French Flicks

Ever since I watched Indochine (my favorite movie ever), I became a devotee of French flicks. Monday night I watched a new, at least new to me (circa 2002), French modern classic "He Loves Me, He Loves Me Not". The title in French is "A la folie...pas du tout", which is basically the same game as it's American counterpart, but translates to he/she loves me madly, or not at all. With this film, the emphasis is definitely on madly. It was a great rental and even Dave enjoyed it (malgre les subtitles).

Audrey Tautou's perennial perky personality is perfect for in the role of femme fatale, Angelique. It is typical French humor and brings lots of whimsy to misguided love. A great reminder that the darkest characters in life can often, literally, be the girl, or boy, next door. Rent it tonight, unless you have NetFlix in which case rent it now and see it in three months (I simply cannot understand this little spontaneity in movie choice). I can't wait to hear your comments.

Songs that Make the Whole World Sing

I have always loved music and have had a pretty eclectic soundtrack to my life so far. I was talking to Dave the other day about how my sources for new music have evolved over the years. In reference to our conversation, here are my top ten music muses from my wee years on. Yes, this is the type of stuff Dave and I talk about when we catalog our lives before we go to bed. Some people use Ambien to hit the pillow a bit quicker, we just engage in "muffin stories". I'll blog about "muffin stories" some time, since I am sure that you are all waiting with baited breath to find out what I am referring to, but for now here is my top ten.

My first music source was definitely ma and pop, my sister and when allowed MTV. Ma and pop introduced me to Karen Carpenter, Abba, Kenny Rogers, Alvin and the Chipmunks. My sister introduced me to simple country ballad songs and MTV introduced me to Michael Jackson, say no more.

I moved on quickly from there (only to revisit country tunes in college for a season, never quite made it back to Alvin and the Chipmunks) to my second music source, my friends. My high school friends taught me about New Wave music, a la, Depeche Mode, Siouxsie & the Banshees, The Cure, etc.

Those same friends introduced me to to dance clubs, which then became my third source for music. Nirvana, Pearl Jam, R.E.M., Morrissey and the likes became the tunes for T. I know, ask my mom about what she was doing letting a teen run around in dance clubs listening to grunge bands at 16.

College were the low years as far as new music went. I was introduced to a lot of tunes, mainly by the roomies, most of them not so memorable (sorry ladies). The highlights were Bob Marley (from my Hawaii days), Natalie Merchant, Tori Amos and Indigo Girls (standouts from BYU Provo).

My fifth source for music, became my little brother (at the time a High School Senior) who after getting home from my mission rescued me from being completely out of the music loop and informed me what had happened in the music world during my hiatus. Dave Matthews Band, Smashing Pumpkins, U2 and any other alternative band graced my air waves during those days.

Post college and early Columbia days, my music choices became a little less white bread. Thanks to some friends who broadened my horizons a bit, I started listening to R & B. Enter the soulful tunes of Maxwell, Jill Scott and Mary J.

My seventh music source and definitely my favorite came from bands I located myself (with the help of my then roomie, Noelle) scouring NYC's Postcrypt Coffeehouse, CBGB's and Nuyorican Poet's Cafe for new music. Kyler England, Django and Kristen Cifelli became my new live favs. In fact, Noelle and I had a couple of embarrassing moments when literally we were the only ones to show up to some of Django's shows. It's hard to be an unknown groupie when there no one else in in the audience. Unfortunately, I don't think any of these bands ever made it to the big time, but they were certainly great Friday night dates.

Boyfriends became my eighth source for music. I know, I am asking myself the same thing, why did it take so long until guys started actually leaving their mark on my life? Some of the more unforgettable came from Dave, who noticing the obvious lack of male singers in my life, took control and introduced me to the likes of Ryan Adams, Johnny Cash and Jack Johnson (not to be confused with Jack Johnston, my dad, who can also blow).

Soundtracks became my ninth source for for music. Alias, Smallville and Grey's Anatomy have given me the forerunners. From The Frey and Snow Patrol to Kate Havnevik and Patty Griffin, I'm still listening.

Tenth source? TV commercials. I know, I said I would speak about the evolution of my music muses over the years, but let me just ask, have you watched any commercials in the last year? Maybe not, with the intro of TiVo and DVR, but there is some good stuff out there. MacBook Air gave me Yael Naim's "New Soul", Halo gave me Gary Jules "Mad World" and iPod Nano gave me Feist's "1234".

So readers, it's your turn. Where do you get your music and what is gracing your airwaves these days? Who knows, blogging might just end up as my 11th music muse and you could be a part of it!

Alles Liebe zum Valentinstag!

On Wednesday Dave called me at work and asked if I knew what day it was, I checked the litany of anniversaries, holidays or birthdays I could have missed on February 13, but couldn't think of even one. I told Dave I didn't know and he belts out, "Happy Valentine's Day!" I was impressed he remembered, but one day early? That conversation got the dialogue over what to do for V-day,started earlier than it would normally have. It usually goes something like this around 6pm on V-day:

Me: "Did you want to do anything for V-day?"

