A Truly Madly Ordinary S.Valentine’s Day

The house woke up in a pretty high and effervescent mood this morning.School will finish early and it is S.Valentine’s day.This means after school treat at our favorite bakery for the girls and fancy handmade cards for me. I am a believer that this day is the day of lover but most of all of LOVE……whatever kind, whatever nature, whatever shape.
The travelling husband will be back tonight.His Valentine’s card was put in his bag before he left so to be found this morning and his cupcake is waiting for him after dinner.

The weather unfortunately doesn’t seem to share the light and happy mood of the household.It is a very grey winter day.Windy ,rainy and cold.While driving to school the wind was so heavy that the car was shaking.The windscreen was perpetually hit by the water splashed from the high waves crashing on the rocks.When I arrived at the beach with the dogs,the scenery in front of me was suggestive:The black sky embracing the grey sea and blending with the waves fed with sand.
Few people dared to challenge the weather this morning and I can’t blame them.We, ourself, had a very short walk…..possibly one of the shortest in history.

I am usually not that bother by the bad weather but today is different.Not becase it is S.Valentine but, because “nona”is coming.Yesterday I have spent most of my day cleaning the house and feebrezing everything and now,the house is going to smell of wet dogs for the rest of day.Damn!
Thank fully the weather picked up in the afternoon and I had the chance to leave the windows open,give the dogs a good brush and,to finish,spray them with a good dose of dogs cologne.May be a bit too much as they sneezed uninterruptedly for half an hour:Brilliant,no wet dogs smell but probably splattered drooled slime all over the place.

Once I sorted the dogs,I sent the girls to have a shower,did their hair ,clip their nails and be ready for the inspection.Me,in the meanwhile,I carefully checked to have no chipped nail polish either on my hands or toes.
I am right on track on my schedule and I can confidently tick all the boxes.Well,nearly,as I remember that I din’t ring the hairdresser yet.Nona doesn’t wash her hair at home,she goes to the salon twice a week no matter what and being here makes no exception.Thankfully they have an appointment for Friday. Now all the boxes are ticked!

It is still early and I can sit down and relax sipping a coffee before starting to get the dinner ready.
Speaking of which,the dinner,I really feel to give a warning to everybody out there:Never text or e-mail while operating a meat slicer.I, no doubt might be prone to slice my limbs as the few scars I have on my hands prove but, tonight, I really risked to leave two of my fingers in it. I didn’t. Everything is good.Everything is set and ready and it is nearly time to go to the airport.Off we go happy go lucky,it will be nice to have nona here for few days.Intense but nice.

The plane has landed half an hour ago and she is supposed to have only a cabin bag.I can’t really understand what is keeping her behind.It is really getting late,the girls are bored and the husband,who is now home, is probably starving.The phone rings and it is nona:”I am here”.”Here where?”,”Here just at the arrivals waiting”.”So are we but I cannot see you”……then it hits me like a tennis ball in the centre of the chest:we were waiting at the wrong terminal!

Eventually we made it home,all four of us.The traveling husband greets me with a bottle of cherry flavor Kirsch and a bouquet of flowers.I am in shock.I knew the liquor was coming but the flowers were totally unexpected and when I say it he replays that it is exactly the reason why he bought them:I was not expecting them.I can’t argue with that,can I? I can’t really even argue when he greets his mother in law asking if she is his S.Valentine present.She takes it well and we can eventually sit down and enjoy dinner and those yummy delicious looking cupcakes I am waiting to bite all day long.

A portion of moon is shining and I can see its light through the curtains of my bedroom:what a beauty.It has been a long day and I feel my whole body eventually relaxing.It is nice to have the traveling husband home.I tell him about my day and he tells me about his.
The sound of the silence of the night,the complicity of a late chat under the covers,the moonlight filtering through the curtains and a nice book:…..I don’t really see a better way to end S.Valentine’s day.

Pancake Day

And even this year we survived Shrove Tuesday.Well, to be more precise the kitchen survived Shrove Tuesday.
When I moved to Ireland I knew I had to give up the suggestive Venetian carnival with its colorful masks and pompous costumes.No more fancy party in those elegant palace where the music and the dancing and the laughing go on all night, filling for once a year all the rooms.

What I did not know, it was that Fat Tuesday in Ireland is pancake day.That,didn’t really mean much to me until the girls came along and wanted to celebrate the Irish way,like all their friends.

