Sunday Sample

last 4 photos

It is clear (that):

1. I couldn't get through the weekend without my camera.
2. My sister-in-law is generous (and has a great camera).
3. One should not miss Os Gêmeos exhibition at Museu da Faap. (And take your little one.)
4. My dear friend Iris calls her son "koo koo"--and now Georgia does, too.

Girl's Best Friend

1.2.3.4.5.

Mine's name is Bogart.
Even if he likes to sleep on my belly
in 90 degree heat.
I thank him for letting Georgia pull on his tail
and step on his feet.
And never reminding her he that he came along
first.

Quelqu’un m’a dit

Somebody Told Me

I’m told that our lives aren’t worth much,
They pass like an instant, like wilting roses.
I’m told that time slipping by is a bastard
Making its coat of our sorrows.
Yet someone told me…

That you still loved me
Someone told me…
That you still loved me.
Well ? Could that be possible?

I’m told that fate makes fun of us,
That it gives us nothing and promises everything,
When happiness seems to be within our reach,
We reach out and find ourselves like fools.
Yet someone told me…

That you still loved me
Someone told me…
That you still loved me.
Well ? Could that be possible?

Well ? Could that be possible?

So who said that you still loved me?
I don’t remember any more, it was late at night,
I can still hear the voice, but I can no longer see the face,
“He loves you, it’s secret, don’t tell him I told you.”
You see, someone told me

*Felipe and I saw the film 500 Summer Nights yesterday evening.
I dressed Georgia in blue today.
And I am buying the soundtrack.

Superhero cool

1, 2.3.

I am catering a small birthday party next week. Carlos wants a superhero theme. His favorite is Spiderman. And since I am more the fairy and flower type, I am getting myself in the mood.

My only question is why are superheros from the past so much cooler?

Balancing Act

Since I moved to São Paulo I've spent most of my professional time slimming people down. And my recreational time in the kitchen fattening people up. Often times my students would suffer through a grueling set of calorie burning pliés and I'd send them home with a cupcake. And every time I think I am going to retire from teaching, I just can't do it. My students won't let me. And I ask myself is it the class or the cupcake?

So, for the moment, I am going to do a bit of both (and a few other Martha-y things). I've just baked a batch of Christmas treats (for a magazine shoot) and sent out an email promoting my baked goods and small event planning. I've already had several orders and next week I am catering a party. I need this creative outlet. We can work out together so that we can eat together: a stretch here and a sugary bite there.

And although it might seem I lack focus, I tell myself it is all about balance. For the moment, I've got it (somewhat) under control.

Renee Grau

Renee Grau = Toulouse-Lautrec + fashion
Artist featured in 100 Years of Fashion Illustration
On my library wish list...

Lost and not Found

emily barney

I've lost my tools of the trade. They are:

Black Fanny Pack (I know it isn't chic, okay. But, hey, it is le sportsac.)
Digital Camera
I-phone

I also lost my credit cards and some money. But I can live without those for longer. And thank god I can't haul my oven around. Because I probably would have lost it, too.

I took Georgia to see Santa at the mall last night. And we had so much fun that we stayed past bedtime and running-around-town (nee big city), with a stroller, time. So, after the last photo of Georgia (in sundress) looking at a "winter wonderland" scene (I've really embraced this parenting thing and Christmas in the tropics.), I quickly tossed her back in the stroller, gingerly deposited my fanny pack in the basket below her seat, and race-walked home. Why didn't I snap my fanny pack back around my fanny? Bad move. We must have hit a hum-dinger of a bump and the purse-ish thing slithered onto the sidewalk--without my noticing.

Once home, I went for the key in the pack. And my fingers groped nothingness. My stomach fell like the first hill on the rollercoaster. Disregarding safety, we high-tailed it back to the sidewalks of the (now really dark) city. I tried to re-trace my steps and I just couldn't remember the route. We went back to the lost and found at the mall (no luck either). And there we were without cab fare, house key, or cell. Amazingly, my daughter (who usually acts like her stroller seat is an upside down pincushion) didn't squirm or utter a peep other than a raised eyebrow worried "mommy." (Thanks, G.)

