BW gets a glimpse of a little yellow tractor disappearing into a thick swath of cypress on the western hill. CSM’s in there somewhere.

Post work out, I hear the squeals and cheers of racing. Today’s track is around the dining room table with competitors Kayla and Griffin. It’s pretty sweet to watch my oldest and youngest play. Before long, I’m drafted onto the field.

At one point Kayla tells him she needs a break and sits. Oh, the sad! No whining, no vocal objection. He simply hangs his head in a moment of mourning silence before I distract him back into the race with just me.

It’s a hot—triple digits hot—hang out Sunday. BW does some droning, Jason’s checking on his house—big rain storm back home. There’s racing and videoing, a new puzzle to puzzle, hide and seeking, Mario Carting and Mario Partying.

Danger Guy dangers himself off the game room sofa onto the tile floor. A hug and Mommy stroking’s all he needs before he’s back in business with a new game. Crash The Nana—with pillows. I execute many dramatic fake falls which pleases him.

Cooking starts to happen. Scrub and quarter potatoes with a sharp knife—thanks, Kat—figure out conversion for oven temp—thanks, Jason—gather herbs, mince garlic, grind some pepper, slide big ass pan in the oven.

BW’s drafted to make a salad, Kayla a cheese board. Kat will handle the broccoli. Jason’s assigned to make some fries—we have frozen—for Danger Guy. And we discover, unlike at home, these won’t cook in the oven—translation from package instruction says fry in oil. An attempt to subvert this with the oven fails. We have sunflower oil, so Jason fries, Kat steams (the broccoli), Kayla creates, BW tosses. I stir up potatoes, slice some bread, some tomatoes—add fresh basil, pepper and olive oil there.

And indoor meal tonight due to heat and bugs. And it’s all more than fine. A lovely family Sunday dinner in Tuscany. After which BW makes cappuccino and the gang cleans up.

It’s pool time. Out of the blasting afternoon sun, an evening swim sounds good. Knowing the water temp won’t meet my standards, I will observe and document. Kayla’s reaction doesn’t surprise, but she eventually inches herself in.

We examine the room near the pool—another bedroom we didn’t need, but haven’t looked over. BW finds one of my In Death books inside. Nice.

As the sun goes down, so does the heat. It’s breezy with it, so very, very pleasant.

Bedtime—but I place a couple puzzle pieces first.

Today, Danger Guy stays with Nana and Grandda while his parents and cousin adventure off to Pisa. BW and I have been there, done that, so we’ll give Griffin a day of adventuring at home. I hope Danger Guy takes it easy on his nana’s heart rate.

Chain Saw Man’s busy, and some bird calls out—a hoarse call, like it has a cold. Not a cloud in the pale blue morning sky.

I’m going to see about getting a short work out in before I step up for Nana duty.

Nora

Before I work out it’s time for some morning video amusement with Griffin. Then I discover Kat’s making Eggs Benedict—a BW fave. Some round Italian type bacon will substitute for the usual Canadian, AND she’s making Hollandaise sauce from scratch.

I must watch the process, and use her phone to memorialize some of it.

The result is lovely, and BW decrees YUM.

Well past time for me to head down to my outdoor gym. Water bottles for weights day, and Tony Horton on my Beach Body app. While I’m lifting I hear the thunder of a plane. A BIG plane that sounds like it’s about to land on the roof of the pergola.

So I step out in time to see—farther away than I’d have guessed—some sort of fighter jet streak by and over the western hills. Back to Tony, a quick one with Shaun T to cap off some cardio, back to Tony for some core mat work, then finish up with Autumn for stretches. Good session!

Up to charge my tablet as 90 minutes or so of streaming eats up batteries.

A slice of cold pizza with Jason and Kat in the kitchen as we discuss plans to go into the village for dinner tonight. Then up to change.

Pretty day, temps rising again, but I don’t mind. I consider setting up to work awhile, or hanging out and watching the Mario Cart competition. Mario wins. And when the game ends I decide an hour’s work is now the thing.

I spot a man and woman outside the gate. It looks like she’s taking pictures of the hydrangeas as they stand and discuss something. She’s carrying some sort of packet, and they’ve come in two cars. Up the steep road they walk. Huh.

Before I go out, I see her come back, with two other guys. Big discussion right outside the gate, then she walks off a distance—like you do when you’re measuring. Discuss, discuss. I have no idea what that’s all about, maybe a property line dispute. Who knows.

Kat, Kayla and I (mostly Kat!) finish the puzzle! Hurray!

I go to work. It’s nice and quiet again.

Plans are to leave about six, and it’s about five-thirty when I surface. I’m going to change into something cooler for dinner, then I hang with Kayla for awhile while everyone else is pulling it together.

