Author Archive
guest blogger leonardo: i am lion, hear me door
Hah! I knew she wouldn’t notice. She’s always so busy with that tiny dog of hers. When they went out for a walk this morning, I took my chance. I nicked the camera, went to Catanzaro, and I found exactly what I was looking for.
As a young cub, I remember curling up next to my father asking to hear The Story. When my father was much younger, he was beautiful, but he had always been in the shadow of his older brother, who was one of the best hunters anyone could remember.
One day as my father was roaming around the Kalahari hoping to stumble across a just-killed antelope to share with the pride, he came across a strange-looking creature playing in the sand. My father remembered his father telling him about such things–men–and that they would only harm us if we weren’t nice to them.
So my father asked him a question.
“What are you doing there?”
“I am creating,” the man responded, continuing to make large swirls in the sand without looking at my father. “What are you doing there?”
My father, seeing that this man was friendly, had decided to play a bit with him. “I am looking to kill. Roooooaaaaaaar!”
The man turned to my father, and his eyes quickly swelled with tears. He was quite thin with long hair and beard and his pale legs shook as he stumbled to his feet and stood before the lion at least twice his size. He gripped my father’s head between his hands, smoothed some sand from his mane, and kissed my father’s wet nose.
“It is you I have been looking been for,” said the man. “I am an artist, and I have been asked to design a door for a very important building in a place far from here. You must come with me. You must be my model.”
And so my father, who had not yet met my mother, left his pride for Italy, traveling with Leonardo for many years before returning to the Kalahari. My father’s face became a part of many of Italy’s most famous buildings, as well as some that aren’t so famous.
So imagine my delight when Sognatrice chose me to be her lion in the Shameless Lions Writing Circle. I was going back to Italy! I could finally see my father’s doors!
And this morning I had my chance.
For anyone who hasn’t been to the old part of Catanzaro, let me tell you, it’s confusing, and no one seems to know the names of the streets when you ask them. I wandered in and out of the tiny alleys for hours before I came to a little square, the exact place my father had once described to me.
And there he was. My father’s gorgeous eyes staring back at me after all these years.
Isn’t he beautiful? Can you see the resemblance?
My father so loved this artist and was so grateful for all of the good things he brought to him that when I was born, he named me Leonardo to honor him.
And now here I am back at home with Sognatrice. I tried to sneak the camera back to its spot, but of course my whole secretive plot was foiled when I realized that I needed her fingers to type this. She’s a good lion caretaker, though. She didn’t yell or anything.
Turns out she’s a sucker for a good story.
Lioningly yours,
Leonardo
(That’s me on the sidebar! I’m famous!)
P.S. Buon weekend!
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[tags]lions, shameless lions’ writing circle, writing, catanzaro, calabria[/tags]
Life Lessons with Fast Eddie
First off, understand that the title sounds way more naughty than this post is going to get; I’ve been thinking about innocent school days. As Judith pointed out in the comments to June is… , now used to be the time we younguns were released into the world every year.
And I got to thinking about Fast Eddie.
Have you ever noticed that I like asking myself leading questions with obvious answers and then answering? I sure have. Hah!
I’m fairly certain that I get that from my high school Algebra II and Trigonometry teacher, who I, and many students before and after me, called “Fast Eddie.” He talked *really* fast, which isn’t necessarily a great trait in an advanced math teacher, but I loved him anyway.
He did everything fast, in fact, and since he had the silkiest blond hair for a guy already in his late 50s, it flopped and blew in the breeze as he charged down the hall, as if he had been traveling by sports car instead of a pair of legs.
Hard to tell anyway, because he was always kind of a blur.
Fast Eddie was a smart, witty straight-shooter, and, most admirable to me, he treated us like adults but he always, always had the upper hand of the classroom. His very presence demanded respect.
He had also been a baseball player and coach for a long time, so he had that whole sports and competition thing going on too—which most often surfaced when a particularly trying English teacher (trying for all of us, including faculty) would peek in to stir up friendly banter during our classes.
Looking back, I suppose that was kind of weird, but it did mark the first time I heard the phrase, “Don’t let the door hit you on the ass on your way out,” so I can’t say as though nothing stuck with me from my year of Trig torture instruction.
Oh, and did I mention he was free with cuss words? That’ll always win you points with high school kids.
I have two great memories of Fast Eddie, the first is a conversation we had after I had gone back home after having been in college for a few semesters, having already declared my English and history majors. He was crushed that I didn’t major in math—so I didn’t bother to tell him I didn’t plan to even take a math course in college, or, ahem, ever again. (And I didn’t.)
His response was that I was wasting my mathematics prowess and that I’d, I quote, “have the world by the balls” if I doubled up in English and math, but, not surprisingly, that didn’t encourage me to meet with my university advisor. It was touching to hear his confidence in my abilities, though, especially after I had been out of high school for some time, and I’ll never forget it.
