The Bogtrotter

Word Count Wednesday
Three tall layers of moist, rich chocolate cake generously frosted with even richer chocolate fudge frosting. A cartoon-huge cake, both in circumference and height, meaning it folds into a blob if you slice “just a sliver.”


You can’t possibly finish a piece. But you do.

We call it The Bogtrotter after the enormous cake in Matilda that the principal forces Bruce Bogtrotter to eat in front of the whole school. (His punishment for stealing a taste. He soon looks ill but then his classmates start cheering him on and he eats the whole thing without getting sick.)

$15 at Costco.

~ 100 words ~

Silver linings

Top Ten Tuesday
It is not a good day, for about 100 reasons. Here are the top ten:

1. I got a defective coffee cup and/or lid this morning, so there was a coffee puddle in my cup holder when I arrived at work this morning, and my caffeine intake was 1/2 inch short. That's the only reason I can think of that I was cranky by 9 a.m.
2. Caiman's teacher called me at 9:15 this morning. (No, not to say how much she enjoyed having him in class.)
3. Eli's next book report is overdue, and I told him he couldn't go trick-or-treating unless he finished it.
4. I need to make Halloween treats tonight for two classrooms and one daycare.
5. We're throwing a birthday/trick-or-treating party tomorrow night and I haven't even planned the menu yet.
6. The house is a BIG mess.
7. We have ants (again).
8. I did not run today. I need to run!
9. Our property taxes are due.
10. I just found a piece of a tooth in a Twizzler I was eating!!

But...

1. There were tissues in the car and they soaked up the coffee puddle like that. And really, shouldn't I just be thankful that Peet's is right there on my way to work, and that Al the Peet's guy is always friendly but never over-the-top cheerful?
2. We (Hugh, Caiman and I and his teachers and counselors) are working on a plan to help him succeed at school. And in any case, I know Caiman is brilliant and that he'll be okay in the long run, and I have good, smart, straight-up friends assuring me of this.
3. Eli loved Phantom Tollbooth, and now he's diving into A Series of Unfortunate Events. On a related note, Kai's reading has gotten so super-excellent all of a sudden, and it bowls me over with delight when she reads aloud from a chapter book, with inflection and character voices and a big, loud finish for every exclamation point.
4. Cookies are easy, right? And since I don't work on Wednesdays I get to help Kai's first grade class get ready for their Halloween Parade -- and they are ADORABLE down to the last kid!
5. We're throwing a birthday/trick-or-treating party tomorrow night and our guests are family and closest friends -- people who don't mind thrown together buffet syle fare from Costco or whatever. And... Juliana's bringing a lasagna, because she ROCKS!
6. They're also the kind of people who don't care if the house is messy. (Just one more reason I love them so!)
7. We discovered Antex a few ant invasions ago -- one treatment and the ants are completely gone for five or six months at a time. It's a miracle -- albeit a chemical one.
8. Hey, I can run tomorrow! A quick one after dropping Taavi and before going to Kai's classroom. Yeah, that's what I'll do!
9. We own a house in Berkeley, California - and we love it here.
10. Well, at least it was part of my own tooth...

Silver linings, anyone?

And then she was six

Happy Birthday, Kai!

A little web'll do ya'

Thankful Friday
Ever since we moved to Berkeley and suddenly had a roomy back yard complete with a creaky back gate (actually, Hugh just rebuilt the gate, so now it’s creak-free and closes smoothly and latches with a satisfying click, but still…), I’ve spent the month of October thinking about how best to convert the yard into a wonderfully spooky haunted graveyard for Halloween.

We’d have spider webs and gravestones, swooping ghosts and spooky music, dry ice fog and pouncing ghouls. We’d dress up as monsters and jump out from the shadows, but we’d reward our victims with homey treats, like hot chocolate and cider and Rice Crispy treats and warm gooey brownies.

My kids would love me. Other peoples’ kids would love me. The whole neighborhood would love me.

If we built it, they would come.

And every year, we’d do it better and more people would come.

We’d be Halloween legends!

Alas… much like the awesome holiday cards and presents I never send, the cakes I never bake, the novel I stopped writing, the round-the-world trip we never figure out how to take and the revolutions I never begin, Halloween comes and goes without a bang. There are hastily thrown together costumes, a few pumpkins on the stoop and plenty of candy, but that’s about it.

