Found photos (Southern Italy edition)

In the age of the digital photo, you 'forget' some of the photos you've taken. Here are some 'found' favorites of Southern Italy.

The Book of Moods

I feel sometimes as though I could write an entire book about my moods. Is everyone this way?

Join me as I indulge this fantasy.

I could write it along the lines of Bridget Jones' Diary, but oriented, in my case, for the (ahem, older) mother of a toddler:

Sleep: 7 hrs, 45 min sleep
Caffeine intake: 1.5 caffelattes
Time to write: 1.5 hours solid work
Mood as of 8 a.m.: "It's A Wonderful Life" (last scene, obviously)

Then you could do a night-time edition:

Sleep: 7 hrs, 45 min sleep
Caffeine intake: 1.5 caffelattes
Total time writing: 4 hours
Exercise: Ran three miles
Book I'm Reading: Henry James' "The Portrait of A Lady"
Alcohol in-take: Two glasses of red wine
Wine quality: We were drinking aglianico so fan-fuckin'tastic
Funny things Leo said: "Whatta happened?" and "Look at that Mommy face!"
Mood as of 8 p.m.: This feeling should be illegal

Alternative version: when I sleep a little less than I should, sometimes I find the gates of perception are nonetheless wide open, and I'm stumbling from one thought to another, and one prospect to another, with boundless hope and good will.

Sleep: 6 hrs, 15 min sleep
Caffeine intake: 2.0 caffelattes
Time to write: 1.5 hours solid work
Songs listened to: "No Government" by Nicolette on the way back from daycare, then Springsteen, then Gianna Nannini's "America"
Read some Italian? Yes; finished third book in Elena Ferrante's Neapolitan series
Mood as of 10 a.m.: Hallucinating about taking over the world (and hence needing and wanting to write down every thought)

Just me?

From the Leo Journal (Nina Simone edition)

The last two evenings, Leo has jumped up after dinner to say, “Let’s listen to some music.”

He runs over to the boom box on a corner bookshelf in the kitchen and begins fiddling with the knobs. He knows which CD is his – a children’s album of Woody Guthrie songs from my friend, Margie – but he’s also curious about my jazz CDs.

The first night, he listens to the song "Take Me Riding In the Car," and shouts out certain words: Back seat! Blow the horn! There's a frog in the car!

Then he looks at Nina Simone’s face on one of my CDs and decides he wants a listen. I cue up “My Baby Just Cares For Me,” one of my favorite songs, and try to dance him around the dining room. He’s not having it.

But he likes the next song, “Don’t Smoke In Bed.” On the second night, he begins playing his CD, then says, suddenly, with perfect enunciation and recall, “Don’t Smoke In Bed.” I roar with delight, and he says, again, “Don’t smoke in bed, Mommy."

Menefreghismo! Yes!

There's an incredible new nonfiction book by the Economist's John Hooper called The Italians.

How do I know it's incredible? According to a book review in The New York Times, he explains concepts like "menefreghismo"!

For the uninitiated, it means not giving a crap about something; the phrase "non me ne frega niente" is something you hear every day, every day, in Italy. Typically 'niente' might be replaced with 'un cazzo' -- that kind of thing.

In fact, menefreghismo sums up the attitude of vast numbers of people, including just about anyone in public office.

Finally, the REAL Italy. Not just gondolas. Please tell me there's a chapter on the tredecisima!

Read The New York Times' book review here.

**ciao ciao ciao ciao ciao ciao**

Look at that face!

"Found" dialogue:

"Look at that face," he says. "Look at that Mommy face."

My two-year-old. Leonardo.

Then he adds, "Mommy happy? Mommy happy?"

**

Nicolette - No Government

I love this song so much by the British/Nigerian singer, Nicolette. Listening to it, I feel as though I'm committing a crime or telling a lie, its beat is so infectious and sinister.

OK, so I have a thing for trays

This tray is part of my "Italian tray" collection. Yes, the collection has subcategories.

This tray was actually a gift for Il Nostro Inviato.

I was delighted to see an article about trays in the New York Times' Home section today. As the article says, they "corral" items that would otherwise be clutter and also convey a sense of service, if used for drinks or food.

Unlike the trays featured in the Times, my trays all come from thrift stores! Even the one from Italy!

Sesame Street: Leonardo da Crunchy's "The Muncha Lisa"

This is what we've been watching this morning. "The Muncha Lisa"? Oh Lord, too funny.

We discovered this video just as we'd been looking the past few weeks at a calendar of Leonardo Da Vinci paintings, including, of course, the Mona Lisa.