Unfortunately it turned out that I am not genetically equipped to make pancakes.Even the ready mix it does not do what it says on the tin,when it is me handle it.No matter the recipe and no matter the effort, my pancakes have usually an ugly asymmetrical shape and an absurd size.To be honest,even the taste is not the best.There is always an inexplicable smoky aftertaste that,with some luck and an heavy stuffing, can be somehow disguised.

Once the odd pancakes are eventually piling up and waiting to be filled ,it is time to clean the kitchen.Scrub off the oil that splattered everywhere and open all the windows in the hope that the smell of fry will go away before next pancake day. The reward for all this trouble, is the happy smile on the kids face and their genuine belief that their mother’s pancakes are the best.Belief probably based on the fact that they never tasted any other type of pancakes and think that this is exactly what all pancakes taste.Then,as more the kids grow and as more their taste buds become sensitive.They try other people’s pancakes and suddenly they cannot be fooled anymore.On the contrary of how it might look,this is not all bad.If they are old enough to have developed decent taste buds,they are old enough to understand that their mother is human and can fail.They are old enough to face reality:I am a woman who better buy ready made pancakes.That,I suppose,it also comes as a relief to the whole family:Eventually even in our house there are tasty and perfectly roundly pancakes to be enjoyed in a non smelly and warm kitchen.

The “fuelfobic”

I wonder if there are AA meetings and support groups for people like me: the “fuelfobic”.Basically those people suffering of a deep resistance to stop for petrol.
This condition of mine is something that I developed over time.There was a time in my life when there was happy fuel days.Days when afraid of running out of petrol I was filling the car as soon the tank was half empty.That attitude was inherited from car obsessed parents.Their cars are always pristine,(inside out),they always have a full tank ,their services are rigorously up to date and, in case of the catastrophic happening of a little scratch, the car is immediately fixed.Once I grew out of my shell of perfect daughter perfectly respectfully of her parents car’s rules of life,things changed :I eventually relaxed.I was still regularly filling my car with fuel but,little by little,I started to leave it up to when the tank was more and more close to be empty rather then full.

The truth is that I just hate stopping at the petrol station and make petrol.It is a waste of my time and it seems always to happen in the most inconvenient day or time of the day.Basically I always need fuel when I have no time to stop.Also,I really hate spending money in petrol.I know it sounds absurd, considering that it is coming from someone who spend half of her day in the car but,this is what I feel.
This attitude got worst over the years.Sure the travelling husband played a role in all this.He is not free from blame.He, in fact,is very relaxed when it comes to petrol,always been:no need to worry until the fuel indicator is red!I suppose that 20 years together left some mark on my thinking. I started not to worry about petrol until the fuel indicator was red too.The problem is that I tend to forget it and keep driving for days.I suppose this is the difference between a relaxed practical man of numbers and his wife.

A couple of time I really got a fright as the car kept warning about the low petrol level and I was nowhere to know where a garage was,if there was any around.God bless google map that,can really assist you in these situations.Of course my reaction was to say to myself:”never again”,”this is lesson”,”that red light is not an ornament “.Well, that reaction was just an initial reaction.Everything went back as it was,possibly even worst.That vicious symbol looking like a snake infested ATM,have no power over me anymore. Its turning red and flashing doesn’t scare me any longer.I became bolder and lousier and, since the start of the year, I run out of petrol twice already.

Fortunately it always happened in the village.Unfortunately it always happened when I have no money with me.I never have money with me unless I have to specifically buy something or go for coffee with my friends. For my daily quick runs and drops and picks up I never have my purse with me,except when I forget it in the car since the previous time I needed my wallet.

The first time I run out of petrol was a lovely sunny morning of early January.My darling car was so gracious to stop at the garage.The garage is slightly downhill and so I managed to reach the pump and make petrol,thanks to the 20 euros my dear friend P lent me on the beach while out with the dogs.
Second time that happened was last past Sunday,in other words yesterday. It has been a busy day:we had guests over for lunch,the eldest daughter to be dropped and then collected from a hockey match and still a heavy head from the previous night.The car was also just back from her surgery and if she was in need of petrol or not was really the last of my concerns. It turned out she was!Superfluous to say that I realized how much in need of petrol she was only when already to next village collecting A.The good thing,was that the hockey pitch is conveniently located close to the petrol station. The bad thing,was that I totally rushed out of the house not even taking with me my coat,never mind my purse.”Shoot”,but I had my phone,it worth it a try to see if I could pay with apple pay.No I couldn’t .The usual garage girl was not there.There was a one hundred years old man who looked at me like I was talking in some extraterrestrial language. I decided not to try to explain to him that if he can accept contactless payment he can accept apple pay too.I know I should have felt desperate but, frankly, the whole situation stroked me as hilarious and made me chuckle.