When I was in Target the other day, though, I picked up a few $1.99 bags of nylon spider webbing and an 8-pack of wiggly rubber spiders. And last night, when the kids were supposed to be winding down for bed, I snuck out to adorn the front stairway.

I had barely begun when Caiman peeked out the door and let out a whoop.

In a flash, all four kids where jumping around maniacally on the front porch. “She’s decorating!” “She’s making the spider web!” “Daddy, Daddy, come see!” They were instantly drunk with excitement, you’d have thought I was levitating or something.

Caiman leaped onto the wall to help me anchor the web-stuff high on the stucco walls. “You’re so lucky!” Eli exclaimed, practically salivating. “Can’t I help?”

“I wanna help! I wanna help!” Kai and Taavi were about to burst. Either that or go tumbling down the stairway.

“Calm down you guys, geez,” I said. But they were so happy and squealy that honestly, it was bliss.

One of them found the rubber spiders and ripped the package open. Two spiders apiece. Eli, Kai and Taavi shivered as they put theirs on the web; the things wiggled and dropped and Taavi giggled nervously when I plopped his back into his hand to try again.

If only I’d known it was this easy to earn their love and admiration! So easy to thrill them! (Score one for low expectations.)

I'm the first to admit that the finished product doesn’t look too good – passersby will certainly peg it for the low-effort undertaking it was. But the kids went to bed with the Halloween version, I think, of sugarplum faeries dancing in their heads, and I was truly inspired.

Next year, you’re all invited to our Spooky Graveyard, where there will be whipped cream and sprinkles on the hot chocolate.

Pitiful

Mistake of the Week
Did I really have to mention that James Blunt song the other day? And listen to the Weird Al parody of it three times in a row?

Now, like those weeks and weeks You're Beautiful was overplayed, it's been stuck in my head FOR TWO WHOLE DAYS. My lips barely move, but "you're beautiful, it's true" has been slipping out all day, high and plaintive and mostly under my breath. While sitting at my desk writing about emotional health; while washing my hands in the bathroom; while waiting for a meeting to start...

"What Beth? Did you say something?"

"Hmm?"

"I thought you said something."

"Oh, no, I was just... talking to myself I guess."

(Silence. I pretend to be thinking and jotting down notes, but I'm doodling.)

...saw your face in a crowded place
and i don't know what to do
cause I'll never be with --

"Beth?"

"Sorry."

Taavi Cole, age three and 3/4

Word Count Wednesday
Taavi tromps down the stairs in his cotton pajamas, tumbled and tousled and squishy. His sleepy eyes are damp with almost-tears: he pouts and reaches for me. I pick him up and he wraps his arms and legs around me, buries his face in my neck. He’s so warm and melty that I just want to hug him all morning, but the whole crew needs to be out the door in ten minutes so I plunk him down at the kitchen table and redirect his thoughts with the all-important morning question: waffles or cereal?



~ 94 word-words; 12,000 picture-words ~

Compilation collaboration

Top Ten Tuesday

"The making of a compilation tape is a very subtle art. You're using other people's poetry to express your feelings."

- Rob, "High Fidelity"

Ah, that labor of love, the compilation tape!

(And yes, Caiman, I'm talking about cassette tapes. You know, those little plastic things you loved pulling endless ribbons of shiny black tape out of when you were three. In fact, the first comp tapes I ever made, which were for Jen and included commentary by yours truly between songs, were made by holding a tape recorder from Radio Shack up to the radio.) (Click on the Radio Shack link -- it's worth the entire price of this post!)

Gosh. I used to feel like I was the only one in the world who really, truly understood my chosen songs. I felt that putting the right songs together, in just the right order, proved the depth and breadth of me and pretty much validated my existence. Well, I'm older and wiser now (or older and... older!), but I still crave a kick-ass compilation tape (or playlist) whenever I head out the door with my iPod.

What keeps me from making playlists then? TIME! Sure, creating a digital playlist is quicker than queuing up songs on your turntable and recording them onto a cassette, but there's so much more involved than the actual recording/downloading time.

