...gonna kick the darkness 'till it bleeds daylight... musings of a hungarian in texas

©2003 by Annamaria Kovacs. All contents of this blog are the property of the author. Use with written permission only.

Friday, June 29, 2007

The Stars Last Night

Last night around 1000pm something told me to go out and look up the sky.
I stood in my front yard and I saw: the continuous cover of clouds over us for a week or so finally broke at least for a while, and there was a bright full Moon and a field of stars with just a few ragged wisps of dark clouds here and there. It was quiet on our street and there was a cold wind; the weather felt rather like in April than almost-June.
And I stood there and it was good: cold, distant star-and-moonlight with that crystal clear clarity one gets on nights like that.
And then The Husband came out and we stood there at the end of the driveway together for some time, just breathing, hands entwined, being content with each others'presence, and the quiet, cool light bathing the street, bathing us.
The one of our stray cats came up and purred, and we picked her up and scrached her behind her ears, and she purred some more; and that was good too, just different.

Cool star-and-moonlit nights--I missed those!

Thursday, June 28, 2007

More on Queen Hatshepsut

Wow, you think, Dear Reader, she REALLY has a lot of free time these days...:-)

Anyhow, more details have emerged about the exciting discovery of Queen Hatshepsut's mummy in Egypt I reported about a few days ago. I thought I'd share since I know at least one more person who reads this blog shared my geeking in this regard.:-)

The Kite Runner

I am only through about 100 pages of this novel, so these are very preliminary thoughts.

I hate when they press that shiny "#1 New York Times Bestseller" sticker on books that are,, simply and profoundly, good. Would I buy it just because it made that list? No, not me. There are probably a lot of literary snobs who would, just because of it. But in its spare, pared-down yet elegant lines and sentences that are so hauntingly evoke some early 20th. century Hungarian novels I've spent years reading back home, in its vivid pictures of 1970s Kabul and Afghan countryside, streets, houses, people, in its simple yet immensely sad and still uplifting tale of betrayal and road to redemption--this is a very, very good book already.
Thanks to The Husband who purchased it and made me start reading it.

Yes, it is the iPod Imp again...:-)

Inside- Sting (from his album Sacred Love)

Inside the doors are sealed to love
Inside my heart is sleeping
Inside the fingers of my glove
Inside the bones of my right hand
Inside it's colder than the stars
Inside the dogs are weeping
Inside the circus of the wind
Inside the clocks are filled with sand
Inside she'll never hurt me
Inside the winter's creeping
Inside the compass of the night
Inside the folding of the land

Outside the stars are turning
Outside the world's still burning

Inside my head's a box of stars
I never dared to open
Inside the wounded hide their scars, inside this lonesome sparrow's fall
Inside the songs of our defeat, they sing of treaties broken
Inside this army's in retreat, we hide beneath the thunder's call

Outside the rain keeps falling
Outside the drums are calling
Outside the flood won't wait
Outside they're hammering down the gate

Love is the child of an endless war
Love is an open wound still raw
Love is a shameless banner unfurled
Love's an explosion,
Love is the fire of the world
Love is a violent star
A tide of destruction
Love is an angry scar
A violation, a mutilation, capitulation, love is annihilation.

Inside the failures of the light, the night is wrapped around me
Inside my eyes deny their sight, you'd never find me in this place
Inside we're hidden from the moonlight, we shift between the shadows
Inside the compass of the night, inside the memory of your face

Outside the walls are shaking
Inside the dogs are waking
Outside the hurricane won't wait
Inside they're howling down the gate

Love is the child of an endless war
Love is an open wound still raw
Love is a shameless banner unfurled
Love's an explosion,
Love is the fire at the end of the world
Love is a violent star
A tide of destruction
Love is an angry scar
The pain of instruction
Love is a violation, a mutilation, capitulation,
Love is annihilation.