While going back to my car, laughing on my own open mouth like a weirdo,I noticed one of the parent from the school .He politely waved and seemed curious for my laughing.From the distance,I politely and briefly explaining the situation and got into my car where,waiting for me,there was an annoyed daughter.She hates this particularly petrol station after that time we stopped for petrol and I was wearing my bathrobe. Obviously there is a perfectly logical explanation:It was the most beautiful and warm day of late September I have ever seen in Ireland.I couldn’t resist to go with the girls for last swim of the season.I packed the towels,the robes,the jellyfish shoes and everything we needed.I even remember my purse for some ice cream after it.Only thing I forgot was a change of underwear and because I couldn’t wear my dress over my wet swimming suit I had to go home wearing my robe and,totally unexpectedly,to stop for petrol.A never got over the embarrassment while, her sister,was instead laughing her head off and the following day,told her entire class about our little adventure.

Back to yesterday,still unsure if it was out of kindness,or compassion for my child in the car and my husband who would have come and rescued,the dad from the school knocked at the window of my car and handed me 20 euros for the petrol.I was extremely embarrassed and refused to take them.I would have tried to get home.I might had enough to make it.He insisted for me to take them and so I did at the end. Guess what?judging by how little the petrol level went up I am now pretty sure I would have never made it home.
Once I told the travelling husband what happened, he had a big laugh and presented me an early S.Valentine present:a key ring with a little purse attached to fit some notes for fuel emergency .

A car’s story

I don’t particularly like to drive my husband’s car.It is big,it is comfy with nice leather seats that don’t hold stains and don’t stink but, I still only drive it when I have to.First of all because it is always low in petrol.Second of all because I can’t connect my phone playlist and have to listen at crap radio stations playing music worthy of the worst wedding dj ever.Third of all because it is aseptic.Inside my car I have all my things.It is a kind of second home.there are objects that stay there permanently as you never know when you might need them:spare hats,spare shoes,spare lipsticks,wipes,a bag of licorice, dogs bowls,pens and papers etc etc.In one word, in case of necessity, me and my car are self sustainable. The one time It broke down and stopped in the middle of the road it would have been useful to have also a triangle among all the other essentials but, we managed just as well.

The reason I am not driving my car today is because she is at the doctor.Yes,my car is a girl and doesn’t require medical attention very often.She is no exception to the the family rule that the doctor is visited only when strictly necessary.I usually wait and hope in a miraculously fix via divine providence before going to some “consultant” of the 4 wheels.

The car I have at the moment is relatively new,and it came into my life totally by chance.
Up to few years ago I used to drive what it is now my husband estate car and he has a jeep bought mainly for hunting.He used to commute to work with the motorbike anyway.
Everything was fine until the jeep started to get old and have few problems.Nothing really major,that I was aware of! One day the husband went hunting with my car saying it felt safer.I should have known there was something more.
Like every morning I packed my two and for legs troupe and off I went. Once on the road I realized that every time I was indicating a turn the car stopped. Obviously there was an electric problem and ,for the rest of the day,I had to carefully study my route avoiding turns as much as possible.I can guarantee you,it is not easy.Not even in a small town. On my way back home,looking forward to eventually park that thing that obviously was slowly dying,I distractedly put the indicator on.The car stopped and refused to start again.My nerves were now up to a dangerous level.I rang the traveling husband ranting.Once I let my steam off ,he suddenly remember that, yes,it did happen to him too.Taking advantage of me being wordless,he quickly suggested to open a little compartment under the steering wheel where I should have found few wires and “stir them around”,that should have worked..He knew I was furiously wordless and he wisely hung up as fast as he could.Well,in fairness,stirring the wires around it worked.I might have risked to be electrocuted but I made it home.
The following day I paid a visit to all the near by cars dealer and sold it to best bidder.When in the evening the traveling husband came home and asked where the car was, I simply said “I sold it”.To be honest,I think he was glad:glad he got rid of it and glad that someone else rather then him took the hassle to do it.There was just one little tiny problem, we needed a new car and as soon as possible.This is how we picked my current car.It was available immediately and it was small.I had enough of driving around a big chunky piece of metal.I didn’t need a big car anymore.No double buggy,no big baby car seats…I could go lighter and smaller,(of course that was before the giant dog fully grew!).He inherited the estate car and I got my little funky car.That is the story.It was not love at first sight but, I soon learned to like it.Easy to park and considerable cheaper in petrol,more budget to be spent in shoes!