You need thinking time, listening and re-listening time, choosing time. Time, if you’re making a Deep and Meaningful compilation for Someone Special, to think and re-think the message you’re sending. Then, of course, you need time to reconsider and reorder, and time to listen to the whole thing in one sitting before making a few final tweaks.

Well, that kind of time is barely even a memory for me now. (Have I mentioned my job? Soccer? This blog? My four needy, time-sucking kids? What? You're hungry AGAIN? Didn't you have a bowl of cereal earlier today?)

So... I thought I'd ask for help! Here are three themes I'd love to build compilations around, and three songs I'd want on each:

Rebel Yell
for when I'm feeling fierce or scowly or just plain rambunctious

The Donnas - Do You Wanna Hit It
Sleater Kinney - Dig Me Out
Green Day - Basket Case

Life is Beautiful
some wistfulness, some soaring, and a sprinkling of angst

Tom Waits - Hold On
Derek and the Dominos - Bell Bottom Blues
Damien Rice - Delicate

I know, I know. This one could get pretty syrupy. Let's listen to Weird Al's parody of that James Blunt song to make sure we don't start taking ourselves too seriously: You're Pitiful

Be the Day

for running, whatever the weather; mellow beginning, progressively more upbeat (no club music, please!) and relaxing at the end -- (think warm up, picking up the pace, working up a sweat and cooling down)

U2 - Beautiful Day
Sandi Thom - I Wish I Was a Punk Rocker (With Flowers in My Hair)
Jimi Hendrix - Voodoo Chile

Now... this is where you come in! What songs would you add to these three playlists? Or, if you hate them all, tell me about YOUR dream comp tape.

Working for the weekend

“Look at that view!” “Look at that Manzanita tree!” “Look around you, we live in such a beautiful place!”

That's what I was saying as Hugh and I danced up the Huckleberry Trail the day after Mom and I returned from Italy. And my back-home high continued through the weekend: we got a lovely all-day soaking on Friday; sunshine, soccer and Thunder baseball on Saturday; and a mellow, stay-at-home day on Sunday that began with Hugh serving up pancakes and coffee.

Since Monday, though, it's been different story. I find myself sighing while I'm brushing my teeth in the morning. Dreading my arrival at work. Feeling the crush of my cubicle walls. Hungry for diversion (or pecorino toscano and a nice red wine) and in desperate need of a haircut.

SIGH.

I am starting to annoy myself.

I think I’m suffering from post-adventure letdown, complicated by cubicle-itis.

Can Your Cubicle Be a Great Place to Work?
Stress reduction tips for cubicle dwellers

One in eight Americans works in a cubicle.* Criticized (and satirized) for being too sterile, too small and too confining, the cubicle has also been blamed for fueling work-related stress. Some of its drawbacks may be beyond your control, such as the amount of space you have and the inability to shut out distractions by closing your office door. But you can still make your cubicle a great place to work, minimizing job-related stress along the way.

I wrote that. I was paid to write that. REALLY. Part of my job is writing self-help articles on “emotional health topics.” I am not particularly proud of the stuff I churn out for work, but hey, it’s a living.

You spend up to eight hours a day in your cubicle, maybe even more. Make a point of creating a space that makes you smile. Pictures from home, children’s drawings, and cards or small posters can brighten your surroundings.

My own cubicle walls provided the ounce of inspiration needed come up with that brilliant advice -- they're crowded with colorful drawings by Kai and (outdated) pictures of all four kids. My soccer schedule and last season’s softball schedule are on the walls too, and catching sight of them gives me a pleasant burst of energy.

There's also a black and white picture of my mom and dad looking like movie stars when they were 20, a Backroads calendar designed by my baby sister (October offers a stunning view of a glassy bay on Croatia’s Dalmatian Coast), the Omar Vizquel page from last year’s Giants calendar and last season’s Omar Vizquel Poster Day poster.

(Wait… there’s also a Giants ticket pinned up, I think, with an itty-bitty Omar picture on it. Note to self: bring a picture of Hugh to the office.)

