Fall in Italy

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I’ve been feeling nostalgic lately.  Not exactly homesick.  Mostly nostalgic.  It happens generally when I look at Facebook these days and see all the fall fun.  You know what I’m talking about.  Apple picking.  Hay rides.  Halloween costumes.  Corn mazes.  Gorgeous fall foliage.

Over here?  Not so much.  The weather has turned a little cooler (and rainier).  Many plants are still green and even flowering.  The ones losing their leaves seem to have them turn brown and fall off immediately.  I saw a few Halloween decorations in windows, but not much.  We were in a restaurant that was putting up decorations the day before.  At that point, I thought, why bother?

But I’m seeing that fall in Italy means other things.  It is time for jackets, boots, and scarves.  (Although in Rome, they have honestly moved on to puffer coats already.  Temps are usually in the 60s.)

It is time for vendors roasting chestnuts by the side of the road.

And it is time for fall flavors.  I don’t mean pumpkin spice lattes.  Seasonal favorites like cinghiale (wild boar), truffles, and porcini mushrooms.  We got to experience all of these on our trip to Tuscany.  All in one meal even.

We arrived at our B&B outside Volterra in the late afternoon.  The owners asked if we would be eating at their restaurant in town that night.  We had looked at it in the guidebook, Enoteca Del Duca, but written it off because it was described as a good place for a nice and romantic meal.  And it didn’t open until 7:30.

But, in full view of our toddler and six-month-old, they were asking if we’d be dining there.  I almost followed up and asked, “are you sure it’s ok for kids?”

Since people were rested and restless from the three-hour car ride and we were getting a later start into town, we decided to go for it.  After walking around Volterra in the dark for a bit, we made it to restaurant opening time.  Conveniently, we had the restaurant to ourselves for about 45 minutes.

What followed was one of those magical meals where everyone was chill and enjoyed it.  The kids were not screaming or fighting to get out of chairs.  The adults were not gulping food or exasperated.  We were aided by the bread basket and more liberal use of pacifier than is usually permitted.  (For Henry, they are just for sleeping.  Mac still has full access.)

Mac's first time in an Italian high chair

Mac’s first time in an Italian high chair

In fact, we enjoyed everything so much that I forgot to take pictures.  But it was all very delicious.  We had a bottle of the owners Marcampo wine, made from 50% Sangiovese and 50% Merlot, which was not quite as full-bodied as we hoped, but had a great mouth feel and paired well with the food.  Oh, the food!  We started with wild board proscuitto with cheese fondue and a souffle with shaved truffles.  I really like boar, but I find it hard to describe.  I wouldn’t call it gamey.  Just like a more robust, extra delicious pig.  Henry hasn’t met a cured meat he doesn’t like, and he polished off the truffled souffle like it was dusted with M&Ms.  A cheap date he is not.

Henry was less interested in the main course, but no complaints from James and me.  I had the pasta with porcini mushrooms.  It was very delicious, with excellent noodles and a light sauce, but I didn’t lose my head over the porcini.  They just tasted like nice-tasting mushrooms to me.  I’m not sure I could have identified them in a mushroom taste test.

James’s, however, was one for the record books.  He got the pappardelle with wild boar.  He allowed me three bites, and I cannot fault him for not offering more.  First, picture the most delicious noodles you can.  Kind of like your mom’s amazing egg noodles, but uniform and somehow staying hot.  And then morsels of stewed boar incorporated throughout.  Boar that is tender, but has bites with a hint of crispy burnt end kind of deliciousness.  I had a pretty decent boar pappardelle later in the trip, but this dish will be the one against all others are measured.

At that point, the natives were restless, so we skipped dessert and coffee.  Didn’t want to push our luck.  We had other pleasant dining experiences and tasty food on our trip, but nothing where everything came together like that first night.

Tuscany bound!

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Sorry for the light posting this week.  As we speak, we are packing up for our first overnight trip.  Back next week with stories of the kids terrorizing Tuscan hill towns!

NBD, this is where we are staying.  Try not to be super jelly.

I need to step it up

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Helpme host you.ANYTIPS

I need to step up.  Not in an angsty dancy way.  I’m talking about my hosting game.  I need to kick it up a notch.  (BAM.)

Last weekend we received an invitation for an impromptu get-together.  Sure, I like people.  Less cooking.  Wins all around.  We had a fantastic time.  I couldn’t help but be impressed by their effortless hosting.  Would you like some fresh-squeezed juice in your prosecco?  How about some freshly-baked cookies?  Care to sample one of these delicious cheeses?  (This is not blogging hyperbole.  All of that happened.)  It was pretty awesome.

