Is it wretched of me? Is it mean and selfish? i'm supposed to be trying to get well and have a lovely Girls' Night In with Echo, and it's been fun, but i'm bored. My ass hurts from sitting here watching all the films we never get to watch because the boys don't want to.
We've painted, she so much better and nicer than i. We've sewn. her cupcakes, me a tiger. She's painted my toenails, made cookies (which i ate about 6 of), warmed and brought me ribs, is making us popcorn....we are nostril deep in Marilyn Monroe movies, an Audrey Hepburn film (Sabrina), and now the newer Sabrina. I think there is at least a musical in our future... but, as much s i love this, as much as i love just being Girls, as much as i enjoy the lack of stress in the house i'm bored.
My creative bursts are gone. I failed gloriously at embroidery and, wow, my daughter just chewed me out for being on the computer all day.
Yeah. and she is conversing with Harrison Ford about who is the most handsome. ~sigh!
so, yeah, wrecked and vile. The stress of relaxing and resting.
hyperbolicicious. " A delicacy of too often excessive, exaggerated, and overstated thoughts and ramblings by someone who needs to slow down, regroup, and reground"
Friday, January 31, 2014
Wednesday, January 29, 2014
Che Gioia 19Jan14
i am reading Francis Mayes' Every Day in Tuscany. I love her books and plan to collect everything she puts out. Are you thinking, "why do i know that name?" Probably not. you probably know it's from Under The Tuscan Sun which is based on a scattering of her stories (made for movie audiences instead of book readers).
as i read i sometimes find notes to take, phrases and words to remember, write down, and research. The words "che gioia", what joy, popped up and immediately reminds me of a lady i saw at the kids' morning bus stop almost every morning in Milano. It was common knowledge that this place on Cimarossa was the place the Americans lived because as the school bus arrived the children formed a line. No self-respecting Italian kid I ever saw formed a line for anything unless they were being herded by an American~
Each day as we waited for the bus people passed by-on foot, on bikes-refusing to use the bike path provided across the road, instead choosing to use their God-given right to run over children on the sidewalk-but people don't smile or say hello. They didn't on the morning sidewalk outside our gates, in the city, in the suburbs.. unless for some crazy reason no one knew of, the planets all aligned and the air blew just right. But not just Milano. I can't tell you the countless times people scowled at us in Dublin or DC. Of course, this is big city procedure-probably in the small print of their birth certificates- if they are smiling, they are probably a tourist.
Anyway-there was a lady i'd met from New York who often passed by with her kids and we'd chat but you know- she is American. (Incidentally, very cool. she taught voice to professional singers including opera singers).
Then came Gioia. Joy. The only person who, every time we saw each other, smiled and said hello. And all too late, as it so often happens, we talked. With her lack of Inglese and my non-Italiano, we became friends. And we were leaving. And in those last few days i think i may have offered her a gift~i think i gave her prosecco-just because she smiled and said hello every morning.
And i'd forgotten til Francis Mayes. I knew i needed her books. All things happen for a reason.
Che Gioia. I found her.
Smiling as she walked passed Cimarossa
i am reading Francis Mayes' Every Day in Tuscany. I love her books and plan to collect everything she puts out. Are you thinking, "why do i know that name?" Probably not. you probably know it's from Under The Tuscan Sun which is based on a scattering of her stories (made for movie audiences instead of book readers).
as i read i sometimes find notes to take, phrases and words to remember, write down, and research. The words "che gioia", what joy, popped up and immediately reminds me of a lady i saw at the kids' morning bus stop almost every morning in Milano. It was common knowledge that this place on Cimarossa was the place the Americans lived because as the school bus arrived the children formed a line. No self-respecting Italian kid I ever saw formed a line for anything unless they were being herded by an American~
Each day as we waited for the bus people passed by-on foot, on bikes-refusing to use the bike path provided across the road, instead choosing to use their God-given right to run over children on the sidewalk-but people don't smile or say hello. They didn't on the morning sidewalk outside our gates, in the city, in the suburbs.. unless for some crazy reason no one knew of, the planets all aligned and the air blew just right. But not just Milano. I can't tell you the countless times people scowled at us in Dublin or DC. Of course, this is big city procedure-probably in the small print of their birth certificates- if they are smiling, they are probably a tourist.
Anyway-there was a lady i'd met from New York who often passed by with her kids and we'd chat but you know- she is American. (Incidentally, very cool. she taught voice to professional singers including opera singers).
Then came Gioia. Joy. The only person who, every time we saw each other, smiled and said hello. And all too late, as it so often happens, we talked. With her lack of Inglese and my non-Italiano, we became friends. And we were leaving. And in those last few days i think i may have offered her a gift~i think i gave her prosecco-just because she smiled and said hello every morning.
And i'd forgotten til Francis Mayes. I knew i needed her books. All things happen for a reason.
Che Gioia. I found her.
Smiling as she walked passed Cimarossa
arnoldJanuary 28, 2014 at 8:36 PM (reposted from comments box from last evening)
it's been so very long. my computer is fixed but as the code to the internet is lost i am still on Juj's computer.
the house did not work out, sadly, as i wound up just playing phone tag w the realtor so we are in Alexandria/Fairfax. And we are mostly settled and moving is on our horizon. it is exhausting. every day is exhausting. the tension in this house is exhausting. But for now we have a lovely yard that goes straight out to the woods with the gift of fox(es) and deer who frequent our yard. I have a lil job at a day care just around the corner and hope to find further employment if i can ever get over this asthma attack.
the kids are settling in so the idea of a move depresses them. i think we are all done with moving and i hope Spring with her warmth and sun, the rebirth of plants around us and all helps to sort us out.
I have so much to say, some of which i can't and others which i'll wait for tomorrow to do.
tonight i will try to sleep. I'll try to think good things and positive thoughts and radiate love and peace and prayer and forgiveness. This is becoming increasingly difficult for me. People around me are hurt, are hurting, are being hurt. and i feel helpless and hopeless.
the house did not work out, sadly, as i wound up just playing phone tag w the realtor so we are in Alexandria/Fairfax. And we are mostly settled and moving is on our horizon. it is exhausting. every day is exhausting. the tension in this house is exhausting. But for now we have a lovely yard that goes straight out to the woods with the gift of fox(es) and deer who frequent our yard. I have a lil job at a day care just around the corner and hope to find further employment if i can ever get over this asthma attack.
the kids are settling in so the idea of a move depresses them. i think we are all done with moving and i hope Spring with her warmth and sun, the rebirth of plants around us and all helps to sort us out.
I have so much to say, some of which i can't and others which i'll wait for tomorrow to do.
tonight i will try to sleep. I'll try to think good things and positive thoughts and radiate love and peace and prayer and forgiveness. This is becoming increasingly difficult for me. People around me are hurt, are hurting, are being hurt. and i feel helpless and hopeless.
So there it is. almost a year out and more of the same maudlin bullshit i always type.
tomorrow (i hope) i will write about Joy. i know, you don't believe me. just wait and see.
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