Italian Capers

2010-09-06T06:19:00.000-07:00

Purebred, German-imported female Pomeranian: 1,000 Euro

Innotek Remote Controlled Citronella Spray Collar: $89.99

Little girl growing up with her dream dog: priceless

Introducing: Fluffernutter
aka: "Brandy" yes, it is also her stripping name
Age: 4-years

The girls keep forgetting that she won't grow any bigger even though they accept that The Fonz will always be small, go figure.

Cost: For us, she was a "free" dog, I like to refer to her as a "used" dog

Facts:
Both girls are in love with her and she is growing on the Dad in the family
She likes to drink out of the bidet
She likes to lick Fonzie's ears (Bleh!)
She likes to chase kitties, but her favorite hobby is barking...well, it was : )

More fun in Stockholm...

2010-08-18T23:09:00.000-07:00

These guards were ornamental in nature. Unlike the Queen's guards in England, they could move, talk- even take a call on their handy!

What a wonderful city.

Swinging in Stockholm.....

2010-08-17T22:11:00.000-07:00

Stockholm was the first city we visited on our trip. We flew in the night before so we could see the city and so we didn't have to worry about missing the boat. The city was lovely. The people were very friendly and helpful and we didn't have any trouble finding our way around.

There are only so many monuments, though, that the kids can handle. The girls and I set out to find some fun, and we did. (The following is a testament to the city of Stockholm and their kind people. When we set out on foot, we must have looked a little lost rather than like the adventurers we were, and a woman went out of her way to ask us if she could help us find our destination!) There was a great park just around the corner from our hotel.

But don't forget all the fun you can have INSIDEthe hotel- for example with the luggage elevator. Thanks to Uncle Crunchy, the girls got many "rides."

Here they are hanging out on the ginormous bed and watching cartoons in Swedish...I guess it's still fun.

And don't forget the fun that can be had in the extra large shower : )

Shuffleboard, anyone??????

2010-08-16T08:33:00.000-07:00

As you can see by my lack of posting, we are having a fun summer! The weather has been wonderful- nice and HOT! We have been swimming and going to the markets, going to the park, etc. What a wonderful summer- and it's not over yet : )

We took a cruise with Auntie Na, Uncle Crunch and Nanny-o. It was fabulous. The food was awesome, the ports were fun and best of all, it was easy and relaxing. We had so many nice family moments. The girls were so much fun and they loved every minute of it.

We sailed out of Stockholm after visiting there for a day, went to Helsinki, Finland; St. Petersburg, Russia (!); Riga, Latvia; Gdansk, Poland; and finally Visby, Sweden.

This game was in the misty rain....we never let a little rain dampen our fun. H was in kids camp that afternoon.

More to come.....

Moving right along....

2010-06-12T13:13:00.000-07:00

While I do like the idea of using scooters to get around, I am not a fan of the sound or the smell. My Man talks about how great it would be if more follks rode them in the U.S., but I have a few hesitations, amely the enormous cars we drive! I suppose it doesn't make too difference if you ride a scooter and you're hit by a deux chevaux as opposed to a monstrous SUV (no brands/types need be mentioned)- but it seems somehow less lethal.

One day we'll use this picture to prove they have been to an ancient coliseum.

So, after the lumpy bed for a couple nights, the time had come to move on. We hit the road sans reservation or hesitation! And we drove to Tuscany. People, there's a reason there is a "mystique" about Tuscany.

It is beautiful! All you have to do is look out the window- the landscape changes and the colors change and it's breathtaking.

No matter where you look- there's miles and miles (or klicks and klicks)of beauty. But where shall we stay? Well, as I was riding shotgun- with our trusty (?) guidebook in my hands, I happened upon Volterra.....some of you may know why this would appeal to me.

Yes, this is the real home of the fictional vampires from Twilight : )

The movie was not filmed here, and we didn't see any vampires (or bats much to Z's disappointment), but it was a great place to visit.

Spring Break continued....

2010-06-08T08:09:00.000-07:00

So, where did I leave off? We drove to Sorrento and used that as our "home away from home." The room wasn't all that fabulous. It feels like heresy, but I am going to say it....Rick Steves' choice of hotels can sometimes be a little shabby for a family!

My Mom, and dear Auntie Na and The Crunch all seem to enjoy this aspect. In fact, I think she should start her own tour company and bill herself as "The Shabby Traveler." It would work! There's always an adventure to be had, but with little folks, that "adventure" can seem like a pain in the keester!

As an example, apart from the UBER lumpy bed, the light in the bathroom was on a TIMER! Yep, it turned off after a certain amount of time had lapsed- really? When you are trying to get 2 kids in and out of a shower without having someone fall and land on the toilet- it's a small space folks! ANNOYING! I can't even tell you how many times I heard Z shout, "Mommy-o there's no light anymore!" Poor thing.

But, needless to say, we had a great time. These pics are from the infamous Mt. Vesuvius. The history is phenomenal- the whole thing is amazing!

We arrived with our Rick Steves pages ripped out and we were ready. Then, a nice older gentleman approached us and simply told us we were wasting our time if we don't hire a guide....he was, of course, a guide. It was a pain keeping the kids' interest and trying to figure out what we were looking at, so we took him up on his offer. It was a fabulous decision- he was filled with lore and jokes, and some shenanigans. Perfect.

I told the kids they needed to follow him or he was going to whack them with his umbrella- you should have seen their eyes : ) So, away we went! I think the best part of the tour was when he took out his good luck charm- I won't tell you what it was as this is a family-friendly blog. Then he said, "It's not true, but I believe it!" We just LOVE that! So true, so true.

We also explored a bit on our own- the Colosseum was awe-inspiring- and a little creepy.

Now that's a real fixer-upper!

H still loves her short hair and would like to take it up a notch and be bald. So, as she proves to me, bald IS beautiful!

This was a great restaurant- it's nice to be in Italy where there are so many choices kids love on the menus- oh and where the red wine flows so freely : )

Have a Very Merry Un-birthday to you, to you....

2010-05-25T07:55:00.000-07:00

The tallest of the small is 6.5 years old. We had the usual half-birthday fun.

At school, on her half-birthday, one of her friends told her that half birthdays aren't real. She mentioned this to me when she got off the bus. Then she asked me if half birthdays are "real."

Hmmmmm. "What do you think?" I asked her (love that parenting technique). Well, she explained that lots of people don't celebrate their half birthdays, most people probably. But since we do, they are real for us. Sounds good to me : )

You get to celebrate their lives twice as many times- how can I resist, besides, it involves CAKE people! Happy half-birthday!

Oh the Places You'll Go......

2010-05-23T02:56:00.000-07:00

Not even a week before spring break, I had a conversation with a good friend during which I mentioned we used to take vacations without reservations. We would just "hit the road." Of course, the other mother and I agreed, we would never do that with children. It wouldn't be prudent.

Then we did : ) We had a vague notion where we wanted to go and worked out a rough plan the night before our departure. I did secure our first few nights stay and away we went. We headed south to Sorrento.

The kids did great with the travelling- our fun started long before we arrived at our destination. They loved the adventure!

It's a nice city on the coast- I thought it was very congested with cars and vans full of tourists. We were there during the off-season, and I cannot imagine the droves of people who must visit during peak season.

The wooden motorcycle was a big hit.

There were beautiful views around every corner.

Fun!

I think the only hitch we hit on the way down was an accident on the autostrada. So, My Man, with his trusty GPS detoured us through Naples. My goodness, that was an adventure all it's own. Naples was chaotic- people driving willy-nilly- including us! It was also a very dirty-looking city. There was garbage all over the streets and hanging in bags off fences and lightposts and anywhere else that was possible. I was happy when we got back on the autostrada.

Curiouser and curiouser.....

2010-05-07T22:53:00.000-07:00

We were walking along at the festival in Slovenia, when I noticed the girls were eating something. When I asked what they had, they said, "Nothing," and quickly hid their snack behind their backs. Panicked, I ran over to them and grabbed for their hands, only to see they held partially eaten bright pink mushroom with green spots.

"Ahhhh!" I shrieked, but it was too late. Something was happening to the kids....they were getting smaller and smaller!

Luckily they returned to their normal size a little bit later : )

S-LOVE-enia

2010-05-02T22:17:00.000-07:00

We went to a tulip festival My Man wanted to visit- he loves tulips (little-known fact) and he really LOVES Slovenia! Really. When we are there he makes comments like, "These are my people." Hilarious.

Of course there were rows and rows of flowers, but it was in a lovely park with walking trails and activities for children.

The cultural differences between Italy and Slovenia are obvious. The children WAITED in line for a turn to play on the dinosaur. Oh, and before that, there were people in the parking lot helping festival-goers park in an orderly fashion.

It's not appropriate....

2010-04-08T02:25:00.000-07:00

I am the self-proclaimed queen of inappropriate laughter. Really. While it has been several months since my last spell of such laughter, it's been a life-long struggle.

Yesterday, I went to the dentist here in Italy. It has taken me over a year to work up the courage- both due to my mild dental phobia, schedule conflicts (not really) and general inexplicable inertia.

The office is clean and modern. Being who I am, I checked for signs of sterilization and am pleased to report all appears to be clean. (Note the use of the word appears.)

So far, so good, then the dentist walked in.....he is handsome, has a nice smile (of course)and a kind demeanor. Then, my mind did a terrible thing- it jumped to the idea that he looks like George Oscar Bluth (GOB from Arrested Development)! At first I giggle, then all out laughter ensues, clearly inappropriate behavior at the dentist office. I sit down in the chair and get a sip of water....no change.

He and his assistant start to work on replacing an old filling and I am shaking with the giggles! I am sure they thought I was crazy! I could not use any of my coping techniques such as: 1) act like you are crying 2) act like you are coughing and the best one-3) excuse yourself from the situation.

I struggled to keep my eyes forward and listen to the music on my ipod. I could not look at him- especially when he put on the surgical mask!

I suspect it is out of my system and I should be safe for the next visit. I hope so anyway. You know, at least I am no longer plagued by hearing "Somewhere Over the Rainbow" in my head constantly....now I just listen to that on the ipod : )

Happy 11th Birthday Little Friend......

2010-03-23T01:11:00.000-07:00

We shall call this post: Portrait of the Perfect Pup

As you may know, our little Fonz has had some health issues recently.

In the face of his somewhat-fragile health, I only needed to remind myself that "Love is a Verb." I love him every day and he loves me right back.

We have our little chats in the morning along with his belly rub. (This is when he reminds me that Life is Good : )

We have fun playing the "Ring the bell to go outside only to want to instantly come back inside Game." (Here is where he helps me understand the true virtue of patience.)

He is also known as "Velvet Ears." Here he reminds me that all of the Earth's creatures are truly magnificent in their own way.

And here is, quite possibly, my favorite part of his fabulous self....his Frito Feet. With his dainty (maybe stinky?) feet, he reminds me to keep moving- to keep on keeping on! To get out and about and have fun!

Happy Birthday Little Man, may you have many more. We love you through and through.....except maybe the Z-Lady, but she does seem to tolerate you better these days....that's progress. Just stick around a few more years so you can reel her in! : )

Pilgrims and Perception.....

2010-03-05T04:25:00.000-08:00

Some of you may have heard my story of when I was little, and I was inspired to be Amish. Don't worry Mom, I am not going to go into the details : )

I have learned, through observing and listening to my children, a little bit about how they process information. Perception really is everything. I have witnessed a situation involving my elder daughter. Later, I have asked her to tell me about it. I am always amazed at how she viewed the situation- how she re-told the situation. I suppose this same phenomena affects all of us. What we perceive as the situation is what we believe happened.

Much like myself at her age, she was inspired to be a Pilgrim. I remember being equally enthusiastic about being Amish.

Here she is washing her blanket in the river. I remember trying to play games, but apparently Amish kids don't play games.

It was daylight, so she could see. I remember being told that Amish don't use electricity so I shouldn't use my light.

Here she is smiling, I don't remember smiling about my little game.

She enjoyed her little Pilgrim game......I didn't have much fun with mine, but I do remember it.

I don't have too many childhood memories and I think it's because I had a smooth and very happy childhood, rarely punctuated by anything negative....or maybe I just don't have good long-term memory capability- who knows? who are you again?

It's possible I remember it because it wasn't much fun...oh, but the chuckles I have gotten from those memories over the years!!! (I chuckled all through this post.) And the joy of torturing my Mom about how I perceived that small fragment of my childhood? Priceless : ) Sorry Mom, I know I will get mine too...one day!

A trip down memory lane....and to the salon!

2010-02-25T07:32:00.000-08:00

H-bomb has been complaining about her hair all her life. She doesn't like it: combed, washed, brushed, touched, styled, dried, clipped, braided or pony-tailed!

Enough was enough for both of us. I was sure she was sure, so we headed out to the stylist of choice- Anna in Compagna where we used to live! We let Anna loose with a pair of scissors and a beautiful, smiling, happy little gal appeared...here she is:

I was concerned about how her new look would be received at school. But when she hopped off the bus- she was still smiling!

Only one little girl made a negative comment. One of her pals stepped right up in H's defense and that was all she wrote.

Happier kid, happier family.

I caught up with Anna about the old neighborhood. I asked if Bruna was still alive and she is. She will be 94 next month.

As we were about to leave, Bruna appeared in the door. At first, she just looked at me and I could tell she didn't know me. Then, I saw the veil lift, a spark of recognition in her eyes and a huge smile. It was great to see her. We also went and caught up with Luciano and Vanda for a little while. I didn't feel one ounce of sadness or nostalgia- I remain happy that house is in our past. It was nice to see those smiling faces, though!

Holiday Wrapped up with Snow...

2010-02-11T08:23:00.000-08:00

This year, I decided to have a holiday wrap up weekend. It was the last weekend in January and we decided it was time to take down the Christmas tree and put away the decorations.

We planned all the festivities to include: baking cookies (one last batch), listening to carols (that hasn't really stopped), un-decorating the tree, playing some games we received as gifts and putting away the decorations. The girls were very excited, and so was I.....

The un-decorating of the tree was very fun and much easier with the girls helping me. It was kind of like a hide and seek, or an eye spy game. They were helpful and careful and it was fun. The cookies went well and we had fun playing games, but the BIG surprise was waking up to snow here in town on Sunday morning!!!!!

We didn't have much, more of a dusting, really, BUT we had enough on driveway to give sledding a try. Now, for those of you who haven't visited, our driveway is VERY steep, which usually is NOT an asset, but for today it was!!!

Our neighbor came over to help load the kids up- and My Man stood at the bottom to catch them as they cannon-balled down the driveway!

This one kept her feet dragging to slow her down a bit.

This gal was all about SPEED!

Look at that face!

Looks like we invented a new family holiday.....I am sure there will be plenty of snow for sledding for the "Wrap up Weekend" back in the States : )

A quick jaunt up the mountain o' fun : )

2010-02-08T08:44:00.000-08:00

I just spoke with my friend in Washington D.C and they are snowed in! To be truthful, it sounds like fun to me.....shhhh.

For us, we have to go seeking the white stuff. A couple of weekends ago, we attempted to drive up the mountain for a little fun in the snow, but we stopped partway up. The conditions called for chains on our tires- which we don't have. We decided we didn't want to chance it and possibly spend our day trapped on the mountainside. (I think the only one who was disappointed was My Man- the kids had a great time playing at a little pit stop along the way.)

This weekend, we made it to the top....H and My Man rented an inner tube and went tubing!

You hop on and ride down this slope and there was a people mover at the bottom. You insert your ticket in the little turnstile and you can get a ride back to the top. (see the people on the left?)

H-bomb was like an adrenalin junky. She was hyped up and loving it!

Z-meister and I took the slower sled down the other side of the mountain. We had a blast and she insisted I shout "Cowabunga" on the way down.....how could I argue with that little snot-nosed face? (She learned Cowabunga from Stitch- not Bart.)

But then she got curious and showed an unusual streak of braveness.....

Turns out she loved tubing as well and went on several more runs. It was not my favorite- you know, hurling down the hill, practically sitting on my child, with no head protection and did I mention no steering? At one point we were going backwards...not exactly my favorite....but I am sure there is more of that in my future.

The Italians cracked me up for two reasons:
1.) Color: Although black is the color of choice for daily Italian life, it is anything goes when it comes to snow gear. There were men in bright purple and turquoise, women in hot pink and lots of reds and blues. They were stuffed into those suits, standing around smoking.

