So we don't have to wonder next year

This year we put Ada to bed and had a nice dinner at home. For my records, we had:

Antipasti

Olives, Artichoke hearts, and fresh bread 

in oil and balsalmic

Pear and Prosciutto "Carpaccio"

Zuppa

Roasted-Carrot Soup

Insalata

Folie di Quercia with a sweet lemon dressing

Primi Piatti

Orecchiette with Orange-Spiced Lamb Meatballs

Contorno

Roasted mixed vegetables

Dolce

Chocolate cake with Bacio Gelato

We were so full after dinner we could hardly move. We got about six feet from the table (to the couch), and while talking about what would go on the soundtrack to our life, fell asleep. The ultimate Valentines Food Coma. It was so good.

Mostly, it was just sweet to celebrate us; to celebrate that we're here together and working to make our life the way we want it to be. So far, I think we're doing a pretty good job.

I've missed you, December

Dear December,

Hello. Remember me? Last time we met I was in a bit of a fog—7 months pregnant; completely consumed by my art and preparing for my final show. You provided a beautiful respite after my show was up. I think I lazed around for weeks needle-pointing Ada's stocking. 

But not this year, December. This year I want to take you by storm. I want to devote a bit of time each day to doing three things:

1. dancing to a Christmas song

2. doing something Christmas-y as (per our advent calender's instructions)

3. sketching for 15 minutes

I know. There are lots of things to keep me busy enough without throwing in festivities and the like, but I'm a bit smitten with you, December, and I want to keep things interesting this month.

Capisce?

Festively yours,

Paige

said advent calender

Truth be told most of those envelopes are still empty (filling more of them is on today's to-do list). Some envelopes just have a little treat in them, others will soon hold a note directing use to an activity of some sort (think ice skating, reading a new Christmas book, taking a walk to see the lights), and others will have scriptures or quotes to read together. 

A bit cheesy? Maybe. But I'm actually quite excited to have a reason to do some research on what Christmas events and activities are in the area and actually do them.

I went to the tourist office yesterday and got a 9 page print out—IN ITALIAN—of things to do during the month of December. Guess whose new friend is Google Translate?

Advent Calender Day 1 - Chocolate (we're starting things off simple)

Christmas Song: Oh Come All Ye Faithful by The Lower Lights

Hey mom! Look at me!

I was recently featured on a little art blog, ArtHound.net. Makes me wish I was painting more. Also, it makes me realize that I'm not done painting patterns.

I need to get ahead on house work, homework and other work so I can spend more time at the easel. (This is beginning to feel like the story of my life.) Problem is my immune system keeps taking a hit. Monday I felt about 100% again just to spend yesterday night throwing up. Isn't that fun? I slept 12 hours last night, so let's hope my body can fight it off soon!!

Snippets

So far, Autumn in Bologna is rain, rain, rain. This makes trips to the park a non-possibility and trips to the library a more burdensome one. But I am learning quickly that it's better to bear the brief burden than hole-up inside until the storm passes.

Ada had a particularly needy day yesterday. There were a few hours where the only things keeping me going were Chocolate Nutella Cookies. I ate well over a dozen. Let's not talk about it anymore.

I heard a boy singing in the streets today. He was riding his bike and belting Justin Bieber. He had a great voice. But I couldn't understand a word the English lyrics which made me giggle.

Same said boy started making machine-gun type sounds with his friend and Ada was startled awake. I looked at them, said, "Shh! Lei dorme." And they said "Scusi Signore." The formal reply made me feel old and important.

My Italian is (barely) coming along. I need to go find more people to talk to who aren't between the ages of 2 and 5.

We have a slug problem. As in, slugs sneak under our back door. You would have thought Mike was gearing up to fight something ferocious by the way he was pacing and fretting last night. After he settled down we grabbed a piece of paper (to fling them outside with) and drew a line of salt (Voodoo style--okay it's salt, not red dust, but you get the picture) for defense.

Slugs and all, I still am stopped in my tracks everyday because this city is so beautiful.

where the pigeons live.

Apple Pie alla Bolognese

Yesterday was a perfect day.

