Now, the actual Saddest Song in the World

The local classical station played Madama Butterfly the other night, which reminded me that I wanted to post this.  To paraphrase, Cio-Cio-San is about to commit ritual suicide when her son walks into the room. She tells him that she is dying so he can go to America with his father, and asks him to remember her. The hunky guy in the T-shirt and hipster facial hair (Pinkerton, the child's father, AKA a grade-A slimeball) is none other than Placido Domingo.  This is not normally staged this way--usually Pinkerton, his wife and the consul Sharpless walk in after the fact--but this production has some modern elements (note hunky Placido's T-shirt).







On a note unrelated to seppuku or extreme melodrama, my nephew was born on Saturday morning!  It is still extremely strange to think of BJ as being a father.  In the one picture I have seen of him holding baby Colin, he has him in the classic two-arm, "I have never held a baby before, and I am so scared I am going to drop him" pose.  Obviously he has held babies before, but it always cracks me up when people hold babies like that.  It's usually men, but not always.  Anyway, I am knitting another Baby Bobbi Bear for Colin (many thanks to a friend who loaned me a copy of her pattern, since my copy seems to have walked off!).  Photos when it's done!  In the meantime, here's the sweater I knit for him back in October (Springtime Baby Cardi):

And while I'm discussing cardigans, Rosina is really loving the little Shalom Cardigan I made her, with sleeves added.  It's almost too warm here to wear such a bulky sweater--not that I'm complaining--but we will have a few more chilly mornings.