Ciao Bella! The Italian Blog

I suppose like any writer, I am constantly composing in my head. I'm writing and rewriting all the time. That's one of the things about writing that will make you crazy. There are so many ways it could go. 

Most of my funny blogs are the result of collaboration, improvisation based on conversations I have with other people. I blatantly steal funny stuff from friends and family. Here's some bits from my Italian friend Julie and the conversations we've had. 

An American Is Anyone Who Is Not Italian

I'm an American and Julie is Italian. Even though she was born here in the US as was I, I'm an American and she's Italian. Even though my ancestors are Europeans like Scots, Germans, Finns, I'm an American to Julie. Or my friend Lucia. If I make lasagna, it's American lasagna. My sauce will always come from a jar and I say ricotta wrong. And prosciutto. I also say that wrong.

The Impreza Italian Package

The Italian package is a new feature that will be added to non-Italian cars with Italian sounding names like the Subaru Impreza. The Italian package allows Italian mothers to make chicken cutlets while driving home from work. The car will be slightly modified to include a hot plate for cooking in the center console. When the kids start calling and asking what's for dinner, this on-the-go Italian mom is already half way there. Maybe in the back, there could be a smoker for curing prosciutto. BTW, when you say it correctly aka like an Italian, prosciutto has no "o" sound at the end. It ends at the t's and sounds a little like a curse word or a violent sneeze.

The Not So Hotline

Julie and I had this long conversation about how we could make extra money. I said, "Jules, you can make extra money if you combine your amazing Italian cooking with your still hot Italian looks." From there we decided Julie could start a video chat line where she cooks Italian sauce and then provocatively talks to the camera about how "hot" it is. She could threaten viewers with wooden spoons if they're bad. Wear skimpy aprons, etc. She could pronounce ricotta correctly and sound kind of dominatrix.

Then she came up with a genius name for this middle-aged, naughty Italian housewife video chat service - the Not So Hotline. 

NB: Coincidence that I'm publishing this on Columbus Day? I think not. Ciao!

IKEA Is Swedish for Crap

Yesterday was Sunday and I decided the lesser of two evils in terms of weekend days to go to IKEA in New Haven. Where to begin? First, the traffic was still pretty heavy even though it was a Sunday. Second, I hadn't slept well so never a good idea to go shopping when you're tired. Third, it's IKEA, the place that lures you into buying crap just because it's cheap. Oh and the kicker? It was almost lunch time, and what was once only a handful of food trucks has turned into a mini-Austin, Texas food truck fest.

I went in search of very specific items like a new duvet cover for the guest room to replace the old duvet cover that ripped in the washing machine. I also needed 2 new pillows and a bedspread for Will's room. Here's what I came home with:

• Duvet cover that doesn't match anything in the guest room (to be returned)
• Bedspread (keeping)
• 2 pillows (keeping, already in use)
• 2 storage boxes that look like mini-ottomans or stools (to be returned, what was I thinking with the white fabric?)
• 4 small plastic bins I was going to use to organize tools in the basement but they don't hold anything (to be returned)
• 3 tin planters that I was also going to use to organize nails/screws in the basement but we don't have any loose nails/screws so I don't need them (to be returned)
• Gray stain to stain my back porch (already stained, looks good)
• Set of three of the world's crappiest paint brushes to apply said stain (1 down, 2 to go)

When I finished staining the porch, Will took a look from inside the kitchen. He said, "I like it. It looks very rusty." Meaning rustic. #epicfail

I've decided IKEA should install a mandatory meditation room directly in front of check out as part of their corporate social responsibility. All IKEA shoppers would be forced to sit and stare at their carts and ask rhetorical questions of themselves like, "Do I really need this lucky bamboo? Am I actually going to follow these ridiculous anime assembly instructions?" No. At least 50% of the time, the answer will be no. 

The long and short of it is, I have to go all the way back to New Haven to return this stuff. On a positive note, it is IKEA so I can get a soft serve yogurt cone for a buck. 

NB: This is a picture of a small child wrapped in a bath mat that makes her look like a polar bear cub. This is what happens at IKEA people.

My Blog, and Falconry, Are Making A Comeback

I don't even remember how it started, but this is the conversation I had with my husband Rod last night. Wait, I think it was related to him watching ESPN.

