

This is racism, boys. White guys loves to tell black women what is rape and what is not, basing the valutation on skin color and not on the law. And all the other white guys around agrees. Except, the only italo-erithrean woman on the audice, Elvira Banotti.

But, yes, the journalist of Il Foglio continued to spread his Eurocentrical vision of history and said that African should be grate to Italian for stopping slave trades, without thinking that Italians colonizers didn't built street for African poeple or because they were good-hearted, they did it for themselves. Mostly for moving better troupes on the territory.

Also, this ignorant guy accused Italians who protested for La Molisana pastas to be not respectful of Italian History. How could someone be respectful of an history of invasion and colonization in Ethiopia, Eritrea, Somalia and Libya? How could we respect the use of nerve gas on civilian populations, bombings, mass rape, massacres, enslavement of girls and boys, child brides purchased by families, theft of artistic and monumental goods, resources and lands?

Unfortunately, we are not ready for a honest discussion about this details of our history.

I hope that someone must start an honest discussion about colonialism, because we lost this opportunity when Indro Montanelli statue has been vandalized: some people wanted to remove it, but I think It must be modified into a positive message against racism, colonialism and fascism not only against terrorism. Maybe the authorities would have to keep it as it looked after the vandism of some months ago, with red paint on it and a little children in his arms. It would look like postmodern art and will have a story behind: the story of citizens who opposed to a racist, misogynist society and against that kind of people who continue to hide italian war crimes.

[clockwork-sunshine]

Pasta Shapes Correspondences

I love to make meals with pasta and sometimes it can be good to slip your intention in with the very shape of your pasta pieces and not just the toppings.  Here is my list of personal correspondences and uses, feel free to use them!

Acini di pepe- This is pasta in tight tiny balls- For temporary spells

Agnolotti- Little pasta parcels- Gifts, money

Alphabet pasta- This is pasta that is in the form of letters- Writing, studying, research

Anelli- This is pasta in the shape of small rings- Bonding, relationships/friendships

Calamarata- This pasta resembles squid rings- Good for hiding/invisibility glamours

Campanelle/Gigli- This pasta is in the shape of a frilly flower- Relaxation, tranquility, peace

Casarecce- The name of this pasta is from the Italian word for ‘homemade’- Family, warmth, hearth magic

Conchigle- This pasta is made in the shape of a shell- Communication, sea magic, water magic

Crest di galli- Pasta shaped a bit like the pipette but had a frilly edge like tripoline on top. I had it a lot when I was very young and I think looks like the Loch Ness monster- Imagination, creativity

Elbow Macaroni- I think this pasta looks like rainbows- Welcoming, affection, bonding, comfort, hope

Farfalle/Farfalline/Corbatta- This pasta is in the shape of butterflies- Transformation, renewal, changes

Fusilli/Cavatappi/Rotini- This pasta looks like a corkscrew- Celebrations, festivals and holidays

Gemelli- Means ‘twins’ in Italian but many think it looks like a unicorn’s horn- Good for fae work

Lanterne- Though the name means ‘lantern’, I think they look like waves- Sea magic, turbulance, change

Lasagna- Flat sheet like pasta- Protection, safety

Linguine/Fettuccine/Pappardelle- These are all flat, ribbon-like pasta shapes- Beauty, self love and acceptance

Maltagliati- Meaning ‘badly cut’ as it is made from scrap and left over pasta- Resourcefulness, creativity, adaptivity

Mezza Luna- This pasta is shaped like crescent or half-moons and is stuffed with meats or vegetables- Lunar magic, celebrating points of the lunar cycle

Nuvole- This pasta is shaped like little clouds- Good for weather magic

Orecchiette- This shape is named after ears- Communication, understanding, listening

Penne- The name of this pasta means ‘pen’ in Italian- Writing, long distance relationships/friendships

Pipe/Pipette/Lumache- These all look like closed ended pipes or snail shells- Good for slow acting but stubborn spells

Radiatori- This pasta is named after radiators!- Warmth, affection, friendships

Ravioli- Little pillows stuffed with meat, cheese or vegetables- Dreaming, rest, good sleep

