When snow falls, the cultural level of the inhabitants of the area becomes visible on the surface of the lawns.

A positive story.

In every family there is a person who has not gone. This is my grandmother. After my grandfather’s death six years ago, we moved her to ourselves.

My parents say that this Fate is avenging them for the lack of obvious teenage problems in both of our children, i.e. me and my sisters.
For example, in July, after receiving a pension, she ran out with her best friend at sea for a week, switched off the phone, and called when the money was out. My mother almost went crazy. I had to go pick them up. At the same time, the father was roaring and asked his aunt to take him with him the next time.

She has diabetes at an initial stage and when a district doctor with a super-serious appearance began to list that she can’t, she stopped it:
What happens if I eat it?
“You can die,” said the doctor with the most tragic and threatening appearance.
Okay to you! What seriously? Is there a chance at 86?

In short, we take insulin and eat what we want.

She plays chess on the boulevard with men – and wins! She sings in the choir “Welcome old ladies”, goes to the theatre and attends all free city events and concerts. I recently had a widow boyfriend eight years younger than myself.

Now they break up together.

Last weekend he played her races on quad-cycles. And then they drank 2 liters of homemade wine at dinner and fell asleep in front of the TV in a hug on the couch in the living room, where we stuck them, returning from the country, like a couple of teenagers. So Col’s grandfather was introduced to the family – a fainted mother, a fainting grandchildren and an invariably fainting dad.

I adore my grandmother – she is more positive and energetic than most of my young acquaintances. She loves life and knows how to enjoy it. “And how much of that life!” she replies to my mother for all her “mama, how about that?”

I want old age.

Not only does Putin himself not retire, he does not give it to others.

Russians are people who can do everything, but, unfortunately, not always.

The grandmother was fat, wide, with a soft, singing voice. “The whole apartment was besieged!” cried Borkin’s father. And his mother obstructed him timidly: “Old man... Where does she go?” “In the disabled home, her place is here!”
Everyone in the house, not excluding Borky, looked at the grandmother as a completely superfluous person.

My grandmother slept in the drawer. Thro the night she was hard rolling from side to side, and in the morning she stood up before everyone and grumbled in the kitchen with the dishes. Then the son-in-law and daughter-in-law woke up and said, “Samovar has fallen asleep. Rise up! Take a hot drink on the road.

She approached Borka: “Get up, my daddy, it is time to go to school!” “Why?” – Borka asked in a sleepy voice. “Why to school? The dark man is deaf and dumb – that’s why!”

Borka hid his head under the blanket: “Go, grandmother...”

In the woods, my father shrugged a venom. “Where are you, Mother, Galashi Deli? Every time you’re in every corner because of them!”

The grandmother rushed to help him. “There are they, Petra, in the very appearance. Yesterday they were very dirty, I washed them and put them.”

He came from Borka's school, dropped his coat and hat on his grandmother's hands, sprinkled a bag of books on the table and shouted, "Baby, eat!"

The grandmother hid the cloth, hurriedly covered it on the table and, crossing her hands on her stomach, watched Borka eat. In those hours, somehow involuntarily, Borka felt his grandmother as his close person. He told her about her lessons, comrades. The grandmother listened to him lovingly, with great attention, saying, “All is well, Borjushka: both bad and good is good. From a bad man becomes stronger, from a good soul he flourishes.

Naively, Borka pushed his plate away from him: “Tasteful jelly today! “Have you eaten, grandmother?” “Have you eaten,” the grandmother nodded her head. “Don’t worry about me, Boryuška, I’m, thank you, full and healthy.”

Comrade came to fight. Comrade said, “Hello, grandmother!” Borka joyfully pushed his elbow: “Let’s go, let’s go! You can’t say hello to her. She is an old woman.” The grandmother wore a coat, fixed the sweater and quietly moved her lips: "To hate - what to hit, to lick - you need to look for words."

And in the neighboring room, the comrade said to Borka: "And our grandmother is always greeted. Own and foreign. She is the main one for us.” “How is it – the main?” – interested Borka. “Well, the old woman... raised them all. She cannot be offended. What are you doing with yourself? Look, my father will warm up for it.” It will not heat up! A struggle broke out. He doesn’t say goodbye to her.”

After this conversation, Bork often asked his grandmother, "Do we hate you?" and told his parents, "Our grandmother is the best of all, and she lives the worst of all - no one cares about her." The mother was surprised, and the father was angry, “Who taught you to judge your parents? “Look at me, I’m still small!”

The grandmother, gently smiling, nodded her head: “You would, fools, have to be happy. Your son is growing! I have lived my own in the world, and your old age is ahead. What you kill, you will not return.”

* * * *

He was interested in the face of the grandmother. There were different wrinkles on this face: deep, small, thin, like threads, and wide, carved for years. “Why are you so painted? Very old?” he asked. Grandma was thinking. “On the wrinkles, the pigeon, the human life, like a book, can be read. The need and need are written here. The children were buried, crying – they lay on the face of wrinkles. The need endured, fought – again wrinkles. My husband was killed in the war – there were many tears, many wrinkles remained. There is a great rain, and it is in the land of the hole.”