I climb this tower inside my head
A spiral stair above my bed
I dream the stairs don't ask me why,
I throw myself into the sky

Love me like a baby, love me like an only child
Love me like an ocean; love me like a mother mild
Love me like a father, love me like a prodigal son
Love me like a sister, love me like the world has just begun
Love me like a prodigy, love me like an idiot boy,
Love me like an innocent, love me like your favorite toy
Love me like a virgin, love me like a courtesan,
Love me like a sinner, love me like a dying man.

Annihilate me, infiltrate me, incinerate me, accelerate me, mutilate me, inundate me, violate me, implicate me, vindicate me, devastate me

Love me like a parasite, love me like a dying sun
Love me like a criminal, love me like a man on the run

Radiate me, subjugate me, incubate me, recreate me, demarcate me, educate me, punctuate me, evaluate me, conjugate me, impregnate me, designate me, humiliate me, segregate me, opiate me, calibrate me, replicate me

Followed by Tonight We Dine In Hell from the soundtrack of the movie 300, and the Pogues' The Battle March Medley. It must be the crepes last night...:-)

Hungarian Crepes (Palacsinta)

This is for my dear brother-in-law, who has asked me nicely last night not to ever make the amount I made last night of these so that he can maintain his waistline. I love you too, brother...:-)

For about 25-30 pcs:
20 tablespoons of all-purpose flour
4 eggs
1.5 cups milk
1 cup soda water
pinch of salt

Mix all of this in a large bowl until lumps disappear; you might need a handheld mixer to complete, but it's okay. Set it aside to rest for at least 20 minutes, 45 minutes-1 hr. is best. The batter should have the consistency of full whipping cream or a tad thinner; if not, add soda water or flour to achieve that consistency.
Meanwhile, prepare the fillings:

Cottage Cheese Filling:
About 1/2 pound of cottage cheese (I used cream-style from Wagon Creek Creamery from the Coppell Farmers Market)
2-3 tbsp. of sugar
1/2 cup of raisins, soaked in hot water for 10 minutes, drained
1 egg, separated
grated zest of 1 lemon

In a medium bowl, mix cottage cheese, sugar, drained raisins and lemon zest. In separate bowl, beat egg white until stiff peaks form. Add egg yolk to filling, then fold in egg white. Set aside until needed.

Jam filling:
Open 1 small jar of any preserve: apricot, plum, raspberry or strawberry are traditional. Stir it well so it gets soft; if it is too stiff, you can dilute with some hot water or, if there are no children present and it is weekend, some rum or cognac, or any liquor harmonizing with the preserves.

Now onto the pancakes. Find a pan that has a nonstick coating or is well-seasoned. Traditionally, the pan should look like your grandma handed it down through two generations, but if you have one that you can pretty much dedicate to this and nothing else, that will do. :-) I have an old nonstick that I retired from everything else but crepe-making, which is large enough at the bottom (8-9 inches).
Again, traditionally, you'd use lard as the greasing medium, but we need to make allowances to some people's waistlines, right? So use Pam or other sprayed grease, as long as it is oil and not some kind of weird margarine substance, because it will NOT taste right. My spray-on grease is canola oil, which is neutral-tasting--that's what you are after. Butter would burn, so in this instance it is not an adequate substance to use. Grease the pan with your grease of choice and heat it up until almost smoking. Proper heat is very important--by definition you'll screw up the first crepe, but you'll get a gauge of temperature with it, so don't worry--just have a small child, dog or significant other ready to feed the victimized crepe to...:-)
Get out two large dinner plates too. One to the back of the stove, one next to the fillings. You'll also need a soup ladle to measure the batter into the pan. I have a really hefty one, so I use about 1/3 of it for 1 crepe, and since this is an egg-heavy batter, you will get wonderfully fluffy ones too. Ladle enough batter onto the hot greased pan surface, then swirl around so that it coats the bottom and it comes up a bit to the sides. It should NOT be thick at all. Think the thickness of your tablecloth or just a tad thicker. Put the pan back to the stove and let it bubble up and crinkle around the sides.
Now take a spatula and carefully but firmly slide it under the crepe and flip it over. With this batter it should not be a problem if your pan is hot enough. It needs about 1/5 minutes on one side, 30 seconds to 1 minute on the other. Both sides should look yellow, with brown speckles on them--the first side is allowed to be golden brown all the way through.
Slide crepe to prepared plate on stove. Move on to make next one.

