Roots

My great-grandmother (on my mother's side) immigrated to the U.S.A from Hungary. We called her, "Ma." Ma was our babysitter when my mom went back to work part-time. Her neighborhood was full of Hungarian immigrants and Ma's two story home was like entering the outskirts of Budapest.

She was old world strict. To this day, my mother does not believe it when I tell her that she would chase my brother around the house with a stick when we misbehaved. Furthermore, she wasn't the best cook. Everyone in my family (except my brother and I) swears she fed us Goulash and Chicken Paprika. We really had Swanson TV dinners. And although we may have danced to the Polka Variety Show once in a while, we spent most of the time watching (forbidden by my folks) afternoon soap operas with the television volume a notch below ear-shattering. (Ma was quite deaf.)

However, everyone would agree that Ma and all of her Hungarian girlfriends (Hunky Bubbas was the name we chose for them.) were the very best church going gossipers in town--a pious and well informed lot. They also seemed to primarily remember prayer vocabulary and naughty words in their mother tongues. (I still remember how to say God Bless You and dirty bottom in Hungarian.) The ladies wore big house dresses worn thin with age and never left the house without securely tying a babushka under their chin. But they were loved. And now they are missed.

As the generations pass, my Aunts still make Hungarian pastries at Christmas time. But the culture gets watered down as the decades pass. It's hard to find a third generation Hungarian woman who scrubs her walls from top to bottom and never wears pants. But babushkas? Why not? They are so old school they continue to be cute--especially on small blonds with just a trace of Hungarian in the blood.

It's a pity that Ma isn't around to do a bit of babysitting. Georgia loved hearing about her Great-Great-Grandmother--even if she fussed when I tried to tie those straps under her chin...but I'm not giving up. I also tried to teach her a few special words in Hungarian today. Naturally she adored that!

It (still) wiggles and jiggles. But it's gourmet!

I lied when I said that I only ate cheese buns and cake this weekend. I had some jello, too. And, trust me, this is not the kid's cafeteria variety. It is, well, gourmet jello. So leave the Cool Whip in the fridge and, please, skip those floating pineapple slices and/or mini marshmallows. Do try this recipe. Serve it to your guests and don't tell them a thing. The flavor will be a pleasant surprise. They'll want the recipe (like me). So thank you to the multi-talented Daniela for sharing her Auntie's recipe and history (plus a post in Portuguese--oba!). English translation follows...

Gelatina da Tia Marilu

Tenho uma Tia Avó Marilu , irmã mais nova da minha avó Dirce, sempre que tinha almoço na casa dela, na sobremesa era servida esta gelatina, uma mistura de especiarias. Este gosto ficou gravado no meu paladar. Quando meu primeiro filho nasceu e fui fazer seu primeiro aniversário, aprendi, frequentando outras festinhas, que gelatina era uma das coisa que se fazia para as crianças. No meu primeiro filho, eu estava muito naquela onda "não vou dar nada industrializado / corante artificial para ele". Então, lembrei da gelatina da Tia Lu, que era feita em casa com geletina sem sabor, misturando vários ingredientes. Na verdade, gelatina é isso: vc faz um belo chá de coisas que vc gosta e depois acrescenta as folhas de gelatina sem sabor, com ou sem corante, e pronto, vc faz delícias! Aqui vai a receita:

1 e 1/2 litro de água
gelatina suficiente para 1 e 1/2 litro de água - depende da marca, sempre vem escrito na embalagem
um punhado pequeno de cravo
3 paus de canela
4 colheres de sopa de erva doce
1 limão
casca de 1 laranja
açúcar a gosto (eu coloco 1/2 ch)
1 copo pequeno de vinho branco (mais ou menos isso)

modo de fazer
ponha a água para ferver. Quando estiver fervendo, separe 1/2 litro de água, misture a gelatina e deixe de lado. Com o restante da água ainda no fogo, coloque todos os ingredientes (menos o vinho) para fazer um grande chá. Quando vc perceber que o sabor dos ingredientes se misturou bastante na água, retire do fogo, coe com um pano e misture esse "chá" com gelatina e o vinho. Deixe esfriar e ponha na geladeira. Após aprox. 4 horas está pronto para comer...