Rigatoni- Wide and ridged tubes- Memory, retaining information

Rotelle/Ruote- This pasta is shaped like wheels- Safe travel, exploration

Spaghetti/Angel Hair/Bucatini/Vermicelli- Thin lengths of pasta- For long-lasting spells

Spighe- This pasta looks like an ear of cereal- Harvest, fertility, plenty, money

Sorprese- Meaning ‘surprise’ in Italian due to not having filling and they resemble fortune cookies too- Luck

Stelle- Often given to children and are shaped like stars- Adventure, discovery, finding spells

Tagliatelle- Little nests of flat ribbon pasta- Hearth magic, family, affection

Tortellini- Little stuffed rings of pasta- Bonding, relationships/friendships

Tripoline/Mafalda- Both are frilly edged long pastas, but tripoline only has one frilled side and they look like jellyfish tentacles- Good for curses, banishing

Trofie- Twisted up pasta- Reliving stress, relaxation

Vesuvio- This twirled pasta has a flattened and domed end and is named after Mount Vesuvius- Destruction, power, good for curses

Ziti/Tubini- Smooth sided tubes- Forgetting, fading, disappearing

This list is not for every single pasta type, just types I have came across and have used and think I will use/make in the future. Please, if you have an interesting pasta shape, add it on!

[nipresa]

Analisi logica 101: “di sicuro sapore littorio” è il nome della pasta.

Poteva essere scritto meglio? Certo.

Ma la prima polemica dell’anno è sconfortante

[cards-onthetable]

the strangest autumn

Note: This fluffy little Joble oneshot is meant to be read in the context of @ontherockswithsalt‘s penthouse universe. the names Cavatappi (Cav) and Tripoline (Trip) are hypothetical pasta placeholders in this hypothetical future scenario in which everything is hypothetical and nothing is real okay? Okay.

***

“Ughhh, when are we gonna be there?”

In the passenger seat, Noble suppresses a laugh at our five-year-old’s dramatic groan, leaving me to glance at Cav’s eyes in the rear view mirror and answer him. “We were in the car a lot longer yesterday and you didn’t complain once.”

“You said this was gonna be short!” He counters.

“It is! We’re like… ten minutes away.”

“Ten minutes is looooong!”

“Look out the window and tell us when you see the pumpkin signs,” Noble suggests. “That means we’re really close.”

“This thing better be worth the hype,” I mutter, low so the boys can't hear.

“It’ll be great once we actually—“

A loud wail from our three-year-old’s car seat cuts him off. “Hey, leave your brother alone,” I warn. 

“Every trip we take, you’re all negative about it until we get there and you have a great time,” Noble tells me. “Just relax and have fun, okay?”

“Not every trip we take--”

“Yeah, pretty much. You’re always too worried about having everything be perfect. But it doesn’t have to be perfect, it just has to be us.” His arm nudges mine on the center console. “The boys will have fun, we’ll have fun, we’ll be exhausted by the time we get home, it’s all part of the experience.”

“Well the experience of everything changing at the last minute is not my favorite.”

“Oh so you’d rather hang out with Ben and Scott than be alone with your own husband—“ he teases.

The mention of our friends catches Cav’s attention and he excitedly pipes up, “Is Cleo gonna be there?”

“Nice work,” I tell Noble as he explains again, “No buddy, remember? Cleo is sick so she had to stay home.”

I think that’s what has me on edge this weekend. Scott’s the one who did the heavy lifting as far as planning this little weekend getaway. He and Ben brought their daughter Cleo to this fall festival last year, back when Noble and I were just starting the process to become foster parents, and I’m pretty sure this damn trip was like, their number one priority the second Cav and Trip moved in with Noble and me. Seriously, Scott booked the Airbnb back in March.

So I couldn’t help but feel a little anxious about having to suddenly do all my own research when Scott and Ben bowed out because of Cleo’s strep throat. I was all ready to postpone until next weekend, or maybe cancel altogether. But they, and Noble, insisted we stick to our plans. They’re even still covering their half of the cabin. So I didn’t have much choice.

“I see the pumpkin sign!” Cav shouts a few minutes later, and sure enough a giant, bright orange wooden pumpkin alerts us that the Parker Farm Fall Festival is one mile ahead.

