And Now for an Actual Update

So, "normal", Viennese style, means we spent last week in the predictable routine of preschool, playgrounds, lazy afternoons and elated evenings spent in the company of the one-and-only: Papa.  He's kind of a celebrity around here.  Mostly, because he plays one hell of a game of make-believe and makes the best surprised faces when being given the same 'birthday present' five times in a row.

We like spending time all together.  Which is why we go kind of nuts on Fridays.  Audrey and John always stop for a celebratory chocolate croissant on the way to preschool and I let the girls pick out a treat on the way home.  We spend the afternoon making sure dinner is ready the millisecond John gets home so we can have our popcorn-and-movie-pajama-extravaganza.  This week we rented Madagascar 3 on iTunes...it was kind of a big deal.

I love the way weekend breakfasts turn into marathons of babies helping stir pancakes and covertly nipping bacon from the counter.  There's always some intense Mad-Hatter make-believe going on for the bulk of the morning and we really don't count on creeping out the door before the ungodly hour of noon.  This Saturday we took the girls to the Natural History Museum...mostly because we couldn't find wind of any pumpkin festivities to save our lives and because Bailey fleetingly mentioned missing her bear--her life-sized stuffed polar bear that the NHM is kind enough to keep on display for us.  So, we were off.  Because that's how we roll.  We also always let the girls pick out a figurine to take home from the museum and this time it was a pair of tigers; one Mama and a 'baby brother'. (What are those?) The girls are really into big cats at the moment and we're trying, for the life of us, to get them to realize they aren't all called lions.

Saturday night John was out late with some friends (and for the record, I'm actually very proud of him when he comes home past midnight.) so, of course, Bailey decided Sunday morning would be an excellent day to wake up at 5:30.  At least this meant we got to eat two breakfasts...and there were new tigers in the house to be diverted by until John was able to drag himself out of bed for some biscuits and gravy.  When Bailey and I popped down to the bakery and discovered our first real foggy day in Vienna, we booked it back home and dragged everyone back out for a long, leisurely walk around the first district...which of course culminated in hot chocolate at The Demel. It was really cool to see the sights I've become so familiar with in a different light...and it seems inevitable that we'll be seeing some big changes to the city in the next few months.  

The only Halloween decor I've spied so far...and yes, that's the actual name of our street.

For the moment, Fall is glorious; the leaves are turning yellow and falling to the ground in droves. The nip in the air is bringing out a dearth of fashionable outerwear that I'm finding much more appealing than the really odd summer fashions sported around here.  The chill means roasted chestnuts are now for sale at stands all around the city (these are surprisingly appealing to me--John finds them less than palatable).  There's just something about the warmth radiating from their bland, chewy meat that makes me love them.  Also, as you might have noticed by the twenty-something mentions so far, Sturm is on the menu at most any eating establishment...and even at some wurstel stands.  Sturm is a beverage, which in Austria (and some areas of Germany) heralds the arrival of Fall and harvest time.  It is a yeasty drink, typically with a low alcohol content which is decidedly NOT shelf stable, as it is still fermenting.  Bottles are sold without corks, because a plugged bottle, after an appropriate period of time, would explode.  I've even witnessed a grocery store clerk yell at a kid for doing something so dangerous as putting a bottle on a moving conveyor belt.  Slightly tangy and entirely delicious, this stuff is absolute gold.  I imagine the only way to drown my sorrows when Sturm's season is over will be in a steaming mug of Punsch.   

I know our days and weeks and months will likely blend into our ever-evolving concept of normal, but I'm genuinely excited to see the changes around us coming in the next several months.  Don't talk to me about February, though.  As far as that's concerned, I've told John a visit somewhere along the equator would be in his best interest if he doesn't want to see an increase in take-out food, laundry heaps and dramatic fits of depression from yours truly.  Don't talk to me about light therapy.  My heart is set on the beach.  Yes, if we're keeping with the Viennese tradition of welcoming seasons with alcohol, Pina Coladas in February sound perfect.  




Prost!