2. Haphazardness: I am accustomed to sledding down the center of the hill and walking back up along one of the sides. This makes sense to my American brain- people can continuously sled down the center and there is less chance for collision. Also, it's easier to walk on the sides where the snow isn't packed down so much. Well, that is just not the modus operandi in Italy. You just slide down and then walk right back up the center of the hill. At the top, you stand around blocking the top of the hill while you talk and smoke- making it difficult for others to launch their sleds. Then, on the way down, you shout "Pista" (which translates to "trail or runway" but it's really more like "coming through!") at the top of your lungs and hope everyone gets out of the way....or maybe you hope they don't...not sure about that!

Thoughts on Love and Marriage....

2010-02-08T06:14:00.001-08:00

H: "Mom, I don't think "love" is weird or gross."
Me: "I don't either."
H: "Some kids at school do, but I don't."
Me: "Well, good for you."
H: "I don't think I'll marry my sister, even though she wants to."
Me: "Yeah, that's probably better."

With our morning off, we worked on H's Valentine's Day box. I haven't thought about these little boxes in ages, but I remember making one in grade school. It was so fun to share this moment with her!

A trap door on a canoe....

2010-01-26T07:39:00.000-08:00

Hail in this area can be the size of golf balls- and just as hard. Storms pelt down these rocks and do a lot of damage....to cars, wildlife, anything outside.

I got a call from my good friend right after a storm. Apparently, there was a bird sitting in my friend's yard and she was afraid her dog might hurt it. The hail must have knocked the nest and the bird out of the tree. Well, I asked, is it a baby bird, a fledgling? She wasn't sure. I suggested she try to keep her pooch away from it and see if the mother bird is taking care of it. Mother birds take care of baby birds better than anyone else- a useful tip : )

The next day, she gave me an update- the bird was still sitting there, and she wasn't sure about the mother.

The next day, she reported that flies were laying eggs on him- what should she do? Okay, clearly intervention was needed, so I asked her to bring him over and pick up some canned cat food on the way, and we'll have a look.

A little while later, she and her family arrived with the baby bird in a box- I was thinking about a fledgling- baby birds. They are about 4 inches long, scrawny little things. Sometimes their eyes are still closed; they are weaklings.

Yep, she had a fledgling, alright, but he was NOT 4 inches tall. He had the tell-tale plumes, but he was HUGE- clearly Baby Huey.

I quickly recognized him as this:

He was a hooded crow. Here's a little info about him: The length varies from 48 to 52 cm (19 to 20 in). When first hatched the young are much blacker than the parents. Juveniles have duller plumage with bluish or greyish eyes and initially a red mouth. Wingspan is 98 cm (39 in) and weight is on average 510 grammes.[9]

He was weak, clearly dehydrated, and likely in shock about his whole situation. (Did you read that part about the wingspan of an adult? 40 inches!)

Lucky for me, her husband, Vincenzo, was kind enough to hold him, while we picked out as many of the eggs as I could without over-stressing the birdie. Picking out eggs is much preferable to the next life-cycle stage- yep, you guessed it, maggots.

I had an old syringe, so I fed the little fellow some liquefied cat food, and some water. When he seemed like he had had enough, we put him in a box in the garage. I checked on him a couple of times, and he seemed lethargic. Well, by the next morning, he was anything but lethargic- he was standing up and vocalizing and ready to eat! I fed him, all the while realizing that I could not re-hab him here in my garage. I could not manage to keep him clean, and I was running out of boxes for him.

I did what anyone would do, I took him to the local vet, down the street. I had H and Z with me and we sat down in the waiting aisle. Soon enough, the vet appeared in the doorway and asked me if we had an appointment- there was no one else present and no one in the exam room. No, we didn't have an appointment, and well, ours was an interesting case.

We went into the exam room and I showed her the bird. She was quite flabbergasted. She was making a puffing noise with her mouth and throwing her arms around. She scolded me for picking up the bird- despite his impending slow, grueling death if he were left alone. She told me repeatedly that he was state property and she could get in big trouble. Then she told me I needed to take him to the Public Veterinarian. Being wise to the ways of Italy, I asked if she could call first and let them know I was coming. She was surprised by my request, but started looking up numbers and placing calls. She kept making a "tsk tsk" sound. I just pretended like all was well.

So, in the end, she could not find a number, but she made me a map.

We piled back in the wagon, with Huey in his box in the back. We could hear him scuffling around and crowing while we were driving.

We drove to the place marked on our map. The sign at the end of the street said "Veterinario." It was a residential area, with only one building that looked like it might be an office. The front looked like a creepy medical building- gray concrete, thick glass panes on the windows- possibly a veterinarian's office. It was closed, so we walked around to the back. There was also a doorway in the back- it was very narrow- I had to turn sideways to reach the door and knock. No answer. I had no idea if I was in the right place.

I did what any desperate person with a wild injured bird in her car would do- I flagged down the woman on the moped who worked for the Italian Poste. She was ever-thrilled to stop and chat (yikes), but I asked her where the vet was. She motioned to the building I just described.

With renewed determination, I approached the building. I looked at the sign on the door and there was a phone number. I called it and when a man answered, I launched into my story- all in my broken Italian. Finally, the man simply said, "Why are you telling me this?" Ummm, well, because you are a veterinarian and I need some help. "I am a pediatrician." OOOOOOPS! Dispiacere- I hung up.

When we were younger, my Dad had lots of sayings he would use, "Randy-isms." He would sometimes say, "Possession is 9/10ths of the law." I never understood what he was talking about, and I haven't heard that saying in a long time, but it jumped into my head and became my mantra on the way back to the local vet. I now understand what he meant.

She wasn't thrilled to see us.

When we walked into the exam room, I put the box on her exam table. (Step one of transferring possession.) Sadly, the box had my name ALL OVER IT- so there was no running out of there- plus, really, how fast could all of us go anyway???

Then, I slowly moved toward the door when she answered another call. Then she talked a lot about how much trouble she would be in, etc. I told her I can't take the bird home and that if she would like, I could dump him in her yard and he could die there. (H looked up at me and had little tears welling in her eyes, but she didn't utter a word. I had lots of complicated explaining to do, but that could wait.)

The vet chattered on and on, back and forth (to herself) about this, all the while, I was getting closer and closer to the door. Finally, she agreed to keep the bird! She wanted all my information- name, address, phone, Italian social security number. No problem, I gave her all my info and left with a clear conscience- possession transferred : )

Funny how old sayings pop into my head, but it made me think of another one- for me to be a veterinarian here, without an office or supplies, well, I am about as useful as a trap door on a canoe.

Ho Ho Ho....whatever.....

2010-01-08T07:54:00.000-08:00

Lucky for the world, children are usually very forgiving.

We went to the library this year to visit with Santa. I thought it would be nicer for the kids to see him during story time than to attend a crowded party and have to wait in a seemingly endless line for a chance to chat with the guy in the red suit.

After a short wait, Santa arrived. The children sat enthralled (well, as enthralled as little kids can be) as he read them "Twas the Night Before Christmas." He never showed them a single picture from the book. This Santa must have been sleeping during the Santa Story Hour 101 refresher course.

Then began the age-old (and somewhat troubling) tradition of sitting with Santa and asking for gifts. H and Z were patient, even timid. Finally, it was their turn. Z asked for a new pair of PJ's. H asked for supplies for her Baby Alive doll- to include diapers and a changing mat.

(note her distrusting glance...really not a bad instinct)

As you can see, Santa was equally enthralled.

Santa was a man of few words, so the conversation was quickly over and the girls jumped off his lap....before I could get a photo.

"Hey Santa?" I asked. "Could the girls stand by you for one minute so I can get their picture with you?"

Santa said, "Yeah, sure....whatever."

Because I truly love the holidays, I stifled my instinct to slap the Bearded One. I quickly decided the kids might be scarred by my outburst of holiday violence, especially since they didn't even seem to notice Santa's apathy.

The reindeer was a sweetheart and a big hit.

On the way home, H said, "Santa seemed tired." All is forgiven.

I hope you had a wonderful holiday season : )

Along the same lines......

2009-12-18T03:33:00.000-08:00

After our trip to France this summer, I wanted to send a little giftie to my french family. What says thank you more than a big box of crazy assorted Halloween candy- you know the severed-gummy fingers and the wax vampire teeth that then become chewing gum? The girls and I had a blast picking out all sorts of junk to send.

When I tried to mail it from the base, I was astounded at the cost. I don't know why it was so pricey. Maybe packages are routed through NY first before they are sent to Europe? For the price, it seemed the box could go around the world a few times before reaching its final destination. Anyway....and read carefully for the funny part of the following thought process....I thought, "It might be faster/easier if I send it through the Italian post." (Did you catch it?)

So, off we went- now that I am a pro, I knew when they would be open.

When we walked in, there was a number dispensing ticker tape, but I didn't take a number because we were the only ones in the post office. Minutes passed, and we were STILL the only ones waiting in line. There were 3 clerks at their stations all of them shifting papers and looking busy.

One woman glanced up at me from the end of the office several times. We waited patiently.

The woman finally stood up, walked all the way down to my end of the office, and exited the glass parition to where we stood. (Italian post offices are set up with the workers one one side of a glass wall and the customers on the other.
When you talk to them it's through the little speaker part in the wall and you push money and papers under this glass tray to their side.)

She walked over to the ticker machine and directed me to take a number.

I obliged and took a number. She nodded approvingly and made her way back behind the glass and down to her end of the office. She sat down and shuffled a few papers. She then glanced at us, waiting alone in the post office, with our number in hand. She shuffled a few more papers and spoke with her neighbor.

Finally, she looked up at the number board and changed the number, which called me down to someone else's window. I love it.

Hmmm, looks like this post has been hanging around for a while, so, how about I freshend it up with some recent pics? Sure!

Cultural Update- Life in Italy

2009-11-07T12:17:00.000-08:00

Italians do not wait in lines the way Americans will. The "line etiquette" here is very interesting to me.

Let's say you are at the Gap in the USA and you get in line to buy something. You approach the cashier and if there is someone already waiting, you stand behind them. If there isn't, you stand across from the cashier and you expect the next person who joins you to wait at the register, to stand behind you. If it's Christmas, there might even be a delineated line formation and you stand in it. (Like at a bank, or a movie theater- you know, with those velvet ropes hanging from metal poles to keep people in order.)

Now you are in Italy and you go to H&M (clothing store) and decide to purchase something. You approach the cashier and if there is no one already waiting, you stand across from the cashier and you wait. If someone else comes to the cashier- THEY WILL NOT NECESSARILY GO BEHIND YOU! They MIGHT go behind you, or they may stand next to you or even in front of you. (I am not kidding!) When the next cashier opens up, they will push to get there first. If you stand there, awestruck, the next person will push in front of you as well.

If there are already people waiting in line when you arrive at the cashier, they will be in a line across the counter area, next to each other, not behind one another. If you are in this mob (!), someone might come and stand right in front of you. Or, they might be sneaky and stand off to one side of you with their back to you- then they will casually turn and voila, they will be in front of you before you know it.

If you are at the grocery store and are heading to the line, someone might just RUN to get there before you, even if you have only one item and a child (perhaps crying)in your arms and they have an entire cart of items.

It boggles my mind! It is soooo very different and it feels very rude, but here, it's not! You can't take it personally, and it's not technically rude because it is their cultural. It's crazy different!

These pictures are from Cinque Terre- we visited this summer. It was lovely and warm. Luckily for us, the lines weren't too long : )

Not everyone has an Uncle Crunchy...but everyone should (be so lucky!)

2009-10-26T13:42:00.000-07:00

This is a blast from our recent arctic (okay,Ohio)visit, but it deserves a post.

When we were in the States, Spring was dawning, and with it, the weather was warming. There were 2 girls in Ohio who were sad the mounds of snow were melting. H and Z were so very excited to be in this winter wonderland that they could barely stand to think about the snow being melted when we returned to Ohio after a trip to Florida.

But Uncle Crunchy had a plan..........he SAVED them a snowperson in his freezer! Isn't he the bestest???????????? It was so wonderful! Every girl should have a Crunchman!

Somewhere Over the Rainbow......

2009-10-07T08:21:00.000-07:00

Although I can't know for certain what other people experience, it seems safe to say that most people will, on occasion, have a little tune that runs through their minds. It happens to me, and I know My Man recently had a RIDICULOUS song in his head. He (we!) were able to listen to it nonstop for several days, and poof, one morning, he woke up and it's gone. That's how it usually goes. The songs come and go.

For me, the tunes aren't necessarily songs I have recently heard, nor are they songs I really like, although that is sometimes the case. They are usually songs that are pertinent to my overall emotional state at the time. It's as if the songs in my memory make up a thesaurus. A lyric that expresses a bit of my mental state is retrieved subconsciously and then my mind strikes up the tune. Let's say I am super happy to see H-bomb, (daughter #1) then I might start to hear/hum/sing, "You are my sunshine, my only sunshine..." That's a rough approximation, and most of the time it's more subtle than that, but you get the idea. It can be fun, for me, to try to link the lyric and figure out why that tune is center stage.

I hereby confess that I have had a song STUCK in my head for THREE years. People, it's been torture. Yep, ever since I arrived in Italy, I have had the same song running through my head. It has been maddening. I don't even know all the words! I can't even remember the last time I had heard this song.

You'll never guess what song.....that's right, "Somewhere over the Rainbow." While I enjoyed the movie years ago, I have never been a fanatic, or someone who knows all the words to every line in the movie (Aunt Na).

Particularly when I am driving on these narrow, twisty roads, I hear, "Somewhere over the rainbow....." When I am stuck behind a tractor, which is a thrice daily occurrence, "skies are blue...." When I am sweeping the porch, or walking through the market, "and the dreams that you dare to dream, really do come true."

"Where troubles melt like lemon drops...."- really? That's the song that's been chosen for ITALY?! Italy? This is the land of red tape, not rainbows! The troubles don't melt here, trust me people. Red tape, construction delays, random pullovers by the polizia to check your documents....no melting troubles to be found. Italy is not really "a land that I heard of once in a lullaby." Why this song, why oh why can't I (get it out of my head)? WHY??????

I have tried to commandeer this whole phenomena and supplant this tune with other songs, but it has never worked. I can't figure out why.....am I over the rainbow....am I so looking forward to our next chapter in life and THAT'S over the rainbow.....? Why oh why?

Recently, I changed gears. "Insanity: doing the same thing over and over again and expecting different results."
Albert Einstein

I have embraced the song.....it was long overdue. I went to Itunes (love it) and purchased THREE versions of that song, who knew there were so many available! One is kind of reggae, the classic by Judy Garland, and one that's more like a lullaby, artist unknown.

We have been blasting these 3 songs all day, every day. In the car, in the kitchen, in our heads. I know the words now, the kids know the words. Now, I cruise down the stink-filled (pig farms?) roads with this song blaring. We are watching people run red lights and rocking out with rainbows. There's a team of cyclists in the road, and we are humming and wishing upon a star so we might wake up where the clouds are far behind us.

And then it finally dawned on me....I too have been displaced to a land of small people who talk funny and have a very different way of life.....and my kids are here too : )

Come out, come out wherever you are
And meet the young lady who fell from a star
She fell from the sky, she fell very far
And America she says is the name of the star.
(Glinda)

Round and round we go......

2009-09-30T08:59:00.000-07:00

The following excerpt is from an actual conversation in which I recently had the joy of participating- the names have been changed to protect the obnoxious:

Caller (in English):
Allo? Allo? This is Marco.

Me: Hello Marco.
Caller: Yes, I think I have your husband's cell phone.
Me: (continuing in English as the caller started it!) Well, that's not possible because my husband does not have a cell phone.

Caller: This is Marco, I have his cell phone.
Me: Marco, he does not have a cell phone.

Caller: Yes, because I have the cell phone.
Me: Marco, he does not own a cell phone.

Caller: I think he left it here in my shop.
Me: (in Italian) Marco, he does not own a cell phone!
Caller: Oh, yes, then I don't know to who it is?
Me: Okay, have a great day, thanks for calling.
Hang up.

The carousel pictures were taken in Strasbourg, France. We went to visit my french family and had a wonderful time. I honestly had forgotten that Strasbourg is so beautiful. More pictures to come.

Next batter up.....

2009-09-17T22:49:00.000-07:00

This is how my sisters and I look in many of the pictures from our youth. My Dad was the family photog, so he orchestrated the pictures to memorialize our major life events. As we got older and whined about looking into the sun, we were told that the colors would look better with the sun behind him and us facing that direction.....REALLY?? WHAT ABOUT OUR SQUINTY FACES?????? Priceless.

Here's the little spitfire on her first day. The boots are hand-me-downs that remain an all-time favorite. She told me they are her skipping boots, apparently, they also cause that little demure leg gesture....