Other friends here are equally generous.  One of my friends makes kick ass frappuccinos every time I come over.  And offers us homemade baked goods.  Another friend opens 15 euro bottles of wine when we come over.  “Are you sure you want to waste the good wine on us?” I always think.  We did a potluck lunch at a friend’s.  I had a sorry-looking apple, cheese, and meat tray.  Others brought scrumptious quiches with made-from-scratch crusts and fresh-from-the-oven bread.  Why can’t I get my act together?

I actually adore hosting.  The proximity of people here lends itself to more casual popping-by opportunities.  But if you stopped by now, I could offer you one of the three bottles of wine in the house (not always the case), stale cookies, or a cut-up apple.  The hands-down best food I make is popcorn, but this is not great for dates with small kids.  I do have Halloween candy in the house, but that is not usually the case.  I may have a secret bag of potato chips still.  But I have no delicious cheeses.  I didn’t even bring the juicer with us.

So what is holding me back from being the hostess with the mostest?  Part of it is the difficulty of acquiring enough food just to feed the fam.  We make a few trips a week to the grocery store or market for food.  I can only bring home as much as I can carry and cram under the stroller.  I did make a solo trip to the store on a recent evening after James got home.  It was a delightfully calm experience.  I may have to do more of this.

Another issue is my proclivity to eat any treats that are lying around.  I can usually be trusted for a day.  Maybe a few days.  But then something happens and I EAT EVERYTHING.  This is a big reason I don’t bake.  Besides my dislike for measuring ingredients (a crucial piece of baking, James keeps reminding me), I don’t need to polish off a tray of cookies in one sitting.  I will engage in twisted logic like, well, I should eat all of them now so they won’t be around tempting me later.  Better to get them out of the way.  I know.  I’m not proud to tell you that there is hidden chocolate in our house right now.  It’s not hiding from the kids.  James hid it from me.  In his defense I asked him to.  When we got the nice chocolate, I didn’t want to gobble it all up in a day.  Having him put it out of my reach seemed like a good solution.  It is working.  So far.  (WHY CAN’T I FIND IT??  Our place is NOT that big!!)

Also, I don’t like extra stuff around.  It just gets in the way, and you have to clean it and take care of it.  BUT hosting requires a certain amount of stuff.  Enough glassware for the group.  Serving dishes.  Things like that.  I did have some of this stuff back home.  Probably not enough, but I had some.  Some of it is not here by design, like the china and crystal.  Some of it I thought was coming, but it apparently did not.  My favorite trays apparently were sent to storage instead of coming here.  (I hope storage anyway.)  Either way, I’m a little understaffed now.

And.  But.  And.  I hate to admit this.  I really hate that I feel this way.  But there is that teeny tiny part of me that sometimes–just sometimes–wants to hoard the good stuff.  This is usually not an issue.  I promise.  I really do want to share.  But if I have the super special chocolate, my first thought is probably to tuck it away instead of offering it up.  This is the reason I have decorative stickers from my childhood that were never used and unopened shower gel that was thrown away after a decade or so.  Which is dumb.  No way to live really.  My takeaway from those unused special things is to carpe diem.  Seize and share the good chocolate!  Bring out the good wine!  I swear.  But old habits die hard, and just every now and then I don’t want to share.  You guys never feel like this?  Ok, never mind, I’m a terrible person, carry on.

I’m hoping to have many happy get-togethers with many people over the next three years.  Here is my three-point attack plan.

  1. Assess the serving ware situation and buy more of anything that is needed.  When we came here with less, we planned on having a settling up account if you will.  We figured we could always buy something if we decided we needed it.  I need to decide I need these things.
  2. Stock a special shelf or drawer or something with snacks for guests.  I can’t stockpile nice cheeses, but I can tuck away some good chips, crackers, or sweets.  “But you say you can’t be trusted,” you protest.  I know, I know.  I will just have to try.  I want to be a good hostess more than I want to snack.  Most of the time.
  3. Develop some signature dishes–other than popcorn–that I can put together.  They may not be baked, although I do want to do more baking with Henry.  They may not be fancy.  I don’t know what they are, but this is a goal.

