Bella Tuscany: The Sweet Life in Italy

Last year’s New Years resolution was a smashing success in our household. Costly, but money well spent. Something of a life overhaul that has become firmly rooted into our way of daily living. This year, I’m going all out…books.

With the advent of the coursework for my Masters degree, reading for pleasure was largely shelved. (That came across as rather punny.) After three and a half years of reading what someone else has told me I should read, I have found myself burnt out on reading for quite a while now. There have been times throughout, like during the summer, when I certainly “have time” to read (and really, I’m sure that there has always “been time” but like everything else, it’s largely a matter of making time), but the desire was strongly lacking. Since the fall of 2007, the most I have read for fun was the summer after Abby was born just because I was sitting down and holding her a lot, and there wasn’t much else to do. But then the coursework began again, and the sob story continued. Woe is me.

Actually, I’m not trying to whine. I’ve really enjoyed the reading more often than not throughout all of the classes that I took. But now, I’m done with all of that, and I feel like I have some reading time suddenly readily available to me. So here we go. This is my New Years resolution, version 2011. Read and blog about one book a month for this calendar year. This doesn’t really sound like a lot, but I know that it will definitely still be a challenge at certain points this year, like April and May when track season is at its busiest and everything seems to be due to be immediately graded. (These 3 paragraphs will not be included in every subsequent post. Thanks for being patient through them!)

Consider the following my first installment: Bella Tuscany: The Sweet Life in Italy by Frances Mayes, author of Under the Tuscan Sun. I began it on New Years Eve and finished it on January 8^th; so far…so good.

The most dominant thought I have after reading this book is how deeply it makes me want to visit Tuscany. As I read this, I kept trying to figure out when I could go. Maybe when Abby is three, we could leave her for a week…but I really want to have two weeks there if possible…would it be something we could do for our tenth anniversary? twentieth? The book is simply saturated with rich food descriptions, often very earthy and simplistic, sometimes complex and foreign. The food parts were definitely my favorite passages in the book, and thankfully, they predominated. My second passion in life—dreaming of my perfect house—corresponded well with the rusticity of Bramasole, the house in Under the Tuscan Sun. Admittedly, I bought this book at Half Price Books for $1 simply because I love the movie and have long wanted to read the books, so I figured this might be a good place to start.

The biggest negative to me is the proliferation of monotony that saturates the beautiful shadings of the rest of the book. This is monotony with an asterisk, though, because what reads as tedious to me is certainly not without interest to many other people…in this case, these parts are for the people who are into art history and Italian history. Mayes gets boringly tedious about things like Italian gardens and cathedral after museum after monastery. And I’m all for a little bit of this, but after a while, I just didn’t really care anymore. Her “bread and butter writing,” the parts where her descriptions and language affinity really shine, is really where she remembers meals, Italian ways of life, and neighbors in quaint detail.

There is, I believe, a certain unattainability that is not directly addressed in the book, likewise. In other words, if she just came out and said, “You know what, I’m living a dream life—working and living half of the year in San Francisco; being Italian the other half of the year. I realize that this is largely unattainable for nearly every American. I’m not the norm,” then I could accept the book for what it is. Instead, she never does come even close to saying this. Instead, she talks about flying to Venice over Christmas Breaks. Flying to Florence on a whim. Buying a house in San Francisco that reminds her of her Bramasole. Redecorating ad naseum (in both Tuscany and San Francisco). Five acres of garden, terraces, and landscaping. Basically, she’s wealthy. She lives a wealthy life, even if her whole point is that this was a broken down house and she’s restoring it. Everything she does in this book is essentially beyond my monetary ability. She spends too much time trying to come across as normal and not wealthy. I’m not buying it, and it leaves something of a dissatisfied taste in my mouth after finishing this. Normal people don’t take one whole day off to drive around Tuscany buying cases and cases and cases of wine to stock their cellar. Normal people don’t spend a week in Venice just because it’s cold and rainy in Tuscany.

Regardless, the book is mostly enjoyable, though I’m not overly fond of Mayes’s overall writing style. Uber detailed and somewhat monotonous. Yet it’s still something of an insider’s vacation to an exotic locale, one which has a beautiful simplicity. I can dig that appeal.

(Unprecedentedly, I have blogged twice today. If you are one of the very few people who purposefully read this, check out my other post from earlier today, too. I wrote it while glorying in the warm, winter sunlight. Then the widget woke up...)

