Happy General Conference weekend! If you're not LDS, this won't mean much to you. If you are, I hope you're enjoying the conference sessions via satellite, Internet or some other means. (Or, for those of us in time zones not at all in line with Salt Lake City, eventually.)
I always enjoy the spiritual aspects of conference, of course, but this time there's a practical reason I'm thankful for it: We didn't need clean clothes for church today.
You see, about a week ago, I discovered a problem with our dryer. It mostly was a problem because I like my dryer to, you know, DRY. And ours wasn't doing that anymore. In fact, the drum wasn't turning at all. And instead of the drum turning, there was a horrendous knocking noise.
So the consulate maintenance guys paid us a visit. Kevin was home that day, which I'm sure filled them with joy (he's their boss). And it was decided that there was a problem with the ball bearings, the discussion of which I kind of wish I'd witnessed so I'd have some idea of how to refer to the inner workings of my laundry facilities in Italian.
Later it was decided that we'd be getting a new washer and dryer. (Since ours were stackable, they were one unit, and there happened to be a new one available.) The main difference with these new ones is that they were European size and not American sized.
Yes, things really are bigger in America. Washers and dryers here are tiny compared with what most Americans are used to. In fact, many (most? I don't know percentages) Italians don't even have dryers. They hang their clothes to dry and then iron almost everything (or have someone else iron it). I thought about this a lot during the 30 minutes or so it took me to hang up the load of clothes I'd washed before realizing the dryer had died. I mean, where do they find places to hang everything? I probably should do more research on this.
Friday -- aka The Joyous Day We Received the New Washer and Dryer -- dawned. The maintenance guys hauled out the old washer/dryer unit and brought in the new one. The washer worked wonderfully even though it only held about four pairs or jeans or four towels. It was going to take A LONG TIME to work through more than a week's worth of laundry with those kinds of stats, but I was up for the challenge.
I don't know any more about what it might hold, though, because it died after those two loads. I made the executive decision to fish out the third load -- a few more pairs of jeans -- as water poured out the front-loading door after I consulted the user's manual and discovered the combination of flashing lights translated to "The washing machine motor has failed." I wrung the jeans out in the bathtub (luckily our laundry room used to be a bathroom, although the tub is all that remains) and put them into the dryer. At least THAT still works fine.
So here I am, thankful that we have the opportunity to watch and listen to General Conference while also hoping we can get yet another new washer and dryer very soon.
Of course, it'd also be nice if Laura has a clean shirt she can wear to school tomorrow ...
I initially decided to read this book because it's set in Venice. It turns out there's a lot more to it than that, but it still was interesting. Some of the subject matter is disturbing, but there's nothing particularly graphic. And I think I can safely say without giving away the ending that sometimes people get what's coming to them. I don't know that I'd recommend buying this, but if you can find it at the library, go for it.
So what does all of this have to do with my grandparents? Well, when we were shopping at the commissary last week, I bought a Pepperidge Farms coconut cake. As we ate some Sunday night, I could imagine conversations with my dad's parents, both of whom died in 2006. They were big fans of such cakes, and their house was the only place I'd ever eaten one. Somehow I think they'd find it funny I've expanded that list to include an Easter celebration in Milan.
Yeah, I thought so.
Actually, it looked much healthier and less stressed -- and the dirt much smoother and less clumpy -- when I noticed it. That was before Owen started digging in the carrot planter. So now it's looking like only one of the many, many seeds that was planted is going to grow, and it doesn't have much of a chance of living past a couple of days due to the vengeance of the resident toddler gardener.
Those people standing up? Right in the middle of all of the chairs. And they never sat down. Yeah, some people need behavior lessons. I did manage to get photos of Laura's parts of the program, but then I'd sit down during the other times. It's a novel concept, I know.
and Venezuela:
and disassembling the backup camera:
If the Duploes are inside your shirt, friends can't get them.
we looked like this. Well, except for the glare in the lower left corner, which I'm blaming on a new camera, although that's what I get for taking a photo of a framed photo instead of just finding another one. I'm lazy like that.
The Torrazzo is either the second- or third-highest brickwork bell tower in Europe (and the world). Apparently it's the oldest surviving brick structure more than 100 meters tall anywhere in the world. And that clock is the largest astronomical one in the world. Kevin, Laura and Cary climbed the tower while Owen and I stayed on the ground (and strolled through the huge Saturday market).
Here's a view of the uppermost stairs. Not sorry I missed those.
I was amused by the asphalt patches -- obviously extremely recent -- made to the cobblestone streets, though.
The Duomo to which the Torrazzo is attached.
Cary was nice enough to take couple of photos of us in front of the Duomo. Of course, I had my eyes closed in both of them.
We also visited the Stradivarius Museum, which is inside the city museum. There are interesting paintings, including some of Cremona itself. There are some stringed instruments, although not many made by Stradivari himself. And there were some "resident" dogs, which Owen found more entertaining than any of the art or instruments.