We were up early, made breakfast and ate as a family. Ada went down for her nap and I updated her baby book, picked up around the house, got ready for my class, and got her up (what? I have to wake you up from naps now?) to head off to the Bologna Center.

I love riding through the city with Ada. She likes it too. She holds onto my thumbs like they're little handlebars, and kicks her legs.  As I peddle I sing and babble back while she rings the bell and leans back to look at me as if to say, "Mom, this may be the greatest thing we do together."

Mikey and I did the baby hand off/switch, I scurried up the stairs to class and sat down for an hour and thirty minutes. The minutes flew by. I'm so excited for this class. My teacher is a tall Italian woman with big, curly hair (looser curls, but still frizzy), round, clear-framed glasses, lots of jewelry and even more personality. Yesterday she wore a checkered shirt and a corduroy vest. (I'm telling you I've never seen an Italian woman not dressed well and looking completely put together.) I hope I can soak up as much language as I can.

After class Ada and I rode home. She giggled and rang the bell as we bumped along the cobble stones. We got home and shared leftovers (zucchini, potato and tomato gratin) and she went down for her afternoon nap.

Then I painted. I have three paintings in the works. I was happy with what I did yesterday. I painted a tiny far away city. It's been so long since I've painted like this. I'm loving, loving, loving it. Ada slept for two and a half hours.

Mikey came home early. After he had a nap (while Ada and I dropped by the grocery store), we spent a bit of time cleaning up the backyard and playing outside as a family. I started dinner and left those two to hang outside. Soon Mikey knocked on the window and held up Ada. She was stripped down to her diaper and apparently slipping all over the freshly-mopped back porch. Mikey brought her in, wiped her off and reintroduced her to friction.

We had simple meal of BLT's (well, really PLT's -- pancetta, lettuce and tomato) and fruit for dinner.
And after dinner I taught Ada the proper way to roll out pie crust and keep it from breaking apart. Though we live in Italy, we can still carry on with feasting on fall harvests like Americans. I started prepping my apples. Cinnamon, a bit of sugar, nutmeg to taste, three tablespoons of flour should do it . . . even while just mixing the filling together my kitchen started to smell like Autumn.

I put Ada to bed and then finished prepping and chilling before I baked a beautiful All-American Apple Pie alla Bolognese.

Mikey and I shared a quarter of it with some vanilla gelato on top (we're still in Italy, after all) and talked about how great life is when you manage time well and put the important stuff first. Like warm apple pies. :)

Il Mercato

Friday Mikey had the day off. Waiver exams were completed (and passed!), classes were prepared for, and to-dos were mostly checked off the list. We spent the morning cleaning the floor and then headed out to the Mercato di Mezzo in the center of town. It's a conglomeration of tiny vicoli and strade packed with vendors selling fruit, vegetables, fish, cured meats, cheeses and a myriad of other goods. In the New York Times travel article on Bologna, they called the area around the Mercato di Mezzo a "gastronomic must."

image via

The produce was more expensive than another street market we stop by on the way to SAIS, so we stuck to having an experience in the meat department and later bought our produce at the street market in the Piazza Aldrovandi.

image via

See the guy on the left? He was the same one who helped me (by happenstance. I didn't even know the salumeria in the photo was the one we went to until I was browsing the NYT article). I was slightly disappointed with my experience because I practiced all the phrases I thought I would need to know before we headed over. Then I didn't know you had to take a number. And there are a lot of phrases about sorry and not knowing about the number thingy that I hadn't practiced. And I asked for dodici grammi di pancetta — the amount my recipe called for — not really putting it together that I was asking for like half an ounce. The guy looked at me like I was really confused. I was confused. I just wanted 12 grams. Not 100. I ended up getting a centigrammi di pancetta anyway. There's nothing wrong with having left over pancetta right?

I understand how the metric system works, I just don't really have in my head what 100 grams looks, feels and tastes like. I'm getting there though.

To finish up grocery shopping Mike and I headed to the market near our place to get the rest of what we needed for dinner that night. The recipe called for Marsala Wine. Being the big drinkers that we are (wink) we had a hard time figuring out what Marsala Wine looked like. We stood in front of a wall of wine bottles for probably 10 minutes with puzzled looks on our faces. We ended up just getting a generic white wine, only to find out when we got home that Marsala is a red wine. We have so much to learn.

