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November 25, 2011 Good enough to eat?
**** Congratulations to Vicki for winning the random drawing for the deer! She’s going to give it to her 94-year-old mom. (Vicki is hoping to take her mom to Sicily for her 95th birthday. These women inspire me!) Thanks for playing, everyone. Stay tuned for the next contest.
November 20, 2012 I have a serious maiolica fetish. You’ve already seen my Alpine-steep staircase in Sicily, all done up with Caltagirone tiles.
Now I’d like to share my fetish with you. Drop a comment on this post and you’ll be entered to win this Sicilian tile from Caltagirone. Tell me anything–why you *need* this 4″ x 4″ prancing blue deer (trivet for your Christmas casserole?), what you love most about Italy, what you will cook for Thanksgiving dinner. You’ll need to provide an address in the US or Canada if you win. (Deadline for entry: Midnight EST Friday, Nov 23.) Thanks for playing, deers!
Click to subscribe to BaroqueSicily. I invite you to BaroqueSicily’s new Facebook page. June 30, 2012 My Mister recalls visiting Rome as a kid: “Nothin’ but Vespas and busses on the roads.” You can still find Vespas from that era on the roads in Sicily. Faded memories. Antidote to modernity. Like old lace. An Antonioni film. Life in the past lane.
Are you a fast lane or past lane person?
May 23, 2012 You asked for some more snippets of my New Life. Here they are, with my compliments of the day…  Storage space in limited in the New Life, so pots and pans and bowls are stacked high on shelves.  My fridge is just a waist-high pull-out drawer. Love it! Nothing bulky to block the view from the kitchen.  My dishes are either flea-market finds (chipped & cracked) or from the remainder bin at the local supermarket. My motto: no dish or cup or glass over 1 euro.  I splurged on a few pots from Caltagirone, Sicily's ceramics center.  My heat source. (Sicily can get raw in the winter.) Dryers are not used in Sicily, so the radiators function as my dryer when it rains.  I couldn't believe when the electrician showed up with a huge box of outlet covers--I had my choice of about 35 gorgeous colors, and of course I chose green.
 A hand with a menorah--found in the Moroccan desert--dangles from my closet door.  My narrow balcony holds a spindly olive and a puny orange tree.
Click to subscribe to BaroqueSicily.
May 17, 2012 In Italy I find myself whispering—for I haven’t stopped talking to my mother—”Are you living this too, madre mia?” It feels as if I’m picking up where she left off. A leitmotif of my life has been actually doing the things she talked about doing but didn’t because she was saddled with four kids. My mother deposited her dreams into me, like moms always do to daughters. Gradually the house has become a home. The decision was long, and so far it seems right. Je ne regrette rien. Non mi pento di nulla. Here are snippets from my new world (yes, I have a thing about green):
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