"Pongáio" was the name my Aunt Mona gave to a long, green, cool room where we gathered at her home —
replete with comfy chairs, a rocker, sewing machine, sewing goods, beautiful beads, shelves, books, bibelots, photographs, odds'n'ends, mementos of a life, treasures —
a gathering of all the useful & 'useless' things that so make life a pleasure.

Saturday, August 02, 2003

Tubby... ... ...

My sister gifted me with a little book, A. A. Milne's When We Were Very Young, of 1924, the 1961 edition — lovely!
The delicous illustrations, or "decorations" as is written on the cover, are by Ernest H. Shepard.

In it I found a poem with a very present day subject, even though nearly 100 years old, concerning a little bear who later on become famous as Winnie-the-Pooh.

Teddy Bear

Teddy and MirrorA bear, however hard he tries,
Grows tubby without exercise.
Our Teddy Bear is short and fat
Which is not to be wondered at;
He gets what exercise he can
By falling off the ottoman,
But generaly seems to lack
The energy to clamber back.

Now tubbiness is just the thing
Which gets a fellow wondering;
And Teddy worried lots about
The fact that he was rather stout.
He thought: "If only I were thin!
But how does anyone begin?"
He thought: "It really isn't fair
To grudge me exercise and air."

For many weeks he pressed in vain
His nose agaisnt the window-pane.
And envied those who walked about
Reducing their unwanted stout.
None of the people he could see
"Is quite" (he said) "as fat as me!"
Then, with a still more moving sigh,
"I mean" (he said) "as fat as I!"

Now Teddy, as was only right,
Slept in the ottoman at night,
And with him crowded in as well
More animals than I can tell;
Not only these, but books and things,
Such as a kind relation brings—
Old tales of "Once upon a time,"
And history retold in rhyme.

One night it happened that he took
A peep at an old picture-book,
Wherein he came across by chance
The picture of the King of France
(A stoutish man) and, down below,
These words: "King Louis So and So,
Nicknamed 'The Handsome' " There he sat,
And (think of it!) the man was fat!

Teddy and Book

Our bear rejoiced like anything
To read about this famous King,
Nicknamed "The Handsome." There he sat,
And certainly the man was fat.
Nicknamed "The Handsome." Not a doubt
The man was definetly stout.
Why then, a bear (for all his tub)
Might yet be named "The Handsome Cub!"

"Might yet be named." Or did he mean
That years ago he "might have been"?
For now he felt a slight misgiving:
"Is Louis So and So still living?
Fashions in beauty have a way
Of altering from day to day.
Is 'Handsome Louis' with us yet?
Unfortunately I forget."

Next morning (nose to window-pane)
The doubt occured to him again.
One question hammered in his head:
"Is he alive or dead?"
Thus, nose to pane, he pondered; but
The lattice window, loosely shut,
Swung open. With one startled "Oh!"
Our Teddy disappeared below.

There happened to be passing by
A plump man with a twinkling eye,
Who, seeing Teddy in the street,
Raised him politely to his feet,
And murmured kindly in his ear
Soft words of comfort and of cheer:
"Well, well!" "Allow me!" "Not at all."
"Tut-tut!" "A very nasty fall."

Our Teddy answered not a word;
It's doubtful if he even heard.
Our bear could only look and look:
The stout man from the picture-book!
That "handsome" King—could this be he,
This man of adiposity?
"Impossible," he thought. "But still,
No harm in asking. Yes I will!"

"Are you, " he said, "by any chance
His majesty the King of France?"
The other answered, "I am that,"
Bowed stiffly, and removed his hat;
Then said, "Excuse me" with an air,
"But is it Mr. Eduard Bear?"
And Teddy, bending very low,
Replied politely, "Even so!"
Teddy and Mirror

They stood beaneath the window there,
The King and Mr. Edward Bear,
And, handsome, if a trifle fat,
Talked carelessly of this and that ...
Then said His Majesty, "Well, well,
I must get on," and rang the bell.
"Your bear, I think," he smiled. "Good-day!"
And turned, and went upon his way.

A bear, however hard he tries,
Grows tubby without exercise.
Our Teddy Bear is short and fat,
Which is not to be wondered at.
But do you think it worries him
To know that he is far from slim?
No, just the other way about—
He's proud of being short and stout.

Saturday, July 26, 2003

Those Candles!

"You know you're getting old when the candles cost more than the cake."
Bob Hope 1903 - 2003

Friday, July 25, 2003

Ate Eight

After all the trips in the recent months, including the one to the Tropic of Cancer with maletim, I gained eight kilos.
I write out eight, and in very small font, as more discreet than the numeral...


