To paraphrase the first line in my mother's 1984 autobiography, today I blog. I am Naomi Andrade Smith and all I ever think about is food, travel, history and genealogy -- so what better forum is there than a blog to give form and voice to my obsessions.
I was glued to the television watching the inauguration of Barack Obama yesterday. I watched the whole shebang from start to finish, minus the last seven balls. I was up at six and made a pot of Café Mocambo "American Scene" coffee, drank one cup and took a shower. I knew I could not watch the Inauguration in my pajamas. Dressed for success, I made an Inauguration Fritatta with onions, 3/4 of a jalapeño, Iocally-made Isernio's Italian Sausage and left-over green beans.
At 8:45 a.m. I popped open a bottle of Cristalino Brut Cava. At 8:50 a.m. I took this cell phone picture of Mr. Obama on his way to being sworn in:
At 8:58 a.m., unable to remain passively seated at my kitchen table, I stood up to witness history. I watched the proceedings with interest, marveling at the masses, tearing up at the sight of Malia and Sascha, but also remembering an anecdote my mother repeated often to me. My great-great grandfater, Peter Davis, from Tallapoosa County, Alabama, was a carpenter by trade. His owner, presumably, also Mr. Davis, hired him out to go to Washington to help build the Capitol.