Auntie MariLu's Jello (English Translation)

The weekend was fun.

The weekend was so fun. (I'm having trouble editing the photo selection.)

And it was extremely hot. Moderation was thrown to the wind. And if Friday through Sunday were a play, the Birthday song was the chosen score.

1. Extreme heat - Fried egg sizzling on the sidewalk scalding. Sunburn on the scalp. Citywide shortage of ice cubes. "Muito Quente. Very very hot," said Georgia. Poor thing stepped in a patch of sizzling sunlight while jumping on the trampoline. And later stole a bite of a Tabasco-laden empanada from her Daddy's plate. "Muito Quente. Very very hot. More." And my brave girl went back for seconds--on both.

2. Moderation was thrown to the wind. More pao-de-queijo (cheese buns) and cake (of the chocolate variety) than necessary for any adult--way more than necessary for any child. We sort of "substituted" for meals and forgot the existence of green and leafy. We'll do better on Monday.

3. Birthday song. Samuel. Moshe. Daddy. We spent the weekend surrounded by friends (old and new) and family. We were just dipped in carinho and feeling so lucky.

Can you imagine our Sunday night blues?

Parabens Moshe!

The weekend is chock full of birthday celebrations!

Add Moshe to the list, please. He'll be two. A big day. Perhaps that is why my "little" monsters turned out so large--humongous actually! I think they are the biggest cookies I've ever made (15 cm high!).

I guess monsters are supposed to be kinda huge. But, no worries Moshe, these are the sweetest (and friendliest) guys you'll ever meet!

Samuel is five.

Samuel turned five in January and is having his bash today.
He's invited Astro Boy (and Georgia) to the party.
We're bringing the chocolate cupcakes.
Mmmm....can't wait!

Happy Birthday Daddy!

My idea was to have an incredibly cute photo shoot with Georgia and the cookie message. I explained to her that it was Daddy's Birthday the following day and that we were going to take a picture with his special cookie.

This is the one and only shot. She wanted to eat that "U" so badly. And I tried to explain that it was for tomorrow. We'd sing and all. And since she is learning sharing this week, she rightfully inquired, "Daddy, share." But the "not now" concept of time is still future lessons away. So I had to swipe the sugary treat and settle for a single click of the shutter.

But I know I'll get some better photos--chocolaty mouths and all. Daddy and his girl sharing...a birthday and a lot of love.

Feliz Aniversario Amor! We are two very lucky ladies...your better than any cookie worth snagging. xoxo

Playthings

It really is difficult to control the amount of toys in the box. Especially when I like playthings almost as much as Georgia. And, in the case of Pecanpals, I probably like the little figures more than my daughter. And I feel the need to collect all the wooden pals in the bunch.

But I really am trying to teach Georgia to value each and every item in the chest. Because she has so much (and she's not even two). I do remember having a lot of toys when I was a child. Yet we mostly acquired them on our birthdays and Christmas. There wasn't that pit stop in the gas station impulse plastic purchase (namely junk) that occupies a child until the next red light. And I think we valued our toys more--even if our folks told us that they only had a bicycle and a ball.

If you talk with most parents, it seems our little consumers grow more voracious with each generation--and less satisfied. And I am just as guilty as the next. Because the stuff is so darn cute--actually irresistible. But I have a system in place. I've promised myself not to continue to buy more bins for all the loot. I am rotating the toys. The surplus is stored in the closet. And after a few rotations, I plan on saving the sentimental (for tiny fingers of the future) and then making some donations. Because there are still kids who don't even have just a bicycle and a ball.

I will make an exception for the Pecanpals. I think they'll go on my office shelves. (And I probably won't be doing much rotation).

ROYGBP

1.2. 3. 4.

Spent

via

A Monday night after a weekend without a moment of hibernation.