And there are these two poems:

To Read Is…
by Caiman (when he was 11)

Reading books
While lounging on a couch
Is journeying to new lands
And old ones
Oblivious to the world around

Is battling evil
Or diving deep into the ocean
Almost feeling the frigid water
In your hair

Is traveling
To magic worlds
To the future, to the past
To keep alive a hero
By simply turning pages

My Mom
by Eli (when he was 7)

I remember when you took just me
to see The Polar Express when it first came out
You helped me learn how to read
You wake me up by giving me a back massage
You make good scrambled eggs with ham and cheese
You let me go to my friends' houses
You cheer for me when I play baseball

So... there are little bits and pieces of the people and things I love all around me at work, not to mention the fun, funny, delightful people I work with (you know who you are!), the not-half-bad job, and the paycheck that keeps a roof over our heads, food in our bellies and even allows for a few frills. Isn't that enough? Or do I need a new job? A new adventure? Some kind of kick in the pants?

I don't know. But it is Thankful Friday, so I need to dig deep and feel the love. I made it through my first week back at work, I'm home with my cutie pie husband and our four wild monkeys, and the weekend is ours for the taking. Maybe you saw this coming, but I'm going to fall back on my old standby today:

THANK GOD IT'S FRIDAY!

Shoulda, woulda, coulda...

Mistake of the Week
I positioned myself just outside the box as the goalie set up the goal kick. I knew she didn't have a great foot and expected we might regain possession... but I didn’t expect her to rocket the ball straight at my face.

What should have happened:
I took half a step back and chested the ball right to my feet – or maybe did an imperfect chest trap and had to chase the ball a few steps. Either way, I dribbled once, maybe twice (gaining confidence when I see the fear in the goalie’s eyes), and calmly put the ball into the net, lower left corner.

What did happen:
I headed the ball right back to the goalie. So perfectly right back that you’d have thought we had some kind of deal worked out. (“If I screw up and kick it right at you, you’ll let me have a do-over, right?” “Sure, that sounds fair.”)

Boo! Boo, boo, BOO! Mistake of the week, indeed.

On the bright side:

• I didn’t take the ball in the face. That would’ve been one heck of a bloody nose.
  
• We won the game, 3-2 -- and I scored my long-overdue first goal of the season, and had an assist.
  
• We are definitely not outclassed here in Division 2, the GGWSL division we moved up to this season. With a few teams rained out last weekend, we are even in second place right now. Go, Dawgs, go!

Homecoming

Word Count Wednesday
“Aeroporto,” I told the driver.

Twenty hours later – hugely under-slept and a little sad – we stumbled off the plane at SFO.

Hugh!

I gasped and skip-jumped into his arms, shedding the weight of our long travel day.

At home, only Caiman was awake. “I missed you,” he said, and he hugged me like he meant it.

The next morning, Hugh ushered Eli, Kai and Taavi into the bedroom as I was waking. They all grinned shyly, hesitated. I opened my arms. They bolted to the bed and piled on top of me.

Italy was great, but home is good, too.

~ 100 words ~

Sick day addendum

Lest you think our sick day too idyllic... it's 3:30 p.m. now, and I expect Caiman home any minute, and then the homework war will begin. Eli is watching Drake and Josh on Nick, and I just enjoyed (yes, I'll admit it!) watching a few Weird Al videos on YouTube.

If you like Bob Dylan and/or palindromes, you'll like this:



And here's the Star Wars story to the tune of American Pie, which I thought was SOOO deep when I was a kid...



Is it time for baseball yet?

When sick days are sweet

Top Ten Tuesday
“Hi, Beth, this is Ashley from the after school program. Eli is here with me and –"

This is the point where time slows down and I imagine all the horrible phrases that could come next, most of them involving spilt blood and/or broken bones. But as usual (knock on wood!), it wasn’t anything devastating, just a fever.

I went to pick him up (leaving early on my first day back to work after a two-week vacation) and found him in Gabe’s office, all droopy and hot with fever, wearing his friend Nolan’s jacket because he’d had the chills. (Nolan is a rare fourth-grade boy in that he is thoughtful and kind beyond his years – so sweet, in fact, that Kai is quite in love with him.)

On the ride home, Eli told me he’d wanted to cry all day because he felt horrible but didn’t want to tell anyone. Just telling me that, of course, made him burst into tears. He spent the evening wrapped in a blanket on the couch, his cheeks flushed dark red and the ibuprofen we gave him taking its sweet time to work.

