Arriverderci Vicolo del Cedro 12

It had to happen sometime but it still makes me sad. Our little house in Rome at Vicolo del Cedro 12 has been rented for a year starting this March which means this spring when we return (hopefully in April) we won't be staying there.

One year ago today we flew to Rome for a our three month sojourn, an amazing experience I will never forget. (You can read all about it by clicking here.) Sad to say, although I have so many pictures of Rome, I have hardly any of the house itself. The house was the color of Rome, that wonderful burnt orange that glows in the sun. It had a glossy dark green door with two potted trees on either side that bloomed in the spring with tiny but pungent white flowers.

What do I remember most about the house? Well, the winding staircase from the entrance floor all the way up four flights to the terrace on the roof. Our bedroom overlooking Vicolo del Cedro and the sound of the fountain across the street; the bathroom--all marble and mirrors with the bidet we never used; the tiny kitchen which I never cooked in; the living room with its lumpy sofa and collection of funky lamps; the ritual every morning of opening the shutters and letting in the sun.
Mostly I'll remember how happy I was to return there every day using my big key to open the door and step inside to the dimly lit entrance hall, feeling I could be nowhere else but in Rome, the Eternal City.

Oh to sleep...

I read an article yesterday about a woman who loves to sleep. She claims to spend at least 10 hours every night in bed, eyes closed, blissfully off in the land of Nod and all without any chemical assistance. She falls asleep as soon as her head hits the pillow, loves lingering between the covers until late morning and expresses her sorrow that others cannot or will not do the same.

(BTW, I read this article at the podiatrist stretched out in a massage chair while getting several treatments to supposedly heal my damaged post-inauguration feet. Such treatments included the application of a funny looking device to stretch selected toes, electric stimulation to my arches and finally, insertion of acupuncture needles to my legs and feet. I have no idea if any of this works, but it was certainly relaxing if a bit bizarre.)

Unfortunately, I am not one to partake of that author's particular pleasure. Going to sleep is more often than not a challenge and despite my determination to sometimes sleep late, i.e past 9 am, I invariably wake up between 6:30 and 7. That doesn't mean I get dressed right away and head out the door but it does mean leaving my sleeping husband behind (He does like to sleep late and invariably does so.) and eating my simple breakfast alone at the kitchen counter while reading the newspapers. I consider it a good sign when I have read the papers and completed the NYT crossword before heading on to the next activity. Which means sleeping late on Friday and Saturday is especially difficult--those puzzles can take a long time to finish.

My Inauguration Diary

Monday:

Pack up warm clothes--forget hand and toe warmers purchased the day before; will pay dearly for that memory lapse on Tuesday--and ball outfits and head off to train for Washington.

Pick up tickets and check in to hotel in Virginia. Hotel is headquarters for Native American ball, lobby full of men, women and children with great hair and fabulous outfits featuring lots of beading and jewelry.

Head back to DC for dinner with Josh and Asha at Indian restaurant where we overeat of course.

Tuesday:

6:30 AM Wake up with terrible heartburn. Get dressed in multiple layers while berating the fact that I have forgotten essential hand and toe warmers. Have absolutely nothing to eat or drink for breakfast for fear that food might trigger major event during the day with portapotty only option available, if that.

7:15 Arrive at Metro stop with hordes of similarly bundled humanity. Unable to get onto first three trains due to excessive crowding; Finally manage to press ourselves into one for a long cloee up and personal ride with frequent stops and slowdowns due to heavy traffic on the line.

8:30 Get off Metro and walk three blocks to entrance to Blue Gate. Wait in line for almost three hours, once again bemoaning lack of hand and toe warmers. Crowd is amazingly diverse and amazingly happy. Joy is definitely in the air.

11:30 Finally arrive at entrance. Refuse to turn back. Go through security (No wonder line was sooooooo long and slow--only six scanners for thousands and thousands and thousands of people.)

11:45 Sprint to standing area--not easy when you are dressed like the Michelen tire man. Scramble through bushes, past row of portapotties--thank god I don't have to use one--just in time to hear the swearing in and Obama's incredible speech. (Missed Aretha but I figure I'll replay her on YouTube.) Don't see much except the bright white of the Capitol dome against the blue sky but feel the spirit along with everyone standing beside me. Much spontaneous hugging, kissing, dancing, crying.

1:00 Walk about 10-15 blocks back to Union Station with celebrating crowds for hot lunch. Finally use the bathroom.

2:30 Decide to try and take Metro back to hotel for pre-ball nap. Instead run into total gridlock caused by too many people trying to get in and out of the station. Steve nearly arrested trying to make a break across a barricade. Despite the discomfort and disruption, the crowd is amazingly good natured and compliant.

