Wednesday, December 29, 2010

Quality Time with Dad

When I was a kid there were a couple of nights a month that my dad had to watch me. My mom would be babysitting for another family and my sister would also be out babysitting. So that left my father and me to spend quality time together.

My mom would usually prepare dinner for us. Occasionally though my dad would cook for both of us. The menu of the evening usually consisted of a choice of: Pasta and tomato sauce, a fried egg with tomato sauce, grilled mozzarella cheese sandwiches (which could have tomato sauce) or some roast beef in tomato sauce.

After dinner, it was usually time for a bath. Bath time with my dad was a bit different than with my mom. My dad didn’t believe in shampoo to clean my hair. He would take a bar of Ivory soap and rub it across the top of my head. He’d toss some water onto my head and lather it. There were probably four suds total with this method. He’d then take a cup and submerge it in water and throw it over my head. He would do this until the 4 suds would disappear. My mom’s method was to use Johnson and Johnson baby shampoo, which she’s lather on my head, and then she’d tilt me back so my head would go under the water. She’d move her hand around my submerged head to ensure the soap water cleared.

My dad also believed in letting me do most of the work. Where my mom would soap me up all over, my dad would hand me a washcloth, the aforementioned bar of Ivory soap and would tell me to rub the two together. He’d then tell me to rub the washcloth around and then I’d splash myself clean.

After my bath, it was time to get into my pjs and watch television. We’d often watch the Carol Burnett show together. This would usually make my dad laugh inordinately and I enjoyed the costumes and faces she would make. Other times, I’d tell my dad what I wanted to watch. On a couple of occasions though, I was subject to watch the Benny Hill show with my dad. I didn’t understand the show really but it sure made my dad laugh. Even if I didn’t understand it, it was a nice end to an evening with my dad.

Wednesday, December 22, 2010

By Chance

Travelling is one of my passions. Seeing how other people live and what they do on a daily basis always makes me appreciate their culture so much. Of course partaking in their cuisine is always an eye opening experience.

I’ve returned often to Italy, where both my parents are from, and it’s given me an enormous appreciation for Italian culture in ways that I don’t believe I would have gotten from never visiting. I’ve seen a lot of the boot. The vast landscapes and differences in climates have helped me understand why certain areas are more advanced than others. The different dialects have explained what each region or people see as a priority. It’s truly a fascinating sociological and anthropological experiment and experience.

A few months ago the Mexican and I found ourselves in Perugia. A city I had wanted to visit for a long time based solely on wanting to visit the famed Perugina chocolate factory. (Yes, it’s a sad reason to visit a city but I’ve heard worse reasons!!)

We arrived in the early afternoon after missing lunch so I was famished. We had to wait a bit for the restaurants to open but we had a coffee and a panino to tie us over. I had read about a pizzeria in my guide book and decided that I wanted to go there.

A little later we walked over to the place and there was a line outside of the place full of English speaking people. I decided that I didn’t want to go there after all. I was looking for more of a local place where the Perugians themselves went. We decided to walk around a bit and see if we came across another restaurant.

We walked around the corner and discovered a wine bar and we decided to go in and have a glass of wine and ask the locals there if they had any recommendations. But I looked closer at the menu in the display case and it said that this restaurant served dinner as well. And it noted that the menu was whatever the chef wanted to make that day. This sounded just up my alley.

The enoteca was dark enough to create mystery and fragrant with the delicate perfume of grapes. And locals abounded! At the bar and at the tables! We took a seat and the server told us the specials. Specials all so scrumptious sounding that I had to ask her to repeat them so I could decide which ones I was interested in (also translating in between takes a bit of time too).

We decided on the soup and the Mexican got one of the pasta dishes while I got another. The soup made my insides warm and my stomach happy. Not to mention that we got some bread and mortadella to start and they were fantastic.

When my pasta arrived, it smelled glorious and I almost wanted to cry. The Mexican’s pasta looked just as delicious and smelled as tempting as mine did. It was one of the best meals I have ever had. As we walked back to our hotel, the contentment I felt was overwhelming and I slept like a baby that night.

It’s so nice to find a cute little spot and a wonderful meal by chance.

