(puppies)

On the same issue of puppies; I finally did find ONE dog I can touch here; He is the black- lab tiny little sweet soul, sitting next to his homeless, alcoholic man. They are always outside the supermarket, and since I don't want to support the man's beer/wine bill, (I got my own, thank you very much) I bought the puppy his dog food, and so... opportunistically speaking, I guess I purchased some "shares" in French puppy- petting time! :D

Puppies and babies

An old girlfriend (schoolmate) of mine arrived for a quick weekend in Paris, away from her very own kindergarten in London, where she is the busy mother of three (!) young children. We met with another old dear GF who lives in Paris, for a leisurely dinner at my breathy apartment , over some wine, salad, cheese and good old memories . It's funny to meet up people you know from your old Israeli (not so classy) past, just off the Champs Elysees, you know what I mean? Life is just surreal sometimes.
At any rate, being the age we are, it's only natural that we catch up on the eternal issue of babies, family and all that.
Only in the past year, my ex-boyfriend had a baby. My girl friend had a baby. My best friend had a baby. All my old schoolmate from Israel are on their second or third child. So it's only natural that everybody's eyes are turned to me, with an (irritating) question mark. ("SO.. WHERE IS YOURS?").
I on the other hand, find it pretty amusing that, at the same hysterical rate my women friends are eying every baby and toddler on the Metro and on the street, I am taking in all the doggies and puppies walking around in this town.
In New York, I usually stop and touch, (and never can leave), but in Paris, (*like their owners*), all dogs are well groomed, well behaved and looking like a million dollars, but they also have this air about them: they look like they don't LIKE being touched, (or fed, or anything really), (unless it's secretly). And their Très Chic people always look like they are in the middle of *their* turn on the cat-walk, (the dog is a valuable accessory) so really: bug off!.... ("I got my poodle at ze Chanel spring collection. Mais oui").

wining

I am not a big wine snob (If it's red and has alcohol in it, I am happy).. But last night I was with a good friend who does know his wine, and to accompany our most wonderful dinner of prosciutto, cheese bread and figs, we got this wine in a local private wine shop , (22 euros) which was a marvel:
Pic Saint Loup: Clos Marie, Simon 2006

So this is...

... how things should be in life: I am happy.
the world is crumbling but I personally am triumphing a grin on my face. It's that I get this prospect of hope, and future, and all of a sudden nothing is so doomed any more.
Ladies and gents, I am being appreciated. That's all. And just by that, I get the feeling that I CAN be what I dreamed, and that I CAN have what I wanted.
I keep thinking: "Maybe *this* will open that big iron door I've been trying to push open for 16 years?", but then again, why think about doors and iron and pushing, when it is the MOMENT that exist, and at this moment, this door *IS* open, and as I am stepping out I can sense for a moment, this moment , how wonderful life can be.
I was just recently discussing with a friend how much we detest aspartame- sweet blogs (or people) that hide any fear, sorrow, doubt.
But I am allowing myself to have this rare entry today; (I can taste it: nah, not a sweetner; must be pure sugar, this one). ;)

Age of enlightenment

We lost two singer from the original cast. "sick" and "grew out of the role" were the reasons. This to me, usually translate to: (got a much better paying gig ) and ( got oneself into some big old vocal shit), but I also am generous and hope for the better paying gig for the first, and for the illuminated taste in roles for the later.
Now with the replacements, the average age of the cast dropped, and having lunch with the 26 year old tenor, after casually mentioning my husband, I was surprised to hear that he had thought I was way too young for marriage. He gave me twenty something... Lol. Then speaking to the baritone (33), as he was telling me of his career, and experience , he also said that since he was older than me... wait, stop right there... should I correct him?...

Tomorrow is my birthday. I should be flattered to be considered younger than what I really am, (or is it just the normal Italian mansome flattery? let's say *not*, only today...k?) but at the same time, when people give you 28, or 31, you start feeling that *older* is plain antique.
And , being considered young of age , I start wanting to lie about it.
Is this when I begin counting from 30 again?

New

There is a wonderful sense of joy coming around from all singer- bloggers who are restarting their career this time of year; It's the beginning of a new season (don't ask me why, I still don't understand why the operatic season works parallel to a school calendar), but if you go around reading you might realize that for us people who live to sing, this is no small thing; Starting rehearsals again, getting fitted for our costume, meeting our new cast; We feel our wings budding again out of our soul, and there's a little silvery hope threaded into them.

Today I am starting my new season. It's a new Jewish year, I am about to celebrate my birthday, and I am going to work.
It is slightly raining in Paris, but not too bad; Well dressed Parisians are walking their dogs and their baguettes and their little chic scarves, and I am watching from my balcony, feeling as excited as I always get right before facing my destiny.