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On Monday, 21 I realized that today, 23 February, "Garlic and Water" is three years. Source of joy and celebration, tell anyone. But I do not know what you're going to not feel so, so much that I almost forget the anniversary. This blog was born with doubts, but with great enthusiasm, had its heyday in this Escribidora published a weekly column, at least, and where each entry received dozens of comments, and not exaggerating, the file is right down there.

course, now almost nothing remains of that splendor, but the memory of a past between adventure and fun, at least for me. Of course the blame, if blame is that it is not of Ajit, the poor still here, froze in the cyberspace, and in any case mine. Sometimes I think that initial excitement died down because a lot of garlic and water managers are no longer in blogger, the "godfathers" of the creature was dimmed, and have their posts hidden under a dense blanket of cobwebs. The same spent with friends who were appearing on the road, whose presence enriched this blog, which was always very poor, and have also been isolated. I know that some are committing adultery, and deceive with facebook blogger , ie which remain but not here. But it is fair to recognize that other friends are still the firm, their blogs and east. So perhaps it is me who walks in the doldrums, or lack of inspiration. That is, Ajit, as happens so often in relationships, you're not, I am.

Staircase to nowhere: I sometimes feel as if was raising it ...

Sometimes I wondered if it is not necessary to rethink the blog, ie to a different approach, so that it remains a way to express and share with you, the readers, but since another angle.

To take one case, my secret identity as a professor of Biological Sciences, I have a blog in which I hang my teaching material, within a year, has received over 50,000 visits, while Garlic and Water that, in three years, barely exceeds 45,000. No case, people want science. In the next post will likely will address the issue of hemocitopoyesis and to be studied.

Ah ... Many thanks to all who are still there. Seriously.

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Water ... Is it a sign of the Apocalypse?

I will not pose in liberated by very open mind it is for some things, or strictly traditionalist, nor I am, with occasional exceptions. Among the issues on which I can tick another of traditional, and perhaps even reactionary, why not admit it, is the subject of ice cream. And when I say ice cream, I mean the real, the ice cream parlor, not these sad substitutes, "... simple imitation of happiness ..."* sold in supermarkets in boxes cardboard or plastic, the best thing is that the latter have the package will go after multiple uses. Not to mention the homemade ice cream, which invariably crystallize and one has the sensation of chewing glass. Ice cream that come in powder in an envelope, better not say anything, because they both like the real ice cream as they have carousel horses with Mr. Nedawi .**

Returning to the subject that motivates this confession, say that without being a fundamentalist of the cone (I do not come with plastic ice cream cup, which is heresy), always take the same ice cream flavors, with a candidate on the bench for the flavors to appeal to him in case there is no nut dish. That is, the ice must be based on fresh milk or cream, with some dried fruit or chocolate chips, and nothing else. I never saw my face in disgust when I hear someone asks kiwi ice cream, but I imagine, and I scared myself.

Well, this afternoon, the stifling heat, had to do some paperwork and then he thought going to a movie if it came on time (as I confessed in a previous post , I usually go to the movies at first afternoon), because I got a half hour before I decided go to a bar and drink, because staying in the village threatened the lives even of a Bedouin, when I noticed the presence of an ice cream parlor. Without considering the calories, I decided I could take a ice creams under the cold embrace of the local air conditioning. I went in, paid for the ticket, and went to the employee who will soon demonstrate his skill wrist movement to build the kind of ice cream on the cone ziggurat ... and then what happened happened.

....

I do not know whether climate change and global warming that was finished I melt neurons, and with them, my principles, or climacteric change which is surely suffering for chronological reasons or what, but the point is very loose body, told her: "From lemon pie, please."

cream Decades Russian dish of nuts, caramel and cream slush American thrown overboard! Years and years of cloying sweetness, betrayed by I know not what impulse of the most unjustified rebellion ...! What is happening to me? Is this a sign of the end of time, or worse, as it reemerges Peñarol Libertadores champion? I have fear, I'm not ashamed confess.

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Worst of all was that lemon ice cream pi and was delicious.

* Verse of the song "My People" by José Carbajal, The Sabalero

** Horse winner of the 2011 edition of Ramírez Grand Prix

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More of the same, but different

A couple of weeks ago, in the entry titled "Brief concert confusion and charango " I related the experience of enjoying a show on the bus were three musicians, thanks to the mistake I made when I took the 546 instead of 76, which was the bus that I got closer to my destination that evening. Today I did something similar, but entirely different, as you will read below.

It had come that day that women-bah, do not know why I generalize, I could only happen to me, hope you never come and pass a good time, which is the annual appointment for a colposcopy done , a study that itself takes a few minutes and can save your life, but it is extremely uncomfortable and that goes the office with the feeling that the gynecologist was left forgotten in an instrument, so one walks away as Gary Cooper in "High Noon."

The point is that to get to the office, I took the 427 in the direction of Pocitos, and a few stops up two twenty-somethings armed with a violin, a flute and with the other, and right there took off to perform a play by Michel Corrette *... A beauty!

I think next year I will make me less apprehensive about the colposcopy, maybe get lucky, and 427 deviate by a little of his usual route and we moved again to its passengers to the France of Louis XV.

on youtube I found the work he performed the boys, but I leave one of Michel Corrette, which is unlike anything, but is beautiful as it's about "La Choisy", XIVe . Comique Concerto, performed by Chamber Orchestra Jean-François Paillard. The photo represents the Pallazzina of Stupingi di Caccia (Turin), I do not know what will have to do with the concert, since it is not clear what the relationship is one thing to another (maybe it was played there on concert or would that Michel Corrette loved to hunt Stupingi, go one to know).

* Michel Corrette, French organist and composer (1707 - 1795)