Anytime I have a conversation like this, I am reminded of the far wittier and more prolific blogger and author, Jenny Lawson aka @theBloggess.

Rod: Falconry is making a comeback.

Me: What?

Rod: Falconry. It's making a comeback.

Rod again: Someday, I may come home with a surprise for you.

Me: If you come home with a falcon, we're going to have a problem. 

The End. 

NB: This image is from a Groupon for a discounted falconry experience in San Juan Capistrano, California. Apparently, falconry is making a comeback. In California.

They're Tracking Us

Social media is a weird thing. It puts so many words out there and we think the words don't matter or connect the dots, but they do. Facebook algorithms are tracking us, and we say, "Oh it's fine, I have a tin foil hat or I'm not on Facebook." What we write on social media is revealing who we are. 

I recently met with a young classmate of my son's for a job shadowing program through their high school. These kids seem so poised. Emma seemed so poised. I don't know if that is because I was a nervous wreck as a child or if there really is a big difference between millenials and me.

When I was a junior in high school, I was working at various menial jobs and babysitting. I was killing it babysitting. Thank you to Mr. and Mrs. House on Rice's Lane in Westport, who not only had the world's easiest baby but they also had awesome snacks. Represent Camp Mahackeno! But I was otherwise trying like hell to hide who I was.  I don't know if it was the times, or it was just me.

My job shadower Emma was entirely prepared for our meeting. We had to push it a few times because she had so many things on her plate like AP exams and varsity sports. When we finally met, what I came away thinking was that kid is exhausted. She kept yawning when we were talking or actually trying to stifle yawns. I assumed boredom, and it may in fact have been boredom, but she later said she learned a bunch from talking to me.  So I'm going to say 50% boredom, 50% exhaustion from all the testing and sports etc.

Emma brought some writing samples for me to review, and as I read them I began to get a better picture of who she is. She's a nonconformist, she's a romantic -- I mean she must be right to want to pursue a career in writing? I thought wow, I am really beginning to see who she is. She is revealed.

Then today I was thinking well I'm still a huge secret except for my blog and my Pinterest boards and my Twitter feed. Who am I kidding? All will be revealed through our writing. And now our writing and our words are pervasive on social.

DC Redux: My Return to Capitol Hill

It's a Tuesday night in 2014 and I'm sitting here in a Capitol Hill apartment just one street over from where I used to live in 1992. I lived on the Hill for about 4 years give or take with Lou Lou and Peggy and then eventually by myself. 

I was thinking about how I got here in the first place. Lou Lou and I were working in the City. I was at a big law firm -- Willkie Farr and Gallagher. Lou was working in finance. We both wanted out, so Lou called her sister Rosey who was living in DC and going to Catholic U. And off we went.

At first we were both waitresses. I found a job with a company that catered big events like the Kennedy Center Honors. Lou eventually landed at the Dubliner, a purportedly IRA-financed, yet incredibly fun bar across the street from Union Station. I remember the catering manager for this company I worked for had a brother in soap operas. I'm going to look him up. Anyway, I thought he was so cool, even though now I realize he was like a skinny Jack Wagner from Melrose Place. But it was the 90's, so what can I say?

One day I was working at a luncheon at The Washington Post. As a waitress mind you. The Katherine Graham (then publisher of the paper) stood up to give a speech and she was so easy and funny and cool, I thought I don't want to cater parties here. I want to work here. I was lucky enough to have a connection through a friend of a friend from Connecticut. He was pretty high up in finance I think. Again need to find his name because boy do I owe him. His daughter's name was Missy. Maybe Cannistraro? (Nicholas Cannistraro Jr, SVP Sales and Marketing).

He got me an interview with HR which was basically fairly grim, aka apparently there are a lot of young people who would like to work at the Post. Then I got a call about a job with Herb Block, the paper's editorial cartoonist. Finally! I'm in. Or not. As it turns out, I was not their first choice. But when their first choice didn't work out, I was their second choice. 

I still have my Post ID card including a freaking perm that I was rocking at the time. As a young person, you often don't realize the spot you're in, until you no longer are. Such is the case with me. Man I had fun. That was the most fun working I ever had. 

Mr. Block was a hard worker but he also loved to joke around. And such a nice man. You would never know he was a Pulitzer and Peabody winner (more than once). His long-time assistant Jean and I became friends too, and remain so even after his death. Lucky for me because Jean is a great friend to have.

