gaudeamus…

Wear Sunscreen!

If I could offer you only one tip for the future, “sunscreen” would be it.

The long-term benefits of sunscreen have been proved by scientists,

whereas the rest of my advice has no basis more reliable than my own meandering experience.

I will dispense this advice NOW!

Enjoy the power and beauty of your youth.

Oh, never mind.

You will not understand the power and beauty of your youth until they’ve faded.

But trust me, in 20 years, you’ll look back at photos of yourself and recall in a way you can’t grasp now

how much possibility lay before you and how fabulous you really looked.

You are not as fat as you imagine.

Don’t worry about the future.
Or worry, but know that worrying is as effective as trying to solve an algebra equation by chewing bubble gum.

The real troubles in your life are apt to be things that never crossed your worried mind,

The kind that blindside you at 4 pm on some idle Tuesday.

Do one thing every day that scares you.

Sing

Don’t be reckless with other people’s hearts.
Don’t put up with people who are reckless with yours.

Floss

Don’t waste your time on jealousy.
Sometimes you’re ahead, sometimes you’re behind.

The race is long and, in the end, it’s only with yourself.

Remember compliments you receive.

Forget the insults.

If you succeed in doing this, tell me how.

Keep your old love letters.

Throw away your old bank statements.

Stretch

Don’t feel guilty if you don’t know what you want to do with your life.
The most interesting people I know didn’t know at 22 what they wanted to do with their lives.
Some of the most interesting 40-year-olds I know still don’t.

Get plenty of calcium.

Be kind to your knees.

You’ll miss them when they’re gone.

Maybe you’ll marry, maybe you won’t.
Maybe you’ll have children, maybe you won’t.
Maybe you’ll divorce at 40.

Maybe you’ll dance the funky chicken on your 75th wedding anniversary.

Whatever you do, don’t congratulate yourself too much,

or berate yourself either.

Your choices are half chance.

So are everybody else’s.

Enjoy your body.
Use it every way you can.

Don’t be afraid of it or of what other people think of it.

It’s the greatest instrument you’ll ever own.

Dance

Even if you have nowhere to do it but your living room.

Read the directions, even if you don’t follow them.

Do not read beauty magazines.

They will only make you feel ugly.

“Brother and sister together we’ll make it through,
Someday a spirit will take you and guide you there
I know that you’re hurting but I’ve been waiting there for you
and I’ll be there just helping you out
whenever I can…”

Get to know your parents.

You never know when they’ll be gone for good.

Be nice to your siblings.

They’re your best link to your past and the people most likely to stick with you in the future.

Understand that friends come and go,

but with a precious few you should hold on.

Work hard to bridge the gaps in geography and lifestyle, because the older you get,

the more you need the people who knew you when you were young.

Live in “New York City” once, but leave before it makes you hard.

Live in “Northern California” once, but leave before it makes you soft.

Travel

Accept certain inalienable truths:
Prices will rise.

Politicians will philander.

You, too, will get old.

And when you do, you’ll fantasize that when you were young,

prices were reasonable, politicians were noble, and children respected their elders.

Respect your elders.

Don’t expect anyone else to support you.

Maybe you have a trust fund.

Maybe you’ll have a wealthy spouse.

But you never know when either one might run out.

Don’t mess too much with your hair or by the time you’re 40 it will look 85.

Be careful whose advice you buy,

but be patient with those who supply it.

Advice is a form of nostalgia.

Dispensing it is a way of fishing the past from the disposal,

wiping it off, painting over the ugly parts and recycling it for more than it’s worth.

But trust me on the sunscreen.