Grease pan after each second crepe. While next one is in pan with the first side, slide previous one to second plate next to fillings; fill with about 1 tablespoon of filling and layer crepes into a glass or ceramic baking pan. Separate the different fillings, as the cottage cheese one will need to go to the oven for 10 minutes on 300F once all of it is done.

Once all crepes are done, dot the cottage cheese ones with some sour cream and place in over on 300 degrees for 10 minutes (this is for the egg in the filling to set).

Sift confectioner's sugar on top of all before serving. Serve warm; kep any leftovers (ha!) in the fridge--makes pretty decent breakfast, too, the next day (except if you used alcohol in the filling, of course).


Wednesday, June 27, 2007

Hungarian Gastronomy Days--in Budapest

And I'll JUST miss these as we won't be in Hungary until the 4th. It sounds like something fun, though.
Ah well, I'll have to ask Dad if he was planning on going. One of the chief organizers used to teach me cooking. Small world--he was a double Oscar-winner chef then, and by now he's something of a controversial chef-celebrity in my little country (I guess all countries have those, however small they might be...)


Well, yes, yes, I am weird.

Again, from the playlist in the weird iPod:

Take This Waltz -Leonard Cohen (from the album-I Am Your Man)

Now in Vienna there's ten pretty women
There's a shoulder where Death comes to cry
There's a lobby with nine hundred windows
There's a tree where the doves go to die
There's a piece that was torn from the morning
And it hangs in the Gallery of Frost
Ay, Ay, Ay, Ay
Take this waltz, take this waltz
Take this waltz with the clamp on its jaws

Oh I want you, I want you, I want you
On a chair with a dead magazine
In the cave at the tip of the lily
In some hallways where love's never been
On a bed where the moon has been sweating
In a cry filled with footsteps and sand
Ay, Ay, Ay, Ay
Take this waltz, take this waltz
Take its broken waist in your hand

This waltz, this waltz, this waltz, this waltz
With its very own breath of brandy and Death
Dragging its tail in the sea

There's a concert hall in Vienna
Where your mouth had a thousand reviews
There's a bar where the boys have stopped talking
They've been sentenced to death by the blues
Ah, but who is it climbs to your picture
With a garland of freshly cut tears?
Ay, Ay, Ay, Ay
Take this waltz, take this waltz
Take this waltz it's been dying for years

There's an attic where children are playing
Where I've got to lie down with you soon
In a dream of Hungarian lanterns
In the mist of some sweet afternoon
And I'll see what you've chained to your sorrow
All your sheep and your lilies of snow
Ay, Ay, Ay, Ay
Take this waltz, take this waltz
With its "I'll never forget you, you know!"

This waltz, this waltz, this waltz, this waltz ...

And I'll dance with you in Vienna
I'll be wearing a river's disguise
The hyacinth wild on my shoulder,
My mouth on the dew of your thighs
And I'll bury my soul in a scrapbook,
With the photographs there, and the moss
And I'll yield to the flood of your beauty
My cheap violin and my cross
And you'll carry me down on your dancing
To the pools that you lift on your wrist
Oh my love, Oh my love
Take this waltz, take this waltz
It's yours now. It's all that there is.

And this was followed by: "Misery"by Marty Stuart from the Tribute to Bob Willis album of Asleep At The Wheel. I am not kidding. Just for good measure.

Blueberry Cobbler

Come on, you knew it was coming...:-)
No picture as it went WAY too fast this Sunday-it was barely out of the oven.