You can’t drive to the restaurant—the narrow street forbids car traffic after eight, and we’ll surely be beyond that when we’re done. I go with Jason and Griffin (Griffin considered driving but was denied) and the others lead the way.

It’s a pretty drive to the parking lot outside of Barbarino. Steps lead up—or a ramp for Stroller Boy—and to a sweet little park, then down that narrow street of the pretty village. BW and I see a shop—closed by this time—lovely little Tiffany style lamps I have no idea where I’d put, but just so lovely. And a little accordion. All sorts of things stuffed into the shop.

We must go back when it’s open.

The restaurant Mr. Google told us opened at six doesn’t serve until seven-thirty, but the next one down—where we’ve gotten take-out—welcomes us in. And back to a patio with a beautiful view. Umbrella must be adjusted for shade as the sun is blazing.

Our server has about as much English as we do Italian, but we manage to order water and wine. The menu’s a little bit of a struggle as we have our vegetarian and our allergic to meat and shellfish diners. The good part is there are numbers representing allergies beside every dish.

Mine’s easy: Spaghetti a pomodoro.

Before our mains, another server brings out a round of bread, sort of like a small, sauce-free pizza, with a dish of what turns out to be vodka red sauce. It’s pretty wonderful. So is my pasta. Griffin’s fries must’ve been as well as he sure enjoyed them.

It’s a really nice meal, and we have the whole patio to ourselves throughout. So how about some cappuccino and some dolci? I say yes.

Kat and Kayla learn BW can make cappuccino on the coffee maker at the villa. This brings joy.

Complimentary limocello, and it’s wow.

The walk back is welcome after that meal, and the view from the park is great.

Back home and it’s sunset time. Then pj time for me and Mario time for all. While the games rage, Griffin decides it’s chase Nana time—with his lawnmower. Around and around we go, from game room—jump—to sitting room and back around—jump to game room. At the finish line I’m instructed to go again—the lawnmower’s on my heels.

A wheel comes off. Nana fixes.

Jason attempts to tag me out as BW takes over his controls. But Griffin’s declares a three-person chase. Then does his pretend fall routine. Oh No! I help him up. When I pretend to fall, he helps me up. I think we’re both doing the pretend fall routine as we need to catch our breath.

Jason comes up with a run around Nana game, and Nana’s grateful for the reprieve.

I step outside, and GOD, the sky! That rose line bleeding at the horizon, a spreading canvas of indigo above with a perfectly carved crescent moon sailing on it. I have to get my tablet.

Everyone comes out. It’s the first we’ve seen the moon—Griffin’s a fan of the moon—as it’s waxing. And the thumbnail of white just hangs over the hills for us to admire. Griffin and Kayla have conversations. Griffin’s completely smitten with Kayla and often gives her heart eyes. It’s adorable.

Couldn’t ask for a more perfect end to a really good day.

This morning a mist hangs over the valley, and as I sit it spreads and rises until the world’s a white cloud. I can hear Chain Saw Man down there and wonder how he can see what he’s doing.

Gradually, mists roll back a bit until the eastern hills look like they’re floating in a white sea. Minute by minute the valley peeks through—hints of green and gold—and blurs of blue show in the sky.

Chain Saw Man is VERY busy this morning. Sawing, hammering. Without the mist to muffle it, the sound’s clear again.

I hear someone stirring in the house, so it must be work out time for me.

Nora

The gang has plans, and they fill me in when I’m done working out. A trip to the village of Certaldo—about twenty minutes away—and a ride up a funicular to the 13th century Etruscan-era town high on the hillside. The funicular portion  makes me hesitate. Just how high is it—and is walking an option?

Walking is, though it’d be hot and steep—and the ride, I’m assured is only a couple of minutes.

Okay then, we’ll give that a try.

The drive’s nice. The opposite way from where we came in, so new views of vineyards climbing and hills doing their rise and fall. We squeeze through what we’re calling the ghost town. Lots of buildings, no people and wind and turn our way—our two-car caravan—to Certaldo and a car park.

After a bit of time, we reason out the pay box, opt for the 8 Euro full day deal as the hourly rate’s just too complicated for us.

A short walk to the ticket office and the funicular—mask up, collapse the stroller and pile on the already crowded car.

This is Griffin’s favorite part of the journey. We go up, up, up!! And it really does only take a couple minutes, which is great for Nana as this is NOT her favorite part of the journey.

Worth it. Beautiful old buildings with portions of failed stucco revealing old brick. Brick streets so narrow we’re surprised to see a few cars. But people live here, work here at the restaurants, the museums—and yippee!—the gelato place.

I love the pots of flowers hung right on the brick like art or in window boxes—and more pushing their way to the sun right out of the brick street. It’s steep, and obviously chosen for defense rather than convenience.