“Are you excited?” I ask, an appropriate amount of conjured enthusiasm in my voice.

Both boys shout proof back at me.

“Trip, are you gonna pick out a pumpkin?” Cav says. “Your very own pumpkin?”

“I want a pumpkin!” Trip replies.

“Well guess what, Papa said we both get to pick out a pumpkin!”

Cav’s habit of speaking to his little brother like that—like Trip is still a little baby who doesn’t understand anything that’s going on, like it’s Cav’s job to explain it—usually gets on my nerves but I manage to ignore it as I roll past bored teenage attendants who direct me to the next open spot in the field full of parked cars.

“We’re here!” Noble announces. “Be careful boys, we’re in a parking lot…”

Stepping out into the crisp morning air, a deep cleansing breath helps to ease that lingering tension in my gut. In my frantic, last minute research of this fall festival, I read about all the events and activities to make a mental list of everything I thought we’d all enjoy. But I know Noble’s right, I need to relax and let the day unfold organically.

It’s not about checking boxes and rushing from place to place to cover every activity that caught my eye. Hell, Cav and Trip would probably be thrilled to spend the entire damn day on the moonbounces. It’ll be a fun, memorable weekend even if we don’t make it to every single attraction.

“Is there snacks here? Can we get popcorn?” Cav chatters across the parking lot. “Can we get a pumpkin that weighs a million pounds? Are we gonna see the inside? The slimy stuff…?”

“Snacks, yes. Popcorn, we’ll see. Million pound pumpkin, only if Papa carries it to the car,” I reply.

“Nuh-uh,” Noble tells him. “I’m the brains of this operation. Daddy’s the brawn.”

“What’s brawn?”

“Brawn means big, strong muscles.”

“I have big strong muscles!” Cav brings his fists up in a flex, nearly whacking the woman in front of us in line. “I’m the brawn.”

“Hey, son, watch out for other people,” Noble warns.

“Are you going to carry a million pound pumpkin to the car?” I ask Cav.

“I carry the pumpkin!” Trip insists.

“You’ll both get to carry a pumpkin.”

“Next in line?”

Noble and I usher the boys to the painted plywood booth. “Two adults and two kids,” Noble says.

“He’s three, is he free?” I wonder, swinging Trip up onto my hip.

“Sorry, just two and under. Do you want one-day admission or weekend passes? That includes the hot air balloon launch tomorrow.”

“We’ll do the whole weekend.”

While Noble pays, I manage to get green paper wristbands onto both boys and myself. Then we emerge from the gateway into the wide, dead grass expanse of the pumpkin patch.

“Whoa it’s a—!”

Cav is already barreling forward as I turn to Noble, his face a reflection of my own caught somewhere between amusement and shock. “Did he just—?”

“What did you say, Cav?” I call.

“It’s a bitch! Dad! Take a picture!”

“It’s a witch,” I insist. “A witch is… a magical woman. Bitch is not a nice word. We don’t ever say that, okay?”

I’m sure he’s not listening to me as he poses next to the wooden board painted with a cartoon witch, cat, and frog with open ovals where their faces should be. “No buddy, you have to go behind it and put your face in the hole…” I try to explain.

“Cav, Cav. Come here.” Noble tugs him by the arm and they disappear around the back of the photo prop with Trip. A second later their heads appear in the face holes and I snap a couple of quick pictures.

“I wanna see!” Trip shouts, while behind him Cav takes off in some other direction. Noble catches my eye with a happy, goofball smirk before chasing after him and I can’t help the little laugh that escapes me.

The kids’ enthusiasm is contagious and Noble and I just follow their lead. Within the first hour we hit up a moonbounce, climb on a display tractor and a huge pile of hay bales, take a detour to the line of port-o-potties, and convince the boys to ride down the giant homemade hill slides on our laps. And they don’t let us pass any of those painted photo-op boards without stopping for more pictures.

