conversations with young one

The questions and conversations about religion continue, always with a mixing of the languages because she rarely hears these things in English and her mind doesn't translate quite the way you might expect.

The sign of the cross and holy trinity were the latest topic, one that still leaves her confused.

"Mom, I don't understand this three in one thing. Is it il nome-- il pardre, il figlio, and lo spirito santo...all in one amen? (Is it the name -- the father, the son, and the holy spirit...all in one amen?)"

Judging that her understanding is unclear simply from the awkward wording of her question, I attempt to answer, "I, well, it's..." Have you explained the holy trinity to a seven year old lately?

She impatiently interrupts.

"I mean is it like soup? You put the broccoli, the mushrooms, and the salad in it, and then it becomes one thing. That's it. It's like soup.  Il padre, il figlio, and lo spirito santo all make amen, one thing. Do you want me to tell you the story of San Valentino? He ate a lot because he was rich. Rich people wore red clothes."

Without waiting for response from me, she eagerly continued with the story of the wealthy San Valentino.

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As an educator, it pleases me to see her making connections and comparisons and drawing conclusions.

As a parent, I need to teach that girl how to make a soup! The odd thing is that she chooses minestra at school a few times a week. I can assure you that it never has "salad" (lettuce) in it.

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Have a great weekend!

corner view

corner view :: joy

The paper sign hanging on the stair railing reads:  "School of Stuffed Animals." Today's lesson was about 15th Century Venice, probably because it was the book in closest proximity to the action. Although this is school, it's not really about the subject, anyway. No way. It's about being the teacher. The boss.

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Can you believe that each of those pupazzi has a name -- Porky, Busi, Bun Bun, Green Apple, Baby GaGa, Neve, Gracie, Lola, Red Red, UUAA (the sound a gorilla makes, naturally)...etc. Can you believe I know the names of most of them?

And when I have to give pause to complete simple mental math, or when I write "chose" when I mean "choose," I blame it on this type of trivia which now inhabits my brain and pushes learn-ed things further into the abyss, into the grey matter of the person I used to be.

Hey, I'm okay with that. Having a front row seat to this childhood is an unparalleled JOY for me. It's my most important work, afterall.

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For more corner views, visit Francesca.

for hansel & gretel

A few things:

:: Upon completion of this year's masterpiece, Young One said, "I think mine is exaggerated, Mom." I assured her that it was perfect, simply perfect. Well, okay, maybe it isn't simple...but it sure is perfect ;)

:: This year I decorated a house alongside her. By the end of the day, she told me that I needed to just stop using so many bad words. 

:: She LOVES this annual holiday season project.

:: It's a fabulous use of candy from previous seasons; there are lots of jelly beans from Easter and many Halloween candies on this year's house. I hide those candies after a couple weeks of the holiday, and she never misses them.

:: Though she loves this project, the icing is still too frustrating for her (evidently for me, too), so I just cover the entire pre-built structure in icing and let her complete the rest.

:: It's not as random as it appears. The symmetry of the roof, the licorice bench, the chocolate door...these were all very deliberately choosen.

:: I let her drive the entire time. This year she took it to full speed.

Previous Houses:

Circa 2008

Circa 2010

We are ready for the holiday season in this house :)

the incredible, edible egg & Deruta

My favorite Deruta pottery maker is Cama. 

My favortie Cama pattern is Antico Deruta. 

The egg plate pictured here is the Orvieto pattern.

I've had it for years, years before I decided on my favorite pattern.

I still love it.

I only have two pieces of Antico Deruta.

(Have you seen the prices? I don't know how I have any pieces.)
It's hand painted. Some pieces are even hand thrown.
I think the egg plate is from a mold.

I've met the family who runs Cama, visited the small store, toured the laboratory.
They are what we Southerners call, "Good People."

In a couple of weeks we'll visit that part of the country.
Ahh, I love that part of the country.
I dream of making it my home.

Tonight we'll settle for visiting friends & bringing the eggs, on fancy Deruta pottery.

Does anyone even make deviled eggs anymore?

I do.

I have to use the fancy plate.

And, yes, the yolk is that bright.
It's from a fancy Italian hen.
Maybe she is hormone and antibiotic free?
I don't think that she is free range.