Some people put together amazing Pinterest-worthy parties.  Katie Bower recently put together a gorgeous Seuss-themed vacation planning party.  I very sincerely say good for her.  If I get invited to any parties like that, I’ll just focus on enjoying it.  That’s not the level I’m going for here though.  I just want my guests to enjoy themselves.

Internets, can you offer me any guidance?  Any hosting tips?  Any idiot-proof dishes I can make with two kids underfoot?  Please, internets, help me!

 

That time we *almost* went to mass at St. Peter’s and *almost* saw the Pope

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We did it!  We publicly transited!  I actually have two tram trips under my belt now, but this is a post about our first.  (No bus or metro yet.)  After we purchased our tickets, I went with a “go big or go home” approach and suggested to James that we go to church.  At St. Peter’s.  After consulting the tram schedule, this was not as crazy as it originally sounded.  We could pick up a tram  a few blocks from our house that would take us right there.  After much less cajoling than expected, James was convinced.

Now, I know what you’re thinking.  Hey, lady with the two small kids – you know St. Peter’s is pretty crowded, right?  ESPECIALLY on a Sunday.  And that is fair.  Being a Sunday morning did actually help us on the public transit front though.  Fewer cars on the road meant our travel time was faster.  It definitely cut against us because I forgot it was the last Sunday of the month, which means museums are free and therefore crowded.  We decided to go for it, taking the attitude that it’s not that far away.  If we want to see more, we’ll go back.

T – 60 minutes to mass

After consulting mass times, we decided to aim for the 10:30 am.  The tram rolled up after waiting just a few minutes.  The tram wasn’t packed, but people were leaping out of their seats to make room for the kiddos.  (This happened again the next day.)  This was nice and comforting for when I venture out with the kids on my own.  In DC I could usually get a seat, but not always, and people weren’t falling over themselves to make room.

Henry loved everything.  He loved looking out the window.  He loved holding onto the bar.  It was a hit.  (Mac slept through most of the ride.)

11.4_Vatican 1

Once we got there, we remembered about the free-museums-last-Sunday, but we weren’t trying to go into the museum–just St. Peter’s.  So we set off for the Square.  How bad could it be?

T – 30 minutes to mass

11.4_Vatican 7

It was pretty packed.  The line snaked all the way around the square.  I decided to wait in it for a bit.  It was a gorgeous day.

While Mac and I waited in line, Henry treated St. Peter’s Square like his own personal playground.  I love that.  Even though he won’t remember this, I’m looking forward to telling him, “Hey kid, we used to live in Rome, and you ran around the Vatican like it was your own personal playground.”

11.4_Vatican 6

James got to chase Henry around.  He said Henry got a lot of “aww” looks and some “who does this child belong to” looks.  At one point I saw a woman go up to Henry, but I figured James is right there, everything must be fine.  Apparently, she came up and said Henry was so beautiful she wanted to kiss him.  And then actually kissed him.

11.4_Vatican 8

T + 10 minutes to mass

The line took about 35 minutes.  We went through metal detectors.  We made it!

11.4_Vatican 3

Inside, it was very packed.  We were about ten minutes late to mass, but that’s practically on time around here.  A few minutes after we arrived, however, they started announcing communion instructions.  “Either that is the fasted mass ever or we messed up the times,” I told James.  It seems we messed up the times.  We were roped off from the legit worshipers who were more in the know on mass schedules, but we decided to look around where we could.

11.4_Vatican 5 11.4_Vatican 4

T + 30 minutes to mass

So we left sans mass.  We found a bathroom, but no changing tables.  (#stpeterssquare #placesmysonsjunkhasbeen)

T + 55 minutes to mass

At this point, we could probably leave and get home in time for lunch and actual naps without any serious meltdowns.  But James realized the Pope would be addressing the crowd at noon.  That meant if we could make it another half hour, we could be a part of that crowd.  They were no longer letting people into the church, and we realized that the exit point was a pretty great spot to see, should we want to wait.  The weather was on our side.  Should we go for it?

11.4_Vatican 2

I looked at the gathering crowd.  Hundreds.  Thousands.  I’m bad at estimating, but it was a lot of people.  After dithering for a few more minutes, I decided that waiting half an hour could be tolerable, but exiting when everyone else was would not be.  So we bailed.

Instead of calling the trip a failure, I’m calling it a win.  We successfully navigated public transportation.  Even if we didn’t mass, we got to see inside St. Peter’s.  Even if we didn’t see the Pope, we know a good strategy for viewing next time.  And that’s the beauty of living here.  We can come back whenever we want.

