I currently have no ADSL! AHH! In a stupid, stupid attempt to save some money by going with a new telecommunications operator, I have stupidly, stupidly ruined what was a wonderful relationship with my slightly more expensive, yet reliable, provider. Why did I do this? Why? WHY? Possibly because they called me every single day, sometimes twice, for months and months and I just couldn't take it anymore. I think I might have changed just to get them to stop calling.
Only their ADSL does not work and they won't let me go back to my old provider. Or, technically, they SAY they will let me go back, but they won't give my old provider the line back. Right now they are saying it will take 40 to 60 days.
I have spent this week on the phone with "customer service" for lack of another expression, and the future, I daresay, looks grim. So I am working on an alternative solution which does not involve me having to spend my mornings at my generous friend's architectural firm in the center of town where there is no parking (a lovely officer could be writing me out a ticket as we speak) but there is ADSL.
Also, this week, I lost a tooth. An expensive lab-made tooth in a plastic ziplock bag that must be somewhere in my house. But where? WHERE? How stupid must one be to loose a TOOTH?
Nevermind, I can answer that myself: about as stupid as one must be to go with a suspicious telecommunications provider who bullies you over the phone into taking them up on their dubious offer when really, you were perfectly happy with your current provider.
Thursday, November 19, 2009
Monday, November 16, 2009
I'd been working so much last week that I didn't get a chance to read the newspapers. I'd heard about Berlusca's latest attempt to have all those bribery and tax evasion charges dropped and the trials against him suspended, but the newest tactic was so far out there that I had a hard time believing it.
After Italy's Constitutional Court decided it was unconstitutional to offer immunity to the men holding the country's highest four political offices, which really pissed off Berlusconi, the trials against him resumed and he now faces the very real and imminent risk of being found guilty for all sorts of nasty things. The cases have been going on for years, as Italy tends to draw these things out for decades. And that is precisely what Berlusconi hopes to use to his advantage. He is trying to pass a law establishing a two-year statute of limitations for all trials. Meaning that if a case is not decided within two years, it is removed from the courts. According to Berlusca, any politicians not backing him on this are clearly part of a conspiracy against him.
Meanwhile, two big trials against him are still underway, although he is postponing any hearings due to "official state business".
The extent to which this man will go to avoid trial is a little frightening. He has no qualms about completely destroying the country's legal system, as long as his personal holdings and his public position remain intact. What troubles me most of all is that the majority of Italians allow this. They watch - and continue to support him - while he and his team of lawyers scramble all over the place in a mad dash to cobble together some form of legal immunity before there is enough time for an unbribed judge to find him guilty.
After Italy's Constitutional Court decided it was unconstitutional to offer immunity to the men holding the country's highest four political offices, which really pissed off Berlusconi, the trials against him resumed and he now faces the very real and imminent risk of being found guilty for all sorts of nasty things. The cases have been going on for years, as Italy tends to draw these things out for decades. And that is precisely what Berlusconi hopes to use to his advantage. He is trying to pass a law establishing a two-year statute of limitations for all trials. Meaning that if a case is not decided within two years, it is removed from the courts. According to Berlusca, any politicians not backing him on this are clearly part of a conspiracy against him.
Meanwhile, two big trials against him are still underway, although he is postponing any hearings due to "official state business".
The extent to which this man will go to avoid trial is a little frightening. He has no qualms about completely destroying the country's legal system, as long as his personal holdings and his public position remain intact. What troubles me most of all is that the majority of Italians allow this. They watch - and continue to support him - while he and his team of lawyers scramble all over the place in a mad dash to cobble together some form of legal immunity before there is enough time for an unbribed judge to find him guilty.
Wednesday, November 11, 2009
feast or famine
Last week work was sloooooow. I began to grow worried that things would slow down so much they'd come to a standstill, like last year around this time of year when there was nothing, NOTHING, and everyone was talking about the CRISI, but I was about to have a baby and so what did I care. This year not so much. So, last week, what did I do? Well, first I complained about it to G: "AH! THIS IS TERRIBLE! I MIGHT NEVER WORK AGAIN! HOW WILL I PAY TAXES? AHHH!"
But he is never very alarmed when this happens. He usually points out that pretty soon all my wishes for more work will come bite me in the ass and I'll be complaining that I have TOO MUCH WORK. (For the record: I never complain about TOO MUCH WORK. I just like to talk about it a lot.)
