How we got to Florence

Simple really. We flew. But I suppose that’s not quite enough information for clarity.

Here’s the gist. Our daughter, Julia, is 2 months old. She was a bit younger when we got here. She’s probably a bit older when you, or whomever, or nobody, is reading this. But her 3rd month of life, coincides with Lindsay’s 3rd month of maternity leave. So, given that Julia is infinitely portable at this stage we thought, ‘why not pack a few bags, toss Jules in one of them, and head off somewhere more exotic than Portland to spend some time together while we have the chance.’

The only teeny tiny caveat is that because the US health care system is supremely FUCKED, maternity leave is filed under the gut wrenchingly stupid label of ’short term disability’. Clearly a phrase coined by some old white male who’s completely out of touch with women, childbirth, friendship in general, and, let’s be honest, probably his own penis. I freely admit I’m a white male myself (trudging onwards towards old), but even as blind as I am in many aspects of my life, calling childbirth, one of the single most common capabilities of life forms, some sort of disability, sounds pretty dystopian to me. But then looking at the state of some US politics right now I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised any more. And I digress.

All that aside, we found a small apartment on the south side of the river right around the corner from the Porta Romana and we’re here for 4 weeks. Do we have any plans? Not really. Probably hit up a few museums, rent a car and head out into the country, eat some tasty items, perhaps try and teach Julia the Italian word for poop (it’s ‘cacca’), and celebrate Lindsay’s birthday when the 9th of June rolls around. If along the way we take some photos and make some memories, well I’d call that a successful short term disability.