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Hey, wait a minute. Those aren’t chestnuts…those are huge slabs of beef! This is shaping up to be my type of party!
For a whole number of reasons, the kids and I don’t get out much, but we did receive a much appreciated invitation to spend New Year’s Eve with friends Simona, Giuseppe, and their son Pietro. Simona and Giuseppe live nearby, but they have a place in the mountains as well.
This is part of what was once a sheep herders’ enclave. My friends own the far end of this building, and have turned it into a really lovely retreat. Located in the Apennine Mountains, it’s perfect for ski vacations during the winter, or hiking in the summer.
Playing board games on New Year's Eve.
Whoa! Looks like someone got too close to the fireplace!
Apparently ‘buring the witch’ is a local custom; their version of ‘out with the old, in with the new.’ The witch in question is no one we knew, so no harm done.
And she was just old clothes stuffed with newspaper and hay anyway.
There was a blizzard at the time, so copious amounts of gasoline were required to get things started. Just the sort of thing to get us all arrested Stateside.
Here’s another disturbing photo of what appears to be immolation, but which is in fact merely the Italian version of Guy Fawkes Night, with resident arsonist Giuseppe in the foreground.
For God's sake! Drop and roll!
New Year’s Day proved to be infinitely less pyrotechnic.
That’s Pietro on the sled, waiting his turn, and Alex on his way back up the hill. Giuseppe and Lia are at the bottom of the hill, getting hats and scarves sorted out after a tumultuous ride down the slope.
My cherub son on a sled.
Lia’s turn.
Can I just say I would have killed for a treehouse like this when I was a kid? To be honest, I still would.
A good start to what we hope will be a good year!
These two characters remind me of my best friend Barby and me when we were the same age. They have become best friends since we moved into our apartment, and play, fight, and then play again, all day long.
This picture was taken this evening at the “Grest” party at the Parish. “Grest” stands for “Gruppo Recreativo Estivo” (Summer Recreation Group) and is the summer activity organized by our local church. We have so few day-care options in this country that during the summer, we all become devout Catholics if only to have a place for the kids.
Alex and Lia go to Grest every morning, where they play, spend a little time being indoctrinated, and then play some more. It’s risky, I know, but it’s the price we pay.
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