A non-consolation: I'm in fashion in certain art circles — I'm a Botero!
      ( buaááááááá... )

© Fernando Botero

Saturday, July 12, 2003

Wearing the Collar

                I live with a lady and four cats
                and some days we all get

                some days I have trouble with
                one of the

                other days I have trouble with
                two of the

                other days,

                some days I have trouble with
                all four of the

                and the

                tens eyes looking at me
                as if I was a dog.

— Charles Bukowski, American, b.1920

Friday, July 11, 2003


Materially, my sweetie gave me these beautiful little flowers...
and I gave him a gravata*! ; ))))

Moro nas fronteiras
dos teus olhos
com meu coração
Ai, como é bom se a vida alcança
um rabisco na lembrança
que a infância prometeu
Viajante nas estrelas
Entrei na constelação
era uma roda ciranda
cantigas do meu bem querer

Ah! eu queria constelar só mais 'ocê
e esconder onde Mãe Lua
pousou com seu clarão
Só que só eu escondo não
Escondo só se for com 'ocê
Iô, iô para nós dois falá de amô
Oh! Iô, iô
Falar de constelação

Sorte de mim
que amarrei os meus cabelos
no tear que tens nos dedos
prá fazer tranças de amor

Tem nome de jardim
o lar que preparei
Tem o fogo dos teus olhos
o sol que me acordou

E mesmo assim sendo só
semente em flor
Replantei um pé de amor
no coração de 'ocê

Quando eu lembro de você
me sobe no corpo uma quentura
de quando contigo
feito um beijo de quem afina
viola menina em paixão
ritmando o meu coração
o meu coração

Quando eu lembro de você
te sinto no colo em canção
Viola quebrada é licão
A quem nunca amou prá valer...

Cirandinha *** Tear *** Viola Menina
Josino Medina, sung by Pereira da Viola 

[a tie, but also a choke-hold!!!  ; )))) ]

Saturday, July 05, 2003

Guests and a Present

Besides all the travelling I've been doing recently, I received several sets of guest at my home.
Some peaceful, some not so....

In the very simpático gang was my small 6 yr-old niece, who made me this going-away present, a drawing for Auntie!

Thursday, June 12, 2003


A limerick for my cat-loving friends

from: Smithsoniam Magazine

Monday, June 02, 2003

The 25th

So that the upcoming 25th be of Silver...

É Necessário
                                   Geraldo Espíndola
       É necessário
       preparar seu amor
       arrumar sua cama
       ascender sua chama

       para me receber essa noite
       para não pretender
       que sou
       para se proteger
       disso tudo seu pavor
       ninguém vai nos fazer mal

       Quando você cai dentro
       do meu coração
       É como se o sol e a lua
       se esparramassem pelo chão

       É importante
       me saber acolher
       como eu colho em você
       esperanças de querer

       E deitar do seu lado de noite
       e deixar que a paixão
       me domine
       Num abraço pretender
       ser mais forte
       do que as leis
       que me prendem a você

Saturday, May 10, 2003

The Small Daily Gross-outs Of Life

Dr. Derma's



Thursday, May 08, 2003

I received these images by email...

a whole new meaning for birdwatching!

... nice kitty

Monday, May 05, 2003

Month of May

                          Mês de Maio
                 Almir Sater / Paulo Simões
Azul do céu brilhou
Mês de maio
Enfim chegou
Olhos vão se abrir
Pra tanta cor

É mês de maio
A vida tem seu esplendor

A luz do sol entrou
Pela janela
Me convidou pra tarde tão bela
E sem calor

É mês de maio
Saio e vou ver o sol se pôr

Horizonte de aquarela
Que ninguém jamais pintou
E enxame de estrelas
Diz que o dia terminou

Noite nem se firmou
E a lua cheia já clareou

Sombras podem ir
Façam o favor
É mês de maio
É tempo de ser sonhador

Quem não se enamorou
No mês de maio
Bem que tentou

E quem não tiver ainda amor
Dos solitários
O mês de maio é o protetor

Boa Terra velha esfera
Que nos leva aonde for
Pro futuro quem nos dera
Que te dessem mais valor

Sunday, May 04, 2003

23 Things to Write on Your T-shirt

  • Don't tick me off! I'm running out of places to hide the bodies.
  • Guys have feelings too. But like... who cares?
  • I don't believe in miracles. I rely on them.
  • Next mood swing: 6 minutes.
  • I hate everybody, and you're next.
  • Please don't make me kill you.
  • Your point being?
  • I used to be schizophrenic, but we're ok now.
  • I'm busy. You're ugly. Have a nice day.
  • Warning: I have an attitude and I know how to use it.
  • Of course I don't look busy... I did it right the first time.
  • Why do people with closed minds always open their mouths?
  • I'm multi-talented: I can talk and tick you off at the same time.
  • Do NOT start with me. You will NOT win.
  • You have the right to remain silent, so please SHUT UP.
  • All stressed out and no one to choke.
  • I'm one of those bad things that happen to good people.
  • How can I miss you if you won't go away?
  • Sorry if I looked interested. I'm not.
  • Don't you have anything better to do than stare at my T-shirt?
  • If you can read this, you are within punch range.
  • I'm one of those persons your mother warned you about.
  • Shut up and kiss me!
From this site, indicated by Mari:

