Our little Caesar...
Archive post June 16, 2019…
I suppose, I ought to consider myself lucky when You-know-who makes a dinner declaration that it is not along the lines of… I need some new white shirts! How unexciting. Thankfully, such a pronouncement has never brushed pass his Italian lips. Instead, You mentions… as per the other evening… and stated between heaping mouthfuls of a stunning risotto d’asparagi e salami di cinghiale I had labored over, the gnawing desire for a statue… A Bust, no less!!!… to keep company with the two cement & fruity festoons lately bought & brought from one of his forays of flea-markets in a distant Italian backwater. I did not automatically reply. I don’t ever. This is mean of me. Yet, knowing You as I have for the last twenty-one years, he’d badger me anyway even if I did reply. Why ruin his fun? His ever ascending crescendo of any current obsession normally spans cene, pranzi e colazioni, and drives to run errands, to grocery shop, fill-up with gas, call on neighbors. I don’t even get a Good-night Kiss without him broaching the subject one-more-time before a smooch.
You had been on a week’s vacation with us of the Codiponte Dog Team. I rewarded him for several long days spent tending to our garden here at il Poggiolo with a drive to Forte dei Marmi and our favourite though -spensive garden ornament emporium… www.recuperando.com. The car had not come to a complete stop and You was out amongst the many statues, gates, obelisks, wrought iron furniture heading to the bust scaffolding/shelving in the centre of the outdoor establishment. He hankered for a caesar. Now, who do you know who has that for an ambition? God gave you ten fingers to spare. Well, I found him his caesar. Made from an impasto of cement & marble dust. Handsome.
Sadly, the imperatore looks to have suffered acne as a teenager. But let’s over-look that by saying he also resembles the great Italian actor, Vittorio Gassman. It’s the nose, folks!
There was a minor debate about the color not complimenting especially well the darker, richer cement impasto of the two festoons. I am happy to report My Aesthetic Judgement prevailed. Oddly, You did not harp upon the Question of which emperor was he? I stayed mute. Won one battle. I was on a roll. And, I didn’t loose another, as the Roman gentleman now conveniently graces our courtyard’s wall. Mark it down as yet another yard ornament for il Poggiolo’s garden. Come to think of it too, I’m lucky You doesn’t want to collect The Seven Dwarfs!