"ear" you go

This post is all about my little bug who caught a bug.

Ben got a cold. Then he gave it to me. Then we cumulatively gave it the Abb-ster. This one I can't pin on the kids that Abby's around all week. It's not necessarily a problem that Abby got a cold, but you've got to understand something. The kid does NOT act abnormally when she has an ear infection. This is her 4th go-round with a diagnosed ear infection since the beginning of October. The most prevalent sign that there is a problem (sans stuffy runny nose) is that she's not really eating much. But this is also not necessarily abnormal with her. She goes through these toddler-food-swings where one day she's ravenous for broccoli and the next day she won't touch the stuff, not even with "chee" in which to dip it. She's also been an erratic eater, so it's just not hugely unusual for her to give up her "normal" eating habits.

I feel bad for her a bit because it took us a long while to figure out her "normal" for ear infections. She must have been hurting for a while in past flare-ups. So today marked the FOURTH trip to the doctor (for various things--ears, 18-mo. check-up, ear check-up) since the middle of December. But she's such a trooper and even smiled at the doctor today, albeit when she was leaving. We've been working regularly on "please" and "thank you" and "sorry" for a couple of months now, and it's always hilarious when Abby says "thank you" for weird things. This is her best of the three phrases, and she volunteers it a lot throughout the day now. It's still so funny though when she says "thank you" after I wipe her nose or after the doctor checked her ears. She's crying, she's sniffling, and then she says "tank eww" with a quivery lip and big fat tears in her eyes.

She did so well this morning that I wanted to give her a treat, and we were pushing her "yogi" time (e.g. her morning snack--yogurt), so we swung through Dunkin' Donuts on the way home after going through the drive-throughs at the pharmacy, the bank, Starbucks (yeah, I give myself a treat and not her? that made me feel a smidge guilty), and back through the pharmacy. My little girl deserved a doughnut, I decided...which had never happened before. Plus it's right by the pharmacy. Why not stop?

I felt a little stupid ordering only one doughnut hole going through the drive-through. That's it. Just one doughnut hole. $.20. I get up to the window, start searching for a couple of dimes, the lady asks if the doughnut is for Abby, why yes it is, oh I don't have twenty cents, I'll have to give you a dollar, oh...don't worry about it! Take it! Free doughnut hole. Really? Thank you!!

I know that it was only one doughnut hole (and don't they regularly give a free doughnut hole to kids who come with their parents??), but it was just such a nice little gesture. It made my day. Thanks Dunkin-Donuts-drive-through-lady! You made my little ear infection really happy. She made that doughnut hole last all the way home.

Today really reminds me of when I was on maternity leave. I remember day after day of gorgeous sun lighting up the living room in the morning, cuddling and reading. I should have taken Friday off (happy birthday to me...no voice), we'll probably lose some time later this week what with the snow coming through tomorrow, and I took the day off today. Only the second week of the semester, and already behind. Ah well.

waiting on the next post to happen

I know exactly what I'm going to write about next, but I feel like this blog is just sitting here blob-ish. So this is just a quick note saying, yes, something is coming. And I'm excited about it. Not that it is in and of itself exciting, but this is my newest venture.

In other words, I have stock bubbling away on the stove, which just makes the house smell like a Saturday. A good thing. I didn't bring home any grading this weekend. A good thing. Abby's vocabulary is growing a lot lately, it seems (up to 40 words now). A good thing. And, my paycheck increased because of a change in tax contributions (I now receive $7 more / paycheck!). A good thing.

All in all, content. Here comes a quote; it's been a while!

"I arise in the morning torn between a desire to improve the world and a desire to enjoy the world. This makes it hard to plan the day." E. B. White

Organic living, 4th quarter: 2010 New Year's Resolution Revisited

(By the way, is it New Years or New Year's? I'm going to err on the side of it being possessive.)

Here we go. The last post on this particular topic. One last run around the block.