The other memorable moment happened when it came time for our first test in Algebra II, and the class conversation/pep talk went a little something like this:
Worried Student: Will [something about Algebra II] be covered?
Fast Eddie: (long pause; vacant look out window; smooths hair)
Look, folks, it’s test time.
(another glance out window; sits on corner of his desk while shaking foot furiously over edge)
What’s going to be on the test? The things we covered.
Will it be hard? Nah. Not if you know your stuff, but if you haven’t done the work, hell yeah.
Can I get by with bullshit answers? No you can’t. I don’t like bullshit.
Should I study? You bet your ass—this ain’t 2 plus 2 folks.
Any more questions?
I certainly didn’t have any, but the answering my own asked questions really stuck; I found it hilarious, and even better, effective. Somehow, that little Q & A helped calm my nerves for the first big test of high school. Sometimes you just need someone to give it to you straight, to let you know where you stand, to cut out the bull.
(Sadly, though, this story is about all I remember from Algebra II.)
I’ve always felt blessed to have genuinely liked so many of my teachers and professors, but never more so than when I came here and began talking to P and his friends about school. Not one of them could pinpoint a teacher they liked even a little.
Granted they were probably hellions whereas I was the class pet—only because of the effort I put into school, mind you. I was definitely no brown-noser and, in fact, had quite a few personality clashes with teachers as well, usually when I felt condescended to, but let’s not dwell on that today.
Because for this week’s Love Thursday, I’m thinking about some of those teachers who made an impact in my life, and Fast Eddie is certainly one at the top of the list.
What about you? Any teachers leave good memories behind for you? Any who you feel particularly indebted to? Any who you’d like to write a thank you note to right now (even if they’ve passed on)? Don’t let me stop you!
Happy Love Thursday everyone!
What’s Cooking Wednesday: Coffee Granita
To be perfectly honest, the only thing cooking around here these days is me—as in, I think I can identify with a roasted chicken just a bit more. The temps have been in the 100s (40+ degrees Celsius) for a couple days, so there hasn’t been much going on at the stove or, heaven help us, in the oven.
We’ve subsisted on simple salads, other quick pasta dishes, and some cold meats and cheeses and fresh bread.
Oh, and the granita (grah-NEE-tah).
What’s that you ask? If any of you are familiar with what I’ve heard called shaved ice, Italian water ice, Italian ice, or (for you Philly folks especially) Rita’s water ice, that’s basically it, or at least they’re all cugini.
For anyone unfamiliar, granita is basically a slushy, flavored ice (some are even more like sorbet), and it’s a staple in Italy in the summer.
I’ve seen it credited to Sicily and even Spain, but in the honor of good summer fun, let’s just agree that it’s darn good and move on, shall we?
Shelley has written about granita and also another related treat, grattachecca, in Rome and Sara can tell you how to make it watermelon-flavored (my favorite growing up), but, in keeping with the theme of this here blog thingee, today’s What’s Cooking Wednesday is…granita al caffè, or coffee granita.
I love it so much it just may be replacing my iced coffee as my morning brew these days when you just have to, in the words of my late grandmother’s favorite TV chef, kick it up a notch. You may be thinking, “Isn’t that kind of like ice cream for breakfast?”
And I’m thinking, “Isn’t it great to be an adult sometimes?”
Granita al Caffè
2 cups water
½ cup sugar
1 cup very strong espresso, cooled
Heat water and sugar over low heat until the sugar melts. Bring to a boil, and then remove from heat and allow to cool.
Mix in coffee, put everything in shallow container and into the freezer. I use muffin pans (the 6-muffin type) because then I can make individual servings.
When the mixture is mostly frozen, take it out and you’re ready to smash it up. If it won’t budge from the pan, give the bottom a dunk in hot water and flip it.
Now, you can use a food processor, but if it’s really hot like it is here, it’ll all melt before you know it and you’ll be back to square one. If you’re set on using the food processor, make sure everything is frozen solid, then cut the mixture into chunks and do it that way.
Me? This time I just mashed it up with a spoon. As you can see from the photo, I left the chunks larger than usual to compensate for the heat, and now I think I actually like it better this way. The food processor will get it smoother, of course, and more traditional granita-fied.
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Update!
Since the weather cooled off a bit today (a real breeze!), I was able to do a more slushy thing. I didn’t bother with the food processor though–just used the edge of a big metal spoon.
The view, I’m sure, looks familiar by now, so look at that coffee granita!
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Some notes:
- All measurements are in the “American” cups, so I’m not talking about just a tiny cup of espresso here.
- You can top this with whipped cream for a special treat, but around here people look at you funny if you have dairy products when it’s warm.