My kid is free range, for seven.


Enough.
Good night.

a visual metaphor for Thanksgiving Day

In the blink of an eye, 

here she comes...

 

and there she goes.

                                                                                                                                                                       Thanksgiving Day, 2011

 Feeling grateful & blessed.

corner view

corner view :: a different corner

This week I have an update on the Corner to Corner project to share. Joanne's Japanese tenugui has gone from Francesca in Italy to Jane in Spain to Kay in the Netherlands to me in Italy. Check out the map here!

Yesterday I wrapped up a special Italian surprise, added a tag, and sent it on its way to Dorit in the Faroe Islands, certainly a different corner from the one I call home.

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Too see more corner views or to link up with your corner view post, visit Francesca.

persimmon bread with whiskey

We have this one neighbor in the paese who occasionally offers us things from his garden, always when we happen to meet him outside inadvertently. It's an odd, "Nice to see you. Can I offer you some over-ripe figs?" moment in the parking lot. This is the same guy who scores the day-old pastries from a local bakery; he shares those at times, too. Unfortunately, most of his offerings end up in our umido (organic waste) bucket.

When I can, I try to salvage the fresh produce; however, when I get it a day past its prime, it can be a difficult to impossible task, especially when it appears in the middle of a busy week. Thursday, he gave me about seven soft kaki or persimmons in a plastic bag with instructions to eat them by tomorrow. Eh...

It didn't take me long to decide on a recipe when I came upon a David Lebovitz recommended one from James Beard that also includes whiskey. You know me and my new love affair with Maker's Mark. Of course, I had to borrow some from another neighbor because our bottle has long since been emptied, and I've held off on replacing it until the holidays, when all bets are off concerning alcohol consumption and guilt. She had an unopened bottle that had been given to her three Christmases ago by yet another well-meaning neighbor. 

I followed the recipe exactly, except that I used a handful of golden raisins and another of dried cranberries in place of the two cups of raisins. It's good -- a moist, nutty, fruity quick bread with a hint of whiskey. Richard describes it as "Fruit Cake Lite" -- a perfect fruit cake for someone who doesn't like fruit cake. Hmmm.... The recipe made six small loaves, most of which I plan to distribute to these neighbors in the paese, even though I'm not sure what they'll think of Fruit Cake Lite.

conversations with young one

"Mom, you know my religion teacher is just wrong. He is supposed to be the best because he teaches religion. He yells the most, is the meanest, and he even uses funny words in the prayers. That's not good for God, you know."

Well, hello, Little Miss Morality. Nice to meet you.

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Ironically, the nun, who is her main teacher, is not her religion teacher at school; a young man (whose exact religious title eludes me) serves as her religion teacher at school.

And for even more irony, I just dropped her off for yet another hour of religious instruction for catecismo in the paese, which is taught by a couple of moms who are likely the least pious of the bunch, even if they are the nicest. That's good for God, I suppose.

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I know you don't believe me when I tell you that we are not very religious people. Do you?
Spiritual, maybe. Religious, no.

With that said, I do love that my girl was excited to tell me the stories of two different saints this week, stories she learned from the meanest teacher ... you know, the one not good for God.

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I <heart> irony.

corner view

corner view :: where has the time gone?

Young One: 3 Months



Sorry. I just couldn't resist posting an infant pic. And while Richard and I often ponder that whole "Where has the time gone?" question, let me assure you that we have treasured each and every moment that this little turkey has been in our lives...even if we can't remember much from the first few years. Don't fret, I've got scrapbooks filled with fictional accounts of each and every precious moment, exactly as I remembered it -- two years later.


Young One: 7 Years & 4 Months


Holy Tornado, Batman! Where does the time go?

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For more corner views on this topic, visit Francesca.



just me and my man & a little of the sweet life

 

We escaped for a long weekend in the Langhe hills of the Piedmont region of Italy, where we leisurely drove through the hills for a glimpse of the end of the fall colors, stopping in small towns like Alba, Barolo, Dogliani, and Serralunga D'Alba. And we strolled, arm-in-arm pausing to sip Barolo's and Dolcetto's when the mood hit us. And we splurged on the intoxicating white truffles, or tartufi bianci. And we stayed in a beautifully renovated convent covered in frescoes. And we meandered through a wine museum housed in an old castle perched on a hill. (And we updated our Facebook walls with images of our journey, like giddy young people. Did you see it?) And we enjoyed the gift of being kid-free given to us by friends who took Young One in for the weekend.

