Midcentury awesome

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Once upon a time when Henry was wee, we finally got around to seeing Frank Lloyd Wright’s Pope-Leighey House in Virginia.  The house sits on the grounds of Woodlawn, a Georgian/Federal house designed by William Thornton, architect of the U.S. Capitol, for George Washington’s nephew.  So if you make the trip, you can get your architectural fix with two very different styles on the same day.

Of course, I knew who Frank Lloyd Wright was.  He could be the only actual architect I can name.  But I couldn’t tell you tons about his style or his work.  We toured one of his rooms at the Met, but this was my first time inside an actual Wright building.

It was certainly the first time I heard of Usonian homes.  These were homes Wright designed to be simple and affordable for all, although it didn’t really work out that way.

On our Pope-Leighey tour, I was blown away.  The home was simple, but unique.  You could tell that a lot of design went into the house.  (I’m a fan.)  All the way down to details like the kitchen cabinet doors opening a certain way so that guests couldn’t see inside.  The house features beautiful wood and other natural materials.

Wright designed all the furniture.  The result was modular furniture that could be configured in various ways.  This cut down on the amount of stuff you would need.

This was a good feature because there is no wasted space in this house.  There is limited storage.  You have built in space for clothes.  Just not a lot of clothes.  This house would force you to live intentionally.  You would have to limit yourself to things you only truly needed and loved.

I was sold.  I would have moved in immediately.  I think I had been moving that way, but this house really kicked my inclinations on minimalism and simplicity into overdrive.  The idea of living like this house was an inspiration as we pared down for the move overseas.

A few months back, I decided to watch a few episodes of Bones.  This is not a show in the regular rotation.  It is also a rare show that I watch without James.  I guess I just felt like couch potatoing.

When I saw their new house on the show, I felt it again.  I was blown away by this house.  I immediately started googling for more pics.

The house is decidedly midcentury modern.  And I love it.  I love the openness.  I love the glassed off atrium area.  I love the clean lines.  I love the texture of the wood.  I love the way they have it styled.

All images via TVLine

 

 

 

 

Part of me is surprised that I love it.  I thought I liked more traditional styles.  But then I started doing things like buying knock off Louis XVI ghost chairs.  It forced me to reconsider my previous assumptions.  I like modern.  Huh.

But that is one of the most fun things about being an adult after all.  Figuring out what you like.  And then liking what you like.

Do you have a favorite style?  Can you name two architects?  Have you visited the Pope-Leighey house?  I’d definitely recommend if you find yourself in NOVA.  I’d like to put together some more Wright pilgrimages myself.  Did you know kids under 6 can’t tour Fallingwater?

 

This is why I moved to Rome (Visit to Parco degli Acquedotti)

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I think whenever you make a major life change there is a compulsion to justify it with optimism and cheer, even if it is sometimes forced.  Because if the new situation isn’t better, why did you blow up your life?  Why did you get that new car or change jobs or buy that house or move across the world if you aren’t happier?

This was true for me, anyway.  When we first moved here, I met every obstacle with a sort of manic enthusiasm.  Oh, the sidewalk is busted and there are three cars parked in the middle of it?  No problem, that eight block detour lets us explore more of the neighborhood!  Ooo, more dog feces on the sidewalk, how charming!  I wanted everything to be great, and I was going to enjoy it.  NO MATTER WHAT.

The wheels started coming off the wagon around the time we went to Germany in December.  Everything was just so easy there.  Sidewalks were in good working order.  Pedestrian zones abounded.  Public transportation was a snap.  Restaurants were open when we wanted them to be.  It was convenient.  It was nice.  It made me realize how different things in Rome are.

I slowly started to acknowledge that there are some annoyances here.  The sidewalks and roads frustrate me on a daily basis.  I’d love to be able to walk around without being stuck behind smokers.  It would be great if the hard water didn’t leave grit and film on our dishes and glassware.

Things aren’t perfect.  And that’s OK.  Because nothing is perfect all the time.  Some days are good.  Some days are bad.  And some days are just, you know, ordinary days.  This is normal.  This was true when we lived in DC.  It is true now.

I do have plenty of highs to go with the lows.  I’m spending oodles of time with my two adorable weirdos.  (This is sometimes also a low, but generally a positive.)  I’m eating pasta so good that it would make you cry.  I haven’t seen snow all winter.  There is so much here to do and explore.