- There are many recipes for granita all over the place, including one specifically for coffee granita at fellow Italian expat Judy‘s place Over a Tuscan Stove. Feel free to play with the sugar and water mixture to your taste and be brave with flavors!
- Speaking of flavors, you can easily do a lemon granita from this basic recipe substituting the juice of two large lemons and the zest of one lemon in place of the coffee.
- A final note to anyone who would like to participate in What’s Cooking Wednesday–be sure to let Shannon over at Tales from the Fairy Blogmother know so she can include you in the weekly roundup!
Now raise your granita and let’s salute:
To the summer!
italy bloggers rock (or at least we like free stuff)
I saw this yesterday at Aimee (Roo)’s and then at An Island Life and Sandier Pastures. Once I got thinking, it was too much fun to pass up, so I’m going to play too.
Author Rosina Lippi is having a meme contest to get the word out about the upcoming release date for Tied to the Tracks (more information below). The theme is: Five Reasons the Best [Writers, Bloggers] Come From [a geographical space, real or imaginary] and the prizes are (1) a $100 Amazon gift certificate and (2) a pile o’ books, including some of Lippi’s, signed.
Pretty cool huh? If you want to enter, you have until July 3rd, so get moving!
Here’s my entry:
Five Reasons the Best Bloggers Come From the Bel Paese (
1. Consonants are cool, but everyone knows that vowels make the world go round. We use more of them in Italy than you ever thought possible. Just a small example: “Ciaoooooooo!”
2. Inspiration abounds in our rolling hills, gorgeous lakes, pristine seas, Renaissance art, wine (ah il vino!), and even the mozzarella–especially when it goes funny.
3. We’ll never let you go home hungry, even encouraging you to take that third helping of pasta because (get this!) “you’re too thin!”
4. You want history, culture, and traces of ancient civilization? We got your history, culture, and traces of ancient civilization right here pal.
5. Everyone loves Italia! You don’t *have* to, of course, but if you don’t, we’ll find you. We know people.
Tied to the Tracks by Rosina Lippi. July 3, 2007. ISBN: 0425215326
“[This] is a hilarious, smart, sexy novel with a heart of gold.” — Susan Wiggs
“[Lippi] turns her buoyant creative talents to the romantic comedy genre with an effervescent tale of a trio of offbeat Yankee filmmakers plunked down deep in the heart of Dixie.” — Booklist
Read an excerpt. (Adobe Reader required)| Watch the book trailer
You can find Tied to the Tracks at Amazon , Barnes & Nobel, Borders, Powells, or at your local independent bookseller.
This meme has been entered in the Tied to the Tracks contest, originating on Rosina Lippi’s Storytelling2 weblog. If you’d like to enter the BUCKS & BOOKS meme contest, get the rules here.
the business of blogging
Let me get right to the point:
Today I have posted over at She Who Blogs, so do head over there and check me out, would you?My post is called Five Reasons Why I Blog and is in response to a tag for a meme by our What’s Cooking Wednesday founder Shannon, and I thought, where better to blog about why I blog than on my new group blog, She Who Blogs?
Too much “blog” in one sentence?
That’s because we gotta lotta bloggin’ goin’ on!
I briefly mentioned She Who Blogs the other day in my post about Luna Balloona, but let me expand a bit.
She Who Blogs is the brainchild of Frances of Blogjem, Blogforth, Photostroll, and The Meme Section (don’t worry for her–she owns her blog addiction). It started as a Yahoo discussion group and has now grown into its own blog.I couldn’t have described our rather unique (and growing!) group any better than Joy at A Spot of T already has, so I won’t even try:
It’s a new group to be sure, but I’ve been reading blog after blog of the 12 women and a more eclectic group of women you will never find. I feel at home amongst them and do you know why? Because we’re all so different yet all so accepting of each other. Exactly the kind of women I have been searching for. Now if I could get them all to move closer to me so we could visit each other monthly for some great conversation, I would really appreciate it. You might want to get on that ladies. Thanks.
Like Joy, I’m not much of a group joiner, but I’m so glad I took a chance on this one. It’s been a true pleasure getting to know wonderful women bloggers that I otherwise may have never come across; I hope that some of my faithful readers will be inspired to join as well.
Joy has a fantastic, informative list of all the member blogs (as I type this, of course–we’re multiplying like gremlins hit with water), so I won’t repeat that here either–go see for yourself!
And if you’d like to join the group, get in touch with Frances through any of her Internethomes.
Hope to see you all around She Who Blogs soon!
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[tags]she who blogs[/tags]
Michelle Kaminsky is an American attorney-turned-freelance writer who lived in her family's ancestral village in Calabria, Italy for 15 years. This blog is now archived.
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