Phonetiphilia

Pet peeve of the day: mispronunciation of the word "bruschetta". I'm not going to ask that everyone roll their "r"s, nor clean up their stray dipthongs (we have a lot of those in Texas), but please, please, please people, there is no "sh" sound in bruschetta. I realize there is an "s" and an "h" in close proximity, but proximity does not a digraph make (or maybe it does--but only proximal proximity and only then in a particular order). I could dive into Italian pronunciation rules here and explain why it is a hard c rather than a soft, but I've already spent too much time exposing the obsessive inner-workings of my mind, so I'll quit embarrassing myself and get to the point (let me know if you want details--there have got to be other freaky phonetiphiles out there). Think of a man named Bruce and a woman named Ketta, you're introducing them: Bruce-Ketta. Now think of it a little more phonetically and repeat again: broosketa. Now, look at the word again and see if you can say it without a "sh": bruschetta. Good . . .There, don't we all feel better? I know I do. Now go and tell your friends.

Maybe next time I'll tell you about the time I witnessed a disagreement over the pronunciation of fettucine nearly escalate into a fistfight . . . exciting stuff

Deep in the Heat of Texas

Yep, 110 degrees outside the vehicle on our drive home today . . .

I'm Dreaming of Da Da

Let us establish a couple of things first:

"Da-Da Music" is specifically a Christmas album put out by my dear friend Doris Rosenblatt, an elderly (don't tell her I said that) Jewish woman from Brooklyn. Her memory is going, so whenever she forgets the lyrics, she replaces them with "da-da" (as in "I'm dreaming of a white da-da!"). Doris calls me every year on my birthday and sings to me the "da-da" version of Happy Birthday (how she remembers my birthday but rarely my name is just a wonder). This is truly the highlight of my birthday. One year she called on Christmas--I was verklempt. I have many stories--of my newlywed husband's first phone conversation with Doris, confused baby sitters, the missionaries (we put her on speakerphone that year, so they all could listen in to the fun) and the friends I've repeatedly made listen to the recorded phone messages and more. The Christmas album was a delightful Christmas surprise last year. It showed up as a gift from Dame Rosenblatt herself and I have to admit, we listened to it in the car with the children--a lot. My children may come to believe that "da-da" is truly a part of every Christmas carol written.

Now that we have the context for this Elliotism of the day, let us begin . . .

Elliot: Mom, do we still have the da-da music in the car?

Mom: No.

Elliot: Darn! because I LOVE that music!

(this is August in Texas mind you)

Elliot: Can I listen to it in bed?

Then there was the continued conversation in the car regarding the GPS (or as Elliot calls it "Joo Pee Ess" or as I hear it "Jew-P-S") and so I started asking myself just what would the JewPS say to me when I made that wrong turn? And would she sound like Doris?

"See, see what happens when you don't listen to me!? You just turn right back around . . . No! not now! WE'RE GONNA DIE! . . . alright then, I'm not sure how you pulled that off, but since we're alive, let's get moving already . . . schmutz."

I did find the Da-Da music and Elliot went to sleep listening to it last night . . . sweet dreams baby Jesus . . .

Flamingos

I saw a flock of Flamingos overhead while I was floating in the pool. I don't believe I've ever seen flamingos fly before.

Day 19 of 100+ degree heat here. And this was the last day of the daily pool hours. School starts Monday (can you even imagine going to school when it's 100 degrees out?). Pool is only open weekends through September, then nothing. It better be 65 degrees by October . . . Except really, how refreshing can pool water be when it's baked in the sun all day? I've been contemplating floating blocks of ice in the pool, but somehow I think it'd be futile. I know, at least we have a pool to go to . . . no whining on the yacht!

On the health front, no real progress. Several months and a few thousand dollars later, I think we've determined that there may be more wrong with his foot than just the nerve pain (which is what we told them from the beginning). However, no one is quite sure yet what the other problem is (Medicine = 10% science, 90% hunch). But he's going to have a minor, yet due to the nerve condition, complicated surgery to further a strong guess. Let us hope the guess is correct because after that, we got nothin'.

The Old Man Is Snoring

I've always loved the rain. But one has no idea just how much she loves the rain until being deprived of it for months and being subjected to 100 degree weather for weeks on end. This place has apparently had 1/2 inch of rain recorded in the past 6 months. Crazy.

It's raining. This is the second time it's rained since we moved here in March. And it's really raining--lightning, thunder, downpour and all. I know, I shouldn't get used to it, but boy do I love that sound! Makes me want to go wander around in it. I hope it lasts all day. All week even. I think I'd be happy for a month of it! I know what you're thinking--but I'm serious. Rain makes me happy. It's one of the reasons I loved living in Seattle. I didn't get tired of that rain, I don't think a month of it here could depress me. But that is all wishful thinking anyway. I think we're back to 100 and no rain later in the week. But I'll take it right now.

Interpretation

I'm seeking an interpretation of my dream:

I step outside my house only to discover that there are several mountain lions (and some sort of cow or sheep that looks suspiciously like a lion with horns) hanging out on my roof. I yell at the kids to come inside before they get eaten and don't notice that the kitten has slipped outside. I realize this just as I see the kitty climb up onto the edge of the roof and the hungry mountain lions take notice. I open the door and yell for the kitty to come inside. She begins to, but it is a race against time as the lions close in on her. I wonder if I do manage to get her inside, just how I'll keep the lions out. When suddenly a lion grabs her and eats her while I slam the door and watch out the window in horror.

Any takers?

Mortal Enemies

Let's call it what it is. We hate each other. I hate them, they hate me--all of 'em. We're all aware of this so let's just put it out there. It's a conspiracy I think. I'm pretty sure the lawnmower, the trimmer and the edger shimmy closer together in the garage every time I come out there, whispering. Plotting. Which one of them is going to give in just enough to let me think perhaps I've made some progress in this relationship, only to have the rest of them up and rebel at once--one refusing completely to start, the other floods and then while I'm not looking, the lawn mower takes off ahead, pulling me towards that awful ankle turning hole in the back yard and suddenly I'm on my back behind the mower, my hand still on the lever--the thing is still running and I'm lying there thinking "If I let go, I'll just have to start the damn thing again with that stupid pull cord and finish the rest of the yard." I contemplate what kinds of further injuries I might incur should I try and get up while keeping the beast running and I decide it is probably in my best interest to let the thing die. I lie there in the 100 degree sun in silence, trying to decide how bad the damage is to my ankle. And the faint snickering in the garage lets me know that they've won again.

I really hate yard work. Especially when it's a hundred degrees outside.