And for some reason I could only remember my husband's old phone number. But I did remember my mother-in-laws (funny how that works). The story ended up as you would all imagine it. We got home and went on. (Oh and Georgia did poop on the floor but I'll save that for another day.) Naturally I couldn't sleep. And today there is "an empty" in my stomach. I feel lost without my tools. I know it is trite to moan material things with such a full belly existence. Nor should I behave like a spoiled toddler. I shouldn't need them and want them back right now. But I do. Because every cute (pigtails today) gesture of Georgia has me reaching for my non-existent camera. Whilst walking didn't happen. And I carried around a purse that begged to be left on a counter top.

So, for the moment, I'll be relying on my archived photos and the kindness of a stranger's camera (flickr). I'll also be writing a nice list for Santa.

Georgia and I already went back to visit him today. And I hope he comes early this year. I promise I'll be good. And I won't lose anything else. Ever. (I hope.)

Whilst Walking This Week

Blackout

Around 10:30 last night the lights in my house started that familiar flicker-flicker that often incites a visit to the fuse box. Sure enough, poof-pop and blackness ensued. Naturally I bemoaned my situation as the battery on my laptop was low and no internet, What bum luck because Georgia was actually sleeping. And, as usual, I have so much to do. (This is entirely self inflicted.)

My oven (gas) was still working, so I deposited some bread in to bake. (Pilot lights are rather illuminating.) And then I lit some orange scented candles and waited. Felipe arrived home huffing and puffing. The elevator doesn't work without electricity, right. I then realized that my entire building was out. And upon looking out the window, discovered our neighborhood was inky black, too. And an I-phone search later, learned our city of 19+ million was in darkness.

Senses alert, those candles started to smell really good (and my laptop battery was dead). So I did what I should do more often: nothing. And enjoyed one of the nicest evenings with my husband in a long time.

Wardrobe Dilemma

I think the only time in a female's life when she goes to the doctor's office and receives compliments about consistent weight gain is in infancy. Dimpled baby bottoms are charming--not bikini busters called cellulite. A pity that our little selves cannot yet understand this and celebrate with another cookie.

And when Georgia was a baby, I prayed for rolls and dimples and weight gain. I felt like I was always on pediatrician parole....gram after insignificant gram. I suppose my milk was of the skim (not cream) variety.

But we made it through. And now Georgia is on an incredible growth spurt. She is still a bit lean but she is long. And here is my bragging moment: She is 95th percentile on those nerve-wracking growth charts for height. So there, Mister MD!

However this presents another problem: her wardrobe. As of late, she looks like she is waiting for a flood. And Felipe is already nervous about the length of her skirts. So I am working on a couple of solutions.

1. A shopping spree at the most adorable stores for children in São Paulo:
Baby Basics
Ronaldo Fraga Filhotes
Petit Retro
Santa Paciência
Balangandâ

2. A quick trip to the USA to stock up on bargains.

3. Design a few pieces and hire a seamstress.

4. Find a way to get all three

I cannot warrant a shopping spree because everything (except services) in Brazil is extraordinarily expensive. So I'll settle for a piece or two. And since seamstress falls under the category of services, I had Suely come to my house on Friday. Ten hours and 170 reais US$ 100 later, Georgia has 6 smocks. (She also hemmed Felipe's pants and made two pillows.) Still not nearly as cheap as BabyGap (without the plane fare), but a fun project.

Plus my mom is coming next month. Her suitcase is big and the Internet is open 24 hours.

Somehow I always manage to get my way. I'm stubborn like that.

Weekend in town

Stayed in town this weekend. Looking at the photos, you'd think we ate, slept, and played. We did (ate and played more, naturally). We also went to four birthday parties and visited a potential school for little G.

Random thoughts and things I learned this weekend:

1. Bogart (our cat) has always slept more than Georgia
2. A child has the ability (before the age of five) to learn several languages as well as the mother tongue--speaking with no accent. And although the language may get rusty without use, it is stored in the synapses forever. An elderly woman (whose family didn't know she grew up speaking Polish) had a stroke. The brain erased her memory of the English language and she woke up speaking Polish--only. Imagine that? A rather good reason to learn another language, no?
3. Gardenias thrive in the heat. The city smells like an expensive wedding banquet. Delicious.

Well, it is 11:00 pm. My daughter is still awake after countless attempts to put her down. She is now pulling on my nightgown. I'm hopeful.

I worry she inherited my insomnia.

Elegant Ladies

The heat didn't let up today in Brazil and nor did my oven.

And I ponder: Is it possible to call a cupcake elegant? That was the goal: elegant cupcakes for elegant ladies.

