Author Archives: sorellaaglio

Must of been love (could've been fate…)

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Here comes fall. Here goes nothing. Here comes nights darkened by five, evenings of tea, book club, crafts, laughter, love. Here comes yoga, brisk walks home, smiles at work, a season full of hope. Here comes soccer, children running, trying to keep warm, here in this 55 degree weather, these cali-babies can’t handle it. Here comes squash, Thanksgiving, truly being thankful for this LA family and LA life. Here comes pumpkin carving, a new tradition. Here comes face paint. Here goes nothing. Here comes you, and me, spending time there, and here, and all over. Here comes new restaurants in LA. Here comes date nights. Here comes wool socks. Here comes try number three, turkey number three. Here comes another tree. A second Christmas at our first apartment. Here’s to our home. Here comes Camp Waterloo, Christmas cookies, New Year’s with my sister and her fiance and those Chicago friends I’ve missed.

Here goes nothing. 2010, I know we’re not through, just yet…



Catching up on Parenthood…

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Today I was out of work, due to illness. I drank a lot of tea. I drank a lot of water. I caught up on sleep. I wore my glasses. I ate leftover Indian food. I ate pumpkin soup (which I must say, was too sweet, in my opinion.)

I caught up on Parenthood.

Which, I love. I snuggled with my snuggie.

It was a good sick day, despite feeling like my head was maybe going to shoot off. (And, it didn’t actually shoot off, as it turns off.)

What do you people do on your sick days?

Potato-onion-garlic drawer: goodbye, forever.

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Today in my office, my coworker Liz said, “Did you know that you can store an apple with your potatoes and they won’t sprout?” I did know this, as my mother I believe (or my sister, or someone I know…) told me this. However, she went on to explain that you are also not supposed to store potatoes or onions together. Or else.

I’ve already separated the happy family, don’t worry. Where will I ever keep the onions now?

you get in, you get done (and then you get gone.)

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My hairdresser last night said, “Cutting your hair makes me feel like I am cutting Veronica Lake’s hair.”

This weekend I have the following plans: yoga, date with JH to crepes and a movie, sleep, soccer, peach crisp, nothing, sleep, farmer’s market, yoga, pot roast, nothing.

My hairdresser last night said, “You have great hair. Do you like your hair? Because some people with great hair don’t like their hair.”

It’s Friday. Cinnamon rolls are made, and ready to be eaten. 37 to go. There are mixed cds to mix, to mail, to pour my soul into, and to hope that (and know that) the recipients will get, and love.

My hairdresser last night said, “So the sister wives were on Oprah today…”

I’m going to do a lot of s t r e t c h i n g this weekend, and cooking, and deep breathing in and out through my nose, and alternatively relaxing my face muscles and smiling through Warrior 3.

My hairdresser last night said, “What is your heritage?”

I said Italian.

My hairdresser last night said, “Oh my God, I knew it! I knew you were Italian!!”