With the exception of last year's crisi, he is always right. Eventually things pick up again and by then I am so eager for work that I take on back-to-back projects and work night and day to make up for the slowdown.
"I thought after a few years you would be able to manage things a little bit better," G said to me the other night. "I thought you would figure out how to schedule your projects more evenly."
Apparently, despite years of living with an anxious freelancer, he has yet to grasp the fundamental nature of freelance work: either there is a cornucopia of work to chose from or there is very, very little. And I think I am a little addicted to the ups and downs of it. (Sorry, G.)
So anyway, all this to explain why posting is light this week.
But he is never very alarmed when this happens. He usually points out that pretty soon all my wishes for more work will come bite me in the ass and I'll be complaining that I have TOO MUCH WORK. (For the record: I never complain about TOO MUCH WORK. I just like to talk about it a lot.)
With the exception of last year's crisi, he is always right. Eventually things pick up again and by then I am so eager for work that I take on back-to-back projects and work night and day to make up for the slowdown.
"I thought after a few years you would be able to manage things a little bit better," G said to me the other night. "I thought you would figure out how to schedule your projects more evenly."
Apparently, despite years of living with an anxious freelancer, he has yet to grasp the fundamental nature of freelance work: either there is a cornucopia of work to chose from or there is very, very little. And I think I am a little addicted to the ups and downs of it. (Sorry, G.)
So anyway, all this to explain why posting is light this week.
Sunday, November 08, 2009
lions and tigers and beautiful ladies
We took Jack to the circus yesterday for the first time.
The last time I went to the circus must have been Barnum and Bailey in San Francisco, about twenty years ago. I remember being very, very hot. (My mother always overdressed us for San Francisco in the summer. We were probably wearing wool long johns under our flannel-lined jeans and winter coats.) But the circus was pretty amazing. Skinny G said he'd been once before and it was, in his words, "sad". Which explained his complete lack of enthusiasm when Jack and I suggested we go.
Anyway, we all liked it, even G, who said it wasn't as depressing as he remembered it being although he still felt bad for the animals.
Jack and I loved it.
There was a brief intermission halfway through and Jack asked what would be coming afterward. "I don't know!" I said. "What would you like to see?"
"Lions and tigers and beautiful ladies."
And guess what. That's exactly what came next.
The last time I went to the circus must have been Barnum and Bailey in San Francisco, about twenty years ago. I remember being very, very hot. (My mother always overdressed us for San Francisco in the summer. We were probably wearing wool long johns under our flannel-lined jeans and winter coats.) But the circus was pretty amazing. Skinny G said he'd been once before and it was, in his words, "sad". Which explained his complete lack of enthusiasm when Jack and I suggested we go.
Anyway, we all liked it, even G, who said it wasn't as depressing as he remembered it being although he still felt bad for the animals.
Jack and I loved it.
There was a brief intermission halfway through and Jack asked what would be coming afterward. "I don't know!" I said. "What would you like to see?"
"Lions and tigers and beautiful ladies."
And guess what. That's exactly what came next.
Friday, November 06, 2009
exceptional child; typical mother
As embarrassing as this is to admit, sometimes the au pair and I stand around gushing about the boys. It usually starts out with her telling me something absolutely amazing that James did while I was working and then we agree on how terrifically brilliant and talented he is. Because he can clap his hands. And laugh. Simultaneously! Then one of us says, "And isn't he adorable? Doesn't he seem even cuter than he was yesterday?" And the other one points out that we had already agreed the previous day that he was "even more handsome than usual" that day. Well, he's just always this handsome and adorable we decide.
Then inevitably one of us remembers something absolutely amazing that Jack did or said or drew or built the previous afternoon and we gush over that for awhile. Then one of us points out how absolutely brilliant and talented Jack is. And we think over it for a bit, mentioning all the incredible drawings he has done for us and how he can build really, really, really tall towers in three seconds flat. And how smart he is. And of course we mention all the smart things he has said recently and how these thoughts of his are indisputable evidence that he is, indeed, absolutely brilliant.
Take, for instance, what he said to me the other day in the car. It was after one of my at-home gushing sessions with C and I had gone to pick him up from school. On the way home, I was telling him how lucky I am to have such great kids, how I am probably the luckiest mom ever because I have the most wonderful kids ever.
He was completely unimpressed. "All the moms say that," he informed me.