Now that you know how this car got into my life,lets go back to her sickness and the reason she went into surgery this morning.The other day an annoying light popped up with a sign saying something about the engine.It was so quick to pop up and go that I didn’t even time to read it properly.I ignored it and went wherever I had to go:shopping.When I took the car back,the warning pop up again and this time I did read it properly:”insufficient oil pressure,stop and turn off the engine”.It did make me panic a little because I know that if the level of oil is low the whole engine can burn but,what could I do? I was at the shopping center and I had to rush back to pick up the girls from school. I sit back a minute and reassuringly said to myself that usually the warnings are given well in advanced before you risk a real damage.It is to give you time to act,right?!I made it to the school and back home and,of course, by afternoon I forgot about the oil pressure and went away again.The car display didn’t forget and soon after I was back on the road it did warn me one more time.Again,what could I do?I was already on the road and on a tight schedule. I kept going.No smoke was coming out from the bonnet and no burning smell either. In the evening when the traveling husband arrived home I told him about the car’s oil and asked him if he could refill it.He said it was better to bring it to the mechanic, the service was overdue and needed anyway. Problem solved until he said:”Be careful because if there is not enough oil you will burn everything.you haven’t used the car since,have you?you used mine right?”.”Of course yea!”,I replay avoiding eye contacts.”Good.Keep using mine and bring it to the mechanic tomorrow”,he said well aware I was lying but obviously not wanting to sharpen my misery.

The little thing was dropped early this morning .Once home I focus on the most delicate way to tell the travelling husband that we probably have to change the whole engine because I actually did drive for nearly two days on an insufficient oil pressure.I also try to picture his possible reactions.None of them were particularly pleasant and deep down in my heart I took consolation out of the fact that he is to leave early on Monday morning .That means I have to take in the patronizing look only for two days over weekend.
The phone eventually rings and it is the mechanic:”The car is ready for collection”.I am nearly terrified of asking the price and what it was wrong.As soon he says the amount I have to pay,it is clear that there was no damage on the engine.What a relief! I swear to myself not to do it again.I perfectly know I will but, never mind, the good intention is what matters right? .”There was no oil left.you have to top it up sometimes,you know!”,Not even that petty cocky remark from the mechanic had the power to spoil my mood. Everything went for the best. I will be soon serenely driving around in my car, listening at my music and eating my licorice.
Happy friday everybody.Drive safely

Don’t Spill The Salt.

I am not a superstitious person but I used to have my good luck rituals.Back in my student years I was not to face any exam without washing my hair the night before or without wearing a specific ring.That went actually on even after my student days,weather it was before a job interview or a a particularly important event in my life.

Over the years as more busy my days were becoming as more neglected my good luck rituals have been.I got a job,a house, a dog, a husband, a kid,an other dog,an other kid,the fishes and my days became hectic and my time tight .In the morning I barely had time to pick my knickers,never mind to look for that good luck ring.At the beginning I was terrified of what it could have happened but,soon enough,I realized that nothing was going to happen to me.Having my hair washed ,blow and dry and wearing my sapphire ring wouldn’t really make the difference in the outcome of my day.

I can now positively say I am not a superstitious and neither a good luck ritual freak person but,I won’t deny the psychological comfort of it.Superstitions lie on a bed of truth after all.Like the urban myths,they are born from a true event that time after time has been modified by the word spreading.An example are the black cats.They allegedly bring bad luck but, only because those believed to be witches usually had them as pet.But what were the witches?Nothing more then a sort of alchemists believing black cats kept negative energies away.The wine spilled on the table,is bad luck merely because it used to be a luxury.Why spilling salt would bring bad luck I never really knew but,now I do!