I’ve talked to Henry some about that time he went to the biggest church in the whole world.  “You know, St. Peter’s.”  Henry is all, “Mr. MacGregor’s garden.”  What, kid?  Oh, right, Peter Rabbit.  Different Peter, but at least something is rubbing off.

NaNoWriMo. This is happening.

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NaNoWriMo

After I dithered about it here, I decided to pull the trigger.  I’m participating in National Novel Writing Month.  It started this past Saturday on November 1.  I’m already 4,938 words in.  Only 45,062 to go!  Gulp.

Because I can’t write a post without caveat-ing, here is my caveat.  I’m not giving myself an out not to finish, but I did pick some easier subject matter.  Instead of trying for an original work of fiction, I’m going for a memoir essay-style thing.  Why, you ask?

First, I didn’t have a great idea for a piece of fiction.  My only hatchlings of ideas involve things like zombies and post-apocalyptic stuff.  Which surprised me.  That is definitely not where I thought things would go.  I decided not to delve into these ideas (right now anyway) because I didn’t want to give myself nightmares for the month, and I worried I’d be out of plot in three days.  With my own life, I should (in theory!) have enough content for 50,000 words.  Also, it is easier to write non-linearly if I want to.

Second, I want to remember.  I’m not sure this book will be shared.  I may try to do something with an essay or two out of it.  This is more for me.  My memory is not great.  On the whole, I’m grateful that I got to grow up before the world of social media, but digital cameras sure help keep things from falling through the cracks.  Writing makes me think about things I thought I had forgotten.  It helps me remember.

Third, I am reading a lot of memoirs right now so this seemed logical.  After being unimpressed with my current kindle selections, I reread Tina Fey’s Bossypants.  I read Lena Dunham’s Not that Kind of Girl.  I just finished Amy Poehler’s Yes Please.  (Order of personal enjoyment: Fey, Poehler, Dunham.)  [Update:  I haven’t re-read recently, but I shouldn’t leave out Mindy Kaling’s Is Everyone Hanging Out Without Me? (And Other Concerns) and Judy Greer’s I Don’t Know What You Know Me From: Confessions of a Co-Star.  So more like Fey, Kaling, Greer, Poehler, Dunham.)  But the one that really tipped it for me is Jenny Lawson’s Let’s Pretend this Never Happened.  As James commented, I’ve never read a book like this before.  There are rambling parentheticals, footnotes, and non sequiturs.  This may sound terrible, but it works.  This is the most I have actually laughed out loud at a book in recent memory.  My life does not have magical squirrels or other West Texas charms, but reading this book made me feel freer about how writing can be.  In the one recent-ish writing course I took, I was told to avoid parentheticals.  Now I say tough.  I adore parentheticals.  This is my book and I can write it however I want.  Thanks, Jenny Lawson.

Anyone else doing NaNoWriMo?

Happy Halloween, ya’ll

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Ah, Halloween.  The most wonderful Facebook time of the year.  Unlike the common complaint, I LOVE seeing pictures of other people’s kids on FB.  This is pretty much the reason I have not yet deleted my account.  I am super psyched to see pics of all the kids in their adorable costumes.  Here is my contribution.

Halloween

As you can see, we have two football players.  Or a football player and a football.  (Shout out to Aunt Winky for the awesome knitted hat!)  I obsessed for a hot minute on costuming.  On the one hand, I didn’t want to spend a lot of money.  On the other hand, kids costumes are adorable and I figure I have limited years when I can dress them however I want.  I also really wanted a matching costume option.  Henry has been really into Tigger so I contemplated a Tigger and Winnie the Pooh getup before deciding that was way too much money to spend to basically dress Henry as a Clemson Tiger.  Sorry, Family.  We were able to achieve the look above with only the purchase of the helmet which gets a lot of play around here since it doubles as Henry’s moto helmet.  (Clearly not for safety.  He just wants to wear a helmet while riding.)

Halloween isn’t a big deal over here.  I’ve seen a few decorations in stores.  James and I went to dinner last night and saw a restaurant putting up a witches and things in the window.  I thought, if you are bothering to decorate at all, why not do it before the 30th, but whatever floats your boat.

James’s work had a trick-or-treating event for kids.  People decorated cars and you went “trunk or treating.”  It was pretty sweet.  Henry got surprisingly into the tchotchkes from the carnival games.  We were informed that Henry was in the “top 3” for the costume contest.  Several of the judges were our friends so I’m pretty sure they just didn’t want to seem biased.  We bailed shortly into the trick-or-treating because it got intense fast, but a very fun night.