Her favorite morning activity is to sort all the little shiny stones into their tubes.
To mark the occasion, we had lunch afterwards at the Mensa, which is the Italian mess hall on the base. It's Z's favorite lunch locale. While it is a cafeteria, the food is wonderful. These Italians take their food seriously- and it shows! The place is always crowded. The people-watching opportunities are out of this world- it's especially fun to watch these 90 pound girls in the Italian military load up their trays with an absolutely astounding amount of food and then see them finish it all!

Here's another small fry who can finish her giant plate of pasta too!

Just One Moment Please....

2009-09-10T02:08:00.000-07:00

I may be the only person on the planet who doesn't think time goes "fast." That concept just doesn't have a strong root in my ideology. I have no idea why, and yes, to appease most of you, I realize that may change in the future.

For me, I feel breathless and vulnerable when I think about how significant-life moments pass at the same speed as the mundane moments.....and how all of these moments only pass by once.

In September 1995, my Dad passed away. I was holding his hand at the time. One moment ticked by, undifferentiated from the others, and then my Dad was gone. The moment passed quietly, and yet my entire life changed in that instant. My life-perspective, my career plans, my family- all became redefined. All in one breath.

All week, I have been intermittently tearful. My daughter asked if I would cry on her first day of school. I told her I probably would and when she asked me why, I answered: because you are getting so big, because you are still so small, because I will miss you, because I love you, because I have to let you go a little.

And then the bus came and our sweet girl hopped up the stairs without looking back. The door hissed closed behind her and the moment passed, just like all the others and left me standing there, feeling breathless and vulnerable with tears in my eyes.

New Beginnings.....

2009-09-08T10:31:00.000-07:00

Our little daughter's first day of Kindergarten was today!

The bus stop is just down the street.

After much anticipation, she was thrilled the big day had finally arrived. She was more than ready to start her academic career and happily hopped onto the bus this morning.

Her day was filled with fun and exciting new activities. She can't get enough. When she got home, around three this afternoon, she realized it wasn't dinner time yet. She then asked if she could go back to school. I said, "Sure you can, honey, tomorrow."

"But Mom, why am I home already, you said I was going to stay ALL DAY!"

At the end of the day, we were all overjoyed to have her home, especially this one...

Some people....

2009-09-05T04:53:00.000-07:00

"Some people come into our lives and quickly go...
Some stay and make footprints on our hearts...
And we are never, never the same."
~Author Unknown~

Toothache anyone? I propose another version.

"Some people come into our lives and NEVER go...
Some stay too long and leave deep imprints in our brains..
And we are never, never the same."

I don't know about other families, but we have a certain number of people who more or less "attach" themselves to us. We SHOULD tell them to get lost. But we don't. I suppose we don't due to a mix of laziness and guilt. What have they ever done? They are so nice.....they mean well....

These people are not entirely unpleasant, just consistently present and perhaps outright aggravating.

Seems we have found another person like that, the Italian version

We'll call him Marco. He works at the Italian motorcycle shop frequented by My Man. I recently accompanied My Man to the shop one day. Marco was very excited to meet me and chat with me in English and Italian. He then invited us to dinner at a castle- we could ride the motorcycles up the mountain to the restaurant.

We agreed to go, who wouldn't? As we road, we approached a building that looked like it might be considered a castle, but not a very fancy one. (Having seen several castles, perhaps we've become harder to impress. If it doesn't have turrets, or a moat or something, it's more like a really big house.)

We took a funicular, which was crowded and smelled of strong body odor, to the top. Marco was chitchatting with his countrymen, which is very unusual here in Northern Italy. Judging by their expressions, our fellow passengers found his conversation attempts unusual as well.

(For you fashionistas, there was a couple in the hot, stinky funicular with us who were dressed for dinner. The man wore green "skinny" jeans with a purple polo- collar up. The woman wore purple skinny jeans with a green polo- collar up. They made out at the restaurant. We're thinking about dressing like them for Halloween.)

Inside the castle is a hotel, a spa, and two restaurants, one fancy and one pizzeria. We had reservations at the pizzeria. We settled into a booth and then, well, it was HORRIBLE! The questions, comments and conversation were ALL directed toward me. It was like I was on a DATE with Marco and My Man was just a third wheel!!! I kept trying to include him, but to no avail, Marco would commandeer the conversation and redirect it towards a conversation pour deux.

Look at this picture- I was standing next to My Man!!!

Who takes a picture like that????

Look at me clutch and claw My Man's arm.........

Then today, I got home and there was a message on the answering machine....

"Hello (heavy Italian accent), it is Marco, I am calling you. Hello?"

Great, now we have to move.

Not to be outdone by her sister.....

2009-08-21T04:50:00.000-07:00

Then there's the small fry. Rather than crash into the "terrible twos," she is still doling out the naughtiness in small, yet creative, ways.

Let this post serve as a little get to know you again post. She's a firecracker : )

These pictures were by her request. The instructions were quite specific. "Take these pictures of me in the tub and then send them to Mimi." Okay, easy enough. I think she looks like she's in clear jello.

She is a crack up!

Hi yah! (and hello!)

2009-08-16T07:59:00.000-07:00

So, it's been a while....but we're still here (!) and still experiencing some capers.

As happens with children, ours have grown! Our eldest daughter has started Tae Kwon Do- I just googled it and the definition of TKD read "A particularly aggressive form of karate....." sounds like a disease. Perhaps I should have looked that up first! They do have the children make a Tiger promise not to use their TKD to cause trouble....

She is in a group called Tiger Cubs- brand newbies. She recently tested for her first belt- from white to yellow stripe. I was surprised when she told me why she was so happy to have a colored belt- you see, she felt kind of left out without some color on her belt! It's a great energy-burner/exercise program and she loves it. Her confidence has really blossomed.

This is when she got a black stripe on her belt which meant she was qualified to test for her first color stripe.

Here she is with her teacher.

This is after her belt ceremony. Time to celebrate!

Good Fences Make Good Neighbors.....

2009-04-03T03:48:00.000-07:00

(Gotta bump that!)

Most of the houses here have some sort of fence around them. Usually the fence is a cement base with metal fencing on top. The Italians love their cement as much, if not more, than they love their tile. If you are lucky, there's a little clicker to open the gate when you are about to pull into your driveway. The gate then closes automatically after you pass through.

I didn't grow up with a fence around our house, and neither did My Man. Most houses on our street did not have a fence, either. So, I am intrigued by the mental shift we have about our gate. We feel obliged to keep it closed. I tell you, you start to feel strange if you discover, in the morning, that it was open all night- even just a foot to allow you to pass in and out to walk the dog. The feeling is stronger than if you discover you unwittingly left a light on...but not as strong as if you discover the refrigerator door is ajar. It's more akin to leaving your garage door open- although the gate in no way allows access to your home. It's an amusing mentality shift.

I have heard, however, that leaving your gate open is a sort of "invitation" to enter your yard. It would seem to have proven true for us.

We were loading up the car, so we left the gate open. Suddenly and quite unexpectedly, there was a man standing next to us in the driveway. He started talking to us- in Italian, of course. Much to my bewilderment, he began to explain that he wanted a slide. Surely my Italian was failing me, this stranger is in our driveway talking to me about a slide? He seemed to be referring to the kind on which children play. Clearly he was a crazy person, rather a crazy stranger in our midst. He ranted about how his daughter really wanted a slide and a little play table. (Just for the record, we don't have a slide, but we do have a little outdoor picnic bench.) He specifically told me he wanted a 5 step slide and not a 3 step slide. My mind struggled to make sense of this situation.

I wasn't listening as well as I could, as you can imagine. He was smartly dressed in black designer-looking pants. They were fashionable jeans of some sort with a black sparkly pattern on the leg. He wore a purple dress shirt and a nice jacket. His hair was black, slicked down a bit. Okay, I thought, he doesn't appear to be homeless, but you never know.....he isn't wearing a hospital gown, so he isn't a recent escapee.....but who is he and why is he talking about a slide?

Finally, I just blurted out- "Who are you?" He told me he was our neighbor. Neighbor? What neighbor? We share a duplex with an American teacher and our other neighbor is the crazy cat lady who feeds all the strays. I swear I have never seen him before- we have been in this house over a year now. I continued to be bewildered, and from the look on My Man's face, he was also clueless. He pointed toward his house-a beautiful well-kept place 3 doors down.

Okay, now I know where he lives. That's really only part of the puzzle.

Yes, he tells me, he knows we are American and he wants us to get a slide for him. Interesting. I told him about a website that has lots of local listings from people moving in and out of the area. Nope, he wants me to do it, okay? (Well, no, the very last time I checked that is not okay!)

Hmmm, the quandary isn't whether to spend my time looking for a slide for him or not- we all know I won't, but the real question is how to get him out of the driveway.

I politely tell him that I will keep it in mind...it's on my mind alright, no lie there.

Yes, yes, of course, your daughter will be happier with a slide. Yes, a 5-step slide would be better for her. Ciao, Ciao, off he goes.

QUICK- close the gate!!!!

The fence and gate pics are from our recent trip to Dublin, Ireland. I cannot say enough wonderful things about Dublin! It is a vibrant, young, alive city- and we had a great trip!

2009-01-13T23:10:00.000-08:00

Their dresses came with matching doll dresses. H put her mini dress on a doll, and I put Bitty in the other. Z still loves that old cat. He's tattered and torn, smelly and worn.

We are going to the States this week. We'll be flying stand-by, so there is an extra element of suspense. I think we're up for the fun. Anyway, because Nanny-o's luggage was "lost" on her way here, H was very concerned that Bitty might be lost and then Z would be crazy upset. Z doesn't think about it, maybe because it's just too hard to face? I told her Bitty will be in our carry on safe and sound the whole time...she's not sure that's good enough : )

By the way, Nanny-o's luggage was never really "lost." It just had it's own itinerary and left Cleveland much later with a stop off in Rome. I think it had a pleasant journey and got here before Christmas.

We'll see you soon!

Whispering in Santa's ear

2009-01-12T22:54:00.000-08:00

Last year, neither one of them would get very close to the jolly old elf, which was fine with me. This year at a Christmas gathering in a hangar, they told me they didn't want to chat with him. An hour or so later, they changed their minds.

After their visit H said, "Mama, Santa is really nice. And he was warm." (Because we had waited so long, we were almost the last ones to visit him and the poor bloke was probably burning up!)

Puzzled, Santa tried to whisper in my ear..."I think one wants a baby who takes a binky and the other wants a baby who doesn't take a binky." Yep, that's right. Neither one of them played with either one of them very long. Oh well.

Visions of Sugarpug Fairies danced in our heads....

2009-01-11T22:49:00.000-08:00

and in our kitchen.....

Can you say Cabin Fever?

It's a good thing we've got the fever as our heat keeps going out! Of course, this always occurs on the weekend. I call the landlord who comes right over to tell me there is nothing he can do and we have to wait to get in touch with "Technico."

The fairies are in constant touch with The Wizard...

2009-01-05T23:52:00.001-08:00

Happy New Year....

2009-01-03T22:54:00.000-08:00

At midnight, the church bells began ringing. It was beautiful, ethereal. A quick glance out the window revealed a delicate snow had started to fall, as if on cue.

The next moment, it sounded like someone was dropping bombs near our house! The fireworks were so loud, you could feel the house shudder a little with each explosion. (Remember, our house is concrete!) It was amazing and the most amazing part? The kids slept right through it all.

The next day, with all that freshly-fallen snow, we seized the opportunity to build a snowgirl- a wonderful way to start off the year. It was raining, so our window of opportunity was small. Fear not, as you can see, we got the job done- and we made a little snow dog too.

Everyone had a job- here were the "fresh snow" gatherers. They brought back beautiful snow to cover the grass-laden areas on the snowgirl.

My job was to roll the large snow balls for the typical triad shape. As you can see, all members of the group were busy. I never thought I would say this, yet I had to repeat it several times. "No girls, that's not pooh in the snow, those are olives!"

This is our snowgirl hugger. She was compelled to give random hugs to our nascent creation.

Nanny-o, resident artist, designed our snowgirl's look. She bestowed olives for eyes, a classic carrot nose, a twiggy smile and wonderful olive branch eyelids to her face.

More hugs were added.

Here I am adding the finishing touch. From the way Z was standing back with her eyes lit up, I now realize she thought our snowgirl was going to come to life after our New Year's hat was placed on her head! (We had recently watched Frosty.)

Ta da!

Here's one with the little dog, too.

The joke's on me...as usual

2008-11-29T06:03:00.000-08:00

I quickly pull into the parking lot at the post office. It's not really a parking lot, but rather a small patch of asphalt on the corner. Cars are parked any which way, and no one has any hope of getting out of the lot until so and so pulls out first. It's like a puzzle.

I dash for the door- at least what I think is the door. I am harried, as I only have a few minutes before they close for lunch. Glancing to my left, I see a handsome man sitting in a dark-colored SUV. He's so much more collected than I am- or ever will be. Obviously waiting for someone, he smiles in my direction. He has dark hair with silver highlights along his temples and blue eyes. He's the epitome of the "handsome Italian look." He's wearing a stylish black leather jacket, he has a million dollar smile and his mouth is framed by a thin, well-manicured moustache. I grin back at him and continue toward the door.

The next time I fly past him, I am hustling to the ATM, digging around in my overstuffed purse for my card. He motions me over, so I veer toward him with a puzzled expression on my face.

"Are you Mrs. Watkins?" he asks in English with a heavy Italian accent.
"Umm, no," I admit, wishing I were- wink wink.
"Oh, I am friends with Mr. Watkins and I know their car looks just like yours. I thought you might be her."
"Oh, I just stole that car," I laughingly reply. "Have a nice day." (I have no idea what possessed me to quip such a thing.)

I head over to the ATM, withdraw the Euro and hustle back inside. When I get back outside, he is still sitting in his car.

He smiles at me, showing me his badge in the window and says, "I'm a carabinieri, you should be more careful about who you tell your secrets to!"

I start laughing and get back into my car. Surely he knows I was joking.

I am able to get my car out of the lot, but in my haste, I went down the curb- clunk!

We want you.....

2008-11-23T11:57:00.000-08:00

to pay your bill.

One day last week, I casually picked up the phone and tried to make an outgoing phone call. I heard a message in Italian that something was wrong with the line and I could call the phone company to get more information. Of course, I ignored this message and figured it would go away eventually. Of course it did not.

The next day, I heard the same message, so I reluctantly called the phone company. Apparently, we owed 91E for our former line and 120E for the new line. We never received a bill. We had always used the automatic deduction method to pay and we have never gotten a receipt from those transactions, so I figured all was well in the world of Telecom Italia. I informed them I would pay it right away.

I jaunted off to the bank, and waited ever so patiently in the long line only to be informed that I couldn't pay the bill at the bank because I am not on the account- fair enough. Next, I hauled the kids to the post office, where many people pay all their bills here in pasta land. The office was mysteriously closed the three times I drove the kids there.

(It wasn't easy to figure out that the PO was closed. Everything else was open and it wasn't a known pasta-holiday. I honestly couldn't figure out how to get in the building- there were 2 doors. One door was slightly open, so in we went. It was dark and there was not a soul in sight- we quickly did an about face and left. I felt very daft- as I frequently do here in Italy. I mean, it's RIDICULOUS that I can't tell if they are open or not, and that I can't find the door. Really, I don't get it.)

I subsequently tried to log onto the web to pay my bill. I was perhaps 80% through the online registration, when I needed a number called the Fattura. Apparently this number can be found on the bill. I don't have a bill. I called the phone company to get this number- they pulled up my information. They informed me they can't give me the Fattura number without a bill- argh.

The next day, I went to another post office. I tried to pay with credit card. The teller explained they don't take credit cards. I started to pack up all my paper slips to head home. Then I got a lucky break. "Why don't you go to the ATM right outside the door- get some Euro and then pay with cash." Brilliant! That's exactly was I did and now the bill is paid. I also had an interesting interaction with an Italian gent in the parking lot. That's another story.

With renewed hope, I called the phone company and forced them to work with me to figure out what number they needed from the receipt to take the block off the phone. I couldn't really gauge how well the man understood my broken italian. I figured either the block will be off or they will shut off the line- because at the same time, I was explaining that we don't need to keep the former phone acocunt open.

The next day the block was off the phone. The phone line is working- success! The only drawback is that I couldn't get the person on the phone to accept our new address. He just couldn't wrap his mind around an address that didn't start with "via de something." Oh well, at least we are in the clear until next month.