Recently, we ventured over to Parco degli Acquedotti (Aqueduct Park).  We drove–and James is driving a bit more Roman today than my stomach likes–but you can easily get here on the metro.  A few stops would work, but Giulio Agricola is probably your best bet coming from downtown.

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The park is a relatively flat stretch of land that is crossed by, you guessed it, an ancient Roman aqueduct.  There are actually two aqueducts, but one is in better shape.

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Because of the flat tracks looping around, the parks was a popular spot for bikers, runners, and walkers like us.  This would be a great spot to get in a run and soak up some ruins on a quick trip to Rome.  There is also a playground, if you are into that sort of thing.  (We are into that sort of thing.)

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We stalled Henry from the playground long enough to do a walk by the aqueduct.  Even though it was February, the temperature was up in the 60s.  In the sun, it almost felt hot, and we ditched coats for the first time of the year.

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I pushed Mac along the path, contemplating the civilization that created these aqueducts that would stand for hundreds and hundreds of years.  I watched Henry kicking a soccer ball up and down the path.  I smiled at James in the bright sunlight, soaking in the coatless February weather.  And I just thought–THIS.  This is why I wanted to move to Rome.

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Resume padding

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Since we’ve been here, I’ve been learning some new skills.  Sadly, I don’t think these would turn heads on a resume.  Which is a shame, because I have been putting in HOURS of practice honing these skillz.

I can now:

  • produce a snack from somewhere on my person in any situation.
  • produce a tissue from somewhere my person in any situation.
  • get about seven million blows out of said tissue.
  • recite all the words to Mater’s Tall Tales.
  • recite all the words to various Winnie the Pooh episodes.
  • recite all the words to Frozen.
  • sing all the songs in Frozen better than Broadway stars in my own mind.
  • pour out the exact amount of laundry detergent without looking at the line.
  • produce edible food for four people regardless of the state of our fridge and pantry.
  • feed myself and two other people simultaneously, sometimes while loading or unloading the dishwasher.
  • fasten the baby into a carrier by myself, even while wearing my thickest coat.

I’m also working on badly aligned weight training and negotiating with irrational people.  Maybe a next career as a bouncer?  Yes, ma’am, I’m sure you ARE very important, but you’re not on the list.

Do you pepper your pasta? (Restaurant review: Cacio e Pepe)

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Woohoo, date night!  This is something I adore about our time in Rome.  Back in DC, we didn’t go out a ton without the kids.  First, it was tough to find people.  Even once we found people, when I was working at the law firm, I just didn’t want to leave Henry.  It wasn’t that I didn’t trust people.  It wasn’t that I felt guilty.  I just really felt like I needed to grab all the time I could with him.  Even though intellectually I knew we got good quality time together and an evening out would be no problem, I just didn’t want to go.

Fast forward to Rome, now I have oodles of time with the adorable weirdos and I have no qualms about some time away.  We’ve also “discovered” the practice of having the sitter come when the kids are already in bed.  This way we get our evening family time, I can feed Mac, and a sitter isn’t trying to juggle the bedtime routine, one of the more complicated aspects of our day.  It works great in Italy when things don’t open until later anyway.  We’ll probably change it up when the kids are a little older, trying for more day outings and handing over the reins on bedtime.  But for now, it’s just easy.

We now have a weekly sitter.  In practice, it doesn’t work out every week because of our schedule or her schedule or illness or life, but most weeks we get to hit the town.  Which is awesome because I want to try everything.

I took to the internets for some date night inspiration and stumbled across Rome’s 6 Must-Eat Dishes.  A closed list that I can methodically pick off?  Yes, please.  We’ve been to Armando al Pantheon but neglected to try the saltimbocca.  Oops, I guess we’ll be back.  But for this adventure, we headed across the river to Cacio e Pepe.

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For our purposes this evening, Cacio e Pepe is both a restaurant and a dish.

This pasta dish couldn’t be simpler: pecorino Romano cheese and fresh black pepper are swirled with cooking water from the pasta to make it creamy (and then, obviously, swirled with the pasta — cooked al dente, of course — itself). But the fewer ingredients and steps to a dish, the more important it is that they’re all perfect, right? And no place does it more perfectly than Rome, where the dish originated.

Try cacio e pepe at (big surprise!) Cacio e Pepe, which has managed to remain a surprisingly hidden gem, given its easy location in Prati and its local reputation for solid Roman classics.