There are times that I wonder when I'll wake up to the reality that I had once imagined my life would be ... Living in Italy is not all "La Dolce Vita" all the time, but when it is, there is nothing like it. Let me assure you of that, my friends.

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Young One's Italian Education Continues This Year

We met with Young One's primary teacher this week; she has five teachers, you know. We've never actually taken the opportunity to schedule conferences with the other teachers. I mean, really, the physical education teacher teaches every kid in the school...I don't think he wants to spend his time chatting it up with a couple of foreigners about their seven year old's athletic prowess. We figure no news is good news from him and both the religion and art teachers. The English teacher's fluency is a bit of a mystery, so it's just best that we keep away from her too, for now. I'm sure she's perfectly lovely even if my seven year old mocks her pronunciation (one, chew, tree). Ahem.


This conference was much like previous ones, taking place at the end of the day in small room with ceilings higher than its width and the oddly-tall walls adorned with both the Madonna and a sizable crucifix. I suppose if the news is bad, there is help instantly available...alas, things didn't go badly. With such little change in the educational environment, I didn't expect any surprises.

Young One attends the same school in the same classroom with the same teacher and the same classmates. This year they all tackle second grade together. Next year, it's third, and so-on until the final fifth year.


The maestra in her full habit sat across the desk from us and spoke informally of Young One's progress. She offered no collection of work, no tangible portfolio, no conduct chart, no list of grades ... just anecdotal accounts of strengths and weaknesses in general terms. She was in a good mood this time, but we learned nothing new.


Luckily, we aren't hungry for grades, for assessments. Each Friday notebooks and papers are brought home for us to review, but, honestly, I often can't make heads or tails of the actual assessments from the teacher. I can't distinguish between an "Ottimo!" and a "Brava!" or what makes some work worthy of a "10," while other work earns an "8.5." I don't quite understand the difference between "scheda" and "verifica" and "prova." I know the meaning of all of these words and numbers, and I've asked for clarification from Italian teacher friends. I still can't quite fully comprehend them in this context. I understand the errors that are marked, but I don't understand the complexity of the accomplishments as well in this foreign environment.

 It doesn't matter. What matters is that my kid likes school. She likes it a lot. Her teacher seems to understand her as she has pinpointed her weaknesses exactly, which aren't all directly related to academic achievement. She can read very well, but math is her greatest strength.  Could it be the universal language of numbers? She now knows the parts of a plant and leaf classification in two languages, though she professes she hates science. She respects her peers and is a trusted volunteer who sets the tables in the cafeteria before school each morning. She has friends (and I think a nemesis), and trades snacks during the break, while playing rounds of Mamma Casetta. 

A large sweet potato she brought in a few weeks ago is growing both roots and stems beyond measure, and this strange American vegetable is garnering positive attention in comparison to the paltry European potatoes whose roots apparently aren't as prolific. She sings songs about the multiplication tables, and she has three speaking parts in a play that the class is rehearsing. She's learning prayers, knows the history of the rosary and All Saint's Day, and considers her teacher her "third mother," after me and Mary, of course. Of course! Her newest obsession concerns natural disasters, like landslides, floods, and earthquakes, and ways to remain safe in their paths. Her teacher is from Genova, so this is not surprising.


She likes her teacher while simultaneously being afraid to disappoint her or "to make her yell." It's a delicate balance that's being achieved, for now. I think.


She wants to go to school. She is learning. She is behaving. She is healthy.
She is hungry to learn.
This is all I know, and all I need to know.


Brava, Ottimo, Scheda, Prova, 10 ... chi sa?