Three years young....

2008-11-16T07:01:00.000-08:00

our little Z is three!

Despite the miles between our nuclear family and our extended family-we were together in spirit to celebrate the little one's birthday.

Here's what the basement looked like- it was festive! We are lucky to have additional living space downstairs in our new home. We take full advantage of it. There's a section dedicated to toys/playing, a living room with a fireplace, a bathroom, a spare room and a cantina for storage.

Thank you to Mimi and Papa for the party decor- it was Diego all the way. (Z has a thing for him- we are in trouble : )Thank you also for all of the cool art supplies, clothes/socks, etc.

My Man made pizza for everyone, which was followed by the traditional cake and ice cream. For the "family" celebration, I created a mountain of cupcakes with Diego scaling the side. It was interesting.(Read- giant gooey mess.) So, lesson learned, I stuck to the basics for the party.

Here's the dress that made her spin all night- thanks Uncle Crunchy and Auntie Na.

Singing in the rain- thanks Grammy and Grampy for all the goodies.

Fun activity time- thanks Auntie RoRo we have gotten lots of miles out of the re-useable sticker sets.

Gowns and pj's and more- oh my- thanks Nanny-o.

A pretty princess costume from Aunt Buffy, Uncle Lou & Quin- and a hilarious book with stuffed toy called SkippyJonJones.

What a day.

We are grateful to have our family's support across the miles!

True to our tradition, we documented even more of this momentous occasion- look for a snapfish invite in your inbox soon.

Cultural differences....

2008-11-10T14:22:00.000-08:00

It's one thing to notice cultural difference, but it's another to have them slap (or scratch) your kids in the face.....

Here they are, full of hope and excitement, and a fair measure of fear, on the first day of school. We never intended our kids to go full time. We wanted them to be exposed to the language, to other kids and to a different culture. I drop them off at 9:00 and pick them up right after lunch at 1:00 pm.

Here's what I think they do most of the day. Play in the dirt. It's not a covered sandbox- which really gives me the creeps from a public health perspective, but I was willing to overlook it as the girls love filling their pockets with dirt.

Here's the issue. The teachers don't watch the kids while they are on the playground. I have a hard time with that as Z is only 3. That's very young to be unattended in any situation, let alone with a mixed-age group. I saw a little boy grab her arms and stop her from moving. Poor thing, she just started crying. When I got to the entrance of the playground, I could see all the teachers leaning up against the wall, talking. It didn't sit well with me, mostly because of Z's age. She's also been pushed down while waiting in line- she told me all about it.

The real issue is a little Americana who scratches to draw blood, pinches to bruise and terrorizes the other kids when they won't listen to her demands. She does most of her work in the classroom- when the teacher turns her back. This little girl also scarred children last year in the same classroom and nothing was effectively done.

We met with the teachers and the other parents. The school completely absolved the parents of any responsibility! Right there in front of me. They think it's normal behavior and that putting her in a time out will do the trick. They don't want us to make a big deal about it, so the kids don't get the idea that it's a big deal. For me, that's a huge difference culturally. I suspect it would be very different in the American school system. In fact, this little gal has been kicked out of one American program and is back to the Italian system and taking full advantage of their style. The administrators suggested we get together with the parents on a social basis and let the kids play. (Because they are just not getting enough of her negative behavior at school!)

I get their point- maybe this girl can see some good behavior and maybe the parents can witness her wrath. It takes a village, right? I suppose if her parents were our neighbors, or we went to school with her parents, or have known them for years...maybe that would seem like a good option. I have personaly seen her be very nasty to the other kids. She tried to choke a little girl with a play blanket- sure, come on over for dinner! Yikes.

From what I can tell, H expends a lot of energy "protecting" Z. The teachers think it's because H is older, that it's normal- I am sure that is partially true. I also wonder if H senses Z isn't safe and wants to help her avoid injury? In any case, that's a lot of responsibility for a little kid. Too much, so Z is out.

Next, is H really getting anything valuable from the experience? Yes, she's being exposed to the language and to other kids...yes, there's the social aspect. Then there's the chance to play in the dirt.......for now, she's home with me.

Never too early.....

2008-11-07T07:31:00.001-08:00

to participate in the Democratic process.
We'll do anything for chocolate cupcakes! Never mind that they both started singing a rousing chorus of Happy Birthday!

Happy Birthday Nanny-o.....

2008-10-30T03:00:00.000-07:00

and Happy Halloween!

Here's a big thank you Nanny-o for all you did to make this Halloween special for the girls- and My Man. The costumes were FABOO-lous! When we opened the box with her hand-made Sour Grapes dress, H could not stay on the ground. She was jumping up and down with excitement!
I am not sure Z understood the entire ordeal, but she does now- when candy talks...

Getting them ready for trunk or treat reminded me of the Halloween preparations we had when I was a kid. There was always an element of experimentation with some portion of the costumes.
This year, since we didn't have any spray-on colorants for making H's hair purple, I dyed it with food coloring in the bathtub. All seemed logical- blue and red make purple....I figured my biggest challenge was deciding whether to make the concoction for frosting or for egg decorating- the choices given on the back of the box.
Turns out there was a bigger challenge- the red dye seemed to "stick" to her hair more than the blue- so it looked more pink than purple! I added a little more blue and then went with it. She loves that it's still pink...perhaps a genetic trait?

The Stevie Nicks/Strawberry Shortcake look.

Let us remember, Sour Grapes is the villain.....

We took The Fonz along to trunk or treat and he vacuumed up the walkway all night long.

Thank you Nanny-o, for everything!

Home is where.....

2008-10-29T14:14:00.000-07:00

....the Air Force sends you. Here is our new house. We live in half of a duplex- the part on the far right in this picture. It's really a huge house split in half. The neighbor with whom we share a wall is a teacher and has lived here for 12 years.

We are very happy here and I haven't once missed Campagna. I can't believe we ever fit into our former place.

Although we changed from country mice to city mice, it's so much quieter- go figure. Personally, I find "the country" to be really noisy! Our street is not busy, we have a fenced in yard, there are sidewalks, and we are 2 minutes' walk from a gelateria- what more could we ask for?
The angle of the driveway is a real clutch killer, but we have gotten used to it. Every time we pull through the remote controlled gate and go down the driveway, the kids hold up their hands and scream like they are on a roller coaster. Hilarious.

Here we are having dinner on the front porch- awesome!

Later that day....

2008-09-26T06:20:00.000-07:00

I still harbored the hope of being "productive."

I digress, for a moment, to consider that desire. I really enjoy accomplishing things. I recognize the list of things "to do" is ever-changing and ever-growing, but I still like to get things done. I have been known to add an already-accomplished task to the list, only so I can check it off. I mean, it "counts." There have been times when I have been a slave to the list. Children and living in Italy have taught me a powerful, shocking and slightly painful lesson. NOTHING bad happens if I just ignore the list!

There are some days, I wake up to face a long list of things to do. As I sip my coffee, my mind starts to clear and, slowly, a realization dawns on me. I really don't want to do any of my list tasks. Next comes both a feeling of relief and despair, as I realize I don't actually HAVE to do anything today! It's freeing and scarey at the same time. Such is the life of the casalinga!

Having already told you the beginning of my day, I will continue. We went to the grocery store to pick up some sandwiches for lunch. As we munched happily, I was still being nagged by the feeling of wanting to accomplish something. I decided we would make our way to Pordenone to apply for our Codice fiscale. After lunch, we set off, following the directions into the city. The directions were very specific, yet somehow I managed to park in the wrong lot- that's just how savvy I am with directions.

We made our way to the correct building (the second revolving door)and found the waiting area. We took a number and took several seats. I got out suckers for the girls and we commenced the waiting process. We waited and waited and waited. Then, a woman dressed in black with her midriff showing and wearing plastic white glasses made an announcement. Even though my Italian has come a long way, I wasn't sure I understood what she was saying, because it sounded like the computers were down indefinitely. I leaned over and tapped the woman sitting next to H and asked her for clarification- yes, I had it right. There was going to be no "business" transactions for the day, they could only provide information.......

Lucky for us, we hadn't waited too long....maybe 20 minutes, plus the time it took us to get here. In my mind, I was evening out the long wait at the housing office with this one...trying to make it seem like the other one was shorter, because if I divided the waiting time by 2.....but my fuzzy math didn't account for the fact that I still hadn't accomplished a thing yet....well, we had lunch at least...that counts.

Dazed, we headed out into the light of the day. There's one more thing that's been on my list for a long time....maybe we should head to the bank in Maniago to check on H's school lunch account from last year. Yes, surely I could make some progress there! You see, we started an account with a bank in Maniago to pay for H's lunches when she went to the asilo in Campagna. I have never received a statement or a single shred of paper with regards to this account. The school year is long-over and I still have yet to get an update. I have no idea if there is any money left on this account- or maybe we owe for her lunches. It's a mystery. I had visited the bank several times- three to be exact. Each time, the teller would pull out a large book of dot matrix printed-lists. He would look down the columns of lightly printed (practically illegible) names and eventually look up at me and inform me that they don't have any information and if I haven't heard from the bank, all is well.

At this point, all isn't well, and I know they would never let me know if we had a refund coming, so, I needed to try again. Yes, that's what we would do! Pile back into the car kids! Off we went.

This is really funny....no, really, it's funny...

2008-09-17T11:15:00.000-07:00

The first installment in a day in the life of an Americana living in Italy...

This particular day is a bit blurry in my mind. I don't remember exactly the order in which the events occurred. I don't think it matters much. Every once in a while, I get all "American" and I try to be efficient. This never goes well. I try to "run errands." This is definitely not part of the Italian lifestyle. It's not that I don't know this, it's just that I forget.

Let's just start, shall we? There are several passes, forms, and visas involved in living in Italy. I have been negligent about pursuing said documents. Part of me wonders what would really happen if I just didn't get the forms done? But, having unfinished business as we approach our 2-year mark, makes me uneasy, so, we went to the Housing Office, where we waited 45 minutes to see a "counselor." The children were in good spirits at this point- it was early, and there's a play area which kept them busy while we waited.
We finally made our way back to our assigned office, and I gave the woman my documents for the "codice fiscale." She was an older lady, who spoke English with a British accent. This just cracks me up every time. She looked over my applications, the copies of passports, id cards, the copies of orders, all the paperwork I had so carefully assembled. She pointed out a blank I failed to sign, then she said, "Well, since you have to go downtown Pordenone for the children's documents, you might as well put in your application at the same time."

"Excuse me, I was told to apply for them here," I replied with more than a bit of exasperation.

"Oh no, you have to go downtown," she smiled.

I thought to myself, this surely MUST be a new policy put into effect yesterday. Yes, that must be the case. Of course, that was the case. I am surely not getting the run-around, surely.

Having waited all this time for my 2-minute positively worthless appointment, really, I decided to extend the appointment by asking about our "paint fee." You see, the Italian landlords charge a paint fee every time someone (American) moves into their rental properties. Are the places freshly painted? Of course they are....but they usually charge one month's rent for this whitewashing. (And one month's rent is usually double what an Italian would pay to rent the same property- cha ching.) The government (your government) picks up the tab. In this case, since we moved ourselves, we are responsible for the fee. Our current landlord is charging 2 month's rent. That is somewhere in the neighborhood of $3,000. Now, all joking aside, we don't live in a castle.....and to make it more interesting, he has a painter's receipt, which is required for him to charge this amount. Oddly, the receipt is for EXACTLY 2 months rent, not a Euro more, not a Euro less. Interesting.

I ask my counselor about this.....and if we really have to pay it. She asked if I had the receipt and when I said no, she looked like she was going to tell me that we have to come back with the receipt for her to consider this matter. I interrupted her, as politely as you can interrupt someone, and told her, in the sweetest tone I could muster, that had I brought the receipt, I am certain she would review it and tell me it's valid and that we have to pay it. (Which is what they told My Man a few weeks earlier. He was also informed that paint is very expensive here.) She offered to call my landlord to ask about it. I agreed. She phoned him, and I could understand her telling him that she knows it's a valid receipt, but that we have to pay for it out of pocket. She then asked me if I would like a discount....ah, yes, this is how it works, the old "discount." I agreed. He would kindly discount this valid receipt by 500 Euro. Wasn't that nice? Very nice. It makes me want to paint the walls black before we leave.

We moved.....

2008-09-15T12:58:00.000-07:00

but not to this castle.

Don't we wish this were our new place! It really didn't suit little Z- the princess was not happy whilst touring the King's bedchamber. So unhappy was she at the moment, that she was on the verge of pitching a holy fit- I am sure it would have been king-sized. I knelt down next to her, and through my clenched teeth informed her that it was simply inappropriate to have a fit in the castle. I let her know that all the people with us on the tour had paid money to hear about the castle and not to hear her antics. She stomped, she fumed, but she stopped. Sigh- thank goodness.

I think that's a real turning point in a parent's life, when you can talk them back from the edge. It's great.

We moved, our computer crashed. (Now realize, what I mean when I say crashed- I mean there are items that were saved on the desktop that are no longer retrievable, and the computer wouldn't so much as start up.) That, my friends, is a crash. But, being married to MacGyver has it's advantages....and lucky for us, we have our secret weapon- our computer-phone-a-friend Steve (aka "Papa") on board. Obviously, we're up and running, but can they get those pictures back? Stay tuned. And, for those of you wondering- of COURSE I don't have a back up or a back up of the back up or a back of that back up. I am not who I used to be.

Despite all this, we went to Edelweis for a long weekend. It was AWESOME. It's a beautiful place and very kid-friendly. Did I tell you about the ill-fated trip to Verona? This was my little Z's chance to redeem herself. She came through with flying colors. We enjoyed eating "American" style food- peppercorn encrusted salmon, My Man had a steak, salads with pear and blue cheese. For me to talk about food says something.

Coucou French Maman- chaque fois que je t'ecrive, je recois une note que le e-mail ne va pas. J'ai ecrive aujuourd'hui....

Year-end festa...

2008-07-20T22:40:00.001-07:00

Despite the rain, we decided to go to our eldest daughter's year-end festa at a park in a nearby village.
It was interesting to see H re-united with her Italian peers- her personality was that of a meek child rather than the outgoing spunky child we know. Just look at that kid! Hmmmm....

The children had a great time playing on this archaic merry-go-round. I can't remember the last time I saw a merry-go-round in the states. Surely some parks still have them. Or, perhaps, they are too much fodder for our litigious society.

Later, the Italian children were playing group games. Neither of the "Americane" was interested, so they made their way back to the merry-go-contraption and had a blast.

It's like a dizzy-fun-machine. It had chain safety belts, so it must be safe.

There was a nice lunch served....you guessed it, pasta was on the menu-pomodoro or ragu sauce. It was cooked in a giant vat- and it was perfect.

During this casual dining experience we were informed "all Americans overcook their pasta." We also learned that eating pasta "al dente" is better for your digestion than overcooked pasta. Plenty of red wine was flowing, and I had a lovely conversation with the elderly gent to my left. It seems the Italians have the same gripes about the "yutes" as the Americans....I was treated to the classic monologue about how kids have no work ethic, expect everything for nothing and no respect, blah blah blah. The only new twist was the fact that it was in Italian.

There was a little bit of time for more play.

As a final thought, we had some time to discuss why the teachers have such little support.....

A matter of time...

2008-07-15T11:36:00.000-07:00

I suppose once you have seen a stranger in their underwear, under normal living conditions, it is just a matter of time before you see them naked. Yep, the girls and I saw PierreAngelo in the buff today.

It was 2:00 p.m. when we decided to go across the street to enjoy some time outside in my landlord's yard. We were making our way down the path, when I caught a glimpse of him in some kind of shower at the end of the driveway. We were not being quiet- and I began to talk even louder. I figured if we kept walking, he would have more than enough time- it's a long driveway, to close the door, or whatever. Next thing I know , I hear H say, "Hey Z, look at that." Great, she's pointing him out and he's still naked in the shower.

We just kept walking. Soon, he had on a towel and caught up with us to chat. Strangely, I didn't even feel uncomfortable. Really. He had been sunbathing (naked?). He asked me if I like to sunbathe- not sure where he was going with that, but I told him I do not. I told him I get sunburned. He mumbled that there are creams for that. Uh, huh. Well, moving right along.

Later, I noticed PA was doing some light gardening- while wearing his Speedo.
I felt like I was trying to take a picture of "Bigfoot." If you zoom in, and squint your eyes just so, you can see him in the garden. It was a flesh-colored leopard-print speedo.

Meanwhile, H took control of blowing the bubbles.