And the fever was back this morning, so now (on what would have been just my second day back to work after vacation) I’m at home with him. The ibuprofen worked more quickly this time, and he’s feeling low-energy but alright. The perfect condition, I think, for a sick day that's not all bad. In fact, it's rather sweet!

C'mon, you know you love a good sick day. What do you remember fondly about staying home sick as a kid? Or what little things do you relish about sick days now?

For me-n-E, today, here are the best things about being home sick:

• Eli watching an episode of Avatar: The Last Airbender. I haven't gotten as hooked as Hugh, Caiman and Eli, but from what I've seen it's one of the best animated shows on television.



• Both of us watching School of Rock, a movie of universal appeal in our household. Rock on, Jack Black!



• Reading Phantom Tollbooth, one of my favorites as a kid. Eli’s read some this morning, and I’m going to go read a few chapters aloud right after posting this.



• Drinking tea. Sweet, milky India Spice tea. Yum.



• Snuggling. Eli is a world-class snuggler, and with the cloudy skies threatening rain, it’s the perfect day for it.



• Lunch. I’m planning hot soup and buttered toast. And more tea...



• Quiet time, just me and Eli, in a quiet house. (If you’ve been here, you know it’s usually cacophonous.) I asked Eli if that should be on this list and he said, “Well, isn’t that basically the snuggling one?” Still, I'm leaving it on.



• Watching a soap opera. No, really! Eli’s not excited about it, but I am. I got an email this morning from my friend Hope, a writer and actress living in NYC, saying she has a bit part in an episode of Guiding Light that’s airing today. So, I’m going to watch it at 2 p.m. today! (Wow, Hope, you are looking might foxy in these IMDB pics! I just showed Eli and said, “Look! That’s my friend Hope. Isn’t she pretty?” and he got all goofy-grinnish and shy.)



• Playoff baseball, from the first pitch! Indians v. Red Sox starts at 5 pm. Go Red Sox! (Although I must admit a soft spot for Kenny Lofton, 40 years old and still a guy you want on your team in October, one-time Giant and super likable clutch player. He makes it mighty hard to root against the Indians. Plus... it's difficult for me to see an Indians uniform and not think of Omar Vizquel and, well... Go Indians?)

Wishing you all good health and good cheer -- or at least sick days that are sweet! Now... Eli and I have a date in Dictionopolis.

Salute! (part 1)

Thankful Friday
The scenery was amazing, the food was divine, the art and architecture blew us away. But what really made our trip to Italy extraordinary was the ring of laughter and buzz of conversation that livened our daily three-hour meals, the raised wine glasses and the toasts to go with them. One of our early dinners was even marked by a spontaneous chorus of the happy birthday song in Italian for Mom: "Tanti auguri a te, tanti auguri a te, tanti auguri a Ginger, tanti auguri a te!" Her birthday had been in July, but Pam knew the trip was a birthday present.

In other words, it was the company that made the trip sparkle, and I'm so grateful that we had such a wonderful group.

Thank you, Walt, Pat and Matt, Jan and Phil, Cedric and Sue, Cindy, Shelley and Tricia! And, of course, thank you Pam and Sam! To be continued...

Postcards from Italy

Mistake of the Week
I have the best of intentions when it comes to Christmas cards, birthday gifts, thank you notes, postcards... but little follow through! So, no, your postcard from Italy is not in the mail. Can I call that a mistake? In any case, I apologize -- I was thinking of all of you! In lieu of snail mail, here are your postcards:

Postcard from Poggio Molina:

Friday, Oct. 5. Took a bus to the Poggio Molina farm today -- a place so beautiful I barely had enough room inside me to take it all in. The serene fields and rolling hills under warm, sunny skies were something to behold, but when we walked through the ranch-style farm house and onto the terrace overlooking the vineyards, where Claudio and Alba began opening bottles of the wines they produce and laying out plates of pecorino cheese and bread with their own olive oil, I think all in our group agreed things were verging on too good to be true. And when I tasted the bread drenched in olive oil, I thought I'd died and gone to heaven. (While others in the group were ordering cases of wine I couldn't possibly afford, I bought a single bottle of that heavenly olive oil to bring home to Hugh.) No room on a postcard to describe all the amazing courses we ate or the wines we tasted, but I must mention the prima piatta: a lasagna with olive oil bechamel sauce and wild boar (freshly killed by Claudio's 11-year-old son!) that was baked in an outdoor brick oven. Heaven, indeed!