I don't have the energy to squeeze the water out of my daughter's bath toys and I'm hoping my husband will eat a sandwich.

And blogging....well.

Forgive me? Night night.

Weekend update

1. Blame it on the (full) moon. Could the brightness of the night sky have confused my household (especially a mini-candy-bar-sized blond) into believing it was day when it was really night.

2. Or was it all those parties? Georgia's car seat commentaries after party #2: "home-no, party-more?" She didn't get the homebody gene.

3. I've fallen into the category of parents (all) who think their child's IQ is astronomical. Prodigy, anyone? Did you see G playing a duet with Tio (uncle) Leo?

4. There is nothing prettier than a pregnant belly wrapped in floral--especially when the belly belongs to your glowing friends. Congratulations M & E! You shall have a prodigy, too!

I hope the full moon spiked your punch this weekend. xo

Baby Shower

Daniela, Many thanks for the order and, especially, the invitation to the party. Georgia sang the whole way home. Imagine if we could have stayed longer?
May the rest of your belly days be filled with sugary, sweet moments. Soon your family will be complete. Beijinhos...

80's Baby

YSL

via

So much better than e=mc (squared).

Purple Pop Star

It wasn't the most beautiful cookie and was certainly far from a spitting image of Georgia's sacred-purple-pant-suited-idol. But, by gosh, it was BARNEY!

While Georgia napped this afternoon, I worked on creating balls of colorful fondant icing for a future order. I mixed rainbow colors and then piled the shiny cellophane balls. When the green coincidentally got stacked on top of the purple, an idea arose: a surprise for my little one who learned how to say "thank you" and "your welcome" today. (She says "thank you welcome" all at once but we'll get there.) And I just so happen to have a "naked" Barney in my freezer from last weeks experimenting with the Alice cutters. (G doesn't even know he is there.)

A few strategic placements of the icing and a hurried--rather amateur--looking face later, the surprise was ready just as Georgia started to stir in her crib. I felt like God/Santa/Easter Bunny/Tooth Fairy. And my daughter looked at me like God/Santa/Easter Bunny/Toothe Fairy for a full minute--all adulation and bliss. Then she bit off Barney's head and said, bom (good in Portuguese). Two seconds later she looked me straight in the eye (deadpan), raised her eyebrow and inquired after Baby Bop (Barney's yellow sidekick).

Unfortunately Baby Bop isn't nude in my freezer and I've yet to bend the metal shape. But I do have a big ball of yellow fondant frosting just waiting for a cookie.

Whilst Walking

Rug, Terrarium, Pillow--Oh my!

1. 2. 3.

Alice In Wonderland Part I

Alice is back in Wonderland--and so is Johnny Depp and Tim Burton, too. March 5th.

And to celebrate, Coisas da Doris (one of the most charming boutiques in São Paulo) will be turning the shop inside out to set up the tea party and all things Alice. It's going to be like falling down the hole and entering wonderland. Several artists (of every medium imaginable) have been invited to re-create Alice's fantasy and I'll be responsible for the sugar at tea-time.

It has been a week of brainstorming, re-reading the Lewis Carroll classic, and sourcing materials. And since I couldn't find Alice cookie cutters (and saw another blogger mastering metal), I decided to create my own set. This was not an easy task. The challenge started off with a visit to every hardware store in town looking for pre-cut ribbons of pliable sheet metal and attempting to explain in my best construction worker Portuguese (in a country that doesn't have a culture of cut-out cookies nor women in hardware stores) that I (115lbs.) was planning on bending the metal to make cookies.

Naturally I couldn't find anything adequate. So I scratched hardware stores off the list and walked to a very industrial part of town, where they make aluminum tubing and exhausts for above the stove. I got lucky. I think the shop owner/welder felt sorry for me and gave me (for free) a hunk of somewhat pliable metal. And minutes later, he chased me down the street with a 20 liter container of olive oil (from his trash). We both agreed that the giant can seemed more malleable than the scrap piece he had just donated. And so I headed home with both--enough metal for a mega refrigerator magnet collection. Jackpot! I was smiling like Alice's Cheshire cat-- dragging my bounty home (and trailing a path of olive oil behind me).