Henry and I decorated giant sugar cookies from a kit (thanks Nana!).  Well, I mostly did the decorating.  Henry did the eating.  (There was much debate with my girlfriends whether the cookies were meant to be eaten or whether they are more like gingerbread houses.  The packaging didn’t say to eat them, but it also didn’t say not to do it.  And it lists ingredient so probably eaten?  I can report that the cookies themselves taste pretty gross.  Henry loves them.)  I’m generally more into the process and really don’t care how things look, but I was frustrated that Henry had no interest in decorating the cookies before consumption.  Come on, kid, can’t you just smear a little icing on?  But then he’d have the icing bag up to his mouth funneling frosting.  Oh, well.

10.31_cookies

I carved a pumpkin today.  (Note that I did not say we carved a pumpkin.  More on that in a sec.)  Even though I am not crafty or artistic, I am strangely into seasonal craft activities.  I love to dye elaborate but deflicted looking eggs.  Bring on the fireworks!  And I really really love to carve pumpkins.

My pumpkin “skillz” have really come a long way.  As a kid, I refused to touch the pumpkin guts.  I spent WAY too long trying to scoop out the insides with a spoon and not let any of the detritus touch my hand.  Now I can clean a pumpkin in two minutes flat.  In years past, I am frequently the official pumpkin scooper because James claims his hand is too big to fit inside.

And, you guys, remember the days before pumpkin carving kits?  Here, kid, go nuts with this paring knife.  But, oh, the kits rocked my world.  First, I really like using that dotty stabber thing to make designs.  I guess a pencil would work as well, but I think the planning is helpful.  Also, I like to freehand these days, but the prepackaged designs provided great inspiration.  Pumpkins can have eyebrows??  Before, I was definitely in an eye, eye, nose, mouth rut and I didn’t even know it was a rut.  Until I saw the designs, I had no idea how far pumpkin carving could go.  Remember this was in the PP era (pre-Pinterest).

So today I thought Henry could help carve the pumpkin.  He decided to take a morning nap.  He didn’t actually nap.  See, the only time he can have his pacifier is in the crib.  He knows this so sometimes he likes to just go hang out in there.  Instead of feeling hurt that my toddler would rather sit alone in a darkened room with his pacifier than hang out with me or wait for him to emerge, I decided to just enjoy carving my pumpkin.  So not the enjoyment of seeing a child experience something new, but the enjoyment of doing what you want and actually finishing something.

I decided to use Mac for pumpkin inspiration.  Not in a sit-here-kid-and-let-me-pumpkinize you kind of way, but just going for the essence of Mac.  That kid is just so darn happy.

How’d I do?

10.31_pumpkin 10.31_mac

I’m pretty pleased with the results.  (If this is a “good” outcome, you can appreciate how many of my other crafting attempts look.)

The kids will be trick-or-treating in the building tonight, and then I am ready to stick-a-fork-in-it done this Halloween.

What are your Halloween plans?  Don’t forget to post those adorable kiddo pics!

Restaurant Review: Open Baladin

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I have been drinking wine.  I’ve had some amazing wines.  I’ve had some meh wines.  But wine has certainly been had.

Sadly, I cannot say the same for beer.  As I mentioned here, I’ve been disappointed by the beer situation so far.  Granted, we haven’t tried very much.  This is mostly because the beer at the grocery store looks like a light lager fest.  And I’m not hating on light lagers, but there is a time and place.  James finally found a German Helles and it was an almost spiritual moment.

To address this situation, on a recent date night we headed to Open Baladin.  It is the Roman outpost of the Italian brewery, Baladin.  Open Baladin opened in 2009, but Baladin has been brewing since 1996.  We knew going in that they have more than 40 draft beers and supposedly decent burgers.

The place is close to Largo di Torre Argentina (which totally did not have any cats when we walked by.  WHAT??)  It was tucked in off a side street where I may have asked James if he was taking me somewhere to murder me.  But we found it.  We walked in.  We saw this.  Angels sang.  It was glorious.

10.28_OB 3

The extra cool thing about Baladin is that they serve their beers alongside other Italian microbrews.  No tasters though.  All draft beers are served in 33 cl sizes and cost 5 euro.

