Archive for September, 2007

feeble attempt at posting

my life still continues to be crazy and chockful of appointments and obligations. I don’t think I could get through all of this without the support and encouragement from my friends and family…this has been truly humbling.

 The kiddo continues to amuse and surprise me. If I didn’t know any better, I’d begin wondering if we are indeed related. Not only does she dismiss my music, but she turns her nose up at Fruity Pebbles. What kid refuses Fruity Pebbles?!?! 

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my crazy life

is preventing me from being the blogger I wasnt to be. Everything is happening at once, demanding equal attention and careful consideration. But not in a bad way.

The kiddo, bless her little heart, has been frequently requesting this thing. It’s called a baby sister. A born baby sister. She pledges to share all of her toys with her.

Quelle timing. I’m sorry, sweetie. For us both. I would just love to have two of you.

it’s love,

apparently:

“Coleslaw, you are my best. friend. EVER.”

Yep. She said that at the dinner table tonight. Evidently, mom’s coleslaw warrants warm fuzzies such as this declaration. She’s a funny one. It will be interesting to see who becomes her human best friend. Will she choose someone as quirky as she is, or her opposite? Hmm.

She also knows the difference between cheddar and meunster cheeses. I don’t remember distinguishing things such as that, but her palate loudly prefers…no, demands, cheddar.

Thanks to one over-ripe tomato (they look so pretty in a rustic way piled in a bowl on the table), I have a freaking fruit fly problem going on here. For days I’ve been emptying bowls of vinegar and soap full of the creepy little dead things. Ugh. They aren’t on a par with, say; ticks, for sheer revoltingpukeinducing qualities, but those beady little red eyes are creeping me out.

Maestro

One of my fondest memories of the kiddo’s relative youth was the pleasure she took in watching The Three Tenors on dvd. She’d sit, swathed in blankets and just coo. As soon as Maestro took the stage , she’d break free from the blankets; waving  her arms and squealing in imitation.

Pavarotti and Carmen are about all I know of opera, except for a brief fling with voice lessons in the bel canto method. My teacher was a robust woman with red hair, an ample busom, and glasses that she’d painted herself with pink nailpolish. She liked to tease men in restauraunts at lunch by brushing crumbs  ever so daintily off her cleavage and giving her admirers a wink. But when she sang, she was full of command and all business.

She liked to take in people and try to make something of them, from the boarders in her cat filled house, to a singing postman by the name of Dennis who dreamed of becoming an opera star. She’d set her sights on pageants  for me, which mortified me to the core. The practice was demanding, and I lost interest after a few months and didn’t want to waste her time.  I’d like to say I learned something, but other than an appreciation of the intense control these singers have, about the only other thing I took with me was a stubborn acceptance of my own hushed voice. It’s my comfort zone.

Pavarotti was a revelation, in both voice and presence; pure love and warmth. Beautiful. So, Viva il Maestro.

into the wild

I very much want to see this movie. Since childhood, before I’d even heard of Thoreau or read all of the books by Anne Labastille, I’ve wanted to do something like this.

3 4U

I’ve been tagged. Twice. I’m still working on one sent my way by Dok. Seems yesterday, unbeknownst to me, it was Blog Day. I know this because Sigrid, a reader in Italy who herself has an awesome cooking blog; il cavoletto di bruxelles (love the photography), tagged me and let me know. So I thought I’d share three blogs that I’ve never mentioned here. Enjoy:

DearAda: This is a blog after my own heart. You may have noticed the absence of links for what I like to call pretty-pretties recently. I still peruse around for them; just have been too distracted for posting. Pretty-pretties everywhere here, and when I’m in dire need of eye candy, here I go.

Bright Stupid Confetti: I always find wonderful artists working in all sorts of mediums on this blog. I love and trust their eye.

3191: This is a beautiful collaboration between two friends who happen to live 3191 miles apart; simple, stunning, and precious. An ongoing visual blog  of morning capsules of life around and abound. I love peeking in.