Happy Birthday Tatiana! Happy Birthday Vera! Sugar kisses and well wishes. xox

Believe

photos: Nana Montagna

The women in my husband's family are all artists. My mother-in-law is an exceptional painter. My younger sister-in-law is a growing ceramicist. The middle sibling, Nana, is a budding photographer.

And they all have artistic spirits--especially Nana.

She believes in ferries.
Is, at times, a tormented soul.
And needs to believe in herself.
More.

Keep on keeping on Nana...your work is so lovely. xo

Georgia's Cousin Emma

I received some photos from my brother today of his daughter, Emma. And I hesitated a while before posting this photo. But after a bit of cropping, the image was, shall we say, (and in my opinion, dear brother) somewhat toned down. It is, after all, a photo of a hunter's bounty thrown in the back of a pick-up truck with my one year old niece.

My brother is a mass email forwarding Republican. He will only drive a pick-up (even if it is a rental car). His favorite pastime is installing a stand in the lofty branches of a tree, waiting for hours in the cold (with a bow and arrow) to massacre Bambi. His hometown population is 3,572 and in the good old USA. Beer is his drink of choice.

I am an Obama loving democrat. My transportation of choice is a good pair of sneakers and an occasional cab. My favorite pastimes revolve around all things artistic. And my international hometown population (São Paulo) is 19,616,060. Red wine (on occasion), please.

And while I forward my brother photos of Georgia in an apron baking, drawing, and traveling in Buenos Aires. He sends me...well you've seen. But here is where the dissimilarities part. I feel the pride in his photos as he feels mine.

And even though Georgia and Emma could not grow up in more diverse environments, love is the constant factor. And I am certain they will be best of friends.

Even if they don't have the same hobbies or vote the same at the polls (got that, Todd).

You know your sister (who is always right) loves you.

When you want just a bite of cake

It was 34 degrees celcius (93 Fahrenheit) in São Paulo today. I don't have air conditioning. And at 1:30 pm, I had to close the windows because workmen were cleaning the roof of my building.

Did I mention I was baking? Brilliant decision, I know.

But I've been thinking about a solution to the dilemma of wanting only a bite of cake.

Problem solved.

Only tomorrow promises to be another scorcher and I have two birthday orders to complete.

She's a keeper (just not a sleeper)

I have had a day that only a mother could understand. I'm spent. I've laughed. I've cried. And I've laughed so as not to cry.

You see, my daughter does not sleep. She was not an infant who slept and ate and slept. She just ate and kept me awake. And now at 1 1/2, she still does not sleep through the night. She just doesn't know how to fall asleep on her own. We have to sing (the right song) and hold all 11 kilos of her (standing) and shake/rock her for the afternoon nap. At night, she still breastfeeds to sleep. And most days I deal with it and don't complain. I am not part of the cry it out camp. I tried one of those sleeping techniques once. And she cried until she vomited. And I cried, too. And I vowed never to do it again.

Except for today. After an hour and a half of singing, rocking, giving her Bert, Ernie, Barney, and Big Bird--entertainment worthy of a mom Oscar, I put my exhausted temper tantrum master in her crib and shut the door. And let her scream. I hoped she would tire and sleep. But she didn't. And after fifteen minutes of white-knuckle frustration, I went to her. Only when I opened the door on her, I shrieked in fear. How in the heck did she get on the floor? It seems my 1 1/2 year old escaped her prison/crib (guess it is time to get rid of it). Visibly uninjured (and with a smug look, I might add), I breathed a sigh of relief and we continued our day albeit a bit shaken.

By nightfall, I imagined she would collapse in exhaustion. And this is where I cried. Because 2 hours later, the not sleeping song and dance continued--even "boobie" failed. So I did what most mothers do: gave up and wished her father good luck. And while I folded the laundry (at 11 pm), I thought about giving her away. And when Felipe called me to come look at what G was doing. I told him I wasn't dealing with her anymore. But he insisted.

And now you have the, completely unstaged, video of my wide-eyed darling. (She put her Daddy's shoes on alone. Felipe looked up when he heard the noise of her walking.)

Laughing, I decide to keep her.

PS: In the video, she is singing feet, daddy, and pé ("peh" is foot in Portuguese)
PPS: Felipe is trying to put her to sleep now. He has quite a melodic voice.