The place was definitely hopping, but we didn’t have trouble getting a table.  In what seems to be a trend, we were sat at a table with a “reserved” sign even though we did not have a reservation.  (James tried by phone earlier, but it seems they don’t do reservations for two people.  Although the first thing they asked us coming in was whether we had a reservation. Go figure.)

10.28_OB 2

You know that thing when you eat out where one person is the winner and one person is the loser?  Meaning someone’s food is always better than someone’s elses?  If you have multiple courses, you may be able to redeem a disappointing starter.

Here, we had three beers each and burgers.  James definitely “won” this restaurant.  Luckily we both won on these homemade garlic and pecorino chips.

 

 

10.28_OB 1

The ketchup was basically tomato paste.

I had the “singing in the rain” burger which sounded yummy, but I thought it was too red peppery.  James had something with cheese, eggplant, and other stuff which was very delicious.  The burgers were not quite like home, but definitely the best I’ve had around here.  Which isn’t saying much; I’m not really out sampling many burgers.  (Two months in and no trips to McDonald’s yet!)

And on to the beers.  I was disappointed to learn that they were out of my first choice, Follower IPA from Vento Forte.  I was out for hops.  ALL THE HOPS.  (Luppoli = hops.  Luppolata = hopped.)  I substituted with a TSO from Casa di Cura.  It was ok.  Certainly a drinkable beer, but nowhere near the punch-you-in-the-face hops I was hoping for.  James had a Gerica, a lager from Birrone.  It was described in the menu as when the Germans met the Americans.  It was excellent.  Some German sensibilities with American hops.  This was probably my favorite beer of the night.  I would have gotten more of it, but there was no time.  So many beers to try!

Up next, I got one of Baladin’s Opens.  It seemed appropriate given the location.  It was described as a pale ale, but it just tasted a bit off.  James got an espresso-flavored stout.  It was at the suggestion of our waitress, and I was never certain on the name.  It was pretty good.  Very drinkable.  Good for the cooler weather.

To finish, I joked with James that I would get him one of the Belgian beers.  “Haha, like maybe I’ll get you a ‘Triplica Special Edition,’  (from Opperbacco) wait that actually sounds good, I’m getting it.”  It came in a fancy Belgian glass.  I don’t know if I would get it again, but it had nice hops and nice flavor.  It was good for me to end the night with.  James got Baladin’s Nina on cask.  It was smooth.  Kind of creamy.  It didn’t taste super ESB-y as described, but I recall that it was decent.  This round was probably a draw.  I think we were both happier with what we got.

Even with my “loss,” it was a great night.  Considering all of the people there, service was shockingly good.  Like beer came faster than if I had been sitting at the bar and watching the bartender pour it.  Many other restaurants are on our list, but I’m sure we’ll be back.  The siren song of the hops is a strong one.

One theory on why fewer women partners in law firms

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So I stumbled across this article the other day, Being a Stay-at-Home Parent Is a Luxury … for Your Spouse.  I swear, I am really not trying to wade into any of the mommy wars.  But the article made me think about my previous experience at a law firm.

Of the male partners I knew, many had

To caveat, I’m speaking purely anecdotally about my own experiences, but I think some of this likely rings true in other places.  Also, please prepare yourself for some guesstimation. Ok, moving on to the part where I really try not to offend the interets.  [UPDATE:  this is also not a comprehensive theory on why fewer women partners.  This is more like one possible contributing factor.  If I had it all figured out, I could hire myself as a law firm fixin’ consultant and clean house.]

My firm had over 400 attorneys in its DC office.  At the associate level, the ranks are pretty evenly split between men and women.  For partners, however, less than half are women.  Maybe around 1/4?  1/3?  Like I said, I’m guesstimating, but–as at most firms–fewer women partners.

Of the male partners I knew, many had stay-at-home spouses.  Of the women partners, one did.

Law firm life can be very flexible, but it is certainly demanding.  It really helps not to have to worry about leaving at a certain time to pick up the kids or rescheduling a conference call to take someone to the doctor’s.  As the author notes, having someone at home certainly makes travel and staying late easier.  And you can be more productive when you can outsource all those nagging tasks like remembering to buy more band-aids, picking up a present for the birthday party on Saturday, and waiting for the internet repair peeps to show up.

It is possible to have these benefits with a working spouse, but you have to hire help.  Which means finding good help and then managing someone.  It’s not impossible, but it adds layers.  Many lawyers with big careers are drawn to coupling with other people with big careers which can mean less wiggle room and time to manage people.