Tonight I am attending another Herblock Foundation Lecture and Prize ceremony. Bob Woodward is speaking. Like THE Bob Woodward from All the President's Men. But there have been many great speakers at these events, for example Barack Obama, Tim Russert before he died, Ben Bradlee and so on. 

Here's a confession. After Washington, I lived in New York briefly. One day I was walking through my neighborhood in the West Village and I spied Woodward's partner in crime, Carl Bernstein. I followed him down West 4th Street. I really don't know where I was going with this but I had become such a news hound at the Post that I couldn't help myself. Plus he was married to Nora Ephron whom I adored. This went on for a few blocks and then I realized I'd never get the courage to say something so I stopped. 

That's okay. Tonight I get to hear what Bob has to say in person. Should be entertaining. (It was!)

NB. I know I should've chosen some dignified picture to accompany this post about DC swanky journos but I chose instead this image of the Tune Inn, a bar about 3 blocks from my old place. Lou Lou and I spent so much time here the bartender would take messages for us and store our stuff, like ice skates and backpacks. His name was Chris. I remember him too.

A Circle of Words with Friends

No, this is not a post about Words with Friends. I was just trying to think of a clever headline.

In fact, Words with Friends is a sensitive subject for me. My friend Kajone, our web developer at work, kicked my ass multiple times in Words with Friends. And he was as nice as he could be about it. He's like, "Becky you've really got to watch those triple word spots." I'm like, "Kajone, I really can't talk to you about this." 

Because I'm supposed to be the expert in Words. And you're 26.

Once again, I woke up this morning from a series of vivid dreams. I had a very weird dream that an old guy friend from high school was married to a man (he's not), who sort of had the head of my friend Sylvie's Staffordshire Bull Terrier named Nina. It was weird. So I decided to do my homework for a new project I'm starting thanks to another friend from high school.

I'm really excited about this project because it's about writing, something near and dear to my heart. I was reading all the background materials and one of the pieces was an article about Salman Khan who founded the Khan Academy. I think I first heard about Khan Academy from my dad who encouraged me to show the tool to my son as a way to understand concepts in math. It's a pretty amazing story and very inspiring for me. I sat there reading and thought, "Hey I'm finally going to learn something about physics using Khan Academy." 

Then I read that Khan grew up in Metarie, Louisiana outside of New Orleans. Because I went to Tulane in New Orleans, I'm familiar with Metairie and some of the other surrounding cities like Houma, Algiers and Slidell. I mispronounced all of them when I first arrived in New Orleans, but you learn their ways over time. Like Houma is pronounced Ho-ma, not Hu-ma. 

Then I was thinking about another old friend who gave me a copy of Lucinda Williams' album Car Wheels on a Gravel Road. One of the songs on that album that she wrote is called Joy. In my humble opinion, this is genius: 


I don't want you anymore
Cause you took my joy
I don't want you anymore
You took my joy

I'm gonna go to Slidell and look for my joy
Go to Slidell and look for my joy
Maybe in Slidell I'll find my joy
Maybe in Slidell I'll find my joy
 
The contrast of finding joy in small town Slidell, Louisiana strikes me as pretty cool and a sly turn of phrase. Keep writing Lucinda. Keep writing.

This blog is thanks to many friends who keep me thinking, keep me writing and keep kicking my butt in Words with Friends.

NB: Okay this is weird but while researching images for this blog, I realized the Words with Friends logo appears to include a Staffordshire Bull Terrier. Check it out.

I Dream Of Dali

Almost every night, I have these vivid, weird dreams that I feel no one else can understand. For example, last night I dreamt Daisy was a puppy again, and she was trying to catch a baby turtle. But I was trying to stop her from catching the baby turtle because it was a baby, and because I thought it would just generally be a bad idea for a dog to eat a turtle.

And then I saw Hashim who is one of the boys from Kolfe Orphanage in Ethiopia. He's the boy who came to stay with us I think two summers ago. My mom would remember. He was grown up and looked stronger and healthier. He also seemed happy, which for a kid like Hashim was something big. The first time I saw Hashim smile was when Daisy the dog jumped up on his bed to wake him. Also when he learned to ride a bike. He smiled then.