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corner view

corner view :: home sweet home

It's not really a place or a thing is it? I once thought so, but now I believe it to be a feeling of peace and contentment more than anything: Home Sweet Home. Tonight, at least, I'm feeling it as I sit here nestled on my comfy couch sipping hot tea and creating this post while listening to Richard read Kitten's First Full Moon to Young One just upstairs, all in the soft light of my favorite lamp. I think it has even finally stopped raining. Yep. Home Sweet Home.

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For more corner views, visit Francesca.

say cheese!

The Caseificio Sociale in Ponte di Barbarano, just a few miles north of our paese, recently opened its doors to the community for tours and tastings. Always ready to get to know our adopted home better, I insisted that we attend and then invited a couple of neighbor children to join us. The little people, having visited the popular cheese shop before, were not very enthusiastic about the invite to explore inside the factory; the sense of smell is a powerful thing.

Aged Over 20 Months

Grana Padano is this region's equivalent to Parmigiano Reggiano. Of course, some say it doesn't compare while others think it superior. It's not the same thing, nor is it intended to be so. It's a matter of taste ... or likely birthplace. A certain exaggerated loyalty to home exists here. I can't relate to that at all. (winkwink)  You can read more about this history of this cheese here.

Created October 28, 2011

I wish I could offer a great explanation with these pictures. The tour was in Italian and the factory was a surprisingly noisy place. Background noise significantly lowers my comprehension level. I did get the gist of it at times; essentially, it's a lot of work with many quality control checks. And wouldn't you know it, I found a website that explains the entire process.

We saw two warehouses, each with row upon row of cheese wheels. What we did not see are the cows!  This is a cooperative, so the milk comes from dairy farms throughout the area. I always thought that the smell that emanates from the popular cheese shop came from the cows out back. Not so.

Stinky, Stinky Cheese

All those lines and patterns are a photographer's dream, no?

At the conclusion of the tour we had a chance to taste the grana as well as other cheeses made in the factory. These cyclists are pretty typical of our area, too! Loads of spandex in the Colli Berici. Loads.

The cheese shop is very popular among the locals and is generally very, very busy, especially around the holiday time when the demand for cheese increases, I suppose. The caseificio also creates a selection of other cheeses from ricotta to marscapone to stracchino to Asiago. All good.

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Caseificio Sociale Ponte di Barbarano

 8-12:30 and 14:30 to 19.
Monday - Saturday (Closed Wednesday afternoon)
Just follow Riviera Berica until you reach Ponte di Barbarano; you can't miss the giant cheese wheel.

factory tour

Can you imagine what's made in this nearby factory?

We had a little tour last weekend, and, admittedly, I was a bit shocked at the inside of this place.

I had no idea.

Next post I'll share images of the product.

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conversations with young one

While flipping through our Apple TV, searching for a sick-day movie for Young One and I to view together, I happened upon the trailer for the movie Beginners. We watched it. We love the trailer feature of Apple TV, and, at times, spend more time engaged in previews than in movies. Go figure.

Young One: Mamma, do you want to watch that movie? People die in that movie.

Me: It's a movie for adults, and, yes, I think Dad and I may watch it eventually.

Young One: Yeah. In my cartoons people die all the time, but they always come back to life.

Pause.

Young One: Just like Jesus.

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Yep. Just like Jesus.

We chose to watch Richie Rich, a movie from 1994 with themes that apply today. You know, just like Jesus.

corner view

corner view :: dream

Is there still such a thing as the "American Dream"?

Spend some time at this site & tell me what you think:  We Are the 99%.

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For more dreams from other corners of the world, visit Francesca.

the dark side

Last year she chose to be a mean witch, and this year she took it a step further with the choice of vampiress. It was a toss-up between vampiress and Michael Jackson for a few weeks. Evil won, I suppose.

 

And once again she played the role quite well, staying in character for most of the evening...well, at least for the photos.

I think we have moved permanently to the dark side of Halloween, where ghouls and goblins and witches and vampires seek out princesses and lady bugs and piglets and Luigi's only to work their evil ways. I wonder if we are being politically incorrect or somehow inappropriate because as I hop around Facebook and blogland, I don't see many kids in scary costumes. I have one thing to say about that ...

Be afraid. Be very afraid. Baaaaaahhhhhhaaaaaaa!
But really though, how scary is a vampiress with over-sized dentures and a long strand of pearls?