He listened to Bork and looked in the mirror with fear: did he do little in his life - will the whole face be stretched with such strings? “Go you grandmother! He cried out. You always say nonsense.”

* * * *

In recent times, the grandmother suddenly squeezed, her back became round, she walked quieter and all sat down. “It grows in the ground,” his father joked. “Don’t laugh at the old man,” the mother insulted. And the grandmother in the kitchen said, “What is this, you, mom, like a turtle moving around the room? I’ll send you something and you won’t wait back.”

My grandmother died on May Day. She died alone, sitting in a chair with a tie in her hands: an unfinished socks lay on her knees, on the floor - a cluster of strings. I was waiting for a fight. There was a ready tool on the table.

The next day my grandmother was buried.

Returning from the courtyard, Borka found his mother sitting in front of the open box. Everything was broken down on the floor. It smells of stuff. The mother took out the dirty red shoe and carefully straightened it with her fingers. “My,” she said, and leaned low over the drawer. “My...”

At the very bottom of the box there was a box, the same, the most precious one that Borke always wanted to look into. The box opened. The father pulled out a tight cloth: there were warm sweaters for Borka, socks for the son-in-law and a bracelet for the daughter. They were followed by a tailored shirt of old coloured silk – also for Borka. In the corner was a bag with slides, tied with a red ribbon. On the bag something was written in large letters. The father turned him in his arms, squeezed and read loudly: "To my granddaughter Borjushka."

Borkka suddenly pale, pulled out his bag and fled to the street. There, sitting at the door of other people, he looked long into the grandmother’s carakula: “To my granddaughter Borjushka.” In the letter “s” there were four sticks. “I have not learned!” thought Borka. How many times he explained to her that the letter “sh” contained three sticks... And suddenly, as if she were alive, a grandmother stood before him – silent, guilty, who had not learned the lesson. Borka looked at his house confusedly and, pressing a bag in his hand, ran down the street along someone else’s long fence.

He came home late in the evening; his eyes were swollen from tears, and fresh clay was attached to his knees. He put the bag under his pillow and, closing his head with a blanket, thought, "Baby will not come in the morning!"

Valentina Oseeva

A wise authority fights the causes of protests, a foolish one fights the protesters.

The more I look at our spiritual leaders,

The more I believe in atheism.

Everyone knows that in the territory of the former USSR, the men have an eternal common theme - the army. No matter how many years a man has - the number of stories and topics about "service", about the steepness of the army and the character of the fathers-commanders, does not decrease, but only increases with the years. At the same time, everyone is inclined to exaggerate, attribute, hyperbolize to the absurd "bey experience" and "movement" of their service. And it doesn’t matter what served with the spade – the Dembel album will be decorated with a photo of a warrior hanging with a weapon, who alone prevented at least 10 world wars, not counting the secret operations during the next vacation.
Now to history. So it turned out that my mother married five years ago for the second time and we moved to live "with him". Good was where. Compared to our city, it is still more vibrant and warmer. Relationship with the father seemed normal. And after graduating from school and entering the university in the neighboring city, I can say and do not get confused under my feet at Mommy's happiness. But I noticed a strange feature behind him - when men who do not come from the nearby circle gather at the table and engage in traditional conversations about serving in the army, the eye becomes modest. Speaks served in the building, ordinary, and especially about the service to tell and nothing... About the service is and speaks. But only when the “next circle” comes together. And all there is not below the rank of Colonel, it turns out. Some still serve. There are no photos in his “family” album. Only two were found in a separate albummaker, and there he was without signs of distinction with one of the nearby circle against the background of brown-yellow mountains in camouflage clearly not built-batovsky - the desert is something with camouflage. And in the breaks of the conversations, they were clearly not engaged in construction there, because among their jokes they whispered the mention that the father of the "night", "the sun did not see and the white returned from a trip" and "that it is not for you to climb at night after night." And despite the jokes, his comrades are extremely polite and respectful to him.
In the summer I went to handcuffs. The coach was familiar with the father and they sometimes train together in an empty hall. And in appearance, the father is a tuffy, relaxed retiree.
And like a man, he’s right, but he doesn’t seem as simple as he wants to seem.
The soul does not drink in it. And a little...

Few of the accountants know that if in the expenditure order to wrap the grass and smoke - it turns into a revenue order.

From the cosplay discussion.



xxx: Lucky her guy, he may have sex with Wonder Woman, Lara Croft, Elsa, Arwen, Legolas, Jack Sparrow...

Yyy: The last two are clearly superfluous for 99% of guys

Zzz: You just didn’t have Legolas normal.

Yesterday, I explained to employees the impact that high charging costs can have on seemingly profitable commercial activities.



Take history as an example. In 7th grade I distributed leaflets at the subway and earned 50 rubles a day. On the road I spent 17 rubles there and back. Also at lunch I bought bread and kefir or juice rubles for 20-25.



But the point is that I spent my mom’s money and earned my own.