Tuesday, December 14, 2010

Santa Claus is Coming to Town

Running errands this past weekend was eye opening. The usual bustle and chaos in shops and on the streets was evident from the moment I walked out my door. The crowds were enormous and the lines were long. Nothing unusual for the holiday season really until I saw waves of red and white making their way around my neighborhood.

Hundreds of Santa Clauses were out and about this past Saturday. They were joined by a couple of elves and some reindeer and one big pink bunny rabbit. But what did this all mean?

As hordes of Santa’s convened on a nearby street corner, I realized - it was SantaCon! I don’t think there is an actual reason why the Santa Convention (SantaCon for short) happens except to just bring good cheer and holiday pleasantness around. I certainly got a laugh out of the big pink bunny rabbit. I enjoyed hearing a couple of groups sing Christmas Carols out of tune. Made me appreciate my ipod so much. I did think it was fun and jolly.

I can not say the same for a little boy who saw a bunch of Santas approach him. They stopped in front of him and said ‘Merry Christmas’ in unison with much cheer in their voices. All he could do was being to scream, then cry and wail. I guess he must be on the naughty list this year? I don’t know what could have prompted such an unjoyous reaction!

Mistaken Identity

Walking around my neighborhood is always pleasant. It’s a residential neighborhood with lots of little parks and cute shops. Taking a stroll is also fun because there are a number of dog owners. Lots of neighborhood dogs are markers in my daily routine.

There are a few I see every morning on my way to the subway. They give me paw or let me pet them. A couple of others greet me on the way home. It’s such a nice part of my day and often makes my day.

On one particular occasion, I was running an errand and I saw a fluffy, medium-sized dog turning the corner that I was approaching. It had such a lovely spring in its step that I said to myself ‘what a cute dog!’

As I continued to look at the dog, I realized it was my little Foxy. She was out and about on a walk and play date with a local dog and its master. It made me laugh to think that even after all these years I’m still think she’s so cute. That I even mistake her for a dog that’s not mine.

Monday, December 6, 2010

The First and the Last Time

When my husband completed the marathon, I notified my mom that we were on our way home. She asked me if he was well and she told me ‘tell him this is the first and last time he should do that!’ I didn’t really think much of her admonishment because there isn’t much I can really do to control what my husband does or doesn’t do.

So the rest of that week, whenever I talked to her she reminded me ‘This is the first and last time he’s going to do that, right?” or “He got it out of his system so don’t encourage him to do any more.” I treated her suggestions much like Charlie Brown hears his teacher. However, she didn’t stop there.

On a few occasions she saw my husband and said ‘This is the first and last time you are going to run the marathon!’. Or she said something like ‘No more craziness with this running!’ My mom is one of the most persistent people I know.

Mostly she stuck to this because she has arthritis and thinks that running a marathon contributes to arthritis. Truth is, it doesn’t really matter what you do, arthritis happens. She also thinks and I quote ‘There is only one winner so what’s the point?’ And then to have her see that last year’s winner didn’t complete the race only added fuel to her anti-marathon fire! She told my husband, “You see, even the winner couldn’t finish. Why? Because his knee hurt!”

She hasn’t bought this up in the last few weeks but I’m sure it could come up again at any point in time. And that won’t be the first or last time for her to bring something up again. She enjoys beating dead horses.

Wednesday, December 1, 2010

Thumper

The other day I was in a great mood. I was singing holiday songs and getting into the spirit. Generally I was being silly. My husband made a comment about it and I said I was in a good mood because I had a wonderful wake up call that morning.

It was still dark in our bedroom. I ended up hearing one of the dogs licking at a wound so I propped myself up in bed. As soon as I did that, my dog stopped licking her wounds and immediately started to thump her tail on the floor. This is her way of showing how happy she is when we wake up.

So thump, thump, thump she went and then she proceeded to come closer. She gave me a kiss and I got out of bed to play with her. Whenever she is happy, she loves to cuddle and/or show me her belly or play kangaroo. We had a couple of good affectionate moments together and it put me in such a fantastic frame of mind. No matter what kind of sleep I have had the night prior, it always cheers me up to be greeted so happily in the morning. My dogs give new meaning to the saying “Good Morning, Sunshine!”