Is it cruel to say speech impediments on little children are the cutest thing!  There is a tiny girl in nursery who speaks with her tongue half way out of her mouth.  It is so damned cute.  Unfortunately I can't understand a word she says and neither can anyone else.  All I hear is "tha tha tha tha tha tha tha".  I do hope the situation improves before it is no longer cute.  So that aside..

A couple times a year GP and I make a pilgrimage to the Langhe, the hilly wine region about 40 minutes from here, to have dinner with a very old friend and about 20 of his buddies.  GP has known Riccardo since school.  Riccardo has "gone native".  He grew up in a grand elegant apartment in the city.  His friends called him "the little lord" because he was the only child of old-monied parents who insisted he study the piano and Latin and such.  They had a country house in Langhe and a boatload of inherited property.  At about 16 Riccardo rebelled, dropped out of school and opened a car radio shop but he refused to work on Saturdays because he wanted to sleep in.  After that it was one thing or another but nothing ever stuck because basically all he wanted to do was play music with his buddies and eat and drink.  About 30 years ago his parents gave up the city place and moved to the country house.  Over the next 10 years he and his mother managed to blow all of their money by buying and mismanaging a hotel, restaurant and wine dealership.  But now finally he's happy.  He lives in a small but nice apartment in a high village with a little terrace over looking the vineyards and the mountains beyond.  He's named his terrace, loosely translated from Piemontese, (the local dialect), "the fat terrace" and many a calorie have been consumed there.  He works for a shipping company 9 - 5 and spends most evenings playing the accordion in someone's wine cellar, drinking and eating salami.  He has a huge network of friends and is happiest when playing host and entertainer which is what he did last night.  Gone are the days of fine dining and intimate dinners that we all used to enjoy.  Now it's an evening in a "joint", last night a sort of local sports club, with tons of traditional country cooking (cheese, cheese and more cheese.  Oh, and sausage) and wine by the barrel and Riccardo and friends singing and playing in a corner.  The music is old folk songs in various dialects that I don't understand.  It's very much like the Arcadian stuff you hear in Quebec and New Orleans.  They undoubtedly all have their roots in Southeastern France as up until recent history, this area was part of Provence.  After a night like that I want nothing more than a week of salad and water.  I just can't do it anymore.  I'll spend most of today shuffling around the house worrying about my cholesterol and hoping my gallbladder doesn't explode.  xxoo me

the entertainment

my downfall