Things that I have learned and/or realized:
*It's really uncomfortable to me to watch someone throw something away that is easily and fully recycle-able, like paper. Or cans. Or wrapping paper.
*Howard Co. has a kickin' recycling program, though we can no longer recycle styrofoam. It's really uncomfortable to me to throw styrofoam away, too.
*Eating much more vegetarian-ly has caused me to lose a bit of weight, kinda, though I've griped on here before that it hasn't. I measure weight gain and loss by the way that my clothes fit, which right now means that I'm starting to look for new jeans (which are, mind you, pre-baby jeans). This is an interesting and paradoxical situation for me coming straight out of the holidays where I have not abided by anything resembling moderation.
*I haven't purchased raw beef or chicken for...months.
*Organic living is really more about sustainable living for us, which means that when I just purchased a new pillow for myself a few days ago and was deciding between two different ones, I ultimately chose the one that was made from sustainable materials, taking that into consideration over the other one, which was not.
*I am trying to be more aware/conscious about all products around me, not just food. Meaning, that I factor this mentality into other purchases--lotion, toothpaste, shaving gel. Parabens and phalates are everywhere, unfortunately.
*Tom's of Maine toothpaste has an odd taste at first, but I quickly became used to it.
*I don't like the "green" shaving lotion.
*There is a branch of literature studies called "Eco-criticism."
*Abby enjoys recycling.
*Our family recycles a lot. Our garage becomes rather over-run by recycle-able packaging in 1-2 weeks. We have one bag of garbage in our kitchen approximately every 2 weeks. We empty the other garbage containers in our house about once a month. Our recycling - landfill garbage ratio is pretty good, I'd say.
*You can't recycle paper packaging with the waxy coating on it, like a cardboard milk carton.
*Eco-friendly cat litter is quite comparable to the traditional "clay" litter and way better environmentally.
*Our compost bin has really really reduced the amount of garbage that we throw out. Even though we have a garbage disposal, there is still a good amount of waste that can't be put in it (like carrots). We may not be around this house long enough to really enjoy the fruits of the compost's labor, but it still makes us happy that we have a better place to put this waste.
*Soy candles. Mmm.
*Programmable thermostat. Effective.
*Low-flow shower head. Relaxing.
*Cloth diapers. Easy to use. Easy to launder. Less guilt. That being said, Abby needs to embrace using the potty. It would be nice.
*Meijer is fairly organic-friendly. Marsh is not.

This has been the first "resolution" that I've seriously made. It's totally doable, and small shifts in our way of living that I already see as making a difference. Here's to a society that continues to understand the importance of such changes!

Existence

This is the sixth post in my This I Believe series.

*****

Amidst all of the scurrying and hurrying that the holiday season inevitably brings, I’ve found myself thinking about this next entry a few times lately. For a couple of reasons, I’ve decided to choose “existence” as my next topic. I tried to choose one that rather aptly ties in with this miraculous season in the Christian calendar, but none of the remaining 10 topics screamed “Christmas.” However, while thinking about which one to write about, “existence” kept coming to mind, and then I realized that this fits perfectly.

I was standing at the sink in my kitchen the other day lamenting to myself about the bothersome and persistent pain of a cut on my right index finger. In the winter, my hands, like so many other peoples’, are prone to getting overly dry, especially around the knuckles, and the skin tends to crack easily. I have a particularly annoying crack on the aforementioned index finger, which being the dominant finger on my dominant hand, this gets bumped, jostled, and scraped a lot. I was standing there trying to do whatever I was doing without hurting it, and some vague, wispy memory came to mind about pain. Can it exist if we don’t allow it to exist? I’m thinking that it’s some reference to a movie, maybe Denzel Washington? Maybe The Hurricane? But, would pain disappear if we refused to acknowledge its existence? Pain is a pretty powerful and motivational force in our world as well as each of our individual lives. What kind of mental temerity and strength would we have to possess individually in order to distance our belief of what pain is from everything we have previously experienced and been taught about before? Is it possible?

Yet faith is no more tangible than pain. It is equally invisible, elusive, and powerful. This is the perfect time of the year to exemplify this point. What better time than Christmas is there to demonstrate faith, at least from a Christian belief? We collectively proclaim our faith in this newborn child, a seemingly ridiculous act. People re-affirm their intrinsic belief that Christ existed in human form and in so doing has established an eternal existence.

I very distinctly remember the uncanny feeling throughout the first trimester of my pregnancy when I knew that I was pregnant but had nothing outwardly physical to show or touch in order to confirm this other growing being; day to day, I had nothing more than a basic faith that there was another being who was existing. Conversely, I (again) vaguely remember watching a movie or television show where the evil villain was eventually destroyed because collectively, the people he was fighting against turned their back on him and forgot about him, thus destroying any belief in his existence. Ultimately, I believe that we are not inherently born with the ability to forget existence. Maybe collectively is the only way that we are strong enough to both destroy or nurture it.