Fonzie tried to eat most of the bubbles,

but he had some competition...
I could not stop taking pictures...I was trying to capture the pure, unadulterated joy of this child, chasing bubbles, on a hot summer day.

She was fully in the moment, and it was filled with bubbles.
It was the spirit of summer...and I wanted a picture to remember that moment.

Immature response....

2008-06-20T22:24:00.000-07:00

Disclaimer- The following description only pertains to our region of Northern Italy...or, it may only pertain to our town...or, it may only pertain to our village...or it may only pertain to our street. We can't really say. Also, this post contains a frightening photo with a full frontal uvula view that may not be suitable for all readers.

We have been here over a year. Why, oh why can't these people stop staring??? We have decided it must be a cultural difference. We have decided this a number of times, but boy does it feel awful to be on the receiving end of the stare. My gut instinct is to do the following to those who stare:

Furthermore- waving is not a casual gesture here in lovely Campagna di Boonies. I think our fellow villagers would rather kiss us than wave to us.

Several Saturdays ago, a fellow mom (Italian) from scuola drove by our place so we could follow her to an event. Her car was approximately ten feet in front of ours as we drove down our road. Off to the side of the road, gathered a group of three women. They appeared to be chatting- mabye about all the rain that's been falling lately. I have met all the women, on more than one occasion. My friend waved as she passed the group. They all heartily waved back- with smiles on their faces. We waved, out of instinct more than anything else, and their hands dropped out of the air faster than dead flies. (I could not think of an analogy, it's late.) Furthermore, their facial expressions changed to that of disgust mixed with uncertainty- I assume about our identity.

We LAUGHED OUT LOUD! We should have made faces...what if we did? I am sure they think we are crazy anyway : )

Convenience is a luxury....

2008-06-06T14:44:00.000-07:00

Just look at these happy folk. Their body language says it all. Here's proof positive, that the Italians THEMSELVES suffer with all these stores keeping all these crazy hours.
It's not just us. When we first became residents of this beautiful country, we thought we were the only ones who arrived at a store only to discover (at 2:30 pm) that the store would re-open at 3 pm. Or we might arrive to find the day of our visit was the seemingly-random day during the week that the shop was closed.

Recently, after running a couple errands, we stopped by the local grocer to purchase some forgotten ingredient we needed for dinner. The sole reason we are not over there with them, exasperated like they are, is that WE EXPECT it everyday. Our expectations of finding anything we need or want at any time are soooo low, that we cannot be disappointed. It really is quite a wonderful mental ploy. When we head out, we say aloud, well, first we are going to try and find our destination. If we find it, that will be awesome. Then we'll check the hours and well, we'll see what happens. It really does work- it has saved our sanity. It's always an awesome surprise when we find the store and it's open AND they have what we need. It's practically cause for champagne -it's definitely cause for Muscato or Prosecco.

On the other hand, if you are in the market for fresh seafood, there is a very convenient purveyor of fish in the neighborhood. The driver makes an unintelligible announcement over a loud speaker and pulls over- right outside our window. Right outside. What more could we ask for? This is the epitome of convenience. Go figure. I ran up the stairs to hang out the window and take this first photo to demonstrate the total convenience of this market on wheels.
The vendor, as seen through the living room window.
Here's a close up of the fishy goods.

There's also a dry cleaner van that rolls through town on Mondays. What a luxury : )

Senorina Butterfly......NOT

2008-05-26T20:50:00.000-07:00

About an hour's drive from our place, there's a butterfly hatching house. The brochure advised wearing bright colors to attract the butterflies. I should have put the girls in black. H wanted one of the butterflies to land on her, so as soon as we walked in, one landed on Z's head, of course. Z was far from amused and began swatting, ducking and the ever-popular evasive tactic- crying. Luckily for the beautiful winged insect, her hand-eye coordination isn't very good. She wanted to leave immediately, so I had to coax her and carry her while I sped through the exhibit. I missed all of the educational signage, but I did get her to stop and look at the Chameleon, and the bat hanging from the ceiling.

There were hundreds of butterflies- I was a little creeped out too, I have to admit. I don't have any pictures of the butterflies themselves- as there were signs posted everywhere warning not to photograph them. The Italians were taking pics centimeters from the bugs....but, I didn't feel comfortable doing so.

Unfortunately, this is where My Man spent some of his time. Yep, even with the admission charged, they didn't spring for a decent, indoor bathroom. My Man seems to think that his system can handle a pizza with piles and piles of prosciutto and heavy cream.

The children really wanted to play in this dilapidated park out front. To the unknowing camera, it looks like H is having fun with this little boy. Mama Mia, was he a brat. He was cute, and he was a blatantly obvious bratty little boy. His parents were close at hand, smiling proudly at his selfish antics, to include pushing his way up the stairs to the slide, climbing up the slide when the kids wanted to go down, taunting and teasing verbally- "I win, I am first," etc. I could go on and on about Italian children and their behavior, but I won't, for now. His father hails from Sicily- I have come to realize that no matter how much my Italian improves, I will never be able to understand Sicilians!

La moda gone awry.

2008-05-23T14:27:00.000-07:00

During our first months here, I wish I had written down ALL the things about Italy I found to be strange, amusing, etc. I distinctly remember one sight in particular that left me flabbergasted. I remember seeing women working in their yards, gardening, wearing dresses or skirts. They would be raking, or tilling soil- not just walking around surveying the scene. This was manual labor they were doing- in a skirt. I could not believe it. I was shocked. It seemed so impractical. Why people, why?

We have been living here a little over one year. Last week, I paused in the middle of a field. I took a deep breath and let out a hearty chuckle. There I was, my friends, walking through a field that was completely filled with weeds. The weeds were as high as my hips- and what was I wearing? An ankle length linen skirt. Amazing. Simply amazing.

As you can see, the girls have caught some fashion vibe and are riding it back to the 80's.

Oh, and if U.S. fashion follows Italian fashion, y'all will be wearing skinny jeans, and have ASYMMETRICAL haircuts- light a candle and pray it isn't so. Oh, and you'll be gardening in skirts....yeah, right!

2008-05-11T02:23:00.000-07:00

ImageChef.com Flower Text

Two days ago, we were outside playing around and Bruna was out stomping on the plants along the wall. I guess they are getting too close to the other plants and are threatening the entire balance of the garden. H and Z were confused about what she was doing and walked over to have a look. She invited us to join her in their backyard. The girls had a great time playing in their sweet, well-manicured yard while Bruna and I had a chat. She talks to me like I am an old friend. She laughs until tears stream down her face when I don't understand what she's saying or when I say something silly.

I was wearing a short-sleeved shirt, as were the girls. She asked me over and over again if I was cold. Then she asked me over and over if the girls were cold. She kept pointing out that we were wearing short sleeves. I then started asking her is she was too warm- she had on a long-sleeved turtleneck sweater. She thought that was hilarious.

This morning, on Mother's Day, I ran into Bruna. She took one look at the scarf I had around my neck- to ward off the spring chill- and exclaimed- "SEE, that's because you were wearing short sleeves the other day! You can't do that when it's the weather is warm and then cold and then warm again!" Spoken like a true mother : )

Old faces and new seasons...finally!

2008-05-06T14:16:00.000-07:00

Hey Mom, why is Bruna's face all crumpled?
"Well, let's see. She has been around for a long time and her skin is relaxed, most people refer to it as "wrinkles."
This is her garden area in the shared courtyard. She waters the plants daily and moves them around quite a bit. Judging from the last 2 days of sun, seems spring is finally here. It's nice to see our crumpled friend is busy again.

All pictures were generously shared by my mother-in-law. In retrospect, I am always happy that I have acquiesced to the sometimes painful acts of photography. Thank you for being such a persistent shutter-bug : )

Let's do Brunch.....

2008-05-01T22:16:00.000-07:00

This may be be a "little known" fact about me, but I would rather give a speech to an audience of 1,000 than have guests over for dinner. This statement holds true even if the topic of the speech is not a familiar topic. I swear. I think it's the pressure of having the table and linens and glasses all "matchy matchy." (I haven't even mentioned the issue of preparing an edible meal.)

Dinner soiree's are not my forte, I get all twitchy at the mere thought. That being said, for some crazy reason, I decided maybe entertaining for brunch wouldn't be too bad. It seems like so much less pressure. I mean, I have flipped many a pancake in my day and egg bake is prepared the night before, so how hard could it be?

I got a wild notion to invite our Italian neighbors over for brunch. The idea was rolling around in my head- then when I saw Luciano the next day, the words simply came out of my mouth and it was a done deal.

A friend of mine (it's nice I can say that about someone here in Italy), we'll call her Christy, was kind enough to go to the housewares store and help me pick out some dishes and a co-ordinating table cloth, etc. This friend has two adorable twins (18 months) and a singleton who is H's age. Her twins did AWESOME at the store, while my little Z-bomb WOULD NOT stop asking for water. You would have thought she hadn't had a sip of the stuff in months. (OF course, when given said liquid, she drank just a swallow- maybe that's all she REALLY REALLY DESPERATELY needed.)

So, with My Man's help (actually he did everything), the egg bakes were prepared the night before. We used our recipe (available by request- it hails back to artist Elaine Cohen) and a new recipe provided my Mimi, my MIL. The next day, I made doubled the pancake recipe and we were ready.

I kept waiting for the panic to set in the night before- no panic. I was then waiting for the panic to set in the day of the event- no panic ensued! No jitters, no heart palpitations, no sweaty pits- nothing : )

Without further ado- here are most of the characters in our capers:
Luciano with his daughter (not sure of her name) and his niece- Martina.
Here is Bruna (91 years old) and Sylivia. Sylvia is new on the scene. She lives next door with Loretta and Radame (Kiko the dog's parents). She LIVES there. We have been here approximately 15 months and we had never seen her before. Her English is really good. We can't get over the fact that we had never seen her before. She claims she works long hours and then runs off with her friends on weekends. We are stunned. Did I mention her English is quite good?
Y'all know the little cutie on the left. Next to her is Adelia (such a beautiful name!), and next to her is Loretta. Loretta and Radame live with 2 of Loretta's elderly aunts.
Here's is Loretta, Vanda and Bruna. Vanda is married to Luciano. She is wonderfully kind and speaks quite loudly.

Sadly, I don't have a pic of My Man, my friend Christy, or the Z-bomb, who were all in attendance.

I was told the conversation dropped off a bit when I left the room (not because of my stellar personality, mind you, but rather from the increased language barrier). But, for the most part, the conversation flowed and I think everyone had a nice time. My Italian has improved- at least enough to muddle through brunch : )

I had SUCH a headache when they left!

Of puppies and principessas

2008-04-21T14:06:00.000-07:00

We decided to attend H's school celebration of Carnevale- yes I know it was in February. Our landlady, Signora Anna, repeatedly told me to let the kids wear their Halloween costumes. We went to the party a couple minutes late as we have learned is the expected protocol. When we walked into the large open room, I immediately noticed a difference between the little Americanas and the other girls.....ALL the Italian girls were dressed like princesses. Most of the Italian boys were dressed like super heros.....I think there was one clown. Our girls were dressed like....yep, dogs.
Who let the dogs out?

There's the one clown.
The main activity for the duration of the party was throwing confetti. After all the confetti was thrown, the kids scooped it all up and threw it over and over and over again. I am still finding bits of confetti around the house.

That's the infamous Luigi. For a brief time, he was trying to hold H's hand and kiss her cheek at school. She did not like it one bit. Don't worry, we have it all straightened out and now he adores her from afar.
Near the end, a couple of teachers joined the party and directed a few games. It was hilarious to watch H and Z. At one point, all the kids dropped to the ground and started making animal noises and the two little foreign kids were just standing there, witnessing the mayhem. I couldn't stop laughing. Z ran over to ask me what they were doing- I didn't have a very good answer.

Allies.......

2008-04-09T18:51:00.000-07:00

Ally: Dictionary.com Unabridged (v 1.1) -
al·ly /v. əˈlaɪ; n. ˈælaɪ, əˈlaɪ/ Pronunciation Key -verb, -lied, -ly·ing, noun, plural -lies.
–verb (used with object)

1. to unite formally, as by treaty, league, marriage, or the like (usually fol. by with or to): Russia allied itself to France.
2. to associate or connect by some mutual relationship, as resemblance or friendship.
–verb (used without object)
3. to enter into an alliance; join; unite.
–noun
4. a person, group, or nation that is associated with another or others for some common cause or purpose: Canada and the United States were allies in World War II.
5. a person who associates or cooperates with another; supporter.

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[Origin: 1250–1300; ME alien < AF al(l)ier, aillaier, OF alier < L alligāre to bind to. See alloy]

Not surprisingly, I have been feeding a stray dog for months. This particular dog limps around the village- usually down the middle of the road. (Probably how he got the limp.) White and tan, he reminds me of some character from an Edgar Allen Poe story- driven and running madly through the streets. He is extremely skittish- he starts to run if I get closer than about 100 feet. When we see him I pull over, wherever I happen to be, and deliver food to him in a Tupperware dish. I rattle the dish- now he recognizes the sound and realizes I mean him no harm. He still doesn't let me get any closer, but he simply stands up to warn me and doesn't immediately hobble away.

So, I traipse through fields at all hours of the day. The Italians who see me stare at me. I can feel their eyes on me and when I turn to see them, they meet my gaze and continue to stare. One man looks at me from behind the curtains in his house. It's creepy. I have my reply prepared if someone approaches me to inquire about my activities. But this whole process has me feeling like a criminal- trespassing and all.

Now, everything is different because I have a friend.

I met Josie in a field near the garbage cans- sweet, eh? I inquired about a nasty-gram someone posted on the garbage bin. She explained what it meant, and then I guess felt obligated to tell me what she was doing in the field. Honestly, I never would have asked. I wonder if she felt guilty and strange too? Anyway, she told me she was feeding a dog and then did this little limping gesture. I smiled and said, "Anch'Io!" (Me too). I went to the car to show her the bag of food I carry around. We were both thrilled. I confessed that people stare and I feel weird. She gave a sort of snort and said, "We won't be afraid now, because we are two!" My heart was so happy- still is.

Spring....

2008-04-02T23:58:00.000-07:00

When I was driving to a nearby town yesterday, I saw two dogs playing along the side of the road. They were joyfully celebrating spring- jumping all around and sniffing everything. As I passed them, I realized they weren't dogs. They were two small, brown, hairy, little pigs! They romped in the grass a while longer and then got spooked when a moped whizzed along. They quickly darted back into their farm.

Spring has sprung here in Italy, although my laundry sustained some hail damage today!

We have been joyfully celebrating spring...minus the sniffing : )

2008-03-31T22:01:00.000-07:00

I have been thinking about a section in the book "Eat, Pray, Love," where the author writes about the invisible lattice work, formed by your family ties, that places you in the universe...clearly paraphrased early in the morning BC (before coffee).

(An aside for Ted....see how the underlined title of the book above is a different color? Click on it and it will take you to the link....voila : )

(As another aside, I almost didn't get past page 100. My sister and I have attempted to initiate a rule to combat our drive to finish even the most hideous of books.....to combat the old "finish what you started" adage. The first of three distinct sections is about the author's journey to Italy. Ironically, I didn't find it very interesting. Anyway, I finished this section- which put me close to the 100 page mark, and I remained uninterested. I almost quit. Then I reasoned that the other sections must be completely different- in India and Indonesia, so I persisted. I am glad I did.)

The following conversation was entirely in Italian....I probably don't need to keep reminding you about the language barrier, but lest you forget, I remind.

Last week when I picked up H, one of her teachers approached me and asked me my last name.

"Smith," I answered simply.

She smiled, and said, "No, YOU'RE last name."

I smiled and said, "Smith."

She pointed to H and said, "Like H?"

"Si," I reassured her.

Puzzled, she handed me a piece of paper, "Please write your last name here...in really big letters."

I took the paper and wrote S-M-I-T-H, in really big letters.

She smiled again, and motioned for another teacher to join in the fun. The second teacher joined us, and with an air of authority, in broken english, asked me, "What is your last name?"

I told her.

Then the first teacher started tapping me on the collar bone for emphasis as she asked, "What is YOUR last name."

Okay, well, clearly we were at an impasse. I asked HER..."you are Leaha what?" and she told me. I then said, I am C Smith, and I pointed to myself, tapping my own collarbone, which was getting a little sore by now. I flipped over the piece of paper and wrote....C Smith + My Man Smith (like a child's Valentine's Day card), then I drew a line to H Smith and Z Smith and then I added mio cane to the list, Fonzie Smith.

Ahhh, they said together- "you are all the same name."