Which of course I interpreted as yet another sign of his superior skills of social perception.
Then inevitably one of us remembers something absolutely amazing that Jack did or said or drew or built the previous afternoon and we gush over that for awhile. Then one of us points out how absolutely brilliant and talented Jack is. And we think over it for a bit, mentioning all the incredible drawings he has done for us and how he can build really, really, really tall towers in three seconds flat. And how smart he is. And of course we mention all the smart things he has said recently and how these thoughts of his are indisputable evidence that he is, indeed, absolutely brilliant.
Take, for instance, what he said to me the other day in the car. It was after one of my at-home gushing sessions with C and I had gone to pick him up from school. On the way home, I was telling him how lucky I am to have such great kids, how I am probably the luckiest mom ever because I have the most wonderful kids ever.
He was completely unimpressed. "All the moms say that," he informed me.
Which of course I interpreted as yet another sign of his superior skills of social perception.
Tuesday, November 03, 2009
Saturday, October 31, 2009
sick baby
Last night James woke up around midnight with a barking cough and raspy breathing. Jack never had croup, but my mom has mentioned us getting it as kids, and how she'd sit in the bathroom with us with the hot shower going to help our breathing. I was so glad last night to have heard those stories, because as soon as I heard the breathing, instead of totally freaking out that my kid was suffocating on some small object lodged in his throat, I immediately thought this must be what she was talking about. And I only freaked out just a little tiny bit.
I am pleased to report that James survived until morning when we could call the doctor.
The only thing is that in Italy, seeing a doctor on the weekend is a tricky affair. The way the children's healthcare system works here is that you can pick a pediatrician anywhere in your town, who is available on weekdays for consults and visits. The pediatricians are required to provide availability Saturday mornings, and ours does this through an association with four or five other pediatricians on a rotating schedule. If you have a problem on a Sunday, you can either call the guardia medica and get medical help over the phone from the Italian equivalent of a resident/intern or you can go to the emergency room.
As my sister-in-law once pointed out, "Have you ever noticed that if our kids are going to come down with some weird illness, it's always on the weekend? But the standard cold only hits during the week?" And it's true. Anything worrisome or urgent always comes up when you can't see your regular doctor. Call it the Murphy's Law of childhood diseases.
So this morning, after calling around, we finally figured out who the doctor on duty was and after disturbing him at home (his wife was so very kind and gracious, even at 8 am on a Saturday), he confirmed that it's almost certainly croup.
We had to change our Halloween plans around a little, but Jack will still get to go trick-or-treating with his cousins up in the mountains. I'll stay at home with my cuddly, croupy baby, and maybe get to watch a girlie movie on pay-per-view.
I am so impressed at how cool Skinny G and I are now with stuff like this. We have come a long way since when Jack would unexpectedly get sick and you'd have thought the house was on fire. I really do think they should give you a practice kid before they let you go home with a real one. We are much better parents after having messed up so many times on Jack.
I am pleased to report that James survived until morning when we could call the doctor.
The only thing is that in Italy, seeing a doctor on the weekend is a tricky affair. The way the children's healthcare system works here is that you can pick a pediatrician anywhere in your town, who is available on weekdays for consults and visits. The pediatricians are required to provide availability Saturday mornings, and ours does this through an association with four or five other pediatricians on a rotating schedule. If you have a problem on a Sunday, you can either call the guardia medica and get medical help over the phone from the Italian equivalent of a resident/intern or you can go to the emergency room.
As my sister-in-law once pointed out, "Have you ever noticed that if our kids are going to come down with some weird illness, it's always on the weekend? But the standard cold only hits during the week?" And it's true. Anything worrisome or urgent always comes up when you can't see your regular doctor. Call it the Murphy's Law of childhood diseases.
So this morning, after calling around, we finally figured out who the doctor on duty was and after disturbing him at home (his wife was so very kind and gracious, even at 8 am on a Saturday), he confirmed that it's almost certainly croup.
We had to change our Halloween plans around a little, but Jack will still get to go trick-or-treating with his cousins up in the mountains. I'll stay at home with my cuddly, croupy baby, and maybe get to watch a girlie movie on pay-per-view.
I am so impressed at how cool Skinny G and I are now with stuff like this. We have come a long way since when Jack would unexpectedly get sick and you'd have thought the house was on fire. I really do think they should give you a practice kid before they let you go home with a real one. We are much better parents after having messed up so many times on Jack.
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