How is it that velour tracksuits were all the rage a couple of years ago, and I missed out?  I looked at them fleetingly in the shops but somehow never quite pulled out my wallet.  They seemed kinda (VERY) daggy but also a bit tempting.  But tonight - oh, in the last few months actually - I have decided I totally need one of those soft cuddly tracksuits.

Perhaps not quite as trendy as my brother's ex-girlfriend, who wore a leopard print head-to-toe velour number first time she came to stay at our country place. I think she also had matching slippers.  And to think she was a psychotheraphist!

So I'm in the shower tonight - after working a long, long day at the office on a Friday, suffering from a sore throat and fighting a cold, and wondering who was going to make me a gin and tonic, and about the earliest time I could con the boys into going to bed.  And then I realized - if I could put on one of those comfy velour tracksuits after getting out of the shower, everything would be ok. Preferably it would be in a shade of mauve. I would slip on my leisurely lounge suit and complete relaxation would be achieved.

C'mon, you know it.

In other news, perhaps what's adding to my need of relaxation is the HOLIDAY the family took last week.  It was the type of holiday when you need a holiday after taking the holiday.  It was awesome, mind you.  My singing group had been invited to perform a concert in a theatre in Montmatre, Paris.  And yes, it was almost as glamorous as that sounds!  Jem and I decided to make a whole week of it and flew down with the boys to get a glorious belly full of croissants and art galleries and DISNEYLAND and riding on the Parisian metro.  I won't go into details, but rather present you with a series of short observations (which seems to be becoming my signature lazy style of summing up a trip abroad):



1) Although at first  we suspected that a visit to Disneyland was just a dream for our generation. But the boys soon understood what all the fuss was about.

2) I am no longer the cutest person to ever have worn a pair of mouse ears.

3) Certain legendary roller coasters at the big "D" are just an excuse to physically and psychologically abuse the visitor.


4) There's a bargain for everyone to be found in Parisian flea markets.  Why does my buy look like I got it at a country fair in Latvia?


5) Putting concerns of responsible presentation of indigenous cultures aside for a wee moment - the Quai Branly and its dazzling array of ethnographic sculpture is awesome.


6) A well-planned educational iPad application can entertain children in an art museum for 3 HOURS! I kid you not!


7) In the event of the museum NOT having an educational iPad application, just risk giving your 7-year-old your camera.  They will be amused for ages taking blurry shots of anything.  EVERYTHING.


8) The reason why the Eiffel tower is such an over-photographed and over-promoted piece of Victorian  metal construction is because it is stunning, and surprising, and elegant.  Still.

9) Unlike Latvia - spring has well and truly sprung in France.


10) The French are so cultured, they even build hotels for the insects in the parks.

11) Celebrating your 8th birthday with your family in a tiny little apartment in Paris ROCKS.


12) Singing your heart out for an hour to an interested and enthusiastic audience of French is a rewarding experience.  And signing autographs on CDs after the concert is, well - simply hilarious.


So that's about it for me - and him. As usual, a very comprehensive post about the ins and outs of our travels, eh. Bonsoir!

Now ladies.  I must admit that I DO enjoy reading about your vintage sheet collecting (hi, Mel!), and the colourful floral designs we all remember from our childhoods  - making their way from op shop shelves to our home linen cupboards.  BUT due to my own issues of geography (i.e. living in Eastern Europe), I myself don't ever come home from the oppie with these sheets.  The only ones I've got are inherited from my fabulous Grandmother - well worn and loved, and rarely used, because my sons would not appreciate fusions of multicoloured floral sheets on their single beds.

So imagine my surprise when my vintage sheets made a stunning appearance in my life today - on one of those special days of the year - my birthday.

You see, Jem is away on a work trip, and my two younger men (Mik, 7 yrs and Tiss, 10 yrs) went into overdrive this morning, trying to make my birthday special.  Quite amazing to see them rev up and take full responsibility for birthday spoiling, when they realized Jem wouldn't be around to do it.  I heard their alarm go off at 6am this morning, and before I drifted back into fitful dreams of Brazilian Baptist Evangelism, I heard them tiptoeing downstairs and pans clattering in the kitchen. Before I knew it they were waking me with song, and piling home-made cards and presents on the bed (ones that Jem had prepared earlier), and the smell of fried eggs wafted up from the kitchen.