So pepper on pasta . . . As Henry would say, “that’s weird.”  Right?  But don’t knock it until you try it.  The three ingredients in the dish pack a creamy, spicy punch.  Here’s a little more on how the dish came to be.

And the the cacio e pepe at Cacio e Pepe is LEGIT.  I hearted this restaurant.  They have a tiny interior with full view of the tiny kitchen, complete with bubbling cauldrons of pasta on the stove, and a bathroom up stairs that look like they lead to a hay loft.  The real action is outside in the spacious patio area out front.  Thankfully, for our February trip, it is covered and equipped with heaters.

This is a place where they don’t hand you a menu; you just order one of the three house pastas, five if you count two specials that evening.  This is a place where you just order some vino della casa and enjoy your carafe out of tumblers.  This is a place where they have secondi, but coming for those would just be silly.  Checked tablecloths?  Check.  It was great.

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I opted for cacio e pepe, for obvious reasons.  Somebody had to do it.  James got the carbonara.  Picture similar but less pepper, add bacon and egg.

Just look at this pasta.  It was a heaping bowl of delicious.  I’ve had cacio e pepe at other restaurants, but this is my fave so far.  I think other places didn’t add enough pepper.  Or cheese.  Not an issue here.

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The heaters were my only knock on the place.  They kept me plenty warm, but the pasta cooled off fast.  This meant my first few bites were pure heaven, and the rest was just really good.  I don’t think James and I said anything the whole meal as we wolfed our pasta down in a race against the temps.

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I’m certainly not knocking the price!  I think this was our cheapest date night yet.  With water, a half liter of wine, bread charge, and two pasta dishes, our total was 23 euro.  Not too shabby.

I’m not sure I’d make a special trip over to this restaurant, but if you find yourself out its way, I’d definitely recommend.  And if you find yourself looking to jazz up your pasta at home, maybe think about reaching for the pepper grinder.  (Or the honey!)

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Cacio e Pepe
Via Giuseppe Avezzana, 11
06 3217268

UPDATE:  Anthony Bourdain says cacio e pepe is the number one thing you should eat in Rome.  He also recommends Cacio e Pepe.

A series of unfortunate events OR that time I was pooped on by a peacock

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My beautiful, feathered nemesis

My beautiful, feathered nemesis

Henry hasn’t made it to school all week.  Poor kid.  He still has that cough and cold, and he had a few days of fever earlier in the week.  We even went to the doctor, but there wasn’t anything to be done.  Just the usual fluids and rest.  While sitting there hacking with snot dripping off his face, Henry keeps looking up and saying “What happen to me?”  It is adorably heartbreaking.

At my request, James called school on Wednesday.  By “school” I mean “completely voluntary pay by the hour day care,” so they didn’t really need to know, but because the whole thing is so new, I didn’t want them to think we had just vanished.  They reminded James about the upcoming facilities move next week.  James said cool and Henry would try to make it on Friday.

Fast forward to today.  I fight to get everyone out the door.  We roll up to day care.  I’m greeted at the door by one of the English speakers.  She’s apologetic.  They packed up all the toys already.  It’s a busy day preparing for the move.  It’s not the best time.  You can leave him if you really need to . . .

I get it.  It’s fine.  I was proud that I said exactly what I wanted in that moment (rare for me) which was, “it’s no problem.  I wish you had told me, but it’s fine.”  (I also wish they had told me before I unloaded both kids from the stroller, but that’s another story.)

A small part of me was irked, but I quickly shook it off.  It was a truly gorgeous day.  Warm.  Sunny.  Not a cloud in the blue Mediterranean sky.  We were already dressed and out the door; we could do anything!  I quickly assessed my mom gear.  I had packed standard gear (diapers, wipes, Puffs) instead of heavy duty outing my gear (more snacks, sippy cups, etc.), but I thought we’d be fine for a trip to the zoo.

And so we zoo-ed.  Definitely more people there than usual.  On most weekdays, I count more people working at the zoo than visiting it.  But today we saw school groups and families.  I don’t know if it was the Friday or the warmer weather, but other people had the same idea.

We made it through our usual faves.  Monkeys.  Giraffe.  Skipped the farm animals today.  Plenty of peacock sightings.