1/2 cup melted butter
1/2 cup brown turbinado sugar
1 cup all-purpose flour
2 tsp. baking powder
1 organic egg
1 lemon's zest, grated
1/2 cup organic whole milk
2 cups fresh blueberries (can use frozen as well)

Heat oven to 350 F. Grease round cake pan (I used a 8-inch one).
Melt butter in medium bowl in microwave. Add sugar, flour, baking powder, milk, egg and lemon zest. Mix until blended and mixture resembles pancake batter.
Pour batter into pan; spoon in the berries. DO NOT MIX.
Bake for 45 minutes (or until toothpick inserted comes out clean).
Cool it a little bit before serving. A very good quality vanilla ice cream is optional, but certainly not necessary.


Tuesday, June 26, 2007


This is BIG.. (at least to us, archaeologists and like-minded enthusiasts. Since Zahi Hawass already had a news conference about it, you can bet they checked a trillion times before release. Makes me happy that I had a chance to see the exhibit about Hatshepsut when it was at the Kimball Art Museum in Ft. Worth.

UPDATE 6/27/07: And an update today after another news conference "It is 100% certain."

From My Playlist This Morning

Runrig-Pog Aon Oidche Earraich (the English translation, because I do not speak Gaelic)

The six o’clock world
The days work over
Family, taking of the fruits
Of plenty, good health, and love
Russia is falling down around my ears
The middle east in a broth of darkness
And you, evil, murder, and fighting
In my life every night

Oh Love
What power there was in that embrace
That has left me in union with you today
Who could ever have foreseen all that has grown
From a kiss, one spring evening

The grasp that was so firm and special
Like a hammer in my fist
The moon that was so bright
And promised so much
We were like sailing ships
On the young, yellow ocean of the heart
Confronted by children, and the world family
without voice, laughter, a God, or food

Oh Love
What power there was in that embrace
That has left me in union with you today
Who could ever have foreseen all that has grown
From a kiss, one spring evening

So where do the stars come from, I said
From where did the sun appear
We are so wounded below this moon
Souls tortured beyond hell itself
Still you keep bringing inspiration to my years
With blessings beyond my need
Whiter than the snows of each winter
The song of love, my confession of guilt

Oh Love
What power there was in that embrace
That has left me in union with you today
Who could ever have foreseen all that has grown
From a kiss, one spring evening

Oh Love
What power there was in that embrace
That has left me in union with you today
Who could ever have foreseen all that has grown
From a kiss, one spring evening

Of course, my spanking new iPod has ALREADY a sick sense of humor (remember the imp in the Dis-Organizer in Terry Pratchett's books about Commander Vimes and The Watch? --THAT kind) , so on random shuffle it followed this one with Leonard Cohen's The Future which kind of ruin s the misty-eyed effect the Runrig song put me in, but hey.

Sunday, June 24, 2007

A Culinary Call To Arms

A passionate and justifiably so, call to arms is circulating in Hungarian magazines, gastroblogs an online magazines. You can read the English version here about the current culinary crisis in Hungary and about some proposed needs and changes. Me, an expat Hungarian living in the US, for one would really welcome at least some changes--as my father runs a restaurant and is a rather passionate cook himself, we have long discussions every time I visit. We both feel some of the problems expressed in the document linked above: the low quality ingredients, the loss of joy in gastronomy, the tasteless dishes served by bored waiters in bland, overpriced restaurants in a country where hospitality, quality of food and entertainment with style used to be the norm which attracted guest from all over the world.
The only thing I take exception in this document, and passionately so, is the call on the state 'to fix what they broke'. That, I think is a mistake. Responsible citizens and their organizations should take up this task--government has no business in 'fixing' a country's gastronomy. They can add financial help with grants etc., but especially in Hungary on should realize that state issued directives and 'nutrition programs' cannot be the way to go about it.