However, obstacles or not, we were determined to have a delicious dinner. Macaroni Grill style. We picked up some fresh rosmarino di pane at a panificio on the way home and I got to work sauteing, adding, reducing, chopping, cooking and baking. The result was delicious.

Here's the recipe:

Penne Rustica
adapted from this one on Food.com
serves 4-6


Gratinata sauce

1 t butter
1 t minced garlic
1/2 t Dijon mustard
1 t rosemary
1/2 c marsala wine (or white wine, if you're a bonehead like me)
1/4 t cayenne pepper
3 1/4

Directions for sauce:

- Saute butter, garlic and rosemary until garlic begins to brown
- Add wine, reduce by one third (boil rapidly until the volume decreases by a third)
- Add remaining ingredients. Reduce by half. (While boiling, start in on pasta). Set aside.

 Penne Rustica

8 - 10 oz penne pasta, cooked
1/2 ounce pancetta (or bacon)
5 oz grilled chicken breasts, sliced
8 shrimp (we didn't buy/use any)
1/8 c butter
1 T chopped shallot (the white part)
pinch of salt and pepper
3/4 c Parmesan cheese
paprika

Directions:

- Cook pasta according to package directions
- Grill chicken (I just did mine in a pan on the stove) and season lightly
- Preheat the oven to 425
- Saute pancetta until it begins to brown
- Add butter and shallots (and shrimp, if using. Cook until shrimp are evenly pink but still translucent)
- Add chicken, salt and pepper. Mix thoroughly.
- Add gratinata sauce and 1/2 of Parmesan cheese.
- Simmer until the sauce thickens (and your pasta is done cooking).
- Combine with cooked and drained pasta.
- But in a casserole dish, top with remaining cheese and sprinkle with paprika.
- Bake at 425 for 10 minutes.

Survival Kits

It's no secret. I'm terrified that we're going to become Public Enemy Number One if (after) Ada cries, screams, and squirms during entire flight. I've been on an airplane with a screaming baby and talked to enough people to know that no one likes the screaming baby. Rather, no one likes the wailing baby's parents. Me. And I want people to like me. Who doesn't want people to like them?

So I've put together some Wailing Baby Survival Kits for the passengers unfortunate enough to sit next to us on the plane. The contents include:

• A book of Sudoko puzzles
• A pencil
• Advil (for those crying induced headaches)
• Wipes (for spills and possible baby-related mishaps)
• Ear plugs
• Gum
• Chapstick
• Chocolate

We also included a little letter to our fellow passengers:


I'm hoping that in the (very likely) event that we disrupt others on the plane, they'll at least give us a bit more patience than they maybe would have because they know we know just how obnoxious we are.

My patronus is a goat

A friend wrote a few days ago that not blogging about the Harry Potter movie final installment would be "a huge generational betrayal." She may be right. So just to cover my generational bases . . .

After walking out of the theater this morning (at 2:30 AM) I couldn't help but feel like it was my grade (maybe plus or minus one grade) that truly grew up with Harry. I remember reading the first book in the 5th grade. Harry and I were the same age (as are, coincidentally, Daniel Radcliffe and I). The heroes and heroines of the books grew up with me, almost at the same rate.

Near the end of the film during moments of quiet, sniffles (and sobs) could be heard echoing in the theater. But I don't think the tears were for the dead in the movie or the touching exchanges. Rather, they were tears shed for a closing of a door, for the coming of age of millions worldwide.

But I wasn't sad. For me, the sadness came when I finished reading the books. I think there is a key distinction between the book-era Potter fans and the movie-era Potter fans.

The true HP-ers, the ones that grew up with Harry, the ones that graduated from High School as Harry left Hogwarts, we had our sobbing-on-the-floor moments when we finished the books. I remember staring at the ceiling after closing the back cover and thinking, "Harry is done. And I'm going to college in two months. Childhood is officially ending." The movies are fun, yes, but I attach no nostalgia to them.