After prying open and flattening out the oil container, I realized that the greasiness would never go away and I was potentially sliding my fingers into an emergency room visit. So I returned to the sheet metal piece. Although it was somewhat thicker, I was able to score it and cut it (somewhat safely) into strips for bending into the likeness of Alice's crew.

The bending part deserves a whole other post (and a big thank you). Lets just say that my mother-in-law (an artist) is just as crazy for her craft as I am. She also works a mean set of pliers.

So here you have it--my Alice cookie collection--ready for baking and decorating. I'm also pretty excited to return to the metal shop to deliver the owner some cookies and get some more scraps. I had a piece leftover (for a Barney cutter, naturally). But I am dreaming up images by the hour. I am just going to have to continue to be a good daughter-in-law. Because I don't know if I have the strength to touch those pliers again.

In your eyes

I can't stop making barrettes. They look cute on big people, too.
For sale. Just email.

In love

Georgia has been working on her sentence structure. And if you aren't around her much you may not understand her language because there isn't always a noun and a verb. But there is always a clear thought. Some examples:

1. Daddy face - Daddy shaved his beard this morning.
2. Mommy pee pee - Mommy went pee this morning.
3. Patrick nose. Patrick doesn't have a nose.
4. Sponge Bob nose. Sponge Bob has an enormous nose.
3. Georgie "coolie" - Georgia wants to go to the club/park NOW.

She does have, however, one complete phrase down pat--noun, verb and all. And I think she even knows the meaning, too. Heading to the club this morning, I spied her through the window of the stroller canopy having an intense encounter with Tigger and Hippo.

"Kiss". (They did.) "Hug" (They did.) Followed by the grammatically perfect: "I love you."

So it's official, Tigger and Hippo are officially an item. And I'm even more smitten.

Weekend Ingredients

2 Birthday Parties (One served bubbly and at the other we blew bubbles.)
6 Ice Creams (It dripped so much in the heat....had to repeat.)
1 Angel Exhibition (G still prefers Santa. Where is he anyway?)
1 Child's Pose (Yoga is amongst Georgia's new vocabulary words.)
1 Trip to Brazil's Home Depot (My husband will never be a handyman. It's cultural.)
1 New DVD of The Muppets (Barney inches closer to eradication.)

And ding. It's done.
Already.

Whilst Walking

'Shrooms

Why I love mushrooms:

1. They are delicious on pizza and in omelets.
2. Have you heard Georgia say mushroom. Have you heard her say mushroom with a stuffy nose (poor thing, but too cute).
3. And what about truffles, the gourmet mushroom? Mmmm. Did you know that they only grow underground? And female truffle pigs find these subterranean 'shrooms. I guess it relates to the that amazing female "ability to find" (husband's belt, OJ in the fridge...) gene. Go figure--even the girl pigs.
4. I thought they would make a cute gift for a surprise birthday party we are attending tonight. I hope the birthday girl likes the sweet variety.

Benjamin, Bubbles, and Pingu



Clarice sent me an invitation to her son Benjamin's 2nd birthday party last week. The e-vite featured a photo of the party local--an "x" marking the meeting spot in the middle of Parque Ibirapuera. The party theme: a big bubble blowing event with a picnic full of empanadas--a wonderful solution in a city full of unappealing headache-inducing and wallet-reducing party centers. Plus you haven't any worries about squeezing everyone into your apartment. And I'm thinking the clean up will be quick and of the dump into garbage bag variety.

Today was the day to prepare the present. I've been told that Benjamin is in love with Pingu. And after watching a few episodes of Pingu (and his baby sister Pinga), Georgia and I have a penguin crush, too. I love that the characters have their own squeaky language. Adults get to help interpret for the kids (as they see fit)--tackling experiences in the world (arrival of baby sister, jumping on the bed, first day of preschool). And without an understandable language your child's creativity and imagination are challenged to describe what they see (not just watch and regurgitate word for word and over and over).

