48 hours in Florence

The American School of Milan was on winter break -- what European schools call white week -- this week, so we decided to take a little trip to Florence. It only was little in terms of length (we left Thursday morning and came home Saturday afternoon), though, as both the sights and expenses were huge.
I spent three weeks in Florence as part of my Study Abroad trip in 1993. I didn't remember a lot of details, though, so it was fun to see things again. We stayed in a hotel about a block from the Ponte Vecchio, which is the only one of Florence's bridges the Nazis didn't destroy as they retreated during World War II.
On Thursday we saw the Duomo (Kevin and Laura climbed to the top of the dome), Baptistery, Palazzo Vecchio and Uffizi. This is part of the interior of the dome:
On Friday we went to San Marco, the Accademia, the Duomo museum, the Campanile (Laura and I climbed to the top) and the Galileo museum.
I had to become a contortionist to get this shot of the Palazzo Vecchio from the interior of the Campanile:

Saturday we went to Santa Croce and Santa Maria Novella. This is Michelangelo's tomb in Santa Croce:
Florence's big drawbacks in my mind are that most museums don't allow photos and everything -- including many of the churches -- charge admission fees. But there is a good range of hotels and restaurants, and the people-watching opportunities are immense. Even with everything we saw, there are at least two other days' worth of things left. I hope we make it back before our time here is up.

Not-so-fun things to think about

Neither of these is about politics but what makes sense.
The budget bill passed by the U.S. House last week would cut Kevin's paycheck considerably. While this may seem insignificant to some, I would like to stress that we're middle class. Somehow some people, particularly some politicians, seem to think the Foreign Service is one big dinner party. Far from it. I don't talk much about the real-life aspects of it, in terms of sacrifices and drama and trauma, but none are in short supply. You doubt me? Go read this or this or any of the recent news stories about embassy evacuations from Tripoli or Cairo or Tunis. Then go and call or write your senators and congresspeople. It's unlikely the Senate will take up the House bill -- read on for more on that -- but people need to be educated.
The lack of a federal budget means the possibility of a total government shutdown is real. That would mean no paychecks for federal employees, a huge issue for many of us. But again, it's about what makes sense, and how does preventing work from getting done make any sense at all?

The Moonlit Cage by Linda Hollman

I expected little from this book, mostly because it was hard to tell going in what it was exactly. It's sort of historical fiction, I suppose, since it was set in 19th-century Afghanistan (and what is now Pakistan and India, as well as London), but its characters aren't famous or even remarkable people, at least at first glance. It's a little like A Thousand Splendid Suns but set in an earlier time. Unlike that, though, I feared for a while that it was going to be too romance-novelly.
It really is a little bit of all of those.
Overall it's an interesting look at how people -- mostly women -- lived in that time and place. How strength isn't always obvious and oppression comes in many forms.
As I usually do when I read a work of fiction, historical or otherwise, I find myself wondering whether the story could have really happened. I think this one could have, and if it did, someone has one heck of a family history.

At least it's only raisins -- I think

Owen has developed quite an obsession with raisins. We know, when he goes to the cabinet where the plastic containers are stored and presents one of us with a tiny Rubbermaid cup, that he expects us to put a few raisins in it for him.
That tends to lead to a scene such as this:
This has happened so many times recently that I found myself remembering I Don't Know How She Does It, a book I read a few years ago. (Some of you may have read it; it was popular back in 2003, and I even once heard its opening scene mentioned in a Relief Society lesson.)
I'm not giving anything away to explain that the main character in the book, a working mother who is trying to do it all, keeps finding what she thinks are raisins around the house. It turns out later that they're not raisins but mouse droppings and that she's been way too lenient with her cleaning lady.
I'm probably way too lenient with my cleaning lady, too, but I can tell the difference between raisins and mouse poop. And I mean really, how big would those mice have to be? But I can relate to the idea of finding raisins in random places around the house.

A recent Owen self portrait

Although this was taken a couple of weeks ago, I just found it on the camera this morning.

Uh oh, we're in big trouble now

Laura came home from school today with this:I admit my initial thought was "How in the world do they grow roses with stems so long?" But I quickly moved on to "Who gave you a rose?"
The short answer: An Italian boy in her class. And this in a class that didn't exchange valentines. Yeah, we're in trouble.
Before the realization that I'm going to have to sequester my 9-year-old until she's at least 27, I made this with some scrapbooking scraps I had lying around:I was feeling much better about my choice of theme before I saw the rose.
Happy Valentine's Day!