Saturday night. The water for the pasta was boiling .The cream,the courgettes and the scampi were frying in the pan.A nice chilled Ribolla has already been poured in my glass.I was taking the salt’s jar out of the cabinet ,when it fell on the floor.Well, obviously it didn’t fall on its own,I dropped it. It is just that I have absolutely no recollection of that.One second was in my hand and a second after was on the floor.The jar smashed in a millions of pieces of glass.The granules of salt were everywhere.
Someone from the couch takes a short break from his duty of guardian of the wine and calls:”What happened?”.”I dropped the jar”,I not even turn as,to me was quite obvious what had happened.”Ouch,the salt’s one?”,I have been asked.”Why because it brings bad luck?no,that is the wine right?”I ask back.”No,spilling wine is a mortal sin.Spilling salt is bad luck”,the wise darling husband replays laughing pleased by his own silly joke.”I am not superstitious”,my voice is starting to have a hint of annoyance.”But if it was your cousin she would be upset”,he says and I think what the hell has my cousin to do with all this but,I would only say,”I am not my cousin”.That is it,case closed. Not really,he goes on:”yes but if you were….”.Now,the conversation is taking an idiotic path and I really have no time for this.I am tired,I am hungry and I want to reach that nice glass of wine that is waiting for me.I ignore my husband’s last sentence and I try instead to figure it out where to start to tied up.

Wherever I walk I can hear the “grinch grinch” noise of the salt under my feet.There are glasses everywhere,included the opposite side of the kitchen.I want to cry and I want to shout .The problem is that I don’t really have nobody to shout against.I dropped the jar:It is my fault.So,instead of unleashing my temper,I breath in and I breath out. In and out trying to expel the negative thoughts and feelings out of my mind and my tense body.Clearly I don’t succeed:my calm is not conquered back and my nostrils are open and dilated by frustration rather then the power of pranayama.

Something is moving down at the couch and tv corner.The darling husband gets up and come close to pat my back.I could have easily cut his hands off straight at the wrist line with one of the kitchen knives, dangerously handy from where I was standing.I didn’t,more to clean.I had sure not energy for that also,I just realized that the salt before touching ground managed to spread itself in every single shelf of my pantry.I am crying inside. I start to empty the pantry.In the meanwhile,as he still has both his hands attached to his wrists,the traveling husband is washing the dogs bowls just in case some glass went into them.A considerate and sweet thought but, “may be,we could have done that after cleaning the pantry,and hoovering the salt from the floor?”,I say . “If I help because I help if I don’t because I don’t you are never happy! “……his response.
We obviously have different priorities in case of domestic accident.I get it and it is fine.What it is not fine,is that he is washing the dogs bowl with the same sponge I use for our dishes. I say it and,may be,I do it with a slightly irritated/agressive tone……….what better excuse to get offended and go back to the couch watching tv?No bother to me:I can handle it myself and, of course,doing as much noise as I can.

Cleaning up salt takes ages but,now I know why they say it is bad luck to spill it:because if you spill salt it is a such hussle to cleant it up that you can’t help yourself from invoking out loud all the saints of the Paradise attracting on you a certain and divine punishment.

Forty minutes later,the the kitchen is squeaky clean,myself and the travelling husband are snuggling on the coach.Two empty plates in front of us and two just refilled glasses in our hands.Our laughter echoing in the room and I wonder:will I get bad luck or not?My thought is not even completed in my head that I spill the wine on my shirt.I laugh and ask :”Is this my bad luck or my mortal sin?”.He look at me,amused and resigned:”no love,this is just you being you”.

Cheap Chat?No Thank You

More and more often I find myself pretending to not see someone rather then engaging in a cheap chat.I am not talking about those cheap chats with absolute strangers at the supermarket or on the bus.Those are the most fun of the conversations.I am talking about the cheap chats with someone you know. More precisely,with someone you know well enough that they feel the urge to stop and talking but do not have actually anything really to talk about.If we have nothing really to say to each other,it is ok. Nothing wrong with that,we don’t necessarily have to engage in conversation. It is not rude.We can just wave at each other and keep going .A simple,”Hi how are you”.No answer expected rather then “fine thanks”, while keep going,it is enough.This is where I stand but,as my mother always says,the world is nice because it is a”variegated” place.Inevitably, there will always be that one person who will engage you in the most odd conversation that makes you feel stupid because,despite all your efforts,you can’t find something particularly intelligent to say.Looking deep into the matter, you probably don’t come up with anything particular intelligent to say, because you don’t have anything particularly intelligent to say.To be honest,most of the time,you are not even interested in what has been told to you either.

