The baby said "Mamma" today and I have the husband as my witness. The baby was kvetching (and stretching) away and finally, exasperated because I was typing instead of picking her up and Babbo (Italian for "Daddy") was supine and immobile on the couch due to a nasty flu, she shouted, "Mamma!" I knew she was a genius.
Despite his raging flu (he didn't even smoke or have four cups of espresso...not even one!), the husband went to work this evening. (I think "the husband" needs to be "the Husband" and "the baby" shall henceforth be "the Baby"). The Husband owns a wine bar in the historic center of Naples. It is a lovely, tiny place, completely built and designed by him. Very rustic, lots of dark wood and a collection of antique pots and pans, a couple of pistols, a rotating exhibit of photos of Naples, a couple of framed postcards from the 20s featuring half-naked ladies, and a ceramic penis (erect) attached to a ceiling beam. The penis is supposed to bring good fortune. It's always fun to observe a customer discover the penis for the first time, a sort of "Whoa! Hey! Look at that cock!"
I bumped into Danny Glover at Whole Foods in Berkeley once. I was waiting impatiently behind this very tall black man, while he painfully slowly disengaged a shopping wagon from it's snug fit within it's forward brethren (oy). I was tapping my foot and sighing and huffing when the man turned and I saw it was Danny Glover. I was so caught off guard that I exclaimed, "Whoa! Hey! Danny Glover!" He looked at me blankly and went into the store, where I am sure I saw him shaking his head at my imbecility and not at the outrageous prices. What's a couple of extra dollars on every item scanned for the guy who made 400 Lethal Weapon films? I wonder how he feels about Mel? Did he know during filming that that bug-eyed, crazy character Mel played was really a sane, gentle soul compared to the maniac that is the real Mel?
As a Jewish person I feel it is my right to call Mel Mel. I think I will even begin calling Hitler Adolf. I have a distant cousin named Adolf. Had. He is deceased and was evidently born before that other Adolf's rise to power. I wonder how many people sitting on their porch swings in the summer heat, rocking gently and sipping lemonade, think to themselves in a nostalgic whisper, "Ah, remember the days when Adolf was just a name like John or Mike?"
This usage of the word "wonder" is starting to remind me of Sex and the City...I couldn't help but wonder. That was one of the things that bugged me about the show. That and the abysmal season finale. Enough said about that. That is way ancient history. Of course, I have had no contact with new HBO series because I live in Naples -- remember? -- and do not subscribe to SKY cable tv.
Though I told the Husband that he was deranged for going to work in his fluescent state, I am pleased to be in the house alone except for sleeping Baby, blogging and going in and out of the kitchen for snacks. I just ate a sausage out of the giant broth I made for the Husband. I finished the ice cream earlier. There are still some cookies. Maybe I will bake a cake later. I haven't baked since the arrival of the Baby. While pregnant, I baked constantly, all recipes from The Joy of Cooking. Had to have guests from the States bring me baking powder and cream of tartar. Tartar. Now I've done it. I had to type "tartar" and now I am craving fish and chips. Wrapped in newspaper.
Have I mentioned that I torture myself about my friendships? The ones I left behind in California? I am getting better at not torturing myself, but I still do it. I still imagine they all hate me or, worse, that they hardly think of me at all anymore. I have a long history of fraught friendships. One way I make myself feel like a better friend to those with whom I no longer have contact is I buy their books. Many of my old friends are writers. My hope is that one day, they will buy my book, see my film...I know, I know, you told me last time...I have to write them first.
Snack time!
Despite his raging flu (he didn't even smoke or have four cups of espresso...not even one!), the husband went to work this evening. (I think "the husband" needs to be "the Husband" and "the baby" shall henceforth be "the Baby"). The Husband owns a wine bar in the historic center of Naples. It is a lovely, tiny place, completely built and designed by him. Very rustic, lots of dark wood and a collection of antique pots and pans, a couple of pistols, a rotating exhibit of photos of Naples, a couple of framed postcards from the 20s featuring half-naked ladies, and a ceramic penis (erect) attached to a ceiling beam. The penis is supposed to bring good fortune. It's always fun to observe a customer discover the penis for the first time, a sort of "Whoa! Hey! Look at that cock!"
I bumped into Danny Glover at Whole Foods in Berkeley once. I was waiting impatiently behind this very tall black man, while he painfully slowly disengaged a shopping wagon from it's snug fit within it's forward brethren (oy). I was tapping my foot and sighing and huffing when the man turned and I saw it was Danny Glover. I was so caught off guard that I exclaimed, "Whoa! Hey! Danny Glover!" He looked at me blankly and went into the store, where I am sure I saw him shaking his head at my imbecility and not at the outrageous prices. What's a couple of extra dollars on every item scanned for the guy who made 400 Lethal Weapon films? I wonder how he feels about Mel? Did he know during filming that that bug-eyed, crazy character Mel played was really a sane, gentle soul compared to the maniac that is the real Mel?
As a Jewish person I feel it is my right to call Mel Mel. I think I will even begin calling Hitler Adolf. I have a distant cousin named Adolf. Had. He is deceased and was evidently born before that other Adolf's rise to power. I wonder how many people sitting on their porch swings in the summer heat, rocking gently and sipping lemonade, think to themselves in a nostalgic whisper, "Ah, remember the days when Adolf was just a name like John or Mike?"
This usage of the word "wonder" is starting to remind me of Sex and the City...I couldn't help but wonder. That was one of the things that bugged me about the show. That and the abysmal season finale. Enough said about that. That is way ancient history. Of course, I have had no contact with new HBO series because I live in Naples -- remember? -- and do not subscribe to SKY cable tv.
Though I told the Husband that he was deranged for going to work in his fluescent state, I am pleased to be in the house alone except for sleeping Baby, blogging and going in and out of the kitchen for snacks. I just ate a sausage out of the giant broth I made for the Husband. I finished the ice cream earlier. There are still some cookies. Maybe I will bake a cake later. I haven't baked since the arrival of the Baby. While pregnant, I baked constantly, all recipes from The Joy of Cooking. Had to have guests from the States bring me baking powder and cream of tartar. Tartar. Now I've done it. I had to type "tartar" and now I am craving fish and chips. Wrapped in newspaper.
Have I mentioned that I torture myself about my friendships? The ones I left behind in California? I am getting better at not torturing myself, but I still do it. I still imagine they all hate me or, worse, that they hardly think of me at all anymore. I have a long history of fraught friendships. One way I make myself feel like a better friend to those with whom I no longer have contact is I buy their books. Many of my old friends are writers. My hope is that one day, they will buy my book, see my film...I know, I know, you told me last time...I have to write them first.
Snack time!
1 comment:
hehe "Whoa! Hey! Danny Glover!" Unexpected reaction for the both of you. Mel Gibson is a really sick fuck, isn't it? Like the way you naturally change subjects within the text. Very cool style
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