Friday, April 19, 2019

Hoppy


My mom has always loved holidays. My grandmother too was always on board with any opportunity to celebrate. They both loved and collected Easter bunnies. When my mom moved out of her house in Santa Cruz, she gave me all of her holiday decorations. She'll get to see a lot of those bunnies around our house on Sunday.









This isn't even all of them, folks.







Weird Nap Situation


Some questions are best left unanswered. 


Wednesday, April 17, 2019

The Plate


When Bob practices pitching to Mr. Rosenberg in the front yard, playing the part of home base is Phil Collins album, Face Value.


Friday, April 12, 2019

A Love Letter to You and Another Location



I do wish you could smell this place. A deep inhale of this sharp air and all of its redwoods, seashore, fireplace burning goodness. Always the faint smell of skunk and marijuana in the fields. It would do you good. Get out of the spot with the traffic and helicopters and tightly manicured orange trees.

And of course, I wish you could see this place too. We could lay on the forest floor not even caring about bugs or dirt or the giant yellow slugs who live under the leaves. We’d look straight overhead at the trees that are taller, the grasses reaching higher than the places you’re used to. Monarch butterflies return here every year to the same grove of trees. Have I told you that already?

We could feel the ocean, a cold shock up to our knees, and kick the bubble bath foam where it meets the shore. The sand is damp and filled with driftwood and sticks and seaweed and shell chips and the occasional bottle cap that you’ll put in your pocket to throw away later. I’ve always admired the people who can spy heart shaped rocks on the beach and make a collection out of them. I’m not one of those people. 

If you could hear this place. The woods are deceptively quiet but if you wait, you would hear a general rustling. I imagine it’s the trees breathing. There’s always a rooster in a yard down the road and a woodpecker doing his job. And maybe you think all waves sound the same, but I swear waves are different here, their echoes are deeper in the bay, maybe.
We’d eat clam chowder and espresso on the pier and cotton candy at the Boardwalk. By the end of the day your skin would taste like salt and fog.

These things are not romanticized by the passing of time, but maybe you are. You probably are.






Thursday, April 11, 2019

Wednesday, April 10, 2019

It's Just an Honor to be Nominated, Folks

You guys, hang on to your hats. Or lacking a hat, just hang on in whatever general way feels most comfortable to you. I'm nominated for an Iris Award for Best Writing.

The Iris Awards are presented at Mom2 Summit at the end of April, this year in Austin, Texas. They are described as celebrating, "the year’s greatest achievements in the parenting influencer and content creation industry." Also you dress up fancy and there are snacks. 

The other nominees are terrific and include Amy Chesler, Brea Schmidt, Liz Petrone, and Mia Carella. 

I will be wearing heels for the occasion, or possibly (more likely) barefoot and carrying heels for the occasion. It's all lovely and exciting. 





Mood


They seem comfortable.



Monday, April 8, 2019

A Porch and a Puzzle


I couldn't find Mr. Rosenberg this morning. I finally discovered him on the back porch with the dogs, starting a puzzle he bought for himself at the Vatican gift shop. I challenge you to find a better way to spend a warm Monday morning in April.




Saturday, April 6, 2019

Friday, April 5, 2019

Hearts and Home

This guy has been sticking close since we got back.

As soon as we returned home from the airport today:

Bob took a bath and watched baseball highlights.

Mr. Rosenberg picked up the dogs and played the guitar.

I made coffee and did laundry.

We all have our loves.


Thursday, April 4, 2019

Ciao For Now


Tomorrow we say, goodbye to Rome. Except we'll actually say, "Arrivederci! Ciao, Roma," because we're like all Italian now and everything. I have pre-nostalgia - I miss Italy already.


Wednesday, April 3, 2019

Rome and Florence by the Numbers


On this trip:

Number of times I have stared blankly at a local because I'm suddenly blanked on how to say "thank you" in Italian? - 18 (Grazie!)

Number of times Mr. Rosenberg has done the Euro to USD conversion in his head? - 33

Number of times we were sure we would miss our train? - 4 (We didn't.)

Number of times one of the Rosenbergs have said, "Oh! Look at that!" - 143 (conservative estimate)

Number of times I have told Bob that his palm-sized replica of the Coliseum looks like a dental prosthetic? - 3 (It so does!)

Number of pounds of gelato I have eaten since wheels down arrival, Sunday afternoon? - 9

Number of times I have jet-lag-texted with friends back in the states at 4am local time? - 143 (conservative estimate)

Number of times Mr. Rosenberg has tried (and failed) to get us to watch Gladiator again? 7

Number of times Bob has said "grazie" to us for bringing him to Italy? - 4 (So far.)




Tuesday, April 2, 2019

Tuesday at the Vatican


Today, along with an estimated 26,000 other people, The Rosenbergs visited Vatican City. Our tour guide, Vasco was incredible. He had an involved breadth of knowledge about every detail of each room, chapel, and artwork we visited. We learned about the Medicis and the Borgias and the Popes and the artists and the scandals and the propaganda and the every-everything. He imparted an intense amount of information during 3-1/2 hours.

The crowds shuffled through narrow hallways and staircases. Our small group followed our guide's red flag. At the three hour mark, we prepared to enter the Sistine Chapel. Vasco warned us - photos, video, and talking were all strictly forbidden in order to maintain the holy atmosphere of the chapel.

The shifting herd of people allowed through were waved into the center of the packed room by guards. Men and women jostled and shoved while craning their necks to take in Michelangelo's masterpiece. They whispered creating a low hiss. A guard yelled, "Silencio" into a microphone every thirty seconds.

Vaguely panicky as I became separated from Bob and Mr. Rosenberg, I felt faint from the heat of the swarm. Two elderly women made space for me on a bench along the wall. I leaned back against the cool tile and searched the faces in the large rectangular room that felt more like an airport security line than a chapel. At last, I stopped and remembered to lift my face to the ceiling.

It was then I felt it. Silencio.




Monday, April 1, 2019

Buongiorno Roma


Bob is just starting a unit on Rome in his ancient civilizations history class this quarter.  We heard about this from him right at this moment. Timing is everything.




These jet-lagged people are feeling punchy at the coffee shop.



The ancient beauty of the Forum.




This is Mr. Rosenberg's favorite place we went today.






The Vittoriano 



Near the apartment.






Day one complete. To vogliamo bene, Roma.

We love you, Rome.