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One of the things I love about Rome’s zoo is the roaming hordes of peacocks.  I guess more properly the roaming musters or ostentations of peacocks.  My zoo growing up had a one or two peacocks strutting around and it was always a hunt to try to spot them.  Here, there is no hunt.  You’ll turn a corner.  BAM.  Muster of peacock crossing your way.

Henry was strangely psyched about the ducks.  I think because he can get fairly close to them.  We headed that way.  It was a honking cacophony of wonder.  We heard swans trumpet.  We saw ducks rumble.

Then Mac was starting to get antsy.  I had my eye on the clock.  I swear I spend half my time thinking about where the next food is coming from.  This time, I decided to get a little “crazy.”  Usually we do our eating at home.  It’s not really a money thing.  It’s not even an Italian language thing.  I just get frustrated juggling the two kids for eating eating on the go.  Like real sitting down and eating.  Handing snacks in stroller is obviously a different story.  But this time, I thought we’d try something different.  I saw that the Oasis Cafe by the pond was open.  Why not extend the fun with some food?

After being swarmed by a school group while placing our order, we sat down with a panino, chips, and water.

What follows are the actual emails I sent to James about our degustation exploration.

Good news, Zoo snack bar is open. Bad news, being swarmed by peacocks.

That’s right.  Those beautiful creatures were now ALL up in our grill.  To the point that I was using my feet to try to get them to backup.  Not actually making contact with them, of course.  Just making sort of a shooing motion.  The ducks stayed put by the pond, but we also attracted a crowd of pigeons, crows, and seagulls.  We really weren’t trying to feed anyone.  I guess they know that kids are the best free lunch around.

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After some munching, I realized I had inadvertently sat down beside the smoking area.  When other patrons vacated the only truly sunny table, I decided we’d make a switch.  With holding Mac and pushing stroller and moving food, I needed to make a few trips.  I left the food unattended.  For just a few moments.  MISTAKE.  I turned by back and giant crow was trying to fly off with Henry’s half of the panino.  I charged and he abandoned his spoil, but he stayed creepily staring at us from a bush a few feet away for the rest of the meal.

When I was taking a sip of water, they came and snatched the bread out of Mac’s hand. We’re leaving now.

At this point, Mac was sitting IN MY LAP.  That brazen peacock hussy came right up and took bread FROM A BABY.  Peacock, have you no shame???   OK, peacocks.  Before this was all in good fun, but this just got real.  Don’t mess with my baby.  Luckily Mac was not hurt, and he seemed too shocked to be upset.  (Which was good because that was the last of the bread.)

While packing up a bird pooped on my head. It is directly on the back of my head, and I can’t see it.

YUP.  That happened.  I felt the wet splat.  I hoped, fleetingly, that it may have been a nut off a tree.  But no.  I knew.  I had been pooped on.  Lucky me.

I couldn’t spot the culprit.  At this point, I can neither confirm nor deny that I was pooped on by a peacock.  So let’s just say I was pooped on by a peacock.  It makes a much better story.

So I did the only thing you can in this situation.  I baby wiped the back of my head.  I put my hair up.  And I just laughed.  You can’t make this stuff up, folks.

On the walk home, where both kids fell asleep, because of course they did, I overheard someone tell someone else to have a good weekend.  So at least I learned something.  Buon fine settimana, ya’ll!  May your days be free of peacock poop.

The jury is still out on Orvieto

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If you find yourself contemplating a few days in Rome, I hazard that any guidebook will mention Orvieto as a possible day trip.  It isn’t far.  Unlike much of Tuscany, it is easy to access by train (so I’ve been told.)  It’s a beautiful city that can provide a nice contrast to Rome, particularly if you are short on time.

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After scrapping our plans for a bigger trip because of the weather, we headed to Orvieto on the Monday of MLK weekend.  The weather had finally cleared and, even though it was still chilly, we could see glorious sunshine.

It took us a minute to make sure we were in the right parking area.  It took us several more minutes to locate where to purchase tickets for the funicular.  (I think you can usually get them at the ticket office, but everything was closed, and we purchased them in the cafe through the train station.)  That’s right–for this hill town, you get to funicular on up into town.  This was probably the highlight of Henry’s visit.  I was a little disappointed, but that’s on me because I, for no good reason, associate funiculars with gondolas and would have been thrilled by nothing less than sailing through the air.