It’s been hard, parenting Cav and Trip, in ways we didn’t quite expect. Adding two preschoolers to our family certainly took some adjustment but we were pretty well prepared for those challenges, at least as much as first-time parents can be. The part that nobody warned us about was the inevitable drama of foster care — the constant scrutiny, the arbitrary demands, the frustration of sharing kids who feel like ours with another parent whose questionable decisions drag them, and us, down all kinds of unpredictable roads.

But here, away from the relentless bustle of the city, all that feels far away — almost like a whole different life. Here it’s just us, a normal family having normal fun, nobody looking over our shoulders. Standing next to my husband, who looks all casual and innocent in jeans and a thick, dark orange cardigan like he doesn’t know what he does to me. Watching our kids squeal in delight, free and uncontained and totally fascinated by the open space and the fresh air and the pit filled with dried corn kernels that will surely find their way back to our house like a thousand unwanted souvenirs.

No obligations, no real agenda — a strange feeling, entirely unfamiliar. Just this warm, overwhelming affection blooming in my chest against the chilly air as our younger son clambers back to us from across the corn kernel sandbox.

“Daddy! I wanna ride the train!” Trip announces, pointing at the tractor dragging a chain of little orange cars behind it.

I agree easily. “Alright, let’s go ride the train. Cav!”

“No, not the train!” Cav whines. “I want to do the big one with the big tractor where there’s ghosts!”

“We’ll do that too, the big hayride. After this, though, come on.”

Noble turns to me a moment later, a knowing grin on his face as the boys rumble away on the train. “Having fun yet?”

“I suppose,” I offer my easy answer as I try for another picture of the train.

His teasing elbow digs into my side. “Give me a break, you love this shit.”

“This? Having fun with them? Sure. But the port-o-potty situation here...”

He cracks up, throwing his head back with that whole-body laugh of his that never fails to charm me. “Okay, god, I’ll handle the next bathroom break. But come on. This is amazing.”

“It is,” I acquiesce with a chuckle. “Oh, but look. We’ve got to make them keep their heads up in those picture boards. Every single one, they’re looking down at themselves.”

Flipping through my phone, he sees what I’m talking about — all these pictures of the tops of the boys’ heads sticking through face holes as they look down at their painted corn cob or scarecrow or superhero bodies.

“It’s a difficult concept, clearly,” Noble laughs. “And hey, if my choices are looking up at you or looking down at my off-brand Superman six-pack, I’d probably choose the six-pack too.”

“I don’t need anyone to paint me fake abs. I’ve got the real thing.” I smack my hand against my stomach for emphasis, a quiet thump over my zipped hoodie. “Which you could too if you cut down on the pancakes and bacon—”

“Hey, okay, some ass-flavored green smoothie might be good enough for you in the morning but I’m not sending my kids to school without a real breakfast.”

“Yes, right, you’re father of the year,” I tease. “With the dad-bod to go with it.”

“Hey!” He drops his shoulder and checks me sideways, knocking me off balance a couple of steps until I grab his arm to steady myself. “Not even close. And like, I didn’t hear you complaining yesterday morning…”

“This is a family place, dude,” I warn.

“Where’d you even learn the term dad-bod?” He scoffs. “Like you’re all young and hip or something. Old man.”

I straighten my shoulders set my narrowed gaze on him. “Old man? That’s not what you were saying yesterday morning—”

“Look who’s back!” Noble interrupts loudly as the train rolls to a stop in front of us. “Did you have fun, guys?”

“Yeah, I guess,” Cav shrugs like he’s too cool for this toddler train business. But the smile he’s failing to hide gives him away.

“Papa, I want popcorn!” Trip shouts.

“Yeah, popcorn!”

“Okay, let’s go find popcorn,” Noble agrees. As soon as he sets Trip down he’s running off with his brother, leaving the two of us to scramble quickly behind.

Our pace doesn’t seem to slow down for the rest of the day as Noble and I chase the boys around the property — moonbounces again, the petting zoo, a near-meltdown from Trip at the face painting booth, the big hayride that Cav insists on even though the sound effects that come from the bedsheet ghosts in the trees along the route freak him out. But the boys are still going strong and it’s my and Noble’s own exhaustion that finally makes us herd them to the expansive pile of choose-your-own pumpkins so we can accomplish that task and head back to the cabin for the night.