So the Cipro seems to be slowly working, and although I still cannot spice my food quite the way I like and there's no bacon, cheeseburger or anything with buttery goodness for me, today The Husband and I went and did some blueberry picking at an East Texas organic blueberry farm, here, just outside of Mineola, TX. The weather was just the right mix of heat and cool winds and clouds, and my 70 SPF sunscreen was hard at work as well. The allergies started to kick in on the way back in the car (reminder-I need to take a Clarinex as soon as I am done with this post), but we returned with 4 gallons of plump and ripe little thingies for the freezer. Yum.


Friday, June 22, 2007


I am on Cipro for three days. Cipro and bland food. Bland food. Me.

'Nuff said.

Update on Being Sick

To those who read my past couple of posts about being sick et al...I have a doctor's appointment this afternoon at 1615. Due to dual pressure from both The Husband and my boss (and the fact that I still cleared 99 degrees yesterday evening), I will see my doctor and see what she says. It is a very persistent bug and I'd love to get rid of it as soon as possible.

So there you have it--I am good and have taste so I won't talk about the details...:-) More later.

Thursday, June 21, 2007

Observations/status report/whatnot

Stomach is still unsettled, fever's gone.
Appetite is weird: hungry but not wanting to eat much, and specific things at that.
Did my stomach shrink or what?
Oatmeal with water instead of milk (out of milk at work, too lazy to go downstairs to the cafeteria to grab some, and they are out of milk 50% of the time anyway) just does not taste right. Like glue, to be exact, despite the maple and brown sugar flavor. Wallpaper paste?
I really did not want to get out of bed this morning: woke freom nioghtmare, looked at clock, though "Oh no, it is almost six, I cannot even sleep back now..."--then alarm went off, cats got ballistic as in 'feed me NOW', so I complied, thinking 'why is it SO dark stil? '. Shambled into kitchen , grabbed catfood can, went to back door, opened door to feed cats outside, looked at the pavestones and thought 'Oh, it is rain. All right then."Closed door, fed monsters inside, went on with my morning, thinking all the while "WHY am I awake again?"
Hope to move up from soup for lunch today--after four days it gets very boring.
Totally exciting, isn't it?

Francois Villon

Lately, I am re-reading some poetry (some sung, some in books), and I recall just how fond I was in my freshman year of Francois Villon, the 15th century poet of Paris. Here is a brief and succinct summary of his life in case anyone is interested--he certainly was a fascinating figure.
I read his poems in Hungarian first--some really fine poets of my mother tongue worked on the translations and at one point a Hungarian folk band released an LP (you know, those black Bakelite disks back in the Stone Age...) :-) , even, setting his verses to music--easy, that since through most of the Middle Ages poems were sung without exception, and Villon himself called his poems ballads, following that form rather strictly.

So now that I dug up some English translations as well, here are some samples of his work--I absolutely admire his smooth flow of words and the images he could paint with them:

Ballade: Du Concours De Blois

I’m dying of thirst beside the fountain,
Hot as fire, and with chattering teeth:
In my own land, I’m in a far domain:
Near the flame, I shiver beyond belief:
Bare as a worm, dressed in a furry sheathe,
I smile in tears, wait without expectation:
Taking my comfort in sad desperation:
I rejoice, without pleasures, never a one:
Strong I am, without power or persuasion,
Welcomed gladly, and spurned by everyone.

Nothing is sure for me but what’s uncertain:
Obscure, whatever is plainly clear to see:
I’ve no doubt, except of everything certain:
Science is what happens accidentally:
I win it all, yet a loser I’m bound to be:
Saying: ‘God give you good even!’ at dawn,
I greatly fear I’m falling, when lying down:
I’ve plenty, yet I’ve not one possession,
I wait to inherit, yet I’m no heir I own,
Welcomed gladly, and spurned by everyone.