Monday, March 10, 2003


Oath of Friendship

Shang ya!
I want to be your friend
For ever and ever without a break or decay.
When the hills are all flat
And the rivers run dry,
When it lightens and thunders in winter,
When it rains and snows in summer,
When Heaven and Earth mingle —
Not till then will I part from you.
— Anonymous, China, 1st century B.C.

Thursday, March 06, 2003

Never too Late!

Carnaval 2003
Jornal do Brasil  05.03.2003

Thursday, February 06, 2003

Love and Laughter

"Among those whom I like or admire, I can find no common denominator, but among those whom I love, I can:
all of them make me laugh."
— W. H. Auden

Another tamigotchi?

I don't know if I'll get the hang of blogging...
it seems rather like those tamigotchi toys — always eletronically crying, wanting to be fed (electrons!), needing a bath, feeling sick — almost a digital toddler, but of the extremely pesky type!

Monday, January 27, 2003

Solo for a Saturday Night Guitar

for Day
Solo for a Saturday Night Guitar

Time was. Time is. Time shall be.
Man invented time to be used.
Love was. Love is. Love shall be.
Yet no man never invented love
Nor is love to be used like time.
A clock wears numbers one to twelve
And you look and read its face
And tell the time pre-cise-ly ex-act-ly.
Yet who reads the face of love?
Who tells love numbers pre-cise-ly ex-act-ly?
Holding love in a tight hold for keeps,
Fastening love down and saying
"It's here now and here for always."
You don't do this off-hand, careless-like.
Love costs. Love is not so easy
Nor is the shimmering of star dust
Nor the smooth flow of new blossoms
or the drag of a heavy hungering for someone.
       Love is a white horse you ride
       or wheels and hammers leaving you lonely
       or a rock in the moonlight for rest
       or a sea where phantom ships cross always
       or a tall shadow always whispering
       or a circle of spray and prisms ---
       maybe a rainbow around your shoulders
               Heavy heavy is love to carry
               and light as one rose petal.
               light as a bubble, a blossom,
               a remembering bar of music
               or a finger or a wisp of hair
               never forgotten.

                           Carl Sandburg,
                           American, 1878-1967

Raízes — Roots

for Marigold
         (Renato Teixeira)

Galo cantou
madrugada na campina
Manhã menina
tá na flor do meu jardim
Hoje é domingo
me desculpe eu tô sem pressa
nem preciso de conversa
não há nada prá cumprir

Passar o dia
ouvindo o som de uma viola
Eu quero que o mundo agora
se mostre pros bem-te-vi
Mando daqui das bandas do rural lembranças
vibrações da nova hora
prá você que não tá aqui

é uma lição do universo
Que nos ensina
que é preciso renascer
O novo amanhece
O novo amanhece

Já tem rolinha
lá no terreiro varrido
e o orvalho brilha
como pétalas ao sol
Tem uma sombra
que caminha pras montanhas
se espalhando feito alma
por dentro do matagal
E quanto mais
a luz vai invadindo a terra
o que a noite não revela
o dia mostra prá mim

A rádio agora
tá tocando Rancho Fundo
Somos só eu e o mundo
E tudo começa aqui...

Saturday, January 25, 2003


… And delight in being here on earth * For one more moment * here on earth * to celabrate our tiny, tiny my-ness. — Czeslaw Milosz

Started a blog! This is it: my first post!
Hurray! Hurrah!

I managed to get all the steps done. Hurray for me, as I'm rather cyber-challenged!
Tried first at weblogger. There though, lots of things don't work.... may be my computer? I don't know!
So gave up there and came here to Blogger.

I've been following some blogs since around the middle of last year, when I finally figured out what they were! : ))))

Inspired by some new blogging-friends, here I am.
A blog to celebrate my part of  "our tiny, tiny my-ness".

My parents, my husband, my brother, my sister.
I am listening in a cafeteria at breakfast.
The women's voices rustle, fulfill themselves
In a ritual no doubt necessary.
I glance sidelong at their moving lips
And delight in being here on earth
For one more moment, with them, here on earth,
To celebrate our tiny, tiny my-ness.

Czeslaw Milosz,
            Polish, b. 1912