Just then I remembered something I learned in Italian class. When the women marry, they do not take their husband's name- they keep their maiden name. The children have the husband's name. That's how they keep their place in the social lattice here in Italy.

Time to catch up on some pictures....

2008-03-20T23:25:00.000-07:00

Opening a box is a favorite activity at our house. For my girls, it's just like going to the park, or coloring, or any other activity. I am pretty sure they think there is an endless supply of magical boxes filled with treats in the utility room! Perhaps this will be the one thing they miss when we are back in Ohio...but something tells me they won't even notice!

This box was from Grammy and Grampy (thank you sooo much!). It contained a very interesting puzzle. It took us a while to piece it together.....what a thrill for them- they were tickled!

A dollar bill was tucked into each card. The first time they "had their own money." The girls posed a lot of questions about their new treasure. We had a conversation about spending money and saving money.

Next up- a box from Auntie RoRo.
More lovies!
Something for Fonzie- what a great Auntie! He has appropriately mauled the toy and lost it under a couch somewhere.

Thanks for thinking of us! We love and miss you all!

One more to round out the holiday season : )

2008-03-12T23:28:00.000-07:00

As we opened the box, I chuckled to myself at the thought that Uncle Crunchy and Aunt Na were still mailing out their Christmas boxes. Historically, they always have their holiday gifts done before the holiday, and their cards arrive early. Hmmm, perhaps they too are coming over to the "late" side of life. As some of you have noticed, I have a more "elastic" view of the holiday time frame. So, imagine my surprise when their box arrived and the gifts were wrapped in holiday paper! I mean, it is almost Easter after all!
The girls enjoyed opening all the gifts and the Nutcracker pop up book for H is beautiful and amazing. She and I both love it. The clothes fit well and are adorable, and the kids were so happy to have a little mini-Christmas celebration.

Several days later I was chatting with one of my friends. She was lamenting that her mother had sent a box months ago, and it had just arrived. Hmmmm, I wonder if my deduction was false? I went home and dug out the emtpy box, and sure enough, it was mailed December 12th!

Thanks for thinking of us! The girls had a blast : )

Let it snow, let it snow, let it snow....someplace else!

2008-03-06T23:33:00.000-08:00

I like snow as well as any other Ohioan-ette. I must admit, however, I don't miss driving in it, slipping in it, or seeing it turn black from all the road filth. I do miss the clean freshness of a new snowfall, but not the windy frigid cold that accompanies such a delight.
Here in Italy, our climate is very mild. I fear we are getting quite spoiled. Even more decadent, the snow is located just a short drive up a steep and twisty road in Piancavallo. Here, we can enjoy the snow until our noses are too cold to continue and then be done with it!

The kids LOVED every minute. H, the scientist, had lots of questions about snow, ice, etc. Things like, what would happen if I brought this home? Can I eat this?

Armed and ready for a snow fight. Here they discovered the joys of pummeling their Dad with snow, and the sorrows of being on the receiving end of an onslaught.

This is Z's "snowman stomping stance." It was my job to build the little fellows and her job to stomp them. Such a delicate child.

We didn't have the proper snow gear- Z was wearing her rain boots and H was sporting her cowboy boots. Neither My Man nor I were dressed for it, either. We both ended up with our pant legs full of snow- ah, the joys.

We took each of the little ones down the hill on our rented sled. The sled shack had a warning posted- there was no steering on the sled. Seems we could have figured that much out. Italians don't warn you about much, so it was intriguing.

We ended the day with a hot chocolate as per tradition- it was awesome.

Dr. Drill and Fill

2008-03-02T22:13:00.000-08:00

As you can see, it was time for H to head to the dentist. The other little fellow is one of her new friends, the son of one of my new friends. They have fun playing together. For me, it's interesting from the social science aspect- to see the differences in how little boys and girls play. I find it fascinating. But I digress.
I dutifully made the appointments weeks in advance. That's how it goes with the military, and it's no problem. While I was making appointments for the girls, I attempted to schedule myself for a check-up. I was told by the receptionist that the facility needed to see 800 more service members before they were going to see any family members. Hmmmm, very interesting bit of information....not sure what to do with it.
I was also told that I could go to a dentist downtown. OH MY GOSH- can you just imagine the calamity? No thanks, I'll take my chances with tartar.

H did great and the dentist was wonderful. Pediatric dentists...thank goodness there are such wonderful souls who are willing to do THAT job. No problems, no cavities, no pictures of the Z-bomb. She was all eager to get in the chair when her sister was in the chair...but all she really wanted was the glasses. When it came time to sit and open wide- nothing doing. I sat in the chair with her on my lap and she did fine. I was secretly hoping that none of my dental phobia was seeping into her little body during that first experience. I know how those fears can travel from generation to generation, and I could practically hear my subconscious clicking away to pass it along to her. I fought hard, kept smiling and chatting like I was relaxed. Time will tell.

Our castle....

2008-02-28T14:11:00.000-08:00

I began my earnest search for a new house several weeks ago. One might think that I have plenty of time as we are required to give 6 months notice before we can break our contract. Surprisingly, there aren't many houses available that meet our criteria.

A Dutch woman had posted an ad for a house. We e-mailed back and forth once or twice regarding the property. That evening, the phone rang. It was her, and it felt a bit invasive. I hadn't given her my number during our exchange. I asked how she got my number and she replied, "I just looked it up." I suppose she meant the Italian phone book?

We made arrangements to look at one of her listings. I knew it was a "No" from the moment I set my foot in the place, but I politely walked through the dingy rooms. I followed her diligently up the hazardous staircase, and I peered into the dark unfinished (meaning dirt floor) basement. "No, I don't need to see more of the basement," I assured her. I couldn't resist making a crack about how nice it would be to have a place to bury the dead bodies. Not sure if she caught that one.

Then I dropped the bomb....I innocently inquired, "Do the windows have screens?"

"You AMERICANS are SOOOOO SPOILED with your screens on all your windows!" She had quite a bit to say about it. I was dumbfounded by my own audacity.

So, in case anyone is wondering why we are spoiled- it's not the home pizza delivery, it's not the fast food restaurants with drive-thru windows, it's not the 24-hour shopping experience, it's not the drive-in car washes, it's not the after hour care centers, it's not the quickie marts, it's not my beloved coffee shacks of the Pacific Northwest, it's not air conditioning, our reckless wasting of non-renewable resources........it's the screens on our windows, people, the screens on our windows.

If all else fails, we had lots of fun with the astro turf last year!

Here are our hopes for a new place 1.) yard- prefer fenced in- and most of them are, 2.) some form of shelter for My Man's motocicletta, 3.) high speed internet (very easy for most places, except a little pocket of about four towns), 4.) screens on the windows...living like kings!

2008-02-24T13:49:00.000-08:00

I swear, you can take pictures in Venice with your eyes closed and they still look great! A friend of mine and I took a quick day trip (mom get-away) to Venice. It was a calm relaxing day without much of a schedule- perfect.

As you can see, it wasn't very crowded. But don't worry, they were still feeding the pigeons.

Nothing like a day of trying to communicate with the natives to show you how little you know.

I am enrolled in an Italian II class. In theory, I am doing well. I get the verbs. I get that you can have a "masculine" table and "feminine" chair. I get all the conjugations, no problem. The biggest problem I have is knowing which syllable to stress. Seems Italians really can't recognize a word if the accent is misplaced- even a short word. Furthermore, they are so intent on guessing what you are trying to say in your "caveman" Italian, that they aren't listening to what you are saying.

My french mom reminded me recently about an incident during our travels. We had stopped at an outdoor cafe/restaurant to get a bite to eat for the girls. (Unlike Italy, you can eat whenever you want : ) Our long-term plans included dinner at my french sister's home, but there was no way the kids could make it until 7 or 8 for dinner. We perused the menu and found something that was suitable for them as a snack. Nanny-o decided she would order a beer, I think I was getting something to drink as well. Nanny-o ordered a "Kronenburg."

Soon, the food arrived. The plates were settled onto the table and a large plate of rich chicken was placed in front of Nanny-o. Initially, we thought perhaps it was one of the kids' meals. Nope, theirs came a moment later.

Along strolls my french mom - she sees the heavy meal and wonders out loud why we were having dinner when we had previously made dinner plans. She was the one who figured out the mishap!

Nanny-o had said "Kronenburg" and our waiter heard "Cordon Bleu."

2008-02-21T13:36:00.000-08:00

I realize (as you will soon) this picture has nothing to do with this post, but what's a post without a pic?

I went to H's scuola today to be the "native English speaker" who comes to read a book. While there, a little boy showed me his drawing. The white page had about seven Italian flags drawn all around it. I smiled and said something nice- in English, and then my attention was quickly drawn to the little girl playing over by the blackboard. Her pants were down to her knees and her bright green tights made her look like a renegade leprechaun. She could not have been more oblivious to the situation at hand- or at knees, if you will. I motioned to the teacher who went to help her out.

Within another few minutes, that same boy with the flag drawings came over to me again. (I swear they are attracted to me like I am some sort of circus freak- and of course, I mean that in the nicest of ways to anyone who actually is a circus freak.) Anyway, he showed me his picture again, and now there was an American flag drawn on the page too- and it was a good little drawing of Old Glory. He was so thrilled with himself, and I am sure he saw the delight, mixed with surprise, in my eyes too.

For some reason, I have been thinking about his picture all day. He was under six years old - probably between 4 and 5. I wonder how many kids in preschool or kindergarten in the U.S. can draw the Italian flag- or any other flag for that matter. Maybe the Canadian flag makes more of an impression on kids because of the leaf and all. How many could draw the American flag? We should have Nanny-o do an experiment with her class and ask them to make just such drawings. I know, I know, we're a superpower and all. It just got me thinking.

I am impressed that he made the connection between me and America, and that he could draw my flag. I have been trying to imagine what America looks like to that little boy all day.

You spin me right 'round baby right 'round.....

2008-02-18T23:56:00.000-08:00

My Man: "Won't it be great, when one day, something we have will break and we will be able to easily get what we need, and we can get it fixed!"
Me: (dreamily) "Yeah, that will be great...and it will only take a couple of days too!"
My Man: "Sometimes, we might be able to get something fixed in only one day!"
Both:(chuckling)"Yeah, that'll be great."

End of dream sequence, back to reality.

A small chunk of metal penetrated the tire on My Man's motocicletta some time last week. He has decided to get the tire patched during the on-line search for new tires. Thus began the our circular tale.

With my handy dictionary, we set off, full of hope.

Our first point of contact was our landlord Perry-Angelo. I went into his office while My Man and the kiddos waited in the car. (This leads me to another thought about why I won't be the one who tells him that we are moving, but that is another post.) He knows of an AGIP gas station- in fact, he did some architectural work for the owner. To prove this fact, he motions me over to the pictures he has thumb tacked on the wall. After gazing appreciatively at the photos, I have no idea what he actually designed for them.....but I ooh and ahh like I am looking at a new baby. He assures me he will phone ahead to tell them we are coming and what we will need.

Off we go- to the AGIP station. A gentleman (Jangle) is expecting us when we pull in, around one in the afternoon. He acknowledges that Perry-Angelo called and points to the lift. Puzzled, I get out of the car.
I use my "macaroni" Italian to tell him what we need. "Oh, for a motocicletta!" he exclaims. "Perry-Angelo said it was for a car!"

"No, motocicletta, we don't do those here...Perry-Angelo- he has a girlfriend, so he can't think straight. He told me it was for a car. Let me ask my boss."

We are soon joined by a second man. He has a tuft of dirty blond hair, is slightly heavy set, short, with a thick gold chain around his neck.

When the two were standing next to each other, their nicknames became obvious. This was clearly Jingle,
of Jingle and Jangle, of course. He relays driving directions to the tire place in town, complete with smiles and lots of hand/arm waving. He also explains we have to go after lunch ....around 2:00pm.

Our task completed, we head to a small restaurant across town for lunch. Upon our arrival, we notice Jingle and Jangle's truck in the parking lot. We see them walking down a dirt path NEXT to the restaurant. We shrug it off and enter the restaurant. After we're seated, we notice that our waitress is the same bird who works at a pizzeria in town. Jingle and Jangle never show up for lunch.

As we're about to get in the car, we notice some construction under way in the parking lot. A steamroller is slowly going over the lot. The steamroller is being drvien by....Jingle!

On our way across town we see another repair shop. Ever hopeful we might find a closer place to do the work, we stop in. The man behind the counter will only look at My Man and ignores me completely. I start to ask the same question about the tire and they explain where we can get the work done. They promptly decide that it would be better for everyone involved, if we would follow this other man, who was picking up supplies, to the tire place. He leads us to what we believe to be the same place that Jingle and Jangle had described, and zooms off.

There's a large, I don't know, 10-wheeled construction vehicle and two men are working on one of the tires- they're both staring down at the tire with intense concentration. Finally, one fellow glances up at us...it's Jangle! Now we've entered bizarro land. When their work on the tire is done, Jangle jumps into the construction truck and leaves.

We speak with the gentleman working the shop and arrrangements are made for the tire. It's pretty straighforward - he is closed tomorrow, but we can bring the tire by on Monday. That, my friends, is the end of the tale. We got the tire fixed without delay and My Man is back in action. that brings us full circle- cue music.

While we're on Christmas pictures.....

2008-02-12T07:26:00.000-08:00

The Christmas spirit was high in this crazy group of little kids. There was face painting and a balloonist to add some entertainment. You didn't have to be painted as an angel or baby Jesus or anything, in fact, most of the boys went with Zorro. Try as I might, I can't find the Christmas connection there. The girls opted to be kitties, for the most part.
Turn out wasn't that good, so we felt obligated to stay longer than we would have had there been a big crowd. Although, had there been a big crowd, we may have wanted to stay as well.
I wish I could have taken better photos of the gift baskets available. It reminded me of a bazaar at say, a nursing home. (I realize that's an age-ist comment, and I recognize there are many fine elderly artisans....I just wanted to conjure up images of toiletpaper roll cozies and items crafted with bright yarn on looms. I do not suffer from gerontophobia, but I just love the handy and uplifting poem used to describe it.) There were knitted egg cozies- I do regret not having purchased those. I don't think anyone purchased them, so there's still hope they may re-appear at the Easter bazaar. We purchased a tray of cookies and told them to "keep the change" as our donation. (We both agreed we would rather donate paper or crayons than have to buy things we don't need- we have since donated paper.)

The requisite 3-foot loaf of bread slathered with Nutella.

Note the little one's Nutella cat nose.
A hot chocolate to top off the day!

Twas the month after Christmas....make that two...

2008-02-10T20:01:00.000-08:00

Is it ever too late to post Christmas pics???? As many of you know by now, I certainly don't think it's too late to send out "holiday" cards. Next year, maybe I will just face reality and send out Valentine's day cards...St. Patrick's day??
Here are the girls making Reindeer dust- or some such item. It's oatmeal with glitter and it's supposed to guide the reindeer in for a safe landing....only we didn't put it on the roof. I wonder if we were supposed to? Maybe that's the problem with that rickety old satellite dish up there....it's full of reindeer pooh, I mean dust : )

La Befana

2008-01-21T14:54:00.000-08:00

Most mornings, I tiptoe downstairs to push the button on the coffee maker. (Every evening, I prepare the grounds and water, so that in the morning, "making coffee" is an easy task.) If My Man has already had his coffee, then I splash some into a mug and warm it just enough to take the chill off. Our crazy 240 watt microwave will make the mug so hot you can't touch it, yet the coffee remains tepid. It's magical.

Next, I walk over to the window, open it, and then open the large wooden shutters to see what kind of day we're going to have in this beautiful, though odorous land. Much to my surprise, one morning, I saw the neighbor's mother, Bruna sitting out on the porch. Usually she is busy tending her flowers and not just resting on the porch. She is 91 years old and looks like a well-loved stuffed animal to me. She laughs when I try to speak my "macaroni" Italian with her, but she is a good sport. She always shouts "Ciao" when she sees me. I thought maybe she shouted so loudly because she is hard of hearing, but her daughter shouts the same way.

Several hours later, when I glanced out the window once again, I saw she was still sitting on the porch.....in the same position. Oh, this isn't good, I thought. Surely someone must know she is out there. I am sure she's fine, I told myself...yet I felt a concerned.

Finally, when we loaded into the car to head out, I got a closer look. Nope, it wasn't our neighbor dead on the porch after all, but rather La Befana. She sat there for two or so days. Nope, they didn't burn her either, I imagine we'll see her again next year.

Not lovin' it.....