4:30 Pound the pavements for another hour or so trying to find an alternative Metro stop since many stops are closed for heightened security.

5:30 At last, get on subway for half hour ride back to hotel while we listen to everyone's wonderful inauguration stories.

6 PM Pull off boots, collapse on bed and wonder how we will have the strength to do it all over again that night.

7:00 Drag myself out of bed, into the shower and into my party duds--20 yr. Moschino Cheap and Chic dress (does this qualify as vintage) accessorized by my Indian jewelry (Asian, not Native American though come to think of it I could have done that too, maybe more appropriate, although I saw Michelle sparkled with diamonds and she looked great, didn't she?) and a pair of satin mules, definitely not walking shoes.

8:00 Get in cab for trip to DC. Driver claims he can't get us near the Convention Center because of street closings but will do best he can. Best he can is over a mile away. So on we go in the freezing cold, feet already crippled from our 12 hour marathon earlier that day, in high heels not made for city streets, necessitating a slow but steady pace.

8:45 Arrive at Convention Center where I see many cabs dropping off many ball goers. Our cab driver obviously hated us and wanted us to suffer.

9-11:30 Drink and dance some but mostly wander around looking at everyone and feeling good about being there and being part of it. Stay until Biden and wife arrive with good looking family and then of course, wait for the grand entrance of Barack and Michelle. Saw it all and loved it all.

11:45 Out on the street again knowing what lies ahead--a long trudge to the subway but this time doesn't feel so bad. Maybe I'm beyond pain plus I've got the experiences of the day and the night to sustain me.

12:15 Get on subway and don't even mind when a young person get us to let me sit down.

12:45 Complete collapse.

Wednesday

Arrive home. Steve immediately gets into steam shower. I vow to call the podiatrist first thing Thursday morning.

On to DC

We stayed home to watch the Eagles game and missed our chance to be at the Lincoln Memorial for the inaugural concert. Bad choice, it turns out. But tomorrow we are on our way to Washington and the inauguration of Barack Obama!!

Mostly I am concerned about staying warm for the five hours or so we'll be hanging around waiting for the big moment. In preparation, I've borrowed fleece lined boots from Liz; I've bought hand warmers and toe warmers at I. Goldberg's. I've planned my inauguration outfit carefully--leggings under wool pants, a jacket, a turtleneck and a wool sweater all topped off by my sheepskin coat. Frankly, I would prefer to wear my fur coat but I'm afraid it's just not PC anymore. Too bad, because it sure is warm.

I bought that coat some 20 years ago when Steve came home from a trip to Vegas with his pockets stuffed with money he won at the crap table. I immediately called my mother and told her to meet me at Nan Duskin's the next morning. What fun we had that day buying my first and only mink coat. Maybe I can still wear it around the house.

My Next Big Project

I love to read. Always have. In 8th grade, we had to keep a record of all the books we read and I remember my teacher not believing that my list could be so long. I still have fond memories of some of my earliest literary passions--"Heidi", my very first, and then all the Louisa May Alcott books starting with "Little Women." (Jo was my favorite sister.) My mom was a great reader too--she kept a beat-up copy of "Pride and Prejudice" on the hamper in her bathroom just in case she felt the urge to commune with Jane Austen while sitting on the john. She subscribed to the Saturday Review, a popular literary journal, and I thought one day when I grow up I'm going to write a column like Granville Hicks, a featured critic in the magazine. It seemed to me to be the ideal job--being paid to read lots of books and write about them.

Well, I never did become a book columnist. I suppose four years of writing papers in college as an English and American Literature major cured me of that. But it is surely still one of my greatest pleasures to be alone in my book-lined study deciding what book I'm going to read next. Although I mostly read at night after dinner I rarely read in bed but prefer to stretch out on the futon in the corner of my study with whatever volume I'm currently working on.

And tonight I have made a major decision: I'm going to reread Tolstoy's "War and Peace." This will be my third time tackling W and P but this time out I'm going to take on the new translation by Richard Pevear and Larissa Volokhonsky. Reading W and P is always a major undertaking--the book is long (nearly 1500 pages) and heavy even in paperback. Can't tuck this book in my pocketbook to read while on the train or waiting for my manicure to dry. I've ordered it from Amazon and I'm psyched to begin next week. Biggest decision now is what to read in the meantime.

This Makes Me Sad

How much do you think they pay this guy to stand on the corner of 16th and Chestnut all day in the freezing cold holding a placard hawking a going out of business sale at a downtown jewelry store?

Happy New Year

Back from Jamaica and back to reality. Here are some pics from my totally relaxing and wonderful vacation.

I love this sign!



My room at Jake's. I sleep better under a mosquito net.



An amazing Jamaican sunset.



I am the luckiest mom in Jamaica!



One love.