Wish you were here!
Amore,
Beth & Ginger

Postcard from Cortona:

Saturday, Oct. 6. Not more than a minute's walk away, busloads of turiste disembark and flow down the picturesque main streets of Cortona. But here I sit on a bench in the public gardens, alone but for the occassional strolling couple or mother and child. Behind me a fountain burbles. All around, an orderly design of garden plots: pretty low hedges framing raised beds of bright red flowers, divided by neat gravel pathways that radiate from the fountian; trees every 15 feet that create a yellow-green canopy above, shot through with rays of sunlight. The only random element in the tidy garden seems to be the pretty scatter of fallen leaves, yellow and lightly toasted brown. In front of me is a low wall and beyond that, for as far as the eye can see, the Tuscan countryside, a patchwork of green and brown fields, some with neat rows of grapevines or olive trees and others with clusters of buildings or solitary estates. It is so calm here, and so removed from the bustle of town. We had a wonderful morning exploring Cortona -- the Etruscan museum with Giovanni (Pam and Sam's secret weapon for bringing Cortona's past and present into brilliant focus), a sublime pizza with Mom on Cortona's lively main street for lunch -- but this walk through the garden and down the promenade beyond, the walk back taking pictures, and then sitting here in the just-so coolness listening to the fountains and the birds and writing in my notebook has been, as they say, PERFETTO!

Ciao a tutti!
Beth

Postcard from Villa Curina:

Monday, Oct. 8. Started the day today with a mellow run on the gently rolling road leading from the villa to the nearest town. The morning light cast a divine glow on the fields: grapevines, olive trees, oak trees and "Papa's dirt" (what Pam and Sam's girls call the clumpy, just-turned soil waiting to be planted with wheat, because Sam likes to go out and take pictures of it in different kinds of light). The winding road and the layers of hills are sweet and sensuous -- what a joy it was to be running through the Tuscan countryside at last! A few cars whizzed by, but they didn't disturb my peace, and I arrived back at the villa invigorated. I ran past the grounds and around the back, where the olive trees and grapevines were lit by rays of gold. I popped in on Mom, who was freshly showered and cheerful, and then went back out with my camera and did my best to capture the beauty that was making me skip through the vineyard. (Okay, I only skipped literally for about five yards, but I was skipping inside for a good 15 minutes!) ... After breakfast we're going to St. Antimo to hear the monks chant and then to the fortress of Montalcino to taste some Brunellos and eat lunch. Tonight we'll have dinner in Pam and Sam's town -- and get to meet their girls, Siena and Emma!

A piu tardi,
Beth

Postcard from Florence:

Wednesday, Oct. 10 (Mom & Dad's wedding anniversary). It's our last morning in Italy; we already miss all our new friends from the group. We'd like to see Michelangelo's David (especially after seeing his Pieta yesterday and loving it so!), but we'd rather spend our last morning soaking up Italia than standing in the too-long line we encountered at the Accademia. So now we're sitting at a cafe (inside where Italians are sipping espressos and reading the paper before hurrying off to work, instead of at the outside tables where pairs of American tourists study maps and guide books). We are sitting, me with my cappucino and Mom with her Americano, watching the procession of one tour group after the next, each made up of 30 or 40 blank faces wearing earbuds following a guide who holds up a placard and speaks into a walkie-talkie. Boy are we glad we found Pam and Sam! We are feeling happy and immersed, not quite "regulars," of course, but well apart from the tourists trudging past. We decide we've graduated from 'tourist' to 'visitor.' Oh, boy! I'm wistful about leaving, but now that it's ending I'm anxious to get back to the family.

Arrivaderci, Italia!
Be home soon!
Love,
Beth and Mom

Venerdi delle grazie

Thankful Friday
What I'm Missing
Back home, it is the incomparable Juliana's 40th birthday, and I am missing it. Happy birthday, my dear Juliana! Tanti augori, cara mia!

I miss my kids in short, sharp pangs or the longer, achier missing of my mid-night wakefulness, an apparent effect of the time change.

I miss Hugh in a constant, oh-how-I-wish-you-were-here sort of way. (Honey, a trip to Italy is definitely in our future!)

