Church, Cold, and Bach (Jan. 24)

I debated long and hard about which ward I should attend for church this morning. Rome 2 is technically the official ward for tourists and is by far the closest to my hostel, but I spent the majority of my mission (13 months) in Rome 3, further out in the poorer outskirts of the city. Rome 2 = sleep in and take a quick bus ride to church. Rome 3 = wake up early and take the long train ride up Via Casilina. Amazingly, I opted for Rome 3—seeing old friends outweighed sleep.

Baby Steps

Is it so bad that I didn’t want to voice any resolutions before I made sure that I had a plan in place to keep them? Now that it’s the end of January I think I just might be on the way to keeping my goals.

Little Miss Calculating

If I gave you one word to describe the above picture, what would it be?

Miriam at Three Months

In the midst of our Roman Financial Crisis of 2010, this little cutie turned three months old. 

Rambling

If all goes as planned, Andrew’s plane will land in an hour and he’ll be home in less than two. But when does life ever go as planned?

Originally our plan was that I would go to bed and leave the light on for him, but since all the cash was stolen from his wallet he has no pounds on his person anymore. Pity the fool who took his pounds—you can’t really exchange them outside of Egypt since no one wants them. Oh, well.

So I’m up. Waiting for him.

He said I could go to bed and just leave the money on the table in the front room, but I was alerted about a family crisis a few hours ago and if I went to bed I’m sure, exhausted as I am, that I would just stay awake thinking about it, anyway, since it is most definitely weighing heavily on my mind right now. Bedtime is inevitable, I know, but it is also delayable.

Not only that, but flying makes me incredibly nervous. Being grounded while my husband is in flight also makes me nervous, apparently.

I may as well come out and say it: I’m a born worrier.

Argh!

This morning the girls and I got up late. It took a lot of coaxing, but we did it. Miriam woke up at 3 o’clock this morning and was up until around 5:30. I had barely gotten her to sleep when Rachel woke up. Rachel had wet the bed, so I changed her and brought her into bed with me. I had barely gotten her to sleep when Miriam woke up at around 7 o’clock.

We got out of bed at 9:30. Andrew came online at 10:04.

Andrew: Oh. My. Goodness.

Nancy: What?

Andrew: AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAARGH!!!

Nancy: No. I don't like conversations that begin this way...

Photocopies and concerts (Jan. 23)

I had initially planned on going to the National Library as soon as it opened at 9:30. Out of all the archives and institutes I’m seeing here it’s the only one open on Saturdays, and only for reduced hours, until 1:30. I woke up and was down in the lobby of the hostel with plenty of time to spare, until I discovered my empty wallet.

Ugh.

Of old documents, churches, and sporting arenas (Jan. 22)

Today was a lot more relaxed than the past few days. Since I’d already gotten embassy approval and requested all possible documents from both the central archives and the foreign ministry, all I had left to do was go look through the documents. I was done hurriedly running around from archive to library. So I had breakfast at the local bar—a creme-filled donut and yet another cup of orzo—and got on the metro to EUR.

Melt my heart

This morning Rachel was helping to entertain Miriam on the potty. She was kissing her head, making funny faces, and talking baby talk to her. Then she looked up at me and said,

“Mom, do you know what? Miriam is best friends with me!”

She has been a great help while Andrew’s been gone—I wasn’t so sure that she would be and was rather scared to bid my husband farewell for a week, but the girls have both been great so far. Rachel really understands that having Daddy be gone is hard on everyone, so she’s trying her hardest to behave and make sure I’m happy.

“Does that make you happy, Momma?” she’ll ask after she cleans up her toys or takes her dishes to the sink or shakes a rattle for Miriam.

Robbed

Until yesterday afternoon, hostel life hadn’t been all that different from hotel life. Apart from one Australian roommate who vacated the room before I even woke up the first night, I had the entire 4-person dorm room to my self, which was fantastic. Yesterday morning, though, when I paid for yet another night at the hostel, they moved me to a different room. The dynamic nature of hostels makes it so I can’t really stay in the same place, especially when I pay one night at a time.