“There’s a million pumpkins!” Cav exclaims, his brown eyes wide in the waning fall sunlight. “I’m gonna get the biggest one.”

“Better get to work then, dude,” Noble tells him. “Climb on up there, go ahead.”

While Cav navigates his way to the middle of the pumpkin pile, Trip doesn’t make it past the first pumpkins he sees. “I want this one!” He shouts every time he tries to pick up a nice average-sized squash before it proves too heavy for him and he moves on to another one. I trail behind him, paying no attention to Noble and Cav climbing away in search of the biggest pumpkin they can find — which turns out to be a mistake.

“Daddy! Dad, me and Papa found the best pumpkin! It’s huuuuge!”

It takes me a second to follow Cav’s voice and then I scoop up Trip around his middle, tearing him away from his latest pumpkin of choice to reach his brother in the middle of the pile.

Noble stands on one foot with the other propped on their prize like he’s conquered it. “Look, Daddy, Cav found the one.”

“Oh he did, huh?” I pass Trip to Noble and circle to evaluate the pumpkin from all angles. “That’s a really big pumpkin, bud. I don’t know if we can even get it out of this pile to buy it.”

“Yes we can!” Cav insists. “I’ll help—” he squats, braced against nearby pumpkins, and tries to grip but his little arms barely reach halfway around this beast. He grunts and carries on with genuine effort but after an amusing moment he gives up with a sigh. “I think you gotta get it, Dad.”

“Cav, buddy, I don’t think…”

“Please?” He whines. “I want this one!”

“He wants this one!” Noble echoes.

“Then you pick it up,” I mutter at him under my breath.

Noble bounces Trip in the air and catches him. “My hands are full. It’s all you, boss.”

My dumbass husband — of course he’s over here acting like we can totally bring this thing home, he can’t say no to these kids. And I’m left to bring everyone back down to earth.

“It’s just too big—”

“Just use your muscles, Dad!” Cav insists, and dammit, I find myself humoring him too.

“Oh, geez. Alright, I’ll try. Watch out.”

Crouching, I act like I’m finding a good grip. But this thing must weigh sixty or seventy pounds, and with other pumpkins piled around it there’s no easy way for me to heave it out of here.

“I’m sorry, Cav,” I announce. “You’re going to have to choose another one. Something normal sized.”

“No, this one!”

“We can’t—”

“Please? Papa said!”

“Papa said we’d ask Daddy, and Daddy says no,” Noble interjects.

God, except for Trip losing it a little at the feeling of a paintbrush on his face — a disaster that was easily averted — we’ve had such a good day. But now Cav is nearing tantrum territory and I’m not sure anything short of this impossible pumpkin will make him happy.

I reach over and take Trip from Noble. “This is your mess,” I tell him over Cav’s indignant whining. “Come on Trip, we’ll go find you a little pumpkin.”

By now Cav has plopped his butt on a nearby pumpkin, arms crossed, facing away from us so we can’t see his classic grumpy pout. I let Trip loose with a bunch of other toddlers at an outer pile of smaller pumpkins, keeping one eye on him and one on Noble as he crouches next to Cav. Before long they get up and start perusing again. Cav still doesn’t look thrilled, but at least he seems to be moving on.

Trip is still jumping happily from small pumpkin to small pumpkin when Cav and Noble find us, a nice, reasonable, medium-sized pumpkin in Noble’s arms. “We’ve reached an agreement,” he announces. “Instead of one giant pumpkin — one medium pumpkin and one small pumpkin.”

“Yeah because medium plus small is like a big one,” Cav explains.

“Oh-kay,” I agree. “Sounds like a plan. Go ahead and pick a little one so we can go back to the cabin and watch a movie before bed.”

“Trip, you gotta go get your medium pumpkin so you have a medium one and a small one,” I hear Cav say.

“I think Trip is happy with his little one,” Noble calls before I can ask him exactly how many pumpkins we’ll be buying today.

“Couldn’t stick to the plan, could you?” I muse.

Balancing Cav’s pumpkin on one hip, he finds my hand with his free one and squeezes. “Hey, okay, the kid’s hardly seen a real pumpkin before, much less carved one—”

“I know, I know. I’m glad they have you around to make sure they get those experiences. We just need to, you know, be a little realistic.”