When I finally made it down the stairs I was stunned by the chic dining experience they had conjured up.  There was a MOUNTAIN of fried eggs on the table (yep, Tiss fried up the whole pack), there were two lit candles (they couldn't find any candle sticks so they had fished an empty brandy bottle from the rubbish), there were no knives or forks (c'mon, you can't get it ALL perfect), and last but not least... the tablecloth was one of my gran's blue floral vintage sheets.  And no, the boys didn't know it was a sheet.  They felt sure it was a tablecloth.  And beautifully spread out on the table it was, too.

Best present a mum could ever get on her birthday. And for those of my friends who have daughters - you'd better look out!  And lock up those vintage sheets.  I've got two fine-dining lady-killers in training here!

So my folks are in town this week and we decided to take advantage of the fact that we have inbuilt baby sitters for a few days. We managed to get out last night - invited along some other friends who also have kids. The bar that everyone always seems to end up at was totally packed, wall-to-wall Friday night crowd come along to party and hear a folk band we all know and love.
We do this so rarely - go out without the kids - that we all felt crazily juvenile. I think the young singles that we bumped in to didn't quite know what was happening for all the excited jumping up and down, yelled conversations and rounds of beer that were coming our way. A friend plied me with a new taste sensation - cranberry beer, dark red and thick and sweet, never tasted anything like it before. Certainly didn't taste like beer!
So, one of those moments when you are bowled over by something you used to take for granted - being able to go out to a bar for no reason, unencumbered, with no curfew, free and irresponsible.   So exhilarating!  Pity our heads and bodies are paying for it today.  Ah, that's getting older, I guess.

Easter holidays in sub zero temps means more of the same indoor action. We hung out with friends at their place last night and our boys ( we have two; they have two) ran in circles for FIVE HOURS with toy swords and sticks and shields. Through the kitchen, through the lounge, into the passage, back into the kitchen. Yelling the whole time. When, oh when will it be warm enough for us to boot them outdoors for hours at a time to do the running and yelling? What is a reasonable temperature? Anything above zero degrees? Of course the hard-core locals insist that as long as you have a good thermal jumpsuit you can lock them outdoors at any temp. I'm just a big old' softy I guess.


In other news, we went to an exhibition this arvo. Soviet era industrial and poster design by a well-known Latvian artist of the era. Lots of pointless kinetic sculpture which was a real treat.


Even Mikus was entertained for a while.  Gotta love an era of graphic design before the time of computer layout - where posters are all collages and hand lettering and texta pen. The posters in this exhibition were especially interesting for their Soviet era public service announcements. Need to take heed of some of that timeless advice:

Every morning since I've been back from tropical South America - more than a week ago - I look out the window and see that the snowman is still there, proudly sticking out its sticky little arms and blank face pointing into the sun.

I loathe him.

I flew off to Brazil in late february.  When I left Riga it was quite mild - just under zero degrees - and I departed safe in the knowledge that when I returned it would be March already, and winter would be at an end, and there would be hope and a bit of warmth in the air. I didn't expect 25 degrees and a warm wind.  I would have been happy with 1 degree and slowly melting ice and snow.

Turns out, the week before I arrived back home, there was some snow.  And Mikus got busy and built this tiny little snowman in the backyard. Now, snowmen are usually a short-lived thing.  You can only build them when things are relatively warm (around zero degrees), because at that temp the snow is good and sticky.  You often wake up the next day to find your snowman melting, or already in a puddle on the ground, because things have warmed up overnight.

But not this snowman.  Oh, no.  THIS snowman has been beautifully preserved by the fact that the temps dropped down, down, down.  The closer I got to Riga, the colder it got.  I've been home for over a week now and we are still enjoying super-duper-don't-go-outside-you'll-turn-into-an-icicle temps.  The wind chill factor is minus a million and our pellet heating system is eating pellets like there's no tommorrow.

I that is why I HATE THAT SNOWMAN!

So I'm back, and before I return to normal programming (ie. Latvian weather reports), I will make a couple of trivial observations about Brazil, for your viewing pleasure:


 6.  Some of the best impromptu photo shoots occur when you have received ridiculous frocks from well-meaning gift-givers

 7. Sao Paulo has awesome street art, everywhere.  Totally colourful and creative streetscape.




9. Listening to the Brazilian jungle through professional sound equipment is a spectacular auditory feast which should be on everyone's bucket list.

...and last but not least...

10. From what I've seen -  Rio is one of the most beautiful cities in the world.  Pity it is also a dangerous city, where tourists are warmly advised not to carry around cameras.  Because of that, I have no photo to show you what I mean.  You will have to go yourself some day and check it out.