lunedì, novembre 30, 2015

Atlanta in the Fall

Atlanta in the fall is a delight...and remains so late into the season. To wit, these two photos, taken at the park in my neighborhood.

But which one is better?

(For my little photo hobby, as if I have time for it).

giovedì, novembre 26, 2015

What I'm Drinking (for Thanksgiving & beyond)

I pretty much drink this wine every night. Colosi 2012 Rosso (Terre Siciliane).

It's a Nero d'Avola blend and it's amazing. I don't know why everyone isn't drinking Sicilian reds and nothing but Sicilian reds every night.

And I think it will go great with the Thanksgiving turkey!

Along with a wonderful Aglianico from Puglia.

Happy Thanksgiving!

lunedì, novembre 23, 2015

A picture of me

At a certain age, there are no good pictures. I'm at that age. So how do you explain this photo? He makes me look thin. I swear that's not how my legs look! But what a photog this guy is. This guy...a.k.a., my three-year-old son, Leo. Best portrait photographer ever.

venerdì, novembre 20, 2015

"Lui is bravo"

Says Mike, Il Nostro Inviato, about our son, Leonardo.

Lui _ is_bravo.

Fair enough, he is bravo. A little combustible package of bravo-ness.

Anche carino.

And charming.

Sign me,
Living in Two Languages
(Due lingue fantastiche)

martedì, novembre 17, 2015

I heart Bialetti (and I've got the t-shirt to prove it)

I'd honestly like to think I am the only woman in America obsessed enough with the classic Italian Bialetti moka coffee pot that her partner bought her this t-shirt.

But even if that's not true, I get to keep the t-shirt.

So cool!

This is the logical next step when you own, no joke, nine moka coffee pots, some of which you've scattered at relatives' houses and a certain college in Southern Vermont to ensure visits go smoothly.

Of course, the t-shirt came in a cutesy little bag with the Bialetti logo from the fantastic (and new, or new to me) Bialetti shop where Il Nostro Inviato bought it.

Is it wrong to wonder what other Bialetti baubles the store might have sold (i.e., perfect little Christmas gifts for Mamma)?

Maybe. But I'm wondering just the same.

venerdì, novembre 06, 2015


I only have to hear it -- "eleventeen"-- once for it to instantly become my favorite number.

The best number that has never existed.

Let's play a game.

Take someone who's wanted to be writer since she was nine, and then add a child.

(Oh, not just any child, sure. My child. My gorgeous little boy. Leo. L-E-O.)

And then go one step further: allow the writerly mother in question to indulge in a fantasy she never even had.

Which is: Listening while someone, her little someone, learns to speak.

I've written about this topic before (notably here and here). And even if you love me, you may be blanching right now from boredom and pity (for me).

But, oh God, it is so awesome!

The writer's equivalent of someone learning to walk? Run?

When Leo says "eleventeen," I don't correct him. (Probably not something I should admit.)

It's just so cute. Eight, nine, ten, eleventeen.

I do the same thing when he says "fi-ruh" (for the word fire). Ditto: lello, and hangerburger (to go with your hotdog).

It's the greatest blooper reel ever created, as far as I am concerned.

And besides, why correct him when he says, "I want to swing very higher"?

Swinging "very higher" sounds like something I'd like to do, too.

sabato, ottobre 31, 2015

Italian newspapers are beautiful

What I learn from Italy and Italians isn't confined to the language of that country or the customs of that country.

I learn about everything that fascinates them.

And Italians love art -- all art. What's more, they are fascinated with other cultures.

Here's a gorgeous newspaper spread from Sunday's La Repubblica showing off Japanese-inspired comic art drawn by an Italian artist.

He's made a career out of drawing Manga-style comics that the Japanese swoon over.

Me, too! Che bello.

giovedì, ottobre 29, 2015

martedì, ottobre 27, 2015

What Jeanne will find in Paradiso

It's almost obscene how much joy I derive from reading Italian.

Maybe that's how they can convince high school students and others to study foreign languages.

The foreign words knocking about your head and leaping off your tongue feel so good, it's obscene, dude!

martedì, ottobre 20, 2015

Mommy says (no, not me)

During my recent visit to New Jersey, Mommy says to me: 

“She sent him a mass card and everything.” 

Where 'everything' consists of nothing but appears to be the best possible gift. Whoever my mother is talking about has sent a mass card (to my father, following his hip surgery) and nothing more.

But the one small gesture, the one good deed of sending the card looms large in her head, hence a sentence that to a foreigner might not make any sense. All the woman sent was a mass card. But that now constitutes everything.

What a wonderful way to see the world! Delighting in small things. 

I think that might be my true religion. Hers, too.