I swear, half the people I know who go to Italy end up taking an Italian cooking class while they’re there. Pasta making and prosecco! Maybe some limoncello.
Of course they do. Italian food is delicious. But cooking classes also feel distinctly like a vacation activity. Something you do when you’re on holiday. When you have the time.
And who has the time at home?
Apparently, I do.
Because I spent a few hours this past Saturday at a lovely farmette only 25 minutes from my house, kneading pasta dough with my bare hands and making mildly dirty jokes with my friend.
It may not be Italy. In fact, if you’ve ever been to the corner of Northern Virginia where the class was held, it is decidedly not Italy. But for a few hours, we got to pretend we were on holiday.
And that’s what counts.
I tend to be very protective of my weekends. I’d much rather make my weeknights more hectic—they’re going to be hectic anyway—and preserve some of my weekend for things I actually want to do.
Sure, some of that time goes to catching up on chores or house projects. But I want the rest of it to be fun. I want my weekends to be something I actively look forward to.
By “protective,” I mean I try really hard not to overschedule. If there’s an option to avoid a weekend activity, I take it. I’d much rather sign my daughters up for Monday evening religious ed classes than Sunday morning. Mondays are busy no matter what, so what’s one more thing?
When my daughters were younger, I actively avoided Saturday morning dance classes. I’d much rather deal with a logistically complicated Thursday every week than give up the possibility of a leisurely Saturday morning.
Of course, they’re both on dance teams now, which means some weekend performances are unavoidable. Thankfully, not every week.
I’m not protecting my weekends because I want them to be empty. I’m protecting them because I want room to fill them with things I actually want to do.
My Saturday mornings are as close to sacred as possible. We do brunch at home as a family. My daughters set the table. My husband makes coffee. I cook, although lately my 11-year-old has been jumping in to help.
More often than not, it’s nothing fancy. Just bacon, eggs, and toast, or bagels from my favorite local bagel shop. (And I’m from New York, so you can take my bagel recommendations very seriously.)
Sometimes I have a mimosa, or I convince my husband to make me another cocktail, like a Paloma. And then we sit. We eat. We linger.
Is it the same as brunch on vacation in some exotic locale? No. But I make time for it all the same.
As much as I love to travel, I can’t go away every weekend. (Believe me, I’ve tried!) But I can make sure there’s something waiting for me when Friday rolls around besides chores and a to-do list.
There’s something to be said for simply having something to look forward to. Anticipating Saturday brunch or a pasta-making class isn’t the same as counting down the days until a trip to Italy. Of course it isn’t.
But having something on the calendar changes the shape of the weekend. It makes those two days feel like more than just time to catch up on everything before Monday rolls around again.
Of course, I still need time for chores, life admin, and all the other adult responsibilities that come with being a person. I build time into my weekends for those things because they have to get done.
But I also believe they’ll expand to fill all the available time if I let them. So I try to keep them contained.
Because the things I love about vacation aren’t actually reserved for vacation.
Lingering over brunch. Having a cocktail in the middle of the afternoon. Trying something new just because it sounds fun. Spending a few hours laughing with my friends without worrying about whether I’m accomplishing anything.
I don’t have to get on a plane to do any of those things.
So when there’s an opportunity to take a pasta-making class, I’m not waiting until my next trip to Italy. I’ll drive 25 minutes down the road, sip some prosecco, make mildly inappropriate jokes with my friends, and learn pasta-making techniques I may never use again.
The laundry can wait a few hours.
Amanda, YES. I think somewhere along the way we were taught that we had to earn the fun part first—finish the work, do the laundry, clear the list, THEN enjoy ourselves.
At 63, I’ve decided that is complete bullshit. 😂 Have the cocktail at two in the afternoon. Take the class. Linger over brunch. Make the tiramisu even if you don’t like it because apparently we’re all doing things for the plot now.
The laundry has never once packed its bags and left because I ignored it. 🌸
I try to do the same thing. I’d rather go non-stop M-F than have a large to do list on Saturday. That day is for fun as much as possible. I, too, did a cooking class this week on Wednesday and learned Chicken Marsala. 😁