I never take care, yet I’ve taken great pain
To acquire some goods, but have none by me:
Who’s nice to me is one I hate: it’s plain,
And who speaks truth deals with me most falsely:
He’s my friend who can make me believe
A white swan is the blackest crow I’ve known:
Who thinks he’s power to help me, does me harm:
Lies, truth, to me are all one under the sun:
I remember all, have the wisdom of a stone,
Welcomed gladly, and spurned by everyone.

Merciful Prince, may it please you that I’ve shown
There’s much I know, yet without sense or reason:
I’m partial, yet I hold with all men, in common.
What more can I do? Redeem what I’ve in pawn,
Welcomed gladly, and spurned by everyone.
--Translated by Tony Kline


I know flies in milk
I know the man by his clothes
I know fair weather from foul
I know the apple by the tree
I know the tree when I see the sap
I know when all is one
I know who labors and who loafs
I know everything but myself.

I know the coat by the collar
I know the monk by the cowl
I know the master by the servant
I know the nun by the veil
I know when a hustler rattles on
I know fools raised on whipped cream
I know the wine by the barrel
I know everything but myself.

I know the horse and the mule
I know their loads and their limits
I know Beatrice and Belle
I know the beads that count and add
I know nightmare and sleep
I know the Bohemians' error
I know the power of Rome
I know everything but myself.

Prince I know all things
I know the rosy-cheeked and the pale
I know death who devours all
I know everything but myself.

--Trans. by Galway Kinnell

Wednesday, June 20, 2007

Forty-One Ways- Azam Ali

From her album-Elysium for the Brave

Forty one ways to die
One strong will to live
World's gone all awry
Faith is the battlefield

Tender, I feel
And the wheels turn
To fortify a design of free will

Forty one ways to die
One strong pain to feel
Strapped to a suicide
With just one more place to be

Tender, I feel
And the wheels turn
To fortify a design of free will

We test, we form, we fear, we tilt
We strive, we fall, we want, we kill
And we hail, and we doubt
And with all waisted
We heal, and we call
We atone kneeled here
And will stay fortified
In a windfall

The entire album is a gem--worth checking out. Incidentally (and paradoxically in some cases), the beat makes most of the songs a great workout music, too...

Tuesday, June 19, 2007

Not Good

Fighting some bug or possibly food poisoning. Sick. Well wishes are appreciated.

Monday, June 18, 2007

That's cool...

So I come in to work this morning, and I have three emails wishing me happy birthday from coworkers. Then I get three more phone calls with happy birthday wishes, and not just calling me for something and wishing me happy birthday besides. That was nice. Makes me feel like I am worth something after all...

Friday, June 15, 2007


Another good spot we frequent with The Husband during our Friday lunch dates (he's off teaching that day, thus we can meet and have lunch together, which I very much enjoy) is Chef's American Cuisine next to the Local Diner Irving location mentioned below (corner of Beltline North and Regent Blvd).
And we are going for one reason alone there, almost every week, like clockwork: the gyro sandwich. Thick flatbread with thin strips of chargrilled meat and onions (hellooo, grease!) plus thick, tangy, garlicky cucumber sauce on the side, along with seasoned home fries. Yum. One for me, one for The Husband, then maybe, just maybe, if I am very hungry, a slice of pistachio-and-honey laced baklava...
They know us there by now; the owner shakes hands with us whenever he's there. It is really nice to be a regular somewhere.
I am told their philly cheesesteak sandwich is quite mean too...I would not know; I cannot give up my gyro fix...Give it a try if you are in the area.