Adventures in northern Italy: Bergamo

Yesterday we went to Bergamo, which is less than an hour from Milan on the train. Its upper town, where we spent most of our time, was the site of an ancient Roman town, is surrounded by 17th-century Venetian walls, and has many lovely sites.
Here you can see the wall and the town behind it:
This is Santa Maria Maggiore, which I'd describe as overly ornate. Every single surface is covered in something: paintings, tapestries, statues. This is the interior of its dome:
This is the tomb of Gaetano Donizetti, a famous composer who was from Bergamo:
Oh, look, it's a Last Supper (although not the Last Supper):
The photo I took of the facade of Santa Maria Maggiore didn't turn out well. But here's the back entrance. OK, so it's really the facade of the Cappella Colleoni, which now is part of the main church.
We walked up to the Rocca:
Where there are great views:
And then we had to walk back down, which was a low point of the day. Well, I say it was, but it was Kevin who was pushing the stroller most of the day. I'm pretty sure he would agree.
But overall it was a great little adventure.

What am I going to do with myself now that I've read all of the Harry Potter books?

That's a rhetorical question, of course. But I did read all seven books in January. I think it was within the first three weeks of January, in fact. Yeah, I read fast. And put off doing some things, such as the cleaning that the cleaning lady doesn't. I did have to take periodic breaks (approximately every 17 seconds) during the times Owen was awake so I could read aloud about the Teletubbies or I Feel My Savior's Love or What Should Eddie Pack or bizarre poems that woman who created Baby Einstein apparently found compelling. Believe me, all of those added to my experience immensely.
As when I talked about reading the first book, I know pretty much everyone else has read the series, so I'm not going to dwell on it. But, despite it being the end of the fourth book and not the conclusion, this segment of a Dumbledore speech has stuck with me more than everything else:
"Remember Cedric. Remember, if the time should come when you have to make a choice between what is right and what is easy, remember what happened to a boy who was good, and kind, and brave, because he strayed across the path of Lord Valdemort. Remember Cedric Diggory."
Obviously it's the choice between what is good and what is easy that I've thought about. The specifics of the characters in the book, although interesting in the context of the story, are unimportant. What I'd like to imagine is what would happen if every single person who has read the Harry Potter books took Dumbledore's message to heart in their real lives in their battles against their personal Lord Valdemorts. And if they made the choice to always do what is right and not just what is easy.
Can you imagine how different the world would be?

Making new friends (of friends of friends)

We had a visit over the weekend from a lovely college student studying in Perugia. She's the daughter of the goddaughter of my best friend's dad. We didn't talk about that, though, as it would have been way too confusing.
Instead we went here:

And went to the roof, where we looked like this:

And saw this:

But not the Alps, at least not well enough to photograph, because it still was too hazy.
Back on the ground we had panzerotti at Luini and took a stroll through the Galleria Vittorio Emanuele, after which we visited Leonardo da Vinci:

Then we strolled down Via Dante to the Castello and then to the Arco della Pace:

Sunday morning we went over to San Maurizio and Santa Maria delle Grazie. There were services going on both places, so we couldn't see everything. But I did get this shot of the facade of Santa Maria delle Grazie:

And now we look forward to visits from some of the rest of you!

Behold the Baby-distracting stuffed-animal catapult

The fourth-grade classes at the American School of Milan held an Invention Convention, and the problem Laura wanted to solve was quite massive.
Yes, that would be this baby brother.
The plan for the catapult originally was much more grand. It was scaled back in the wake of the realities that 1. Laura isn't an engineer and 2. The building was taking place at school and I didn't have to help.
But it did catapult small stuffed animals when it needed to.

Laura proclaimed it to be very well received, but no one offered to pay the list price of 10.50 euros.

Maybe that means I can have the cutting board back. Or maybe we'll be able to take lots more photos like this.
(If you're my friend on Facebook, you can see a short video of the catapulting and Owen throwing the stuffed animal back at Laura. If you're not my friend on Facebook -- uh, why aren't you?)

How in the world had I never noticed this before?

This is a toy keyboard we've had quite a few years. It was Laura's when she was little, and now Owen has taken it over. It hasn't been with us all of that time, as it's not important enough to make it into the air shipment whenever we move -- and honestly, it drives me a bit crazy. But Owen likes to experiment with its tunes and has learned to turn down the volume almost immediately after turning it on.
I have to wonder, though, why I didn't notice until yesterday that waltz is mispelled. I guess the moral of the story is that even mini-piano makers need copy editors. Or that Kawasaki needs to get rid of that joker named Walt who works on its piano assembly line.