For the book-era Potter fans, we learned from Harry that geeks were cool. The coolest girl at Hogwarts was Hermione. The bad-a kids were lame and ugly. Gryffindor--where all the brainiacs go--was where you wished to be if you could somehow get in to Hogwarts.  The Harry Potter Series not only increased world-wide literacy, but it made reading hip. When else did millions of kids camp out for a book release? We devoured them.

So while it may be sad that we can't dress up and wait for the latest and greatest from the Wizarding World, I'm not sad that the movies are over. I'm sad that I don't have more time to read.

Grilled Pizza

Mikey and I are part of a weekly dinner group. Weekly sounds intense, but it has been awesome. I cook one Tuesday a month and get fed the other three. It rocks.  It's fun to catch up, share recipes, and show up at someone's place to eat and not even have a food assignment.

At our last gathering, we made a few grilled pizzas. I've been working on finding my favorite crust recipe since I made my first homemade pizza years ago. Figuring out the perfect way to cook it is another story. Most people say you need a HOT (as in, crank your oven up to 500 degrees and let it sit there for an hour before putting your pizza in). It's summer, folks. No 500 degree ovens here. We tried the grill method and I must say that grilling has moved to the top of the list.

I read my fair share of recipe blogs. Dinner: A Love Story is one of my favorites. She did a post on grilled pizza a week or so ago and I took her six rules to heart. They are probably my new Six Commandments of Pizza Grilling.

For the crust this time, we used a recipe (scroll to the bottom of her post) sans olive oil that another blogger said grilled up really nicely. Truly the easiest crust ever (and it tastes great too).

As far as toppings go we had three varieties:

BBQ Chicken pizza.  Grill style.

 The first was a BBQ Chicken. Has anyone else tried Williams Sonoma's BBQ Sauces? They're awesome. We topped it with mozzarella, grilled chicken, and red onions. Grill as per the two posts above. You can't go wrong.

Our second pizza was a veggie with zucchini, green and orange peppers, onions, and tomatoes. Saute your veggies first and I sprinkled them with Italian Seasoning. Yum.

Gorgonzola, apple, walnut, caramelized onions, balsamic . . .

The third was my favorite. It was of the sauceless variety topped with Gorgonzola cheese, thinly sliced apples, chopped walnuts, and caramelized onions. After it comes off the grill, top it with a pile of arugula, drizzle the whole thing with balsamic vinegar and top with freshly cracked pepper.

. . . topped with arugula and sprinkle of fresh pepper.

*photos courtesy of Ms. Hanna Colleen

ARP Artworks

One of my best friends from the art program, Anna Peterson, is talented and generous and a good cook and a good hostess and good looking. Seriously. The total package.

And speaking of packages, she painted the one the stork brought me. Look at my Ada Lou.

Anna and I did an art trade and I came out way on top. I should bake her a pie or something to try and even the score.

Regardless, she'd love to paint your loved ones (or non-loved ones if you're in to that sort of thing). To get in touch with her, send her an email at arpartworks@gmail.com. To see more of her work, learn about her process and see pricing options, visit her blog http://arpportraits.blogspot.com/. She is also offering private or small group instruction in portraiture, figure, and basic drawing skills.

I felt so legit

We met the charming and ever-so-talented Brian Mortenson while serving in the single's ward. I'm still convinced that Michael twisted his arm (or threatened??) him somehow, but Brian took on the job of revamping my website and I'm so happy with how it's come together.

Mike and I attended the Zion's Bank Spring Art Show opening reception last night. It was a great (and tasty) event that featured 40 local artists and I was glad we were able to attend. (Thanks for tending Grandpa!!) I was impressed with so much of the work and it really gave me the itch to paint (oh will I ever paint again!?)

It was nice while talking with artists and others at the event to be able to say, "Why yes, I've got a website, paigeandersonart.com." when it came up. I felt so official. And legit.

Do you want Brian to design your site? (He's seriously great.) Contact him at bgmort@gmail.com

Three white dresses

I felt like a real grown-up last Sunday. Before getting up and dressed for the day, Mike and I laid there talking about how coming-of-age our Sunday was going to be. We were blessing our baby. While it felt big to have a baby and become parents and all that jazz, blessing her seemed to be the final step in parenthood initiation. People who bless babies are real parents. They're adult.