Thursday, June 14, 2007

Local Diner

Anyone who's looking for a decent diner for breakfast or lunch in Irving could do well to check out Local Diner (several other locations through the metroplex apparently)... We had a good lunch with The Husband there today after he was done with administering midterms.
The pros: big juicy burgers, lovely shakes (the banana and the cherry-chocolate especially yummy), fun decor full of glamor shots of 50s stars)...
The Cons: their coffee. I am not sure if it's just that my tastebuds shifted due to the exposure of homeroasted high-quality single source coffee I am now preparing at home, but I cannot get any enjoyment or even remote satisfaction out of restaurant coffee any more, and the Local Diner's coffee was especially dredfully stale and burned, their half- and-half artificially flavored... Also, the servers tend to check on you constantly, which can be quite disturbing especially when you carry out some serious conversations...:-)
However, all in all, if one wants the overall diner experience, this place hits the spot: no wonder it is almost constantly full. Corner of Beltline and Regent Blvd in Irving.
And now, the task: trying not to be totally braindead for the rest of the afternoon. The Husband could go home and take a nap but I have to pretend I am at least marginally awake, even if all of our salespeople are on a conference in Toronto. I think I go and clean my area under my desk now, just to stay awake.


Wednesday, June 13, 2007

The Mist-Anjani Thomas

As the mist leaves no scar
On the dark green hill
So my body leaves no scar
On you, nor ever will

When wind and hawk encounter
What remains to keep?
So you and I encounter
Then turn then fall to sleep

As many nights endure
Without a moon or star
So will we endure
When one is gone and far

(From the album-Blue Alert)

There For You-Leonard Cohen

When it all went down
And the pain came through
I get it now
I was there for you
Don't ask me how
I know it's true
I get it now
I was there for you
I make my plans
Like I always do
But when I look back
I was there for you
I walk the streets
Like I used to do
And I freeze with fear
But I'm there for you
I see my life
In full review
It was never me
It was always you

You sent me here
You sent me there
Breaking things
I can't repair
Making objects
Out of thoughts
making more
By thinking not
Eating food
And drinking wine
A body that
I thought was mine
Dressed as Arab
Dressed as Jew
O mask of iron
I was there for you
Moods of glory
Moods so foul
The world comes through
A bloody towel
And death is old
But it's always new
I freeze with fear
And I'm there for you
I see it clear
I always knew
It was never me
I was there for you
I was there for you
My darling one
And by your law
It all was done

Nightingale-Leonard Cohen

I built my house beside the wood
So I could hear you singing
And it was sweet and it was good
And love was all beginning
Fare thee well my nightingale
'Twas long ago I found you
Now all your songs of beauty fail
The forest closes 'round you

The sun goes down behind a veil
'Tis now that you would call me
So rest in peace my nightingale
Beneath your branch of holly
Fare thee well my nightingale
I lived but to be near you
Tho' you are singing somewhere still
I can no longer hear you

(from the album Dear Heather)

Friday, June 08, 2007

Finally some positive news from my home country!

This is very neat! I always liked that particular fresco, every time I visited the palace in which it is located in...the figure is extremely graceful and flowing, much like the Graces on the master's Birth of Venus painting or on Primavera...I'll see if I can get the actual photos for comparison from somewhere on the Net.

UPDATE: here is a link to the Hungarian article with the image of the fresco. The one in question is the second from the left: Prudentia. And here it is in English.

And here is a link to the two Botticelli paintings mentioned.

Wednesday, June 06, 2007


D- Day Anniversary today...for those of us whose families been touched by it.

Tuesday, June 05, 2007

Still Alive

Still here. Just too busy to blog again...thing at work, things around the house...I started a new workout routine on weekdays, as we joined the local YMCA here in Irving, so afternoons right after work are more organized than they used to be. Not that I mind--it already has results after three weeks.
We finally started to get the tomatoes and peppers to produce: this spring was so rainy that although there was plenty of moisture, the sun was just not out enough for the crop to start actually to develop. That is changing now, so yay, veggies. Our blackberries this year also are surprising us with a bumper crop: not that I mind, give me blackberries or raspberries and I am happy all day. But raspberries are hard to raise here, so blackberries it is. Yum.
Summer also hit: today we officially cleared 90 degrees, so the slow climbing to 100 begins...thankfully, we fared a lot better temperature-wise than last year when we got over 90 in April already...::shudder::