Memories

This is the fifth in my This I Believe Series.

*****

Memories seem to be so straightforward; everyone has them, and how happy many of them make us. Memories simply make the holidays, so this post seems to be aptly timed to some extent. This year, we are staying home on Christmas day, not seeing any other family members for various reasons (not because we’re grinchy and self-consumed). This is really weird to me as if the holiday isn’t really a holiday. I can’t remember ever having such a Christmas ever before, and because I don’t have a memory of this, I feel somewhat lost in this unusual circumstance. I have no memory for it to tell me how it will be.

When I teach Developmental Reading, I choose to read The Giver with the kids, and this book is centered around a community that has no memories. Every memory (which is also translated as historical fact) is kept within one individual and is then subsequently passed down periodically to the next Receiver of Memories. Ultimately, the conclusion that the reader is intended to realize is that we actually cause more harm to our society if we don’t permit individual memories. Such a simple conceptual idea made all the difference for the demise of this community.

Obviously, individual memories are important. Isn’t this ability truly a magnificent gift? Just like any other God-given gift, I believe that we must learn to accept the imperfections that such an ability brings. There are innumerable circumstances where memories prove to be torturous rather than sustaining. Yet I believe that these painful memories are as necessary as any healthful ones. Do understand that I say this guardedly, however, because I am fully aware that such outright statements of belief are forcing me into a gray area between truth and arrogance, even hypocrisy. I truly believe in what I am saying, yet can I make such bold claims when my life has been sheltered and soft? I can’t say that I have had to endure and make some sense of agonizing memories, but does that negate my beliefs? My arrogance says no, that my beliefs are still valid in their honesty.

Regardless, memories are charming, poignant, heartrending bits of the past that are unique to each individual. I am comforted in knowing that for every memory in our individual pasts, there are also countless more that have yet to occur in our consciousness; but, our future memories are out there on our God’s radar. This, I truly believe.

Learning

This is the fourth in my ongoing This I Believe Series.

*****

My job is definitely not perfect. I just finished up another Friday night/all day Saturday combo of grading and grad work. It’s a wicked combination, but one that is thankfully nearly done, at least for the time being (oh, I’m such a waffler). Luckily, I’ve never been someone who lives for Friday/Saturday night. I like being at home, comfy, cozy, preferably doing nothing important. Yet for about 9 months of the year, my weekend nights are often quiet, comfy nights doing the necessary chore of grading.

But this post isn’t about grading, so I’ll give up my wayward rant and return to the crux of my belief—I believe in learning. I know, shocking. Revelatory. I’m really throwing myself out on a limb on this one. Who would ever have thought that Amy would believe in learning?!? I admit that I’m an educational junkie. Why else would I shell out about $12,000 for a degree that will potentially be insignificant in the long run of my career? For that matter, why else would I choose to work as a teacher? I just believe that there is an inherent necessity in all of us to form a basis of understanding about a plethora of interdisciplinary topics. I mean, of course I’m glad that I’ve been forced to take science classes insofar as I appreciate having some basis of understanding from them. But I also truly believe that the greater role of education is instilling a fundamental realization that we are all life long learners (yeah, I know…Manchester was a great fit for me, right?). So it turns out that I basically just stumbled into going to Manchester, but what I learned there about not only the process of education but also how to accept education are fundamental beliefs that guide my professional career now.

For those of you who wonder what I’m going to do once I graduate—I’m going to work. Yep. There you go; that’s my answer. Way before Abby, when Ben and I were engaging in a discourse that involved such abstract concepts as marriage and potential children, I clearly remember swearing that I would never permanently be a stay at home mom. I still don’t think that I ever will be because I’m too addicted to education. I will work in the educational field for the rest of my working life, of this I am certain unless something freakish and/or horrendous happens. This is not only my professional identity but it is also a belief that I have chosen to embrace regardless of how many Friday and Saturday nights are devoted to senior Composition essay and vocab tests rather than television and movies.

There are so many problems that we must confront in education, really scary problems that will affect our children. But I can’t give up on it just because it’s sometimes broken. I won’t be able to fix it on my own, but I can still hold out some hope in it. This, I believe.