“And I’m glad we’ve got you to be realistic for us,” he murmurs. “Because fuck, I was not excited about carrying that beast home up three flights of stairs—”

“Shut up, you would’ve made me do it anyway,” I scoff.

“I would’ve… helped…”

“Liar.”

“I would have!” He insists.

“You’re a dirty liar,” I shoot back.

“I don’t know about liar, but that dirty part—”

“Oh god,” I cackle, leaning into him before I take the pumpkin he’s been holding. “Keep it in your pants, huh? And go help your son. That pumpkin’s about to knock him over.”

***

“Are they down?”

“Didn’t wake up at all,” Noble assures me. “Perfect transfers. I’m magical. Like a witch.”

“Oh good. Here you go.” I push a drink towards him across the counter and he takes it as he returns to the couch to turn off the Disney movie that the boys just fell asleep watching.

“This is okay,” he muses.

“Just okay? Is it not strong enough?” I take another inquisitorial sip of my own margarita.

“No, no, it’s pretty good. It’s just not, like, Ben’s Paloma good.”

I let out an incredulous laugh as I realize he’s just teasing. “Oh yeah? So you wish Ben and Scott hadn’t bailed, hmm?”

“It’d be fun if they were here,” he says. “We could play poker and I’d have some actual competition—”

“Oh!” I call out, a hand coming up to my chest like he’s wounded me. “They make better drinks, they play better cards…”

“They’d’ve let us bring home that huge pumpkin,” Noble adds.

“You’re as bad as the kids,” I tell him.

“It was an awesome pumpkin!”

“Well you know what—” I finish straightening up the small kitchen and grab my drink to join him. “I’m glad they’re not here.”

“That so?”

“Mhmm. Because if they were here, and we were playing poker and trying to carve some huge-ass pumpkin, then we’d be pretty busy.”

“Busy?” He stretches back against the couch cushions, propping one arm across the top as his gaze wanders openly down my grey t-shirt.

“Busy,” I repeat. “Too busy for this—”

Leaving my drink on the rustic end table, I smoothly drop to his lap, my knees settling on either side. With my hands free I’m quickly all over him, fingers turning his head up to meet my lips while my opposite palm slides down between us.

“Mmm, god, I’m never too busy for this.”

I shut him up with a hard, insistent kiss. He wastes no time reaching under my t-shirt, his hands a cold contrast against my skin after holding his icy glass, pushing the fabric up my torso until I duck out of it. As soon as I do, he steals the leverage I have over him and swoops me sideways, following quickly on top of me where I land on my back. My fists are in his hair, squeezing hard so I don’t make too much noise as he works biting kisses down to my shoulder.

Just as his touch trails lower, a suspicious noise from down the hallway stops us both short.

“I thought you said they were asl—”

“They were,” he insists. “Shh.”

Listening again, we’re met with only silence.

“Must've been the wind,” I conclude.

He pushes his weight off of me, sitting up on his knees. “Still. Does the bedroom door lock…?”

“I didn’t notice.”

“Let’s hope.”

I reach a hand up and he grabs my wrist, heaving me up off the couch. “What if it doesn’t?” I wonder.

“Well then.” He slides a hand into the waistband of my gym shorts, where he snaps the elastic against my skin. “I guess you’ll just have to stay quiet, won’t you?”

[vagomaktub]