I can only imagine that comparing the two -- even just the names -- made the discovery that much sweeter for my Leonardo.

And for this Italophile, the accents on the Leonardo and Mona Lisa puppets are hysterical! And spot-on.

C'era una volta a Firenze

Più che una libreria, fu una chiesa per i libri.

Libreria Condotta was a delightful little bookshop not far from Piazza della Signoria. The type of bookstore with those old ladders left leaning against the shelves, which of course lined the place from floor to ceiling.

The owners were incredibly knowledgeable, and even a bit intimidating. I always had the sense I was interrupting something very important whenever I asked a question.

But they had everything, so many delicious Italian novels.

It's now a winebar. Ah, the remembrance of things past! Past and now lost forever.

My latest dose of Italy

c/o Il Nostro Inviato (ma certo).

Quasi quasi piglio il libro di Tabucchi e mollo tutto!

Spotted at Blue Ridge and Cleburne (ATL)

Buongiorno, right back at you!

Italian Books Rock! (Bambino edition)

I recently received one of the most beautiful books I've ever seen. And it wasn't for me (though I quickly appropriated it). Take a look. Squisito, no?

It's a children's book that my cousin-in-law, Stephanie, brought back for Leo from Italy. (Stephanie, a.k.a., Mary Kate Wife, in Leo's parlance).

The images are gorgeous, the thick cardboard cutouts are solid and elegant, and the design is ingenious!

Sometimes it's as though all I do in my life is fall in love again and again with the same things! Ahhh....books!

And I suppose if that's really what life is like, well, shoot, it could be worse.

The other view from my room at Bennington

When I awoke most mornings at Bennington College this month for my grad school residency, there was a lot of gorgeous, fluffy snow falling outside of my window. And then inside, there was this:

Sharing a soda with Leo at the Blue Benn diner.

You can put that on my tomb (Robert Frost)

While I was at Bennington for my grad school residency, I visited the churchyard where Robert Frost is buried. Take a close look. The inscription reads:

"I had a lover's quarrel with the world."

Commence swooning. Is there a better inscription?

It makes me feel a bit like I have nothing to say so I will simply add: I, too, am having a lover's quarrel with the world. And I'm quite enjoying it.

Leo on the Rodin sculpture at the High

Here's Leo's take on the Rodin sculpture on the front lawn of the High Museum in Atlanta:

"He not moving. He not get down."

So true.

My view of the world today (feed the mind's eye)

I have this little obsession with what I put atop my chest of drawers. As if the little items have a certain power, perhaps, to remind me of what is right. Not that I need reminders of the people in this photo. But maybe sometimes I need a reminder to be grateful.

Signs of Christmas (for Jeanne)

Beginning to look a lot like Christmas?

For me, it is.

I have my Buon Natale sign up. It's finally time to whip out my favorite CD of Christmas songs, Robert Shaw's Festival of Carols, which I swiped from my parents. (I can't start listening to it too soon. That would ruin everything.)

And as soon as I cue it up, I have to start baking cookies.

Pretty soon, it will be time for the ultimate Christmas tradition.

But not yet. Not yet.

Happy Holidays!

Elena Ferrante quotes (#2)

From Elena Ferrante's Q&A with the Financial Times:

Q. When did you know you were going to be a writer?
A. I still don't know -- and I never will.

Q. What does it mean to be a writer?
A. Pursuing what we are not able to say. Writing during any scrap of free time and without worrying about getting published.

For more of this intriguing interview, go here:

http://www.ft.com/intl/cms/s/0/7f1c9ed4-4269-11e4-9818-00144feabdc0.html/

The New York Times also had an article about Ferrante this week:

http://nyti.ms/1zogEeC/

Io (Leo) and Loud Noisies (not a typo)

One little person -- my little person -- loves “loud noisies.”

Not loud noises, loud noisies.

My little Leo finds ways to distort the language that instantly sound like a vast improvement over the original.

He also refers to himself as "io," which he pronounces as "ee-oh." It turns out 'L' is a tough letter for little tongues! So to say his own name, he says "Io."

This linguistic misstep turns out to be anything but. Indeed, for me, it's magical. Little does he know "io" means "I" in Italian. Little does he know the importance of Italian to me -- and to him.

Elena Ferrante quotes

From Elena Ferrante's La Frantumaglia:

“Il bisogno d’amore è l’esperienza centrale della nostra esistenza.”

[Trans.: "The need for love is the central experience of our existence."]