2008-01-21T14:47:00.000-08:00

The McD's is a decent meeting point when you are caravanning on a roadtrip. Who would have guessed our clan would have been the first to arrive at the meeting point?

We aren't frequent eaters of such delicacies at home, but, well, there's always the fun of having a beer with your meal....even if it is breakfast. Don't underestimate the thrill of seeing what different countries offer on their menu that we don't...but alas, here in Italy, they don't open until ten!!!!

It was a week day no less.

Hilariously Mc'Italian.

For Aunt Buffy/Uncle Lou- thank you

2008-01-21T14:35:00.000-08:00

Thanks for the outfit- I know it's been a while. H loves it and tries to wear it all the time. As soon as it's clean, she wants to wear it again. So, here she is modelling it, and the tickle-fest that followed the photo shoot.

Delusions of moving.....

2008-01-21T14:02:00.000-08:00

This post is for Aunt DeNise - I told you about my foray into interior decorating a long time ago. I wanted you to see my work : )
Slipcover- doesn't look too sloppy.

I never thought I would have so much red in my house. But, in Italy, the choices are limited. So, why not add a splash of color?

The curtains provide a wee bit of privacy. Our place is RIGHT on the street. Folks on the road can walk by and look into our house. I am used to that, but that doesn't mean we enjoy it. So, red curtains to go with the slipcover and the pouf. Yep, that's our armoire from our bedroom. It's hanging out in the living room because it wouldn't fit up the stairs.

The pouf is that ingenious square of red you can see in the picture below. It opens to a twin size bed- well, cot really. Never mind that it collapsed and dumped its occupant on the floor. It's still ingenious. I love it. Somehow it has gotten sequestered up here in our bedroom- along with what used to be our kitchen table. Ahh, the fun of cramming into this place. That takes me to our next topic. We are, once again, on the housing list and actively looking. We might even give PerryAngelo our 6 months notice by registered mail....no, really, we might. I can hear y'all chuckling. Maybe we'll mention that the walls are still moldy and he just might come and clean them or paint them, or whatever he said he was going to do, a good three weeks ago. (Stay tuned, for the next installment of..."As the Pasta Boils....Green Hairy Walls.")

The truth is, I love the red. I love having color in the room. We have since re-arranged the furniture, at least three times. We are still trying to fit in- this house, this country.

Welcome to the "used to- not used to game"

2008-01-17T12:40:00.000-08:00

Something I am getting used to-

Seeing older women in "housecoats"

So many of them, here in the boonies, wear these blue-patterned dresses that button down the front. Along with the uniform, comes the old-lady scornful looks when you drive by. (I will try and get a photo.)

Something I am not getting used to-

The horrible horrible smells here in the country. Yesterday it smelled like a mixture of body odor and manure. It was awful- sharp, powerful, disgusting. The pungent odor settles over you like a blanket of stink. It's never the same stench two days in a row. Once, My Man almost fell off his motocicletta because the stink slapped him in the face.

Mommy-o, what IS that smell????

This child has been hit by the wall of stink.

I swear it wasn't me.

Ritualistic Burning

2008-01-15T13:30:00.000-08:00

I guess I am still amazed by the whole ritual. And by amazed, it's just that it seems so medieval- and so unsafe. As my neighbor explained, "It's tradition."

I am certain that rituals from my beloved country supply many a foreigner with these exact feelings. Maybe the first time they see the Fourth of July jubilee? That probably isn't a good example, though. Maybe a good old-fashioned pie eating contest? I haven't seen one, but I imagine that might be weird for someone not of the American heritage. Heck, my french family was surprised when we ate corn on the cob like pigs, so perhaps a simple picnic would provide shock material, who knows?

I had heard there are many bonfires to mark the epiphany. Each street has their own, here in the boonies. But, the word "bonfire" doesn't seem appropriate. As per bonfire, I was thinking, you know, the kind you stand around and roast weenies and marshmallows. Not so much.

It takes the men (I saw no women out there at all) several days and lots of heavy equipment to build this structure. If you look closely, my neighbor is on top of the pile.

There were 5-7 bales of hay on the bottom. Each day a little more brush was added and arranged accordingly. Finally, a very large branch was placed sticking out from the center of the structure.

It was covered in plastic while it was raining.

I am not sure how the fire was started. Once it was burning, we went back near our garage to have a look. That was close enough for me, but my neighbor saw us and had his 11-year-old daughter come over to the fence. She said, "Come."

We made our way through the dark muddy field to the fire. As our eyes were adjusting to the bright light from a truck parked next to the bonfire, we were greeted by Vanda. (She lives behind us.) She had a tray of cake she was serving to the revelers- it was a citrus cake of sorts. Then they gave us some hot mulled wine- filled with mushy chunks of indiscernible fruit. There, we mingled a little while watching this.

I didn't feel the need to get very close to the fire. It's not like you had to stand very close to feel the warmth. It's not that I was worried about the entire structure collapsing, but it had crossed my mind.

The neighborhood children were running around with sparklers and setting off fireworks. Some of the children seemed very young to have free reign with fireworks. In typical Italian parenting style, no one was watching the kids' antics. Occasionally they would light a firecracker, then throw it. When it didn't explode as expected, they would all run to where it landed on the ground. Then, they would lean over with their faces very close to the unexploded device to have a look and debate about what happened. I am sure I am sounding like a true parent here when I say I was nervous for their well-being.

I was so grateful that they didn't burn an effigy for ephiphany, especially not La Befana. My Italian teacher forewarned me!

O Christmas Tree, O Christmas tree....

2008-01-04T22:56:00.000-08:00

how lovely are your.....teddy bears!

When I first set foot in this store- I thought everything looked so modern and, well, strange. They have lamps shaped like giant eggs and furniture that is turquoise and silver. This is a store where the only colors for Christmas are silver, gold, black and red. Seriously, that's it. When I first strolled around and around the circular floor plan, I remember thinking how dreadful I found the bright orange pouf with green accents.

When I first took the glass elevator up to the second floor to peruse the sleek lines of the barware, I thought, how cold it all seems.

Now I like it! They didn't disappoint me with their tree, either. Talk about a shift in mentation....what is going on????

Once Upon a Time.......

2008-01-02T07:50:00.000-08:00

an American family moved to the Italian countryside. (If you close your eyes, you can smell it.)

At first, it was very difficult for this family to transition into a new lifestyle. Everything was so challenging and strange. After a while, things got better- as they usually do. Then the family started to feel more at home in their new country. The Mommy started to speak Italian and the little girl started learning Italian in school. (The little girl would throw out italian phrases to startle her Mommy and Daddy-o....for example, when they would ask, "How was your day at scuola? She would reply "Bennissimo!" as she would run into the other room.)

Lots of friends and family came all the way to Italy to visit them. This made them very happy.

Despite their new comfort, their capers continued. Mommy-o had a hard time finding time to keep in touch through the blog. But, then came the new year. It was a "clean slate in '08." (No Mommy-o had never been a cheerleader, however, she was vexed by her advertising past.) As Mommy-o is starting a new year, she has hope that she can post more often.

There are many more exciting chapters ahead in their story. There's the tale about how the walls started growing hair, which made it look like something from Amityville horror. (Not that Mommy-o has ever seen it...she is not a brave soul.)

There's also the impending story about how the neighbors built a giant pile of hay and brush that they are going to burn to celebrate the epiphany. (Did I mention that Mommy-o is not a brave soul? ...she has visions of the entire neighborhood burning to the ground. Daddy-o assures her that this isn't possible because everything is concrete....Mommy-o thinks that Nanny-o is responsible for these obsessive thoughts!)
Happy New year : )

Season's Greetings....it's been a while

2007-12-17T07:00:00.000-08:00

Hello all- hope you are enjoying the holiday fun....this isn't exactly what we had in mind for our pictures with Santa, but, well, you take what you can get!

Thanks Aunt Na and Uncle Crunchy...

2007-11-08T00:17:00.000-08:00

All the while singing I am crunchy, I am crunchy, I am crunchy .....

Thanks for thinking of us this Halloween- what a fun box!

Rain Rain Go Away......

2007-11-08T00:13:00.000-08:00

Thanks Mimi and Papa for our new rain slickers! Just in time for the rainy season.

Chicken Mystery Wine

2007-11-03T08:41:00.000-07:00

In light of the strong demand (okay, 2 people, you know who you are : ) for this recipe, I thought I would post it here for all to enjoy. If any of you have seen me in the kitchen, you realize I view recipes as "guidelines." (Occasionally, this is apparent in the final product!)

The recipe can be traced back to Rachel Ray, or a recipe search engine somewhere on the net. Nanny-o was the first to prepare it here in Italy. (Conclusion of credits.)

The strangest part for me, is how difficult it is to find Marsala wine here....we have to buy it in a small shop in Pordenone, which is a half hour drive from home. I am looking for a closer source, but in the meantime, in a moment of desperation, yes, Miss K, I used this!

This veird mystery white wine that came from our landlord. In this veird reused plastic water bottle that isn't really sealed.....that has been in my fridge for months. I don't know what I was thinking. That's not really like me.

(Nobody suffered any ill side-effects....not like some people who ate rotten cheese and then went into labor- CONGRATS to Aunt Buffy and Uncle Lou on their new little boy!)

Here's the recipe-ish:

4 skin/boneless chicken bre*sts (1.5 lbs.)
flour
kosher salt (of course I use plain-non-kosher salt)
pepper
1/4 c extra virgin olive oil
4 oz prosciutto, thinly sliced- more like chopped as it's usually already very thinly sliced
8 oz cremini/porcini mushrooms stemmed/halved- (I use regular old grocery store shrooms)
1/2 c sweet Marsala wine
1/2 cup chicken stock
2T butter
1/4 chopped parsley ( I haven't used this ever)

Mix flour with salt and pepper- (I usually just s & p post flouring in the pan). Heat olive oil, dredge chicken, fry 5 minutes on each side turning once. Remove to plate. Decrease heat to medium and add prosciutto to pan drippings, saute for 1 minute. Add shrooms, saute until brown (5 mins). Season with s and p. Add Marsala, boil for a few seconds, add broth summer 1 minute, stir in butter- return chicken and simmer until done. Serve over noodles : )

And, since Miss K wanted this recipe, I will take a moment to share our visit....hopefully the photos won't offend those who are sensitive to their image being posted on the web. I will remove them at your request BUT you would have to figure out how to tell me to do so in the comments. My evil twin wants me to put up a less-than-flattering pic to force you.....bwah ha ha.

A quick trip to Barcis...H was in scuola. Clearly Z was happy about being the only child.

Another apple pie...note the cannolis as our back up plan. Always be prepared, right?
I have no idea where this is.....Uncle T, Miss K? My Man?

Venice, of course...

We would like you to come back soon.

Trunk or Treat!

2007-10-30T21:30:00.000-07:00

Happy Halloween! What a great idea....Trunk or Treat. In this event the piccolo (and not so piccolo) kids can still participate in the candy-filled fun of trick or treating.

There was a line of traffic to get on base- I had never seen that before. Our little puppy and ladybug were ready for action....although they weren't sure what action was in store.... they knew candy was involved.
Awww...
We arrived at 6 pm (when it was to start) and waited about an hour to get to the entrance. No one told the kids we were waiting and they fun running all over the place in their costumes- and checking out everyone else. I was glad they weren't "naken" underneath their costumes as they quickly overheated and ditched them. This isn't the best picture but you can see all the people waiting.

The weather, thankfully, was wonderful- no rain.

This is how it works. A section of street is closed off. People from different organizations volunteer to back in and decorate the trunks of their cars or the bed of their trucks, and hand out candy. (Hence the "Trunk or Treat.") People really went all out.... there were a lot of kids and adults in costume. There was also a haunted house- My Man volunteered an afternoon to help build it.

H picked up the routine immediately- of course, candy was involved. Z showed amazing bravery in the face of gorillas, witches, etc.

We finally made it to the beginning.

A plan was hatched to get lots of candy.

There were some amazing entries....half of this team dressed as a camel's a** for the entire night! That's dedication. Really, the creativity was awesome!

A taste of the (sugar) high life!

Happy Halloween and Happy Birthday Nanny-o!

I am not fruit illiterate....

2007-10-17T13:36:00.000-07:00

I fear I will be forever paying the price for not recognizing a fig. A couple of weeks ago, My Man was out walking the Fonz. Senora Anna stopped him and gave him a huge metal pail filled with several different kinds of apples. This was accompanied by a large basket with partially rotting tomatoes underneath more apples.

We decided to make an apple pie. Simple enough- that would help with the apple abundance situation. We would figure out some plan for the tomatoes later. My Man reminded me that some apples were better suited for apple pie than others. He suggested I go ask Senora Anna which ones were to be used as such. He was assuming she would know her apples. He was assuming she would be familiar with apple pie. I didn't want to go, but I did.

Sheepishly, I walked into the bustling hair salon and caught Anna's attention-and everybody else's for that matter. I started asking her my question before I remembered that she is always in a hurry and rarely listens to my full question. Off we went, up the stairs to her house- leaving the woman in her chair with wet hair and a mystified look on her face.

Once in her kitchen, she began buzzing about and flailing her arms. She grabbed an apple and showed me how to peel it. She then showed me how to eat the apple by giving me a taste from her paring knife. It's good, see? She also pointed out the rotten spots and told me not to eat those. Then she flew over to the stove and insisted I take some tomato sauce home. (It was diced tomatoes with salt and some olive oil). After being unable to locate any vessel for transport- and spilling some on the floor, she covered the pan with an inverted plate. Then she went to the kitchen table and started wrapping up her leftovers from lunch for us to try. At some point she opened the freezer door and a fish flopped out onto the floor (it looked vaguely familiar) - she seemed really bothered by this incident and mumbled her apologies.

Soon, I was back on the street. I was no wiser about the apple selection and had a lot of leftovers to take home.

Next time, maybe My Man should go...maybe he would have better luck.

The pie turned out to be very tasty. Perhaps enough sugar and spices can make any fruit taste delicious!

The sauce was a bit plain for our taste. It also contained a dark black hair.

Scattered pictures.....

2007-10-13T23:02:00.000-07:00

We had so much fun hanging out with you! Thanks for coming.

Quick gift-opening pics : )

2007-10-10T05:48:00.000-07:00

Hooray, I found the pics of the box from Grammy and Grampy! Sorry Bad Mimi, I tried to crop you out since your eyes were closed, but the children were protesting!

Songs of Angels

2007-10-06T14:16:00.000-07:00

It's hard to believe that anything but the songs of angels can come out of this adorable child.
But yet, she is prone to sudden, and unprovoked outbursts of, "BAD MOMMY-O, BAD MIMI, BAD NANNY-O." She lists all of we the "bad" together. She also uses great gusto when she declares our evil nature. When she is particularly inflamed, she will add, "BAD RO-RO." (This is gasp-evoking material, mind you.)

There is, however, one person, whom she has never accused of evil-doing, and that is her Papa......

First Day at Asilo

2007-10-04T13:57:00.000-07:00

This is the official picture of the first day of nursery school. She picked out those blue suede shoes all by herself.

This is her school uniform, which I didn't know she needed until after school started. I just yesterday found out she needed her own markers and slippers. I have a new empathy for foreigners in the states- it really is hard when you don't understand everything or anything....especially when the children are involved.

So, we got to school at 7:45 and there was not another soul in sight. School was to start at 8:00. The doors were locked. Yep, we're Americanos, still arriving early. (Turns out, there is a one hour window from 8-9 to drop off the kids......who knew?)

Finally a priest came over and began to tell us a long-winded story about how they ALMOST got money from the Kennedys to start a home somewhere for someone. I really think the only English he spoke was what he needed to tell the story.

This is the view from the front steps of the school, which is a short walk from home.

I wasn't too motivated to have her start nursery school just yet. I like having her home and, well, I wasn't ready. I had heard mixed reviews about the Italian schools, and I had no real way to find out about their discipline policy, etc. I figured there was tons of red tape. Then I spoke with the woman who lives diagonally across the street. She speaks french...I really wish I knew her name. Anyway, she stopped me while Fonzie was peeing and we started chatting about school. She suggested it would be a good experience for H to try the Italian scuola. I agreed, and the plan was hatched to help me sign her up. It was hot, I was a little nervous, I started to sweat.

About a week later, she picked me up and we drove the five minutes into the larger town. I don't need to tell you her car was really small, that's a given. At least it wasn't a tractor. It happened to be very hot that day, but she didn't roll her windows down. I kept looking at the door to see if I at least had the option, but I didn't see anything that looked like a crank or button. The door was empty except for the open/close door-handle. There was nothing on the center console between us, either. She kept dabbing her face with a hankie....I just sat there sweating.