Você diz que não

Mas na hora da emoção

Pouca pausa e sensação

Se descobre, se liberta

E vem cheia de tesão

Você sempre diz que não

Mas na hora da emoção

É pouca pausa e sensação

Para com esse faz de conta

Porque quando me vê, apronta

Eu sei que você gosta muito, gosta muito

Por isso sempre me encontra

Peço sua permissão pra rasgar toda essa roupa

Você confirma, logo de prima, já vem por cima, então

Acende a chama, acende a chama

Acende a chama, vem e me chama

Uma noite e nada mais, baby

Só aceito porque é com você

Ela é fora da lei e eu também

Por isso que a gente se entende bem

Então volta amanhã pra me ver

Você diz que não

Mas na hora da emoção

Pouca pausa e sensação

Se descobre, se liberta

E vem cheia de tesão

Você sempre diz que não

Mas na hora da emoção

É pouca pausa e sensação

Depois de tantas conversas

Tentamos nos entender

Pra que viver o passado

Se os seus braços estão intercalados ao meu

Não tem por que fugir

Seu beijo, teu cheiro que não saem de mim

Os seus olhos mirando nos meus, não consigo fugir

Não consigo fugir

Chica muy guapa

Só por essa noite yo te quiero lá en casa

Arrancar su ropa, yo no quiero más nada

Quiero más nada

Yeah, yeah

Chica muy guapa

Só por essa noite yo te quiero lá en casa

Arrancar su ropa, yo no quiero más nada

Quiero más nada

Le gusta cuando se lo hago

Se quita la ropa y dice vamo'

Se pone muy loca cuando no la llamo

Se pone celosa a cada rato

Me gustaría conocerte mejor

Sacárte la ropa y hacértelo

Más slow

Como si fuera tu primer amor

Eres muy guapa, guapa, guapa

Brasileña muy gata, gata, gata

Me muero de ganas, ganas, ganas

De tenerte en mi cama, come on, baby

No quiere mentiras ni na' na' na'

Nada que le ha-ha-haga mal

Quiere apenas una vida de locura

Acabar caliente y toda llena de censura

Toda llena de censura

Toda llena de censura

(Toda llena de censura)

Você diz que não

Mas na hora da emoção

Pouca pausa e sensação

Se descobre, se liberta

E vem cheia de tesão

Você sempre diz que não

Mas na hora da emoção

É pouca pausa e sensação

Olhar na indecisão, futuro desejado

Passaporte na mão, coração tá gelado

Indisgestão da imprecisão, a imensidão

Versão de ainda não ter começado

O trato de te trazer pra perto a cada verba

A cada vento, cada linha desse verso

No orçamento

O desconverso, ensinamento da vitrine de Rolex

Mais de um preço pro mesmo tempo

Nada contra Capitu, sabe que eu tenho capital

E eu sou banco, ela brisa

Dissimula e visa

Marcou o batom na camisa

E eu só sou o que sou, nem sou

Só sou o que sou, nem vou

Foto do Tripolin e revés no trampolim

E antes das dez jantar no Italy

Fica ali, veneno, me inspiro igual a Rita Lee

Negra Linn tá demais, mesmo pique Negra Li

Isso que eu li tudo sobre tudo, sobre o mundo

Sobre como ser menos machista e vagabundo

E, ó, você sabe que é sem pausa

Então vem de quatro, vem de lado

Vem de fato, cama treme, cai os quadros

Cai a luz do melhor quarto, é fato

Vem de hidro, de roupão vermelho

Na parede agora, mão no espelho

Vem por cima, vem, meu bem, trabalha

Vem agora, senta sem cansar

Ah meu Deus, assim eu vou casar

O que mais da vida eu vou querer

Vem de quatro, vem por cima, vem

Trabalhar de novo (De novo)

De novo (De novo)

De novo

Trabalhar de novo (De novo)

De novo (De novo)

De novo

-POUCA PAUSA

[cookingwithjulia]

{Buon pranzo} Tripoline con salmone e asparagi e scorza di limone La ricetta la trovate sul blog #cookingwithjulia Cerca " tripoline" o "primipiatti" #primipiatti #tripoline #salmone #asparagi #maisondumonde #pranzo #lunch #limone

[finnishfun]

Selkouuiset - 8. huhtikuuta

Libyaa uhkaa sisällissota

Libyan valtiota Afrikassa uhkaa paha sisällissota. Hallituksen ja kapinallisten sotajoukot taistelevat toisiaan vastaan. Kapinalliset ovat vallanneet suuren osan Libyasta. Nyt kapinalliset yrittävät vallata maan pääkaupungin Tripolin. Taisteluissa on kuollut ainakin 30 ihmistä. YK kertoo, että ainakin 2 800 ihmistä on joutunut jättämään kotinsa taistelujen takia. 