“Brother and sister together we’ll make it through,
Someday a spirit will take you and guide you there
I know that you’re hurting but I’ve been waiting there for you
and I’ll be there just helping you out
whenever I can…”

Everybody’s Free, Everybody’s Free

To Feel Good!

cand eram mic, mergeam la bunicii din provincie, cei din partea lui taica-meu, cate doua saptamani pe vara. locuiau intr-un un orasel de provincie in care chiar nu se intampla nimic. iar lucrurile nu s-au schimbat cu intre timp. si au trecut 35 de ani de atunci… dar nimic. nada, rien, nothing. NIMIC. ce mai, un colt de moldova asa cum ni-l imaginam cu totii.

cu toate astea, pentru mine, un copil de 5, 6 ani, se intamplau in fiecare zi doua chestii uluitoare, pe care le asteptam zi de zi de parca se iveau prima data:

primul, pe la ora 4 dimineata, cand se trezea bunica-meu si se ridica din pat. se intampla ca patul se ridica cu mine, descatusat din apasarea celor 140 de kilograme ale batranului. cand ma culcam, el deja dormea dus, astfel incat salteaua era comprimata, sugrumata de atata greutate, iar simpla lui ridicare din pat ii permitea sa revina la dimensiuni normale. deci, patul se ridica cu mine.

al doilea, nu mai putin senzorial, dar la nivel olfactiv, se petrecea la revenirea batranului de la moara pe care o conducea, cand aducea acasa paine proaspata, aproape fierbinte.

o paine care mirosea intr-un fel cu totul si cu totul aparte. o fi copilaria de vina, insa eu nu am mai reintalnit acel miros niciodata. era paine facuta de morari pentru morari, adica din faina adunata de pe valtul morii; practic nici nu era faina, era o boare de pudra alba, mult mai fina decat celebra “4 nule”, atat de cautata de gospodine pentru cozonaci.

de atunci, pentru mine painea nu mai este un aliment in sine, ci purtatoarea unor imagini, mirosuri si amintiri cu totul aparte, la fel cum era madlena pentru saracu’ marcel…

incepem ca in sanda marin: “se ia” un dovlecel mai marisor si se taie in felii groase de 2 cm. se presara cu sare, piper si alte mirodenii care va sunt la indemana prin bucatarie (anything goes, de la oregano si pana la banalul marar).

se pun feliile pe gratarul foarte bine incins si se lasa 3-4 minute pe fiecare parte.

dupa ce s-au rumenit/aproape ars, se iau de pe gratar si se stropesc cu ulei de masline si zeama de lamaie.

se pupa de minune cu un vin demisec rece sau cu un dry muscat la fel de rece.

pentru ca a venit vara si ficatul nostru balcanic cere mici, ceafa de porc  si bere, haidem sa vorbim nu despre mici, ceafa de porc si bere, ci despre CUM si la CE le preparam.

la “CUM” o sa revin ceva mai incolo.

la CE le prepram? iata o chestiune aparent extrem de banala pentru un popor dedulcit la carne fragezita in inmiresmate marinate.

le preparam la, da!,  ati ghicit, le preparam la gratar.

iar cand vine vorba despre gratare, tot romanul devine pe loc specialist, la fel de specialist ca in politica, femei, fotbal si limba franceza. pffffff, gratar…. mare filozofie! neshte vergele de otel, acolo, aruncate peste o covata din tabla in care pui carbunii, si totul este ca si gata. numai ca nu este chiar asa.

am aflat-o pe propria-mi piele, cand a trebuit sa cumpar un gratar, acum trei saptamani… si am fost la magazinul de prezentare a celor de la grillshop.ro, unde am zabovit nu mai putin de doua ore. si asta pentru ca am ajuns cu o idee foarte precisa in cap si am plecat, incantat, cu cu totul altceva.

am plecat cu un gratar pe gaz, un weber q200, o minune nu alta! marturisesc faptul ca am fost destul de indoit, mai ales ca nu mai preparesem niciodata carne la gratar folosind altceva decat carbuni, insa rezultatele ulterioare s-au dovedit mult, mult peste asteptarile mele si ale celor impreuna cu care am inaugurat scula respectiva.

carnea de vita, muschiul mai precis, iese exceptional de tandru si juicy, daca, desigur, te pricepi sa-l prepari si sa-l prajesti.