So in honor of Benjamin and his love for Pingu, I've sewn up a penguin, a fishy snack, and a proper bow tie tee. Hope Benjamin won't mind that Georgia had to try it all out. I am pretty sure he learned about sharing from Pingu.

We're looking forward to blowing some big bubbles on Saturday.

Cheerleader

Fluffy, fuzzy, airy balls of color. Holy 70's pom-pom resurgence. I used to wear them on my roller skates and now I have them in a vase.

You can't imagine how difficult it was to find branches that had some snap in this tropical city of cement and palm. Plus it is pretty hard to climb a tree in someone's gated yard surrounded by traffic.

But the hardest task was winding wool in 90 degree (32 C) heat--with the assistance of a toddler and a cat playing catch with many a yarn skein.

Banana-fana

via

Georgia, Georgia, bo-borgia,
Banana-fana fo-forgia
Fee-fi-mo-morgia
Georgia!

I walked the 20 minutes home from the park today with an overtired (cranky) Georgia in stroller while belting out the "Name Song." Every time the verse ended G would shout out another person's (or toy's) name for me to insert in the rhyme and sing. Naturally, I wasn't allowed to take a break from the the tune. But happily it got me home from the park (with a few minutes of extra walking sneakily slipped in) sans meltdown. Plus Georgia finally fell asleep about a block from home.

And while I cannot be certain what the Brazilians on the street were thinking about my serenading, I'd guess they might imagine:

a. I am losing track of reality.
b. My disco stroller (Did I mention my stroller has speakers?) rivals a souped up hot rod with loud stereo (bad music and lots of bass) on a Friday night--windows down. (Maybe I should get a purple under car/stroller lighting kit?)
c. The English classes they have been paying for the last ten years have not helped at all.
d. This child is a wee bit spoiled and this mom is frazzled.
e. Boy are they having fun.
f. All of the above.

I wouldn't hesitate to choose f, all of the above. Did I mention that, in awe and gratitude (She fell asleep!), I googled banana-fana when I got home. And the song that I thought was a clever invention on the part of my mom and her sisters turns out to have a page devoted to its lyrics on Wikipedia!

Go ahead start singing. You know you want to test out your own name...

Mini Minimalism

via

One of Georgia's favorite Christmas gifts is a wooden cake. It has five candles and you can even cut it with a child friendly wooden knife. We've been throwing birthday parties every day. And although I try not to be preoccupied with aging, I thank god they are imaginary celebrations or I'd be so old.

The birthday cake does, however, have me obsessing over wooden culinary toys. I'm ready to get out a block of wood and some sandpaper. And I'd also love to order this breakfast set from Japan (had to be Japan). I imagine the child that plays with this will grow up learning that great food is also about presentation. Can you imagine the artfully stacked piles of peas?

Now If I could just get a hold of a jigsaw.

Whilst Walking

Weekend 2010: Back in the groove

Back in town. Back in the groove but with some new observations:

1. Georgia is in the parrot phase. Listen repeat and embarrass owner/parent. I realized pretty quickly that I can no longer say four letter words when I am trying to thread an incredibly small needle. It looks like I may have to buy those drugstore glasses that hang around the neck. But I refuse to have a beaded strap.

2. I am certain that the water pressure in my shower head cannot compete with the force of the gush of these afternoon showers. I think the sidewalks dry quicker than my hair, too.

3. São Paulo in January = pleasure to drive. If the traffic were like this all year I might consider getting a Brazilian driver's license.

4. I can only sleep soundly if I know that none of G's toys are missing--especially the soft figurines (they make that wheezing sound when you squeeze) from LA Toy. I really have a thing for Eeyore.

5. I'm not embarrassed that I sewed on Saturday night.

It really was a simple summer weekend in South America. Just what we needed. xo

A Big Day for Beatriz

Beatriz is having a big day today--a baptism and a first birthday party. And Georgia is invited to the festivities.