We got to the building and, apparently, it was the wrong place, despite the fact that this woman had called to double check the locale. I couldn't understand the entire conversation, but this woman was giving them a "what for." People were looking. I just sat there sweating.

We walked to another building and waited outside for 20 minutes. We got inside and filled out a form or two. They didn't even require proof of vaccines. What, no red tape? Hmmmm, very suspicious. They gave me the date and time of the first day, and it was done. On the ride home, the woman opened her window- the buttons were on the dashboard, to the left and right of the radio-ish item. Of course....where else? At this point, I didn't even bother to open my window. My little dumpling was going to start nursery school in a foreign country...she doesn't speak the language, what if someone is mean to her, what if.....I just sat there sweating.

This is one of her teachers. The little fellow whom she is comforting is another little Americano- there are 4 of them in the class. This little guy cries every day, which isn't good for the rest of us.

This is the silent victim of H's new adventure.

P.S. Last night, I thought I saw a blob of yarn on the floor. I didn't have my contacts in as I was about to get into bed. I leaned over to get a better look, and the little blob turned out to be a scorpion-it started skittering across the floor! UGH! So, tonight, as I sit here in the dark and type (My Man is in bed snoozing) I have my legs painfully wrapped around a wooden chair to keep them off the floor. I keep feeling bugs on my legs. I think I may have seriously damaged my knees tonight. Welcome to my world.

Happy Birthday little Percy....

2007-09-25T13:24:00.000-07:00

Our little Percy, Z-Bomb and lately self-named "Barney" celebrated her second birthday Sept. 12th. I guess this officially starts the "terrible twos."

A mere two years ago......

As you can see, there's nothing terrible about her : )

Many thanks to all those who sent gifties to help celebrate...hoping to post pics of the girls opening the boxes soon. (I can't find the pics of the box from G. Grandma S and G. Grandpa J. Their boxes are always first to arrive and the kids enjoy them so much, that I feel bad not putting their pics in too. So, I hope to find them soon...they're somewhere on this computer!)

Time to stop sharing cookies with the neighbors......

2007-09-23T06:33:00.000-07:00

I was taking the Fonz out for a stroll when my neighbor motioned me over. (The neighbor is Kiko's Dad. Kiko is the dog and he's the only name we remember.) Anyway, he asks me if I like fish- the Dad, of course. Sure, I like fish- I am thinking he's making strange small talk- or perhaps, yet again, I didn't understand the question. He gives me the "one minute" sign and turns and jogs into his garage. Over the gate, he hands me this.....

Grazie- I mumble while forcing an appreciative smile. I had mixed feelings when I looked down and saw the slimy fish in their plastic strainer...their gaze fixed on the sky, gelatinous eyes glistening in the sun. Time to stop sharing baked goods with the neighbors!

I really like living in the country. I even like country music, but I was not raised country....and I was a bit shocked by the fish. Quickly I began hoping the vital organs had been removed. They had, thank goodness.

I couldn't control my giggling as I showed these to my MIL (Mother-in-Law). It was awesome that she was here to experience this herself. When I tell stories on the blog, it might be hard to imagine- she got to experience some zaniness herself!

Miss H wanted to touch the eyes. She chickened out in the end and just touched the scales. Miss Z gave the whole thing a good, sound, "No!"
What can you do......we started planning dinner around the fish. It was very kind of my neighbor to share his catch with us and we really didn't want it to go to waste. (Secretly, I was hoping the fish weren't from the ditch down the street....I mean there is a sign posted that no fishing is allowed, but we all know how the Italians are with the rules.)

My Man suggested we stuff the fish and then disappeared upstairs to let my MIL and I flounder (ha ha) around trying to come up with something. We decided to throw together several ideas to make a stuffing. She might remember the ingredients.....I do not.
As it turns out, I am not a fan of smushy stuffing, but the real Italians (My Man and his Mum) thought it was great. The fish was very good, not too strong.

Maybe we'll just eat all the cookies next time...... : )

Technical Difficulties....

2007-09-12T12:02:00.000-07:00

We are experiencing slight technical difficulties, but certainly will be back by the week's end.......thank you, in advance, for your patience in this matter.

My extended family

2007-08-15T12:56:00.001-07:00

I had changed my mind. There I was, in the Cleveland airport, saying good bye to my parents, and I really had changed my mind. One good bye led to another, then to another...I was stalling. Finally, I hugged my dad and he whispered in my ear, "Just go." Thank goodness he did, thank goodness I did. Here are my beloved french sister and brother. Like I have said before, I didn't know how much I missed them until I saw them again.
Here we are having the traditional Tarte Flambe in Alsace with french mom and her beau. Tarte flambe is a thin bread crust with a creme fraiche sauce. There's some form of bacon- more like a pancetta on it. When you go to a restaurant, they bring them out one at a time. The waitron keeps bringing the same thing out until you tell them to stop. It's very social and fun. It goes well with beer or white wine.

It was wonderful to be back in France. I felt like I was "home."

We miss you RoRo

2007-08-15T12:44:00.000-07:00

We miss you RoRo, oh yes we do, we miss you RoRo and will be true, when you're not with us, we're blue, oh RoRo we miss you.
And we're not getting off the floor until you come back.

Mystery Fruit....help us out

2007-08-10T04:29:00.001-07:00

Okay, kind readers, now's your chance to help out your favorite foreign exchange family. We have a mystery fruit on our hands.

This is not the first time our neighbors have kindly offered us mystery fruit. I can't find the pics of the last batch, but we decided (based on someones distant gut feeling- tee hee) that they were most likely Quinces. They tasted pretty good- we ate most of them.

Seems that just when I am seriously considering moving into government quarters (yes, Aunt Na and Uncle Crunchy, this is still a recurring topic) the neighbors surprise us with a kind and "charming" interaction. I am beginning to wonder if our landlord has the place bugged. When he hears me go on too much about moving, he hires the neighbors to play happy villagers and they try to persuade us to stay- albeit with interesting tactics.

Our neighbor was smiling broadly as he presented a large bowl brimming with this fruit. He showed me that you peel them before eating them. He also joked that they have a lot of sugar in them (I thought he was telling me to put sugar ON them) but he made it clear that they contain a lot of sugar- he referenced diabetes. This conversation took place in Italian as you might have guessed. I really need to make learning Italian a higher priority.

So, here's the fruit...they are soft and have no particular scent. The are about the size of a clenched fist.

This is what they look like peeled. They peel easily and the skin is very thin.

This is what they look like when cut. They don't have much taste, really. They are very mushy. I will try to eat some of them, even for the mystery fruit, I feel bad wasting food. I might feel better if I knew what they were....maybe I could find a recipe and use some of them that way.....so, if you know what they are- or if you have a guess, leave a comment and let us know. Thanks!

Have a great weekend.

Major creepy crawlies alert....

2007-08-03T12:10:00.000-07:00

Sitting in the kitchen chatting with Nanny, I thought I saw a bit of debris on the floor. I leaned over the arm of my chair for a closer look. Here's the conversation that ensued:

Me: "Oh my gosh, Nanny, it's a Scorpion, get me a shoe."
Nanny: (leaning closer) "Where?"
Me: "Right there, get me a shoe."
Nanny: "Where?"
Me: (shouting a bit) "Just get me a shoe!!!"
Nanny: (handing me the shoe) "Poke it to see if it's alive."
Me: (poking said Scorpion who then scuttles across the floor) "Ahhhhhhh!!! (Smash)
Nanny: (at the same time) "Ahhhhhhh!!

Here are the post-mortem pictures. Sorry ShoSho and Aunt Buffy, there was no way I was going to "rescue" this guy.

I included this one for scale, it looks pretty small now, after it's dead and flushed and all. Definitely still has a very high "creep factor" for me.

Here's how we felt for days.

My Man had to flush the dead body for me, I was too freaked out. Note to self: time to do a little googling on this here critter and find out more info.....

Road Trip.....

2007-08-02T07:06:00.000-07:00

We just returned from our first international road trip! And what a trip it was. The girls did wonderfully...for the most part. We set off for France by way of Germany and Austria...or maybe that was Austria and Germany, it's hard to say. We rented a Renault Bubble (diesel) and away we went.

This is how the team went. Nanny was in the navigational position, My Man was the driver and I was in the back between the "yutes." Sadly, The Fonz was not permitted at the resort in Germany, so he stayed with a nearby friend.

For those of you who may have chuckled at Nanny's position- I am telling you Aunt Na has taught her well. She did great. There was one scary moment when we were in the mountains, driving straight up a little tiny road- of course there were no guardrails, and then the road became more of a path. H said, "Nanny, we have to be careful, I think we are going to fall!" We got to the top and there was nothing but "Do Not Enter" signs, so it didn't take our stellar crew long to figure out we had made a wrong turn. I think that was the only time we were really lost. She did a superb job.
France was wonderful- it was a flood of memories for me. We stayed with my French Mom and Robert (Roh-Bear) - she showed us a wonderful time and took good care of us. We enjoyed many meals in their home with our extended family. When I chatted with my french sister (like we were never apart), I realized how much I missed her. It was really amazing in so many ways. The little gals did well, although as My Man says, they have you by the cahoochies when you are out of your element. I mean, if they'll stop crying/fussing/whatever, I will give them a piece of gum. Who knew that you could get such good behavior from a piece of gum? It was like magic gum : ) I am relieved (happily) that they are back in the groove here at home- sleeping from 7:30 pm until 9:30 am. I think they are making up for their chronic sleep deprivation. Seriously, they were up until 11 pm many nights! Ridiculous, but we decided to let it go and enjoy our time. Let's not even discuss the 1:30 am antics when Z was crying and didn't want to stop and My Man and I were disassembling the crib and taking it out in the hallway, across to the other apartment, in our pajamas, to wake up Nanny and stay there for the night. Good times, people.

There was an incident in Austria. We see the "lollipop" (a little red sign) being held by a police officer and pull into a nearby parking lot. My Man says, "No spleckity doitch" to the officer in the window, yes, he really said that. "OK, we try English. You go 66, limit 50- you pay 25 Euro." "Do I pay you?" "Yes." Easy enough. The speed trap was right out of Dukes of Hazard- it went from 80km to 50km and they were strategically placed just after the limit changed. (That's 10 miles over the limit.)

Next up, a little contest. How many times did Nanny fall for the "What are they doing?" (pointing out the window) trick- only to look out her window to see men urinating on the side of the road? Or, another suitable contest...how many men did I have conversations with whilst they were in their tighty-whities- not counting My Man?

Try and leave this world a little better than you found it (Boy Scout motto)

2007-07-16T06:13:00.000-07:00

Uncle Crunchy, Aunt D and Nanny have certainly done that. What a stroke of genius. I am so used to our new set up, that it doesn't even seem that ridiculous at this point! (I am still not sure what the neighbors think, but when did we start worrying about that anyway????)

One of the major drawbacks of this place is the complete lack of yard. We longed for a sunny spot to play, snooze in the sun, etc. Look what they did!

These are rolls of artificial turf that they found along with fabulous new lawn chairs- the kind in which you can lounge back and really enjoy your afternoon.

It's awesome. We have since added a third tarp. Someone should probably stop us from covering the entire gravel parking lot!

The kids play outside all the time now, and it's wonderful. One of the best things is that The Fonz doesn't think it's real grass : )

All Roads Lead to.....Aviano?

2007-07-12T14:41:00.000-07:00

"All roads lead to Rome." I used to think that it was because the Roman Empire was so vast that you couldn't help but end up in the capital city.

We have had more than our fair share of challenges in navigating our new country. Sometimes, the map fails us; but more often, it's the signs or lack thereof. There will be a sign and you will be lulled into a false sense of security. You will motor happily along only to realize, hours later, that you are nowhere near your destination.

No, they have a point. If you make enough turns, you can get anywhere from anywhere-and you would know that if you had lived here for 100 years.

The coup de grace is that there was actually a third sign. This sign also read "Aviano" and had an arrow pointing away from those two signs. I couldn't get all the signs on one pic. Magical.

Italian Pottery

2007-07-01T10:23:00.000-07:00

Once upon a time, we were on a mission to a town called Nove. We knew it was Wednesday afternoon and therefore some stores might be closed. We knew that we didn't have the exact store names. We knew that it would be several hours' drive away. We were on a mission to find beautiful Italian pottery.

Some of you may know that My Man is 1/2 Italian. His grandmother did a bit of painting in her time. Sure, she was Italian, and sure she was painting on ceramics, but that isn't exactly what we had in mind. She would buy the white ceramic pieces and then paint them...no we were looking for something more in the line of "art."

So, we set off. Aunt D is our trusty navigator- always. It is very difficult to navigate here and she really does a wonderful job. Uncle Crusty was at the wheel- he also does a great job. It's not easy to "just drive" while all the other eyes in the car try and figure out which way to go. As he says, he knows he's in trouble when Aunt D doesn't say anything. It's true, you can practically hear her mind crunching all the information - trying to determine where we went astray.

If you have never travelled with the Nanny, Aunt D and Uncle Crusty team, you are really missing out. They are a great team - they are good friends and they compliment each other very well. They create a relaxed and fun ambiance and, more importantly, they bring snacks. I mean an entire backpack filled with snacks I hadn't seen in years. The range was from Orange Slices to Cracker Jacks- and everything in between. There's gum, nuts, M&M's, licorice- it just goes on! Hilarious.

We arrived hungry- the sugar buzz was gone. We found the main square and parked and had a great on-the-fly lunch at a bar/deli. So far, things were going well. It was a yummy bruschetta/pizza combo and the sauce was great. A Chianti went well for the afternoon.

The requisite gelato.

Okay, now back to business. We found a few stores that were open. We were more than a little surprised at the selection.

Yes, people, it's a ceramic dog....like the kind Joey and Chandler rode on Friends. Surely, there must be a mistake. The next store will be different...and not feature the works of My Man's grandmother.

AHHH! It can't be true, this one had ceramic cats- with bushy eyebrows! ..... the next one....
what is that...a ceramic underwater diver?

Eeee gads...did I mention the company was great...and the snacks????

Days off....nothing better

2007-06-28T13:05:00.001-07:00

The four twelve hour days are long for all of us....and the four days off are great!

Cucina Tipica..... I sure hope not!

2007-06-28T12:27:00.000-07:00

We have driven past this one restaurant, almost daily, since we arrived. It is a wooden building with a large porch and an inviting curb appeal. We stopped once- when we thought for certain they would be open. They were not. Our timing remains a little off kilter.

There is an italian "typical kitchen" on the left side, an Indian restaurant on the right side, and a four-wheeler dirt track to the far left. What more could we ask for, really? (I have only seen the track open once, too.) The sign says "Cucina Tipica, Pizzeria." Sounds great, no?

Finally, the chance arrived for me to see what this place was all about. I had gone with the world travellers to Nove- which is a town known for it's pottery (details later). My Man stayed home with the little people as they would have been completely crazed with boredom. I quickly remembered this place when we were in need of some dinner on the way home. It was about 9 p.m.- not too late to grab a bite, we hoped. We walked into a nearly-empty restaurant (first bad sign?). The owner was pleasant and quickly showed us to our table. We proceeded to order the menu fisso. This is the fixed menu, with just enough choices to make it interesting.

The salad arrived. Oh, you know, the typical fancy wilty purple lettuce, the weird blob of white-chunky-sour-cream-type sauce in the center and your regular assorted veggies around the edges. Nanny and I were sharing a plate and Uncle Crusty was sharing with "Na"- as the little one has dubbed Aunt D.

We ate what we could. I wish I could have captured Nanny's face when she tried the wilty purple lettuce- soooo funny. That stuff was obnoxiously bitter. We ate what we could and left the rest on the plate.

The owner buzzed happily over. Rather than simply clearing the table, he began serving us the rest of what was on the plate! UGH! Uncle Crusty was watching closely and stopped him from doing the same on their side of the table. Okay, so maybe we CAN choke down some more nasty lettuce- hand me some of that chunky white sauce.

Then, the food came. Nothing could have prepared us for the spattering sizzling massacre that was about to arrive.

Uncle Crusty summed it up...."It was so huge, it was horrible."

And we thought we ordered at least one pasta dish. We are still debating about whether we mis-ordered or they misunderstood....that is something we think about fairly often after our restaurant outings.

To top it off, the meat platter attracted the flies to our table, one of which drowned in Nanny's glass of wine- we like to think that was how he died, anyway. Gross.

We won't be dining there again. My Man wants to check out the Indian place next door- he is on his own!