And then I realized, I must have become one recently . . .

Mike did a beautiful job (even though Miss Ada Lou wailed through the whole thing). It was such an overwhelming moment to watch my husband bless my child in her first white dress.

She got real happy after the blessing. Perfect timing little one...

After the meeting we had quite the affair at my parent's house. My mother, mother-in-law, and so many others did so much to make it a nice afternoon and a delicious lunch. I wish I had gotten some pictures of the spread.

Ada wore the dress that I was blessed in (as well as my sisters and my cousin. It was hers originally.) Oh and the booties. From Spain. I think I might scout out some blessing outfits for subsequent children while we're in Italy . . .

On Tuesday evening Mike and I were lucky enough to go to the temple and perform proxy sealings. It was another occasion for a white dress. Only I was in it this time. What a sweet reminder it was of the eternal nature and purpose of families.

Ada Louise on her blessing day. May 1, 2011.

On Saturday, in yet another white dress, my cousin was baptized. She giggled when she emerged from the water. I loved that.

I couldn't help but think how unique it was to witness and participate in three white-dress-ordinances in just a week. It was a reminder of how simple and how beautiful life is meant to be.

A bedtime story for Ada

An off-the-cuff story by Daddy (transcribed by Mama):

Once there was a beautiful princess named Ada. She was the most beautiful princess in all the land.

Princess Ada had a wish--a wish to have a strong neck. So she gathered all the sorcerers and magicians in the land and asked them if they could help her have a strong neck.

The sorcerer said that he could make her have a strong neck with a BING! of his wand. BING! But Princess Ada wasn't so sure that her neck was stronger with the BING! of his wand.

"I don't think it worked," she told him.

"Yes it did. Your neck is stronger." The sorcerer said.

"Are you sure? It doesn't feel stronger," she said has her head bobbled from side to side.

Princess Ada didn't think it worked. So she fired him.

Then she called the magician. He said, "I know how to make your neck strong. It doesn't take magic, it takes standing on your head. Think about how your legs get strong--you have to stand on them! It's the same with your head!"

So Princess Ada stood on her head until her face got red. When she got up, she had a headache and her neck still wasn't strong.

She went home and cried and cried--on her tummy. She hated being on her tummy so she cried even more. For an hour she cried on her tummy until she finally fell asleep. When she woke up, she smiled, until she realized she was on her tummy, and then she cried again.

Suddenly she realized that she was lifting her head up so big and strong! Her neck had gotten strong from all that tummy time!

Princess Ada was so happy because her neck was now the strongest neck in all the land.

The end.

This story was brought to you by parents who are paranoid that their daughter is getting a flat head from laying on her back.

Sunshine

Have you heard the song Sunshine (Come on Lady) by Josh Rouse? It's been stuck in my head all morning, except I've been subconsciously substituting a few words here and there like, "Come on baby, take this mom and make her right . . ."

I didn't even realize it at first. But I guess it should be expected since my head is basically buzzing all day with: babybabybabybabybabybabybabybabybabybabybabybabybabybabybabybabybabybabybaby...

Friends of the Coalition

Hello friends. Did you vote to help Salt Lake raise $1 million for the homeless? Then I'm pretty sure you can help Utah County win $250,000 for the homeless. In fact, you can help out in three ways every day. I have been. We're currently ranked #35, so come on!

TEXT

1.  Add Pepsi as a contact with 73774 as phone number.

2.  Text 105571 to Pepsi everyday throughout January. 

FACEBOOK

1.  Go to facebook.com and search "Pepsi Refresh Voting App"

2.  Click "Go to App", click "Allow", then "Like"

3.  Click tab "Pepsi Refre...", click "Support ideas on Facebook"

4.  Search "Friends of the Coalition", "Vote for this idea", "Confirm"

WEBSITE

1.  Visit refresheverything.com

2.  In lower left, sign-in

3.  In the upper right, search "Friends of the Coalition"

4. "Vote for this idea"

HERE'S A LINK to more information about "Friends of the Coalition."

Vote, vote, vote away!!!

Fer cute (seriously though)

Let's talk about how darling this is.

Prudent Advice.