In sum, my generalization is that, in my experience, more male partners than female partners had situations where they had less to manage on the domestic front.  Law firms reward those who can fully commit to the office.  Having someone else do things at home makes that commitment easier.  Now again–I am not trying to anger you, oh internet–I’m in no way saying any of these things are better than any others.  This is just my observation on the way it played out at the firm.

Hope about you, hopefully unangered reader?  Would you benefit from a stay-at-home spouse?  Have you noticed any differences for those with a stay-at-home spouse?

 

We did the monster mash

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Bomarzo’s hottest site is Parco dei Mostri (Park of the Monsters).  Also known as the Sacro Bosco, this place–created during the 16th century–is a collaboration between promoter Pier Francesco Orsini and architect Pirro Ligorio.  This place has everything: dragons, elephants, leaning houses, and mystery tour surprises.  What are mystery tour surprises?  It’s that thing where your toddler takes you off the labeled route.

10.29_monster 4

One of Henry's favorites . . . at least judging by how much he talks about it

One of Henry’s favorites . . . at least judging by how much he talks about it

Stefon-ing aside, this was our most recent Saturday adventure destination.  Selected because my mom raved about this park, it was a convenient distance away (about an hour), and we needed to rev the car to make sure it is ready for our Veteran’s Day excursion to Tuscany (!).  Hopefully this jaunt did the trick.  James is now concerned about the gas being old.  Me: “Gas doesn’t go bad.”  James: “Stay away from the car.”

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It was a gorgeous day.  We went stroller-free.  This was smart because the park is not huge, but has lots of elevation change.

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After learning my lesson at Hadrian’s Villa, we took the picnic with us this time.  Which we enjoyed technically out of the picnic area.  This is pretty scandalous, rule-breaking stuff for me.  Sadly, I am not being facetious.

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The park was nice, but it must have been truly ridiculous back in the 1500s.  A DRAGON?  WHAT??

Henry was a good sport for much of the trip.  But he also enjoyed jumping from things and playing in the leaves.  You know, the usual.

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Since naptime was already good and hosed, we enjoyed some more of the weather at the playground on the way out.  Henry tried to befriend a little boy named Giorgio as his trusted seesawing companion.

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As we pulled out of the parking lot, both kids were totally and completely over everything.  There was much screaming until the magic of the car running finally put them to sleep.  James navigated the autostrade like a pro.  All in all, a pretty successful outing.

My kind of errands

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10.27_errands

On Saturday, around 5:00 pm, in the finally crisp fall weather, we set off on our evening passagiata.  Passagiata is that special time in the late afternoon when you just walk, browse store windows, see and be seen.  Another expat describes it well here.  The people watching really is fantastic.  I particularly like this walk because, if Henry will consent to being stroller-ed, it is almost like a mini-date for James and me.

Although restaurants won’t open until around 7:00 pm, most of the stores are open, after possibly being closed during mid-afternoon.  We took advantage of this to check a few tasks off the list.

Up first, the tabacchi.  That’s right, the tobacco store.  We don’t smoke, but I almost think of these things like gas stations for pedestrians.  You can get snacks, magazines, and–our aim–metro/bus tickets.  I’ve got 10 tickets burning a hole in my pocket now.  I’m hoping to share some adventures in public transportation soon!

Next, we strolled over to the wine store.  I’m still scared to take in the stroller because of space issues and fear of Henry grabbing bottles, but James picked up more recommendations from his fave employee (a French woman who speaks excellent English).  The last batch had a good mouth feel, but, now that the weather is cooling, I’m looking for something more robust.  Look for more wine tweets on these soon.

And then, the pasticceria.  Oh, the pasticceria!  This is a pastry and chocolate shop that we have passed many times but never entered.  (I again blame the stroller and Henry grabbing things.)  James came out with 18 euros worth of amazing looking chocolate.  He picked up some dark chocolate bark with hazelnut pieces and some little bonbon squares.  We’ll see how long these stick around.  They are incredibly rich so it would be hard to eat a lot of them at once.  I think.

After the kids went to bed, we had some incredible takeout from Himalaya’s Kashmir.  Followed by a pretty stellar wine and dessert course.  This was a nice Saturday night before dealing with Daylight Savings Time, which I now know to have been invented only to torture parents.  We start earlier than the U.S. so for the next few days, I’m only five hours ahead of you folks on the East Coast.