Heavenly Match

I know this is yesterday's news in the land of (mom) blogging. But in case your postpartum brain is a bit slower (like mine), I bring you some great (not hot off the press) news:

Stella McCartney and Baby Gap have teamed up to bring us a mini-fashionista toy store of temptations.

Once again, Georgia will have the better wardrobe . I'm thinking that when she reaches a youth size extra large we can potentially share a few things.

For now, I am borrowing her barrettes.

101 Gingerbread Gentlemen

Christmas is on the horizon. And I am having a cookie rehearsal. Baked 101 little gingerbread gentlemen. I dressed them up with eyes, a smile, and three dot buttons.

They are the perfect size, too. Gone in two bites--head and then body. (Sometimes I just pop the whole man in my greedy mouth.)

Small cookies are cute. But I wonder do we eat more?

I know I do.

Our (rainy) weekend in Buenos Aires

I shouldn't have painted those raindrops on my wall last week. I went overboard with the theme and the rain dancing party backfired--big time. Those naughty little cookie cutter shapes followed us to Buenos Aires. And it is a good thing we aren't made of sugar because it didn't let up for ten seconds--the entire weekend. Never mind, we strapped Georgia in the carrier, huddled under the umbrella, and marched through the puddles. I even managed a few photos in between downpours.

PS: It was the hottest and driest weekend of the month in São Paulo.

What we did aka Our Little Weekend Guide to Buenos Aires:

Where we slept: Home

It is possible for a hotel to feel just like home. (The owner lent us her nanny so we could have dinner a deux.)

Where we ate:
We had many a long leisurely meal while our feet were drying and backs recuperating (Georgia, 11 kilos). And even though we must have burned a lot of calories hauling our little (not so little) one, I think we were still digesting meat calories when we ingested more (meat). Oh and dulce de leche...

We tried and liked:
Social Paraiso--mostly locals and low key (no rush service) and a solid menu

Honduras 5182
Palermo Soho

Tegui--If I'm not going to a "joint" with good food, I prefer my fancier restaurants small (cozy with candles) and food simple (one page menus, please). This is not Tegui. Although it is less hedonistic than Casa Cruz (same chef), I still felt like I needed a much sexier outfit and some lipstick--which is good every once in a while. Most importantly, the food was excellent.
Costa Rica 5852
Palermo Hollywood

La Brigada--I love classic Parrilla restaurants (and so do other tourists it seems). But one can't keep everything a secret--especially with meat this succulent.
Estados Unidos 465
San Telmo

Bar Uriarte--The restaurant's kitchen is in the entrance, viewable from the street. Great shabby-chic interior. Appealing menu.
Uriarte 1572
Palermo-Soho

Café des Arts Malba Museum--I'm not sure what was more delicious: the glamorous people, the food, or the museum exhibition?
Ave. Figueroa Alcorta, 3415

What we saw:
Malba Museum-Andy Warhol Exhibition
Museo Nacional de Bellas Artes - Excellent permanent collection
Buenes Aires Zoo Lions, and tigers, and bears--oh my--in the middle of the city.
Recoleta Cemetery--Evita's grave and a colony of cats
San Telmo Flea Market--antique paradise

What we bought:
After all that culture and a favorable exchange rate, we didn't feel guilty doing a bit of shopping.

For Men:
Felix (preppy with edge)
Gurruchaga, 1670
Palermo Soho

Bolivia (hip but wearable)
Gurruchaga, 1581
Palermo Soho

Women:
Mishka (original shoes)
El Salvador 4673
Palermo Soho

Maria Cher (modern clothes)
El Salavador, 4741
Palermo Soho

Aida Sirinian (pretty clothes)
Gorriti, 5868
Palermo Soho

Home:
Muchatela - (think crafts and fabric)
Costa Rica 4448
Palermo Soho

Buenes Aires Design Mall (interior design bonanza)
Recoleta

Bookstore (in a historic theatre):
Al Ateneo
Av. Santa Fe 1860
Recoleta

Children:
Mimo--(Argentina's Baby Gap but with better shoes):
Throughout city

Next Time:

We didn't catch a tango show for fear of falling into a tourist trap. I hear it is better to go watch the locals dance at a Milonga or tango dance hall. The hotel gave us a list. And I am saving it for next time.

Check out designspongeonline for an extensive list. Thanks Erica and Gi for sharing your tips.