G thought Bee might enjoy a raindrop theme as much as she does. So I spent Saturday night with my needle, thread, and felt lint. The whole family collaborated. Felipe kept me company on the sofa while watching one of those "quality" films of the comedic sort (think Ben Stiller). And Georgia slept soundly until I put the last rosy cheek on the raindrop.

We are ready for the party. And it is a splendidly sunny day.

Walk this way

1. 2.

Your probably wondering why I am frosting sidewalk patterns. (I would.)

Well, I started my day yesterday determined to get back into my routine of mornings at the "coolie" (Georgia terminology for Clube Pinheiros) our favorite green oasis (with playground and pool) amongst all this concrete. G has been pining to go--climbing into her stroller (on her own and without bribe), pointing to the door, and repeating "coolie, coolie, coolie."

So we set off and en route I started daydreaming about NYC delis. (My breakfast had disappointed.) Visions of cream cheese "schmears", iced coffees, bagels (that I didn't have to knead and boil and bake) and nasty counter clerks with thick accents came to mind. And then I remembered soft and sweet black and whites, a deli cookie staple and personal favorite. I used to imagine that there was deep-rooted psychological explanations involved in deciding which side to eat first. And since I didn't have a shrink, I lined up the middle line between my front teeth and chomp--half black, half white. Problem solved. Boy were they good.

My revery had me feeling like I was back in Manhattan--until my stroller wheel got stuck in the terrain. And, poof, I was back in São Paulo again. Home of some of the world's most dangerous sidewalks and Brigadeiros instead of cookies. And since my eyes were usually troubleshooting all the exposed tree roots and holes I never gave much thought to the omnipresent black and white iconic geometric pattern of the tiled ground beneath my feet. But today I had black and white on the brain and the frustration gave way do design admiration. And suddenly I knew that I needed to make my own Brazilian version of this New York deli sweet.

So it was a tricky eye-crossing-optical-illusion bake-off this afternoon. I frosted up a version of the wavy sidewalks on Copacabana Beach in Rio and the geometric repetition of my home state of São Paulo.

They taste just as I remembered. But they are definitely not perfect--just like the bumpy sidewalks.

She tried

Now I am just trying to figure out who the she is...
Grandma or Georgia.

I've got the goods

1. 2. 3. 4.

My baking today was a real disaster. And I can only think of one thing to do with the sloppy treats. But it tastes good doesn't work for me. I want pretty, too. Plus I'm needing some comic relief.

My day started with my toast landing butter side down on the floor. The three second rule doesn't apply when fuzz sticks to your breakfast bread.

My day ended with a wrestling match with the saran/plastic wrap. Why does the stuff only cling to itself and not to your leftovers? So I ate more to not have to wrap (more) and now I am overfed and overtired.

I guess I should admit I am i-r-r-i-t-a-b-l-e. There is no sun in my shine. My family returned to the USA yesterday and I've got the blues. The distance has always been hard. But explaining to Georgia all day that Grandma Dee and Doc won't be singing "Ring Around the Rosy" in (bad) Portuguese nor helping her find Snow White for a while, made me even more cranky. But perhaps those botched goods weren't so useless after all. Hello? Three Stooges!

Splat!

I'm almost smiling mom.

Thank you for a wonderful visit...xoxo

Perfect

Did we eat a pound of Panettone per person or was it a pound of Panettone consumed per day? I can't answer the question. But I can tell you that 12 people consumed 12 pounds (5 kilos) of a humongous dried fruit loaf during our 12 day beach holiday.

Perhaps that is why we had to return to reality today lest "you are what you eat" (puffy) greets us in the bathroom mirror. Or perhaps to go back to earning paychecks to buy more Panettone for future holiday vacations? Whatever the reason, we are home. And, often times, the best part of traveling is opening your own front door again, slipping under your own (dry) sheets, and rehashing the vacation behind closed lids. It looked something like this....only it rained a lot more than you could ever imagine. (We still got sunburned.) And it was perfect.

Perfect.

Thank you P & V for your generosity.