Dave: "I guess we probably should."

I know, it is really romantic, but that's how we roll. So this year we had just under 30 hours to plan. We started by reminiscing about memorable Valentine's Days past. And after hemming and hawing for a few minutes we came up with two. The first one was a few years ago when Dave rented a sweet car for the night, picked me up and whisked me off to Tarrytown for a romantic dinner for two at a castle on the Hudson. The most memorable thing about that night turned out not to be the fairy-tale setting, but rather the $300 meal, that tasted like an over-priced $15 meal.

Our second memory, and the fave of the two, involved Dave and I putting off planning for V-day and then scouring the neighborhood to find a restaurant to take us in last minute. After being turned away by several promising establishments because we didn't make reservations months in advance, we ended up at the Heidelberg, the UES's shoutout to days gone by when we used to be known as Yorkville's Germantown. This place is a classic beer garden with some hearty food on the side. Since we don't drink, that just leaves the hearty food, which is definitely stick to your ribs and probably your intestinal walls to boot. Entering we encountered not only ambiant music (picture a 90-year-old with a think German accent singing and playing love songs on an accordian). Then we met our waitress. She was a died-in-the-wool fraulein who was also about 90. She was wearing traditional German attire—a fitted bodice around her waist and a lose cotton number that just covered the goods up top. Speaking of the goods up top, they were enormous. Dave took to referring to them all night as "plate tectonics". Although the night wasn't very amorous, we laughed our way through the entire meal.

So this year with just under 30 hours to plan we decided to return to the Heidelberg—this time by choice. Again, we laughed our way through dinner and even sang along with the chorus of a classic rendition of Country Road—again accompanied by a mean accordion and the vocal prowess of our 90-year-old German friend. Sadly, this year we did not encounter the spectacular "plate tectonics", but it was a great reminder that sometimes the best memories aren't crafted, but just run into.

Ode to Claire

I promised myself I wouldn't be one of those mom's who talks, blogs, brags about her child constantly, but just bear with me for a minute while I take some time out to recognize Miss Claire and the adorable little person she is becoming. It seems almost daily, Claire is revealing herself to me. I am still putting my finger on who she is and the process is just delicious. It is exciting to learn new aspects of her personality layer by layer.

What I know for sure...I know Claire lives her unabashed life without fear and without concern for what she looks like, smells like, how loud she is or how in place or out of place her babbling can be.

I know Claire likes people and wants to be around them. She does not struggle to be the center of attention. She is fine doing her own thing, but just likes people around her for the occasional treat share, secret smile and fleeting head rest. Conversely, she is also comfortable with moments of solitude. Nap time is always a treat because after Claire's nap you can usually hear her singing to herself for up to 15-30 minutes before she will finally call out, rather forcefully I may admit, "Ma!" or "Da!" (translation, "Make haste, I'm done entertaining myself.").

I know Claire is independent—at times, to my chagrin—as she suffers from zero separation anxiety (not always so good for a mama's ego). She decides what she will play with, what books she will read, what sounds she will make, who she will smile at, etc.

I know Claire is discerning. She has favorite books, favorite toys and favorite people.

I know Claire is at peace with the world. She approaches new situations serenely, with confidence she can tackle novel tasks. Claire has this incredible look of enlightenment she gets when she is mastering a new task, exploring a new object or seeing something for the first time. It is irresistible.

Best yet, I know Claire has accepted me fully as her mother. I wondered how I would figure out this whole mothering thing before Claire was born, but the coolest thing about it is she immediately decided I was up to the task, and so I somehow became what she needed.

I can't wait to learn even more about this little girl with so much self-assurance and freedom from self doubt and just hope some of it rubs off on me along the way.

Blog Censorship

In the past few weeks a few very funny events have occurred—some I have observed, some I have been personally involved in. After each event, I have thought to myself "I have got to blog about this", but when I sit down to create my post my courage escapes me. Blogging is a tricky past-time, it is not exactly like calling up a girlfriend, because you could speak on any number of topics and not worry about offending anyone—friends, family, hubbies, whomever. But when your life is an open book for any passerby, you must be a little more discerning, which I must say, makes for a less interesting blog.

The best blogs that I have come across are the ones that are almost completely unfiltered. My friend Emily is a perfect example of that. She writes they way she talks and doesn't avoid the messy stuff—from GYN-o visits to horrific diapers, the girl writes it all which makes for one must-read blog. But I suspect even my intrepid friend Emily purges her posts from time to time, to keep all readers, well, reading.

Total transparency would come at a cost. Who could ever say, "You will never believe what my boss/friend/sibling/neighbor/super did" with impunity? Since the blogosphere is almost wholly accessible to just about anyone—except possibly my 93 year old grandma and some rural tribe in Papua New Guinea—in a simple click of a button you could ruffle some serious feathers, or worse yet, really embarrass someone, including yourself.

So I am curious, how do you walk the line? Is there anything off limit to discuss? How much do you censor yourself?