There was one other time he smiled. I was taking him to meet Mary Beth, co-founder of Operation Hearts and Home, and the woman who organized the trip for the kids from Addis. We agreed to meet at the SUNY Purchase campus in Westchester. While we were waiting for Mary to arrive, I took Hashim into the student center. There was this super fancy Coke vending machine with a robotic arm that flew around locating your drink selection and dispensing it. He actually laughed out loud.

Maybe I have such strange dreams because my mind tends to wander, even in the daytime, as evidenced by the total tangent I just took on Hashim. 

My mom sent me an article last week about dreaming. It was written by Gina Barreca, a columnist for the Hartford Courant in nearby Hartford, CT, though my mom lives and reads her paper in Savannah, GA. I thought this bit was brilliant:

Men don't want to hear about dreams. When somebody says, "I was playing Barbies with Madeleine Albright and we were either in a circus or a brothel when suddenly I started to cut my hair with manicure scissors and Albright says, 'Shouldn't a priest read you your rights before he hears your confession?' which is what she always says in the dream but this time I answered, 'These are not my walls, but my paintings are on them,'" the natural question is, "What do you think it means?" And a lot of men don't like to analyze things.

Read more here: http://www.adn.com/2014/02/20/3338495/gina-barreca-women-unravel-dreams.html#storylink=cpy

Read more here: http://www.adn.com/2014/02/20/3338495/gina-barreca-women-unravel-dreams.html#storylink=cpy

It just occurred to me what my dream might mean. I've been thinking of a book about Daisy for over a year now and done almost nothing. The turtle is symbolic of the slow traveler. Maybe Daisy was trying to eat the turtle in me. Because Daisy never dawdles. She goes for what she wants. Like socks. She really loves to destroy socks.

The Inanity of PR aka I Really Miss Buzzwhack

In a land far away called Raleigh, I used to be a PR person for some pretty big technology companies aka Cisco Systems, IBM, etc. PR is really not for the faint of heart. Sure it sounds glamorous, with all that crisis communications and those paradigm shifts. But you're still pitching and slogging and duking it out with clients or journalists.

The worst of it though, in my opinion, is the language we're required to use to describe something simple. For example, a tech reporter might say, "Oh so it's a new version of their existing software. Why would I care about that?"

And my client would require me to say, "Well it's much more than version 3.2.1 of our current OS. It's a paradigm shift that will create new revenue streams for VARs and VADs alike."

You see my point? Buzzwhack was this great site that tracked and poked fun of all this jargon and PR nonsense. I don't know what happened to Buzzwhack but it appears to be no more. Perhaps gone the way of the other dot coms that faded into the woodwork.

I was talking with a friend on Friday and he had this great idea for a blog. What if I wrote about my personal life using PR speak? So I'm going to give it a whirl.

FOR IMMEDIATE RELEASE 

Risher-Morton Family Debuts Next Gen Meatballs 

A Paradigm-Shifting, Game-Changing Experience for All

In today's tomorrow, I decided to teach my son how to make meatballs. The synergies that exist between the meats in the Stop & Shop meatball mixture, have led to my rapid adoption of a meatball addiction.

It's a truism that there are many brands of spaghetti sauce on the market, but I firmly stick by my favorite, an industry-leading blend of tomato, basil, olive oil and red pepper - Rao's Arrabiata sauce.

Having carefully selected my mission-critical ingredients, I put the next generation of Morton to work mushing meat, bread crumbs and an egg together. To somewhat dilute the total cost of ownership of Rao's tomato sauce, we also blended in a small can of store brand sauce.

With a state-of-the-art spatula, Will blended the cooking meatballs into the tomato sauce. Using superior cooking style, Will was able to tightly integrate the sauce and meatballs into a cohesive, strategic sauce.

"This experience empowers me to redefine the way food consumers manage the design and delivery of meatballs across disparate tomato-y landscapes," said Will Morton, teenager.

Forward-Looking Statements

This release contains forward-looking statements within the meaning of Section 27A of the Securities Act of 1933, as amended, and Section 21E of the Securities Exchange Act of 1934, as amended. All forward-looking statements are inherently uncertain as they are based on current expectations and assumptions concerning future events or future performance of the company or in this case family. Readers are cautioned not to place undue reliance on these forward-looking statements, which are only predictions and speak only as of the date hereof because we are too chicken shit to come out with actual predictions that might later become a PR nightmare should they prove to be untrue.