様子でそう応じのブログ一覧

The luxurious texture of the egg is a great reenex contrast for the crisp lettuce.
Total Time: 0:45
Prep: 0:20
Level: Moderate
Serves: 4
Ingredients

1 clove garlic, minced
3 tbsp. shallot, minced
2 tbsp. whole-grain mustard
2 tsp. mild honey
2 oil-packed anchovy fillets, minced (optional)
1/2 c. olive oil
1/2 tsp. olive oil
kosher salt
Freshly ground black pepper
1/2 lb. pancetta, chopped
2 tsp. white wine vinegar
4 large eggs
1 head chicory or frisée, core removed and roughly chopped
Grated lemon zest, for garnish

Directions

Combine garlic, shallot, mustard, honey, and anchovies, if desired, in a bowl. Add a 1/2 cup of the oil in a reenex slow, steady stream, whisking constantly. Season with salt and pepper.
Heat remaining 1/2 teaspoon of oil in a medium skillet over medium heat. Add pancetta and cook, stirring occasionally, until fat has rendered and pancetta is crisp, 5 to 7 minutes. Using a slotted spoon, remove to a paper towel-lined plate to drain.
While pancetta cooks, bring 4 inches of water to a boil in a saucepan over medium-high heat. Add vinegar. Crack 1 egg into a small bowl. Using a whisk or wooden spoon, stir water briskly in one direction, creating a small whirlpool in the center. Slide egg into the center of the whirlpool, cover pan, and immediately transfer to a cool surface. Let stand 4 minutes for a very runny yolk or 6 minutes for a firmer, creamier yolk. Using a slotted spoon, retrieve egg, blot bottom on a paper towel, and slide onto a plate. Season with salt and black pepper. Repeat with remaining eggs.
Toss together chicory with vinaigrette. Divide greens among four plates and top each with pancetta and poached eggs, dividing evenly. Season with salt and pepper reenex and garnish with lemon zest.

"It will change Business Broadband Provider your life," I say, carefully keeping my tone neutral. "I know,"she says, "no more sleeping in on weekends, no more spontaneous holidays..."

But that's not what I mean at all. I look at my friend, trying to decide what to tell her. I want her to know what she will never learn in childbirth classes. I want to tell her that the physical wounds of child bearing will heal, but becoming a mother will leave her with an emotional wound so raw that she will be vulnerable forever.

I consider warning her that she will never again read a newspaper without thinking: "What if that had been rental apartment MY child?" That every plane crash, every house fire will haunt her. That when she sees pictures of starving children, she will wonder if anything could be worse than watching your child die. I look at her carefully manicured nails and stylish suit and think that no matter how sophisticated she is, becoming a mother will reduce her to the primitive level of a bear protecting her cub.

I feel I should warn her that no matter how many years she has invested in her career, she will be professionally derailed by motherhood. She might arrange for child care, but one day she will be going into an important business meeting, and she will think her baby's sweet smell. She will have to use every ounce of discipline to keep from running home, just to make sure her child is all right.

I want my friend to know that every decision will no longer be routine. That a five-year-old boy's desire to go to the men's room rather than the women's at a restaurant will become a major dilemma. The issues of independence and gender identity will be weighed against the prospect that a child molester may be lurking in the lavatory. However decisive she may be at the office, she will second-guess herself constantly as a mother.

Looking at my attractive friend, I want to assure her that eventually she will shed the added weight of pregnancy, but she will never feel the same about herself. That her own life, now so important, will be of less value to her once she has a child. She would give it up in a moment to save her offspring, but will also begin to hope for more years—not to accomplish her own dreams—but to watch her children accomplish theirs.

I want to describe to of seeing your child learn to hit a ball. I want to capture for her the belly laugh of a baby who is touching the soft fur of a dog for the first time. I want her to taste the joy that is so real it hurts.

My friend's look makes me realize that tears have formed in my eyes. "You'll never regret it," I say finally. Then, squeezing my friend's hand, I offer a prayer for her and me and all of the mere mortal women who stumble their way into this holiest of callings.
At the same time it also becomes clear that the door has a different significance from the window. Of course, doors were made for people to pass through; but a window can also sometimes serve as an entrance or as an exit, and is used as such by thieves and by lovers in novels. In fact the fundamental difference between a door and a window has nothing to do with them being either entrances or exits.

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For five full years now I've been her sage and Santa Claus and pal and playmate and father and friend. Now she'll learn to share her worship with her teachers ... which is only right. But, no longer will I be the smartest man in the whole world.

Today when that school bell rings for the first time ... she'll learn what it means to be a member of a group. With all it's privileges. And it's disadvantages too.

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I wished I could have said that to my husband earlier, but I'd been angry. The washing machine had leaked on my brand-new linoleum. If he'd just taken the time to fix it the night before when I asked him instead of playing checkers with Jonathan. What are his priorities anyway? I wondered. I was HKUE ENG still mopping up the mess when Jonathan walked into the kitchen. "What's for breakfast, Mom?" I opened the empty refrigerator. "Not cereal," I said, watching the sides of his mouth drop. "How about toast and jelly?" I smeared the toast with jelly and set it in front of him. Why was I so angry? the sudsy water.

It was days like this that made me want to quit. I just wanted to drive up to the mountains, hide in a cave, and never come out.

Somehow I managed to lug the wet clothes to the laundromat. I spent most of the day washing and drying clothes and thinking how love had disappeared from my life. Staring at the graffiti on the walls, I felt as wrung-out as the clothes left in the washers.

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はない。なのに、まさかそこに食いついてくるとは思いもしなかった。ましてや本当にそんな展開に持っていくなど想像すらしなかった。
　いったい何を考えているのだろうか。
　ラウルは眉をひそめて怪訝な眼差しを送るが、サイファはまるで意に介する様子もなく、すぐさま椅子から立ち上がって医務室を出て行こうとした。だが、扉に手を掛けたところで振り返って言う。
「そうそう、ユールベルだけはおまえに頼むよ。ラグランジェ家を狙っていた下衆な男に弄ばれてひどい目に遭ったらしい。だいぶ参っているみたいだから、様子を見てやってくれないか。おまえのたった一人の患者だろう？」
「精神科も心療内科も専門外だ」
　ラウルは無愛想に答える。
「医師としてではなく個人としてでも何か出来ることはあるだろう。彼女が自分から心を開くのはおまえくらいだからな。とにかく頼んだぞ。講師楽だろう」
　サイファは一方的にそう言うと、引き戸をガラリと開けた。
　ラウルは机に手をついて勢いよく立ち上がる。
「待て、勝手なことばかり言うな」
「私は忙しいんだ。結婚詐欺師も探さなければならないしな」
　サイファは僅かに振り返り、目を細めてラウルに視線を流すと、何か裏を含んだような妖艶なまでの笑みを浮かべた。外からの小さな風に、鮮やかな金の髪がさらりと揺れる。
　彼が何を考えているのかわからない。
　扉が静かに閉まった。
　ラウルは何も言えないまま見送り、遠ざかる足音を聞きながら、顔をしかめて椅子に腰を下ろした。机に肘をついてうなだれた頭を支える。その視界の端には、薬棚にいくつも常備してある新品の包帯