lost and loosing?

I am reading a book called the Gurnsey Literary and Potato Peal Pie Society, a novel based on a compilation of hand written correspondence during the second world war. All the while I am reading it, I stop to ask myself, "Have we really advanced thanks to technology?" With the newest and latest always out dating its predecessor, we just might communicate a bit quicker, maybe with more frequency even, but do we really communicate with the lost and loosing art form that we once did? When communicating from a distance required a pen and paper, silence and thought, and of course, time. When our thoughts were slower and more developed, did a hand written letter have more sentimental value? I, speaking from personal experience, find that receiving something in the mail certainly entertains a different kind of excitement than that of opening my electronic email account and seeing it full of small notes and spam.

So then why don't I take the first step, I ask myself, why don't I begin to write more hand written letters, why don't I, become an artist of a loosing art? Well, it isn't efficient, that is for sure, and cost wise, I would only be able to send 10 hand written letters per month for the same cost as having internet, and well, probably more importantly, and certainly selfishly, I want to receive hand written letters too! So in the end, the art is only beautiful if it is reciprocated. Perhaps this is the winning argument to the definition of art: For something to be artistic, it must be a two way street of communication, a reciprocity of the artist's confection and the viewer's reception.

Does anyone remember having a pen pal?

O.K. Ok, Okay!

It has been way too long since I have written and really, being busy is no valid excuse!

It is just that there is so much going on! We are about two weeks from finally finishing the second level, which means my world will again begin to revolve around me and mine instead of turning in circles around unpunctual construction workers that say one thing and do another.

I had a lovely visit with an old time friend who spent the last 2 weeks here with us in our chaotic home where we all three slept in the same room. And on top of it all, business is at it's best yet!

We have had three Australians, one Irish man, and two Germans this month!

Spanish in Rosario!

Now, while I now you are all
"oh so interested" in my day to day life, I am sure that what you are all anxiously awaiting are more belly shots...

You want `em, You got `em!

Doing what I do best...
Cooking!























A little roof-top family love

Claudio had this great idea of making a certificate to honor Regan as a non-blood Aunt. We presented it to her on the roof-top rather than the boat tour, avoiding, at all costs, seasickness.

Morning Philosophy Anyone?

I am completely and totally perplexed by this thing called Life. Not, as in, "what is the meaning of life," more like, "why do we give life?" First and foremost, giving life is one of the strangest things one could possibly wrap their minds around. You make love, and BAM, a spontaneous combustion of cellular activity coagulates to form what will grow, little by little and with a little help, into what will, 9 months later, be a tiny little person, 100% dependent upon you, as it's socially ordained mother, not only for a matter of months, but for it's entire life!
And what will life have in store for this soon to be person? How will we teach him/her that there is more to life than simply being a cog in the system of work and slaving to the capitalistic economy. Then I think, wait, is there more? I mean 1/3 of our lives, we are sleeping, resting up in order to return to work, so we can earn a piece paper called money, so that we can buy things, both necessary and necessary, to live. Is this life?
WHAT?!?!
Then I take the positive approach. The meaning of life can only be found in happiness, it is found in loving your slave like job, enjoying each minute that you are not contributing to the disastrous and vicious cycle that is economy, and resting peacefully for each coming day. So then, is the answer then to be: blissfully ignorant, or happily aware?
Perhaps both.
And when we plan to bring life to this life, what is it that propels us to do so? Is it biological? Is it socialized? Do women realllly have a biological clock, or is it just a silly myth we have grown to believe and repeat during centuries. A myth to influence our contribution to keeping the species of man kind alive?
I wonder if it isn't something more emotional...
Apart from your mid thirties, society labels you as "middle age" . Middle age means you are closer to "old," an unfortunate label turned negative thanks to our consumer nature.
"I need new shoes, mine are so OLD." Throw away the old, get some new...but there was a time when "old" was cherished, when old was synonymous to wise.
Maybe giving life acts as a sort of "rebirth," allowing one to start at the beginning again, not feel so "old" perhaps find their "inner-child" in their new child.

Maybe it is for all of these reasons and maybe it is for none of them, nonetheless, it is a thought that consumes me.

I am anxious to be a mommy. Not anxious in the nervous senses of things, anxious in the sense that "I can't wait" to hold my little one and look into it's eyes as it looks back at mine, and know, he/she was made of pure love and happiness. I have no fears or doubts about my journey into "motherhood." I only hope the journey is a long and beautiful one