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We funicular-ed up along with, what seemed to be, a middle school tour group.  Granted, they were probably in college, but wow, kids look so young now.  Do you ever do that?  Look at people that can drive or order booze with disbelief and then start wondering where your walker is?  No?  Anyways, these kids were unleashed on the town with only an hour to wander.  That’s something I really like about living here.  Maybe my kids make it harder to travel and I’m not seeing everything, but I have time.  If I don’t get to see everything I want on one trip, I can come back.

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Strike 1.  There is a shuttle from the top of the funicular into the center of town.  We should have taken it.  We didn’t.  I’m used to Tuscan hill towns that are teeny tiny.  Orvieto is not as small.  It would have been a fine walk for any able-bodied person, but we blew a lot of toddler good will on the trek.  For some reason, we opted not to stroller on this outing.  Mistake.

Orvieto has caves that sound pretty sweet, but we opted not to brave those this time.  It was cold enough above ground.  That was Strike 2.  I was crazy excited about the sunny weather, but the buildings were just tall enough that everything was in the shade.  This would be great in the summer.  Less ideal in January.

We did hit the Orvieto Cathedral, a shockingly large undertaking given the size of the town.  The facade closely resembles the Duomo in Siena.

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It was very beautiful and impressive, but I think we are starting to suffer from a bit of church ennui.  Trust me, I know it sounds very bratty to say it, but if you see lots of amazing, ridiculous churches, you start to become a little immune to them.  It takes something really, truly impressive to blow your socks off.  I know other travelers would tell you the same.

The town itself was nice.  Winding alleys, beautiful homes.  It is definitely different than Rome.  It just wasn’t a town that grabbed me.  It didn’t feel as charming some other places we’ve visited.  I don’t know.  I don’t want to knock the town.  It really is something.  But if I had one day trip opportunity from Rome, I don’t think this would be it.

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Strike 3.  I had big lunch plans.  A friend mentioned that she had out of this world pasta with pecorino and honey.  Umm, yes, please.  We stalled until 12:30 and then headed to Trattoria del Moro Aronne.  After a few twists and turns, we found it.  We also found a handwritten sign stating that they were closed until February 20.  (Remember – we went in January.)  WHAT?  No pasta oozing cheese and honey?

I pulled it together.  After learning my lesson before, I had a backup.  We headed to Trattoria la Grotta.  SAME SIGN.  Nooooooooooooooooo.  At this point, everyone was melting down.  The troops needed food.  I was melting down and getting snippier than I’d like to admit.  Knowing that the kids–particularly the baby–are hungry is a big pressure point for me.

Thankfully, there was a backup to the backup.  Caffe Montanucci to the rescue.  They have premade pastas and sandwiches in a spacious cafe.  We got food fast and James snagged a carafe of an excellent Orvieto Classico.  They even had a high chair.

Overall, it was a fun adventure.  Not the adventure we had planned for that weekend, but I was glad to see something new and check something off the list.

But I couldn’t get that pasta out of my head.

So I did what any rational person would do, and I took to the internets.  I found a few people waxing nostalgically about the pasta.  The Internationalista took it a step further and got the recipe from the very restaurant that had denied me my cheesy, honey goodness.

I finally got around to making it this weekend.  I want to tell you that this story has a happy ending.  Girl doesn’t have perfect day in Orvieto but gains exotic new pasta recipe for life.  I want to make that true for you.

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It was a bechamel fail.  I don’t know if I added the flour too fast or the pan was too hot, but instead of sauce, I had a gloppy mess.  Even after I added the milk and cream, it more sticky than sauce-y.  I kept adding milk and cream but it was all for naught.

Then I forgot to save some of the “sauce” to pour on top.  I probably could have used more cheese.  (Because when is more cheese never not the answer?)  In the end, the pasta was sort of tasty, but definitely not a creamy, cheesy pasta to write home about.

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But I don’t think I can call Orvieto a three strikes and you’re out situation.  If you look at my strikes, two are because nobody expects sightseers in January and the other is because of our own stupidity.  I feel like we didn’t give the town a fair shake.  So we’ll be back.  I’ll have to go for the pasta at least.  Because goodness knows I’m not having any luck recreating that one on my own.

Been to Orvieto?  Have you had any travel destinations that redeemed themselves on a second visit?