What I'm Thankful For
I'm paying by the half hour for internet access (and finding apostrophes and dashes on this keyboard is a challenge), so a long, rambling account of our trip thus far is out of the question. (Sigh of relief?) Instead, this post will harken back to my blog's roots, the Thankful Friday list or, in this instance, la lista di venerdì delle grazie:

Today, I am thankful for:

Gelato. Specifically, strawberry gelato. More specifically, the strawberry gelato I got for Mom on my first solo romp around Siena, because of her wee cry of delight when I surprised her with it, and the way her eyes lit up with every bite.

The winding, hilly streets of Siena, crowded with people and scooters and traffic, centuries-old brick and stone buildings leaning in on each other, arches ornate and plain, doors of wood broad and tall, green slatted shutters thrown wide, colorful bursts or laundry hanging out to dry, the flags of the contrade that surprise you when you turn some corners, the Virgin Mary peeking from alcoves above the occassional door or window. Yes, there are throngs of tourists walking the streets of Siena, but the city is resolute in its charm.

Ricotta-stuffed ravioli in truffle sauce. Complemented by a dark, rich chianti and good company.

Taxis. Before the trip, my greatest worry was whether I could make a smooth go of getting from the airport in Florence to our B&B there. There was a shuttle to the bus station, from whence we'd be able to walk or take a bus. I could probably handle all the luggage; Mom could probably make it despite the COPD that leaves her short of breath and the arthritis in her knees and the weighty exhaustion from our long red-eye flight. As a backup plan, we could always cough up the 25-30€ for a taxi.

The moment I decided the taxi should be Plan A instead of a backup, 90% of my pre-trip jitters melted away. And indeed we did hop a cab outside the airport, and since have taken a taxi from the B&B to the bus station and from the bus station in Siena to our hotel here. All of these taxi rides have been life-savers -- eye-opening, terrifying miracles of transport through narrow Italian streets crowded with strolling pedestrians (sidewalks are rare), an endless stream of zippy scooters, and cars nearly the width of the streets that push their ways relentlessly through the mess. It is quite lovely, really, once you're accustomed to it.

Chiara the she-wolf. Chiara, proud member of the Contrada di Lupa (Siena's best contrada, she assured us) was our guide at the Cattedrale. A petite beauty sparkling with energy and fun, she charmed our entire group the moment she began to speak. For all her charisma, though, she managed not to steal the show; instead she enthralled us with her descriptions of Siena, its ancient cathedral and its treasures, bringing to life the art and history of the town while exemplifying the present-day spirit of Siena and the deep seated rivalry between the contrade. (The contrade, or neighborhoods, compete in an annual horse-race, the Palio, that makes me think of a Red Sox/Yankees or Giants/Dodgers series in late September.)

Our tour-mates, and our guides. Mom and I are pretty nice people, right? But we have our wicked sides, and I'd have imagined there would be one or two people in a group of 12 strangers that we wouldn't like. People with quirks or affectations that rubbed us the wrong way, people we'd nickname for their unfortunate qualities and label Stinky Man or Blinky or Paul Abdul. But guess what? Not a bad apple in the bunch on our group! And what's super-great is that Mom gets right in the mix and is really enjoying getting to know everyone. I always thought she was more shy than me. Not so! She is a hot ticket and has a ball when we all go out to eat together.

My Berlitz tapes. I certainly can't speak Italian, but... I have asked where we could find a taxi, requested a second plate so we could share an entree, and asked where to buy stamps. Sure, I said francobelli for stamps and, after walking out of the tobacco shop -- which is, naturally, where one buys stamps and bus tickets -- remembered the word is francobolli, but still...

This internet cafe. Our hour, which is almost up (so excuse typos, etc.!!), for 4€, has allowed me to post this. Next time, maybe I'll be able to download and post some pictures. But the best thing is that MOM is sitting next to me in an internet cafe! (She asked me if what I'm writing will be on her computer at home when we return, even though she unplugged her computer. I love her!)

Well, ciao for now. We need to go drag our bags down to the lobby because we're heading out to lunch and wine tasting in the countryside on our way to Cortona!

Mama mia!

I can't believe it: Mom and I are leaving for Tuscany this evening!


Postings will probably be sporadic for the next few weeks, but I'm hoping there will be a few.