Happy New Year - Feliz Ano Novo

Dear Georgia,

Tonight is New Year's Eve. And although you might not yet understand the significance of the holiday, I have been waiting to share this evening with my future daughter since I married your Daddy. Because, quite simply, the Brazilian celebration of New Years is magical--like no other "ringing in" I've experienced. It is steep in tradition and I've come to eagerly practice them all in this country that has so kindly welcomed me.

We shall start by dressing all in white (I hope you don't mind wearing the same dress as Mommy?) and wearing new undies (a fresh diaper will do). And shortly before midnight, after a lovely family meal of traditional foods, our bare feet will carry us and our lighted candles to the sea. Don't worry dear little one, we won't have trouble finding the shore because it will be lined with fire-lit torches, flickering light reflecting in the sea. Once there, we will stand together united and white under the moon--our bellies and our hearts full--remembering the prior year and contemplating the next. Soon the seconds will approach midnight: 10, 9. 8, 7, 6, 5, 4, 3, 2, 1. It's time to sing out Happy New Year! Feliz Ano Novo! Don't be frightened by the noise. It's just champagne corks popping and fireworks jetting their way up into the inky sky. Embrace your neighbor and join in the song Adeus Ano Velho (Goodbye Old Year).

After you have hugged everyone (more than once), it is time to turn your attention to the sea. Toss some flowers to it's Goddess, Iemanjá. She will be so grateful. Jump seven waves whilst making seven wishes. Ask for whatever your little heart desires. Although I must tell you, I am having a hard time thinking of my wishes this year because I feel greedy to want for more, dear daughter. Because we are so blessed, this family of ours.

Love,
Mommy

Georgia, Felipe, and I wish you all a very Happy New Year/Feliz Ano Novo!

Day Trip

As tempting as it is to spend the day migrating from hammock to beach and swirling a caipirinha with your finger, I felt my New York friends were craving a bit of camera-around-the-neck tourism (and local shopping). So we headed out on a day trip to the port/colonial town of Paraty, with a pit-stop off the highway to buy some goods from local weavers.

It happened to be my longest day away from Georgia. I'd forgotten how focused one can get when shopping for handcrafts, how valuable girl time can be, and why you should only eat fish when you can dangle your big toe in the water.

Nice.

Pizza Hut

What to do at the beach in the pouring rain? Eat. Put the wood burning oven to use, smoke out the house, and have a pizza party.

Overheard:

1. (My father-in-law) How many pizzas should we make?
(friend) How many people?
(My father-in-law) Maybe 35 or maybe 50?
(friend) How big will the pies be?
(My father-in-law) I don't know.

2. Wow, Georgia eats anchovies.

3. Teamwork don't seem work. High five.

4. (Husband) I am just going to lay down for ten minutes.

5. It's like Jesus and the multiplication of bread. What are we going to do with all this dough? Maybe we should bake bread? If we stuff the left-over sausage/pepperoni in it we can make calzones (American speaking). What are calzones? (Brazilian speaking)

6. Turn that frown upside down.

7. Danielle, I am going to call you Luigi now. Is that okay?

30 kilos of flour and every cup in the house later, we all went to bed with smoky smelling hair and cheesy caipirinha breath.

Only problem: It is raining again, today.

Boy are we going to get fat.

Accessorize

The goal of my ocean vacations as a teenager was light hair and dark skin (baby oil and lemon juice). I'd plant my sticky, slithery self in the sun--careless and ready to toast.

The goal of my ocean vacation as a mom: searching the hot sand for shells with holes to string on a rosy strap and around the neck of my daughter's pale neck.

Wouldn't you know that the second scenario produces a pretty good tan, too?

Crafting at the beach

My mother-in-law started the first session of beach crafting.
Circles of sea water blue on a red rope. Light, fresh and perfect with linen.

Whilst Walking this Week

Happy Holidays

Dear Family and Friends,
Another year has passed and it wouldn't be the same without your presence (whether near or far away) in our lives. Here's wishing you the loveliest holiday season your heart can handle and a 2010 that surpasses your greatest expectations.

Beijos. Kisses. Boas Festas!