After the first five minutes of these forced conversations,I usually totally loose the plot. I stop listening and start wondering in my own mental world.The problem is,that after the long soliloquy of the master cheap chat, my turn comes.I am asked questions and, because I missed most of the conversation,I will be looking like an idiot trying to find something to say that won’t reveal I didn’t listen at one single word that have been told to me. Basically, every time I find myself in front of a professional cheap chatter I have two choices:being rude and walk away or stay and look like an idiot.The second is the most common outcome,as I have been raised a well mannered person.

School gate and the kids activities are the perfect spot for an outbreak of wild and contagious cheap chat. Sunday morning my eldest daughter plays hockey.This year she does it one hour later then last year.It is a nice and quite time,if you can keep away from the cheap chatters.Most of them could really just wave and go but,they don’t. They engage in micro but highly futile and unnecessary conversations.
I usually stay in the car but not always is possible and so,here I am,face to face with the queen of the cheap chat.I really tried to not look like an idiot but this woman can always find the way to trick me.Now you tell me,what is the answer to: “how the new hockey timetable affected the rest of the household?”.Seriously?The big change is that she is now doing hockey from 12.30 to 13.30 instead that from 11.30 to 12.30. I frankly didn’t even think about it. I am desperate to find something clever to say.It is no easy but at the end, I came up with,”oh, it certainly give me more time to get the lunch ready”.Sure it was not the most clever answer but, a good enough little housewife’s answer.Test passed!

The following Sunday,I went more prepared.I pictured so much scenarios in my head and so many possible questions and answers that I felt ready to face the most unnecessary of the conversations.I did my homework and I could stood there head up and totally confident.Well,that is what I thought until I was engaged in conversation by someone who obviously liked the sound of his voice very much and regurgitated an endless series of information I was not the slightest interested on. I politely pretended to listen with interest. To be honest,as long as he was talking,I didn’t have to.Thing that was fine because I didn’t really have anything to say to him.Unfortunately luck doesn’t go on forever:”and you,what ‘s up with you?Plans for the rest of the year?holidays?”.I could feel a series of facial expression passing on my face and not one of them was pleasant or clever but,they were the perfect reflection of the blankness that was going through my mind.Thankfully,at certain point, my brain came alive.With of course the wrong thoughts but,it was alive:”it is January,I didn’t think about summer holidays yet and,frankly,I don’t plan my year ahead…….that is a very stupid question!”,”boy,can you not just say hello how are you and p… off?”.For obvious reasons I couldn’t say what I was thinking and I had to quickly find an excuse to look at my feet and hide my frown that,sure, it would have given me away.Good thing is, I managed to gain some time. I took a big breath and went, “rather then Italy over summer nop,no,plans yet,you?”.An other big mistake.This people have their whole year planned already, week end after week end.I felt claustrophobic on his behalf but, I also felt totally uncool and disorganized. Thankfully,I remembered that I do actually have something planned already and,in advance enough to make me look a bit cooler to his eyes.”I am going to see Roger Waters in concert at the end of June”,I splattered on his face.He was impressed but,most of all,he was delighted to know that I am not living a such precarious life where things are planned last minute.

Now,a question raises spontaneously in my head:what is the real deal with this kind of cheap chats?It is a matter of politeness?It is a way to brag around your life?Or it is a way to know what is going o in someone else’s life?
My vicious mind is prone to say the last two but, I want to give humanity some credit…..someone might just be polite.

I want to thank cmapillay for my nomination .I am honored and flattered .Please check her blog ,Miles to go before I sleep,you wont be able to resists to be dragged into her words.
I won’t do nominations as I only recently did it and I don’t want to overwork my fellow bloggers.Also, it has became more and more difficult to pick a blog over an other.This time I will play neutral but,I will indeed answer the questions I have been asked:

Relatioship:Friend or Love?Love,it worked for as over time my love became a very good friend too.

Vacations:Mountains or Beach?this is a tough one,can I be greedy and pick both?

Seasons:Spring or Fall/Autumn?Autumn,no doubt.

Food:Pizza or Pasta?Pizza.

Movies:Horror or Romance?Again a tough one.I suppose it depends on the mood I am in. In fairness the excess of romance tends to bore me so…. may be Horror.