Threat of civil war in Libya

The state of Libya in Africa is threatened by a bad civil war. The government’s an the rebels’ war parties fight against each other. The rebels have taken over most part of the country. Now they are trying to take over the capital, Tripoli. At least 30 people have died in the fights. According to the UN at least 2800 people had to leave their homes because of the fights.

Israel sulkee rajanylityspaikkoja

Israelissa järjestetään parlamenttivaalit huomenna tiistaina. Israel sulkee vaalipäivän ajaksi palestiinalaisalueiden rajanylityspaikat. Armeija sanoo, että Gazan ja Länsirannan rajanylityspaikat suljetaan keskiyöllä. Rajat pysyvät kiinni vuorokauden. Rajojen sulkeminen vaikeuttaa kymmenien tuhansien Israelissa töissä käyvien palestiinalaisten elämää.

Israel closes the borders

Parliamental elections are held in Israel tomorrow. Israel closes its border crossings to Palestine during the time of the elections. The military says that the border crossings at Gaza and the western shore close at midnight. They will be closed for the whole day. The border closing makes tens of thousands of Palestinians’ lives harder who go to Israel to work.

Suomen ehdokkaat EU:n kirjallisuuspalkinnon saajaksi on valittu

Ehdolle ovat päässeet Mia Franckin romaani Bombträdgården eli Pommipuutarha, Heikki Kännön Sömnö, Piia Leinon Taivas ja Eeva Rohaksen Raivo. Tänä vuonna palkinnon saa yhteensä 14 maata. Voittaja kerrotaan toukokuun lopulla.

Finland’s candidates for the European Union Prize for Literature have been chosen. Mia Franckin’s novel Bombträdgården (Bomb garden), Heikki Kännö’s Sömnö, Piia Leino’s Taivas and Eeva Rohas’s Raivo. This year the award will be given to 14 countries at the end of May.

[abr]

La tensione tra i vari gruppi presenti a Tripoli è addebitabile a diversi motivi. In primo luogo il calo dei flussi migratori provenienti dalle coste tripoline — che garantivano introiti ad alcuni gruppi presenti nell'area — ha tagliato una buona fetta della torta da cui mangiavano molte milizie, saziando i loro "appetiti economici". (...) Prova ne sia che, prima, la Settima brigata, una milizia di stanza nelle città di Tarhuna, a sud della capitale, si è mossa contro formazioni fedeli a Serraj accusandole di essere corrotte; poi, come riportato da alcune agenzie, Salah Badi, controversa figura (...) che nel 2014 ha costretto il neo-eletto governo a rifugiare a Tobruk, ha diffuso un messaggio su Facebook dicendosi pronto ad entrare a Tripoli alla guida della brigata al Samoud. Come recita un vecchio detto popolare "la fame fa uscire il lupo dalla tana" e così è stato. In secondo luogo, non va dimenticato che lo scorso luglio il ministro degli esteri francese Le Drian si è impegnato in un intenso tour libico per perorare la causa di Macron che vuole elezioni nel paese a dicembre. L'emissario francese ha incontrato gli esponenti libici presenti al vertice di Parigi del 29 maggio scorso: Haftar, uomo forte della Cirenaica, Serraj, al-Mechri, presidente del consiglio di Stato e Aguila Saleh, presidente del parlamento di Tobruk. L'agenda è stata allargata anche ad alcuni esponenti delle potenti milizie di Misurata, e probabilmente anche ad altri attori locali, che avevano pubblicamente condannato il vertice francese. Per rendere più "avvincente" la sua proposta l'Eliseo ha annunciato un contributo di un milione di dollari per l'organizzazione degli scrutini. Una cifra capace di convincere gli indecisi ma anche di aizzare gli appetiti dei vari gruppi di potere. E' evidente che il caos a Tripoli non può che giovare alla Francia che sembra preferire un ovest destabilizzato ad una possibile "pax italiana".

http://www.ilsussidiario.net/News/Esteri/2018/9/2/CAOS-LIBIA-Macron-e-i-trafficanti-di-uomini-tendono-una-trappola-all-Italia/837190/

Francia di Macron e Tratta, due facce della medesima medaglia di m ...