Henry is a hoot

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Henry says some pretty hilarious things.  I’ve been told that I used to say hilarious things once, but my parents didn’t write it down and cannot remember even one witty anecdote.  Inspired by YHL’s Clara Conversations, I wanted to share some Henry-isms as I collect a critical mass.

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Me: (taking off shirt)
Henry: Don’t take off that shirt!
Me: (putting on new shirt)
Henry: Don’t put on that shirt!
Me: Why not?
Henry: It will burn you.

Me: (with head down on table)
Henry: Mommy, don’t hide!

Henry: (Anytime he or his brother poops)  I wanna see it.  (For the record, I did not start this, and I am not a fan.)

Henry: (Rolling in on his friend’s Plasma Car)  I’m doing a great job!

Me: (trying to brush Henry’s teeth) Show me those alligator teeth.
Henry: I show my crocodile teeth.

Friday Fantastic A Number One Linky Party Extravaganza (and can we be FB friends?)

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Hi friends!  Sorry for the light posting this week.  We were traveling for the holiday weekend and now we’re all sick.  (I am totally mouth breathing as I type this post.)

My mom left this week.  I miss her like a toddler loves changing his mind, but I’ve been pumped to get my own room back.  Especially now that everyone’s nights are punctuated by hacking fits.  Sexy!  I am pleased to report that we did everything on the to do list with my mom, plus some bonuses like visits to the zoo and a chocolate factory.  Even though she is gone now, my chin is up, because I think she will be back soon for additional shenanigans.

On the blog front, I owe you guys posts on Montepulciano and surrounding towns, Carnival, Orvieto, Villa D’Este in Tivoli, dining near the Pantheon, and Piazza Barberini.  Also info on the Henry day care situation and an updated state of the situation.  Can you believe we’ve been here six months??  That is 1/6 of my Italian adventure already finito.  I better get on that travel list!

In “exciting” news, Roman Reboot now has its own facebook page.  Click on over there if you’d like to see me mangle another form of social media!

Thanks to my sister for these sweet outfits from her recent trip to India.  We may have had to cut Mac out of his bodice after the shoot, but we’ll always have the pics.  🙂

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I didn’t watch the Super Bowl, but I did catch some commercials and the halftime show after the fact.  This Diary of the Left Shark cracks me up.  Every.  Time.

My mom mentioned she was considering getting purse boots for her recent trip.  I think I may have done a spit take.  Say what?  Turns out, Purse n’ Boots are exactly what you’d think.  Boots with space for your stuff.  I scoffed, can it fit your cell phone?  IT CAN.  So they claim.  I must admit that I’m intrigued.  I actually really like the riding and combat boots.  I just wish they had pictures of the boots on actual people.  Can this be comfortable?  It seems like a win for vacations to pick-pockety destinations, except for the fact that most people don’t travel in boot weather.

I like my place, but I would move here tomorrow.

After gorgeous weather all week (I know, I know, shutting up), it looks like it will rain here all weekend.  I’m trying to plan some inside fun.  Shauna Niequist’s Bread and Wine has gotten me more excited about cooking so we may try some new recipes.  (The book is a touch on the churchy side–just mentioning in case not your jam, but I heartily recommend.)  We may even try to watch a whole movie on Netflix.  Lately, we’ve just been picking off TV episodes.  (Here’s a list of best TV on Netflix if you are looking to start a new series.)  OR just drop everything and start watching Bojack Horseman.  Immediately.  Will Arnett.  Aaron Paul.  Amy Sedaris.  Alison Brie.

Meet the most beloved sitcom horse of the ’90s … 20 years later. BoJack Horseman was the star of the hit TV show “Horsin’ Around,” but today he’s washed up, living in a Hollywood bachelor pad, complaining about everything, and sometimes wearing colorful sweaters. Set in an L.A. where humans and anthropomorphic animal-people coexist, “BoJack Horseman” is about one man (well, horse-man) who peaked too early and must figure out what to do next.

If you liked anything slightly oddball like Community, 30 Rock, or Arrested Development, I say to give it a shot.

How you doin’?  Big weekend plans?  Would you try purse boots?  Already finished Bojack?  Pretty funny, right??

Local Happenings (Did you know about the Epiphany witch?)