So darling.

Okay I'm done.

Miércoles, the day that sounds like miracles

We had some of Mikey's ward members over on Monday night for Family Home Evening. We were told it was just going to be one group (20 people--or less) so I decided to use up the rest of my peaches, before all 14 of them went bad, and make a big batch of peach cobbler. (I used this recipe. It was awesome. And magic. Read on).

As I sat and watched as the students arrived in groups of fours and fives I soon realized that we would have a lot more than the 14 or so students I was told to plan on. Try twice that many. Plus a few stragglers.

I went to the oven and thought what a measly offer it was for thirty-or-so people, and I blessed our trip to the grocery store earlier that day for the extra gallon of ice cream we got. We'd need every bit.

I took the cobbler out of the oven. It was hot and bubbly and smelled like the last few days of summer. I second guessed taking it up stairs. Maybe we could just settle on ice cream and chocolate sauce? I did have half a dozen pumpkin cookies from Saturday. . . Maybe this will be a lesson in sharing? Mikey can make it an object lesson? We can roll dice for dessert? Only winners in the game can eat? Only people expecting a child can eat? Girls only?

I began cutting up the cobbler and decided to cut it into 25 servings. Crazy. We served it with ice cream and I couldn't believe how full the bowls were. It was the miracle of the loaves and the fishes I tell you! Everyone ate. And it didn't seem like a pathetic excuse for a refreshment. It was more than a mouthful. It was a portion. A real life portion.

I didn't catch who gave the opening prayer and blessed the food, but they must have done a darn good job.

Interactive Film

The Internet is getting cooler and cooler. And so is Arcade Fire.

http://thewildernessdowntown.com/

It will be well worth your time.

On this, the longest day of the year

Let me tell you about the perfect day. It starts off with a flurry of domestic activity that clears the clutter from you soul as well as the floor in your closet. It is interrupted by a lunch date with that boy you married because he makes you smile when he opens the front door. Basically, he feels like home and I love that feeling.

After you kiss him goodbye and wish him the best in bringing home the bacon you head out on your bike for some research time on campus. But not academic research, bridal shower research, which, speaking from experience, is well worth the time and it's just as satisfying as that 12 page research paper I turned in two weeks ago. Also, you don't have to make a bibliography. Always a perk.

The perfect day always makes room for a nap, but just a short one. There is too much to do on June 21st, the longest day of the year.

The perfect day also allows for plenty of bike riding. This time, to dinner with over 20 people who you absolutely adore, and not because you have to (they are family afterall), but because they are some of the most intelligent wonderful people on the planet. (This is all true). And like any perfect day, dinner is of the Mexican variety, because no problem was ever so big a little flour tortilla couldn't cure it.

The post-dinner bike ride is taken at a slower pace, there's no room for side-aches on perfect days. No, no. But the bike ride is longer, for on the longest day of the year, there must be music. Live music. Fun music. Outdoor music. Yes, a lawn concert does just the trick. The perfect day is also filled with treats. Cookie dough and popcorn, but also, the first Surf 'N Slurp of the year. Surfer's Sunset is highly recommended.

Finally, the perfect day is wrapped up with an outdoor movie in the backyard with the arm of that boy I told you about tucked tightly around my shoulder.

For on this, the longest day of the year, all moments should be outside moments. They should be sunshine moments that keep you warm even after the sun sets way after bed time.

Older than our marriage

I don't know what it is but I can't seem to get off this salty food kick. Seriously, I make myself a peanut butter and honey sandwich and after the first bite I think, Where's the popcorn? or the string cheese? or the Saltines?! 

It's bizarre.

I just got home from spending all day on campus. I opened the fridge, looked at the half-empty shelves pathetically, glanced at the clock to see how long until dinner, and looked back to the contents (or lack of contents) of the fridge. Nothing in there struck me as "something yummy." Bummer.

I settled for shreded Parmesan cheese. As I put pinches of cheese in my mouth I read the lid, Aged over 24 months. TWENTY-FOUR MONTHS? AS IN TWO YEARS?!

I shouted to Mikey, "Hey this cheese is older than our marriage!"

Unimpressed, he replied, "Crazy."