The palazzo museum—our goal—isn’t open yet, so why not lunch? We choose a sweet little place with tables right on the skinny sidewalk. And on a steep slope.

Our server’s young, pretty and speaks excellent English. It’s a fine way to while away the time for the opening hour, cool off a bit—it’s very hot again—and sit under half umbrellas—they butt right up against the side of the building—with a solid blue summer sky above.

People climb by as we eat, most with kids—so likely tourists like us—or with dogs—maybe locals.

There are big, old wooden doors, most with intricate detailing, more flowers pushing their way under red tile roofs. And quiet.

When we finish, our server asks where we’re from, and we learn she’s from right there. It’s quiet, we say, and she agrees. Yes, quiet, and boring.

And I expect it is for a young woman, as life is likely that quiet and work most of the time.

On we go to the palazzo with its clock tower and flairs. Inside it’s lovely and fascinating with frescos, painted ceilings, steep steps, a dungeon!—A small dungeon that must’ve been very depressing. The governor’s private chapel, with saintly frescos. 

There’s a screen with a video on a loop of a festival in Certaldo, and it looks like a crazy, fun time. I hope our pretty server enjoys that when it comes around.

There’s a garden courtyard outside, and we set up a group panorama, and climb some skinny, steep stairs to what might’ve been a battlement. Wonderful views, and no hint of invading forces.

More steps up to an art gallery, and down into an echoing little church with a tabernacle, frescos—one of which Jason dubs Bluebeard, because he has one.

Our time there turned into pretty much a private tour, which made it only more enjoyable. quiet is definitely the word of the day.

Out we go and down the steep brick street for a stop for gelato. Kayla opts for the cola-flavored Italian ice and Jason for a tropical-flavored—which he says tastes like it looks.

Blue.

We finish our treats before we go in to wait for our ride down. Much less crowded on the return trip, just us and a family with two little girls. Griffin also enjoys the down part, and gives the girls the eye (sort of like a teenage boy might eye a couple of pretty teenage girls, pretending he’s NOT looking).

We drive back—and the boy falls asleep in the car. Kat sits with him as he takes his well-earned nap.

Kayla’s back at Mario, and chalks up a thirteen #1 winning streak on her races. When Griffin wakes, Jason and Kat join her for some competition.

We’ve decided on Pop’s Pancakes for dinner. This is my father’s recipe, handed down generations. We believe we have everything necessary to make this happen, as it was on the potential menu for awhile.

I discover my gang has picked up condensed rather than evaporated milk —it calls for both regular and evaporated. Hmm. Kat googles, and finds I can use about half the condensed and add more regular to substitute.

There are no measuring cups or spoons in this kitchen. One big measuring pitcher, so eyeballing is required for the dry ingredients. And that’s when we discover the box of baking powder we’d previously seen in the pantry does not contain baking powder packets (how it comes here) but pretty little drink umbrellas. Who would hide drink umbrellas in a baking powder box? We are displeased with them.

And this is a problem.

Once again, Jason comes to the rescue by driving to the grocery store (which isn’t around the corner).

Meanwhile Kat preps strawberries, blueberries, makes bacon.

We find a big enough pan—I’d normally use a griddle—for cooking the pancakes.

Jason returns, and we estimate 3 heaping teaspoons as about one and a third packet. Here’s hoping.

Heat the pan, ladle in the batter—I can do three at a time if I’m careful with the flip. I make strawberry, blueberry and plain.

We have the butter and syrup to go with them. Kat makes me a pretty little fruit bowl of strawberries and apricots, and a little bacon sandwich since I’m not a big pancake eater (sorry, Pop!)

They are a success!! I think Kayla ate three—don’t know where she puts it. And if we make them again, we’re better prepared.

Another glorious sunset to cap off dinner.

During clean-up, the kitchen island becomes a race track for Griffin. I get a car and join. Kayla sits at the island and becomes part of the course. Jason and Kat time the laps to avoid crashing the drivers while they do the dishes.

Then Kayla begins to call the race, which is thrilling for the boy. The police car wins!

Again, the boy says, and we’re off.

Grandda joins about the time Griffin’s decides both his cars should fall off the cliff on each lap. Oh no! Try again, and hilarity. More hilarity when Grandda takes the red car and drives it off the cliff. Now it’s screaming hilarity. Again and again.

Our boy is pretty easily amused.

It’s beyond bedtime, so Kayla gives the one-more-lap warning. He draws that one out, gives a subtle attempt at another. But when Mom and Dad scoop him up, he retires from the field gracefully.

I take my last glass of wine outside to enjoy the gorgeous night, then also retire from the field.

A pretty morning, and Chain Saw Man’s building something down there. I think I see a small structure in the trees, but it’s too far away to be sure. But the sound of building carries up.

Work out time approaches. I’m going to see if anyone else is up and about.

Nora