My friend told me a story yesterday. I would like to share with you :) Continue with his words.



Once in my childhood, my father approached me and told me how to call aliens. But they were not evil aliens, but good and smart. They were looking for people who wanted to meet them. As a gift for the meeting, they gave something very valuable, showing the cosmos, their planet and life on it. In order for people to contact them, they left text on earth many centuries ago. And if you say this three times a day for three months, they will fly. At that time, we watched the Secret Materials with the whole family at night and I was very impressed by the knowledge. For three months I repeated the sacred text of abru-khadabra many times every day. Every day, after the text was pronounced, I marked a note on the calendar with the image of Mulder and Scalley. And three months later, when no one arrived, the father said that it was necessary to repeat exactly three times, not five or ten. Well, or maybe they were flying, but decided not to contact me. Who knows these aliens? Then he praised me, held my hand and said that Mulder himself would be jealous of my stubbornness. My disappointment had no limits, but I was proud of myself to have done it, even if it didn’t work out.



Years later I learned that as a child I had trouble with attention and discipline. The mother complained to her father and he promised her to fix the situation in three months.



For me, it was the first long-term project I brought to an end.



Thank you Dad. I am 34 years old, and I still remember these words letter to letter: Dibi Dibebe Kazajž ao kaia divaka aia iya kalak in lajak I mom muzal veslvnal.

A smart woman, to want her all the time, always a little - does not give.

Snowden’s first rule is: “If you want to fight for freedom and democracy, hide yourself in a totalitarian Russia.”

I took my son from kindergarten. He comes upset. I asked what happened. He said he was annoyed. My son’s name is Gleb. I wondered what could be invented. The son says irritates Gleb-bread. While he was going explained to him that it was not offensive at all, at the same time decided to teach him how to resist. Asked the names of those who irritate to come up with rhythms to names. The son named two names that brought me into a stupor, nothing decent came to mind: Anton and Stas.

In the morning I went out for a run, ran away, charged with vigor for the whole day.

I decided to go to the cinema. The body requires movement, the head requires spectacle. I go to the stop, what a beauty! The sun shines, the birds sing, and I too, but silently. A 50-year-old man asks for a fire. I don’t smoke, but I have a fireplace. He smokes so with pleasure and says, “Well, finally, if someone smokes, then you are three non-smokers.” I told him, I don’t bother with smoke myself, and he replied, “Healthy people die longer and more painfully. This is what I say to you as a doctor.” He walked away, trying a cigarette. I went, thinking...

Where is the Bermuda Triangle? In childhood, it was only heard that there was someone missing, and then appeared, but already all gray and old, or, on the contrary, young, and not old in thirty years of absence. Our boat was pursued by two Spanish gallons of the seventeenth century, and then once - and collapsed, as there were no ones! And only the smoke is pink over the waves and not good so on the soul of the whole team became," writes the artist and blogger on his page in Facebook.



Ships were lost, planes were crashing, scientists of all kinds built bold hypotheses, clairvoyants and witches were angry, the media claimed to hear secret messages coming from there – and suddenly there was complete silence. and total. Now ask a modern student what the Bermuda Triangle is, he will not answer. Why is it all over? What happened?



Where are the aliens? Remember, the word was UFO! They were constantly flying, painting in the fields, kidnapping and anal surveys of forty-year-old virgins, stealing cows, carrying accountants to Aldebaran, and there they were given the ability to treat their hands and speak baby cream, than when they returned to their homeland, and earned for bread urgent. It was alive!



And now where is it all? Where are the crazy contactors, where the dim photos of glowing balls in the night sky in every news release? Where are these, soothing stories - it was an ordinary, ordinary evening, I ate slices with potatoes, drank three cups of tea with milk and was about to go to bed, as all good people do after such exercises, but suddenly noticed a strange light outside the bedroom window and heard a voice calling me: "Natalia Veniaminovna, come, we are your brothers by reason and chosen. We invite you on board the ship!



Where did all this go?



There was still a bubble — I remember that word furious. Naturally, in the newspaper they wrote that, so and so - knocks, dwarf, and banks with a lot of places change! He walks in the kitchen at night and knocks.



Yeti was constantly running through the woods. He left traces! Tourists are scared. He wore overnight and rubbed his hairy back on centuries-old cedars, leaving on them a piece of inhuman wool. The huge plaster blind of the trace was personally shown by Yuri Senkevich from the screen. Many, by the way, believed it.



Now that you read the news, it is a shame. No triangles, no aliens, no snowman, no Lohnessky, his mother, monsters. Some sanctions, new initiatives of deputies, some singer, three photos of cats and the prices of housing services will again increase slightly, but this is nothing, we only benefit. All of. No romance, no shattering soul of mystery. Thou thou!



by Jacob Kogan

Anderson's fairy tale: The king is dressed and the people are naked.

Lifecycle for Men!
Is advertising online annoying? I also have a problem!
Make a couple of search queries on the topic of women's underwear.
And then the advertisement will start to delight you ;)

“Putin said the Internet should remain free.”
The creator said that the retirement age should not be raised.