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Local Happenings (Did you know about the

Well, we are more than halfway through winter.  Temps have been pushing 60 here this week.  You too?  No?  (Awkward.  Pulls collar.)  OK, moving right along.  I’ve noticed a few things this winter that have made me go “huh?”  In no particular order:

La Befana.  Around Epiphany, we started hearing about an Epiphany witch.  Turns out this is La Befana, who may not be a witch so much as an old woman who brings candy or coal to Italian children on Epiphany Eve.  (Wikipedia explains it better than I possibly could.)  That’s right.  The most Catholic country ever has a may-or-may-not-be witch as a part of the Epiphany tradition.  We ended up at the zoo on Epiphany and saw a Befana bringing a peanut to the elephant.  There were bigger festivals downtown that we opted not to pursue.  So, yeah, this is a thing.

Saldi Season.  When I go to the grocery store, I frequently see scoto (discount) items.  Now, all the stores are bursting with Saldi (sale) signs.  That’s right.  After all the Christmas buying and shopping and spending, Italy has one of its twice annual sales starting in January.  This continues, with deepening discounts on remaining merchandise, until everything is clear for new stock.  I can look forward to another Saldi in July.  I haven’t taken advantage myself yet, but if you want something 50-90% off, this is the time to do it.

White Week.  Private schools are closed this week because all the Italians want to go skiing.  Even though things are warming up here, you can find decent skiing less than two hours from Rome.  I started to organize some type of tubing event before getting sidetracked, overwhelmed, and abandoning the plan.  Knowing now that half the city is on the slopes right now makes me feel better about not making that President’s Day weekend trip happen.

Carnival.  This is definitely a thing here.  All done now for Lent, of course.  A separate post on this soon.

Anything weird and wonderful in your corner of the world?  And for real, have you ever heard of an Epiphany witch?

And in the 9th month, there was tooth

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Dear Mac,

You did it!  You now have a tiny sliver of your right bottom tooth sticking out from your gum.  At first, I could only feel it.  Now I can see it in certain lights and angles.  No word yet from its tooth brethren.  I was starting to think I’d be pureeing your steak for the next five years.  (Or, you know, more steak for me.)  But now, tooth!  (Also, we don’t eat much steak.  This isn’t really steak country.)

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You are also SUPER into pulling up.  Not yet on furniture, but on people.  You will be sitting and practically lunge at my hands.  You want to be up, Up, UP.  You stand up for minutes at a time if someone holds you.  You love it.  You haven’t really taken any steps yet, but at this rate, you may just skip crawling.

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Your love affair with food continues.  You have discovered the colorful world of puffs and they are your everything.  The subtleties of the snack pack container currently elude you, but you will not be denied.  You cram a few puffs in your fist at once and then work them out to your mouth.  It is quite the operation.  Your love affair with puffs has, of course, rekindled your brother’s previously dormant desire for puffs.  Choline for everyone!  Including the floor.  Especially the floor.  These things are like a magnet for the feets.

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You are becoming pretty sensitive about noticing that you do not have what others have.  “I have apple bits, but you have apple slice!  Unfair!!”  Things like this.  I promise to try to provide you with as many developmentally appropriate equivalents as possible, but as my mom always says, life isn’t fair.

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You’ve been bunking in our room because of Nana’s visit.  I’d endure much more to spend time with Nana, but I’ll be glad for you to go back to your room.  Man, you make some noise at night.  First, there is the serious leg jackknifing.  Then, in the early morning hours, you start conducting your own talk show.  I don’t know what it’s about or who your guests are, but everyone sounds pretty happy.  A few times I know I’ve fed you when I probably wouldn’t have usually, just to get you to wrap up your set.  Maybe you and your brother will be ready to try bunking together for our next guests this spring.  (We opted not to try this visit after Munich when your brother would scream “MACKLES” at your crib once you finally settled down.)

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Speaking of your brother, the Stockholm syndrome continues.  You look at him like a brainwashed cult member.  James commented that some highlights of your day were being tackled by Henry.  You don’t always love being manhandled, but you do love your brother.  One of my favorite parts of the day is at bedtime when Henry tells you goodnight and “I’ll love you in the morning.”  This seems to be Henry’s mashup of hearing “I love you” and “I’ll see you in the morning.”  This could definitely be a new family phrase.

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Your brother just started day care a few mornings each week.  This means that you and I have some quality togetherness time to take on Rome.  Unfortunately, I’ve been developing some soreness in my side after wearing you in your carrier, but I never let silly little things like that stop me.  Let’s see what mischief we can get up to.

Love, Mom