A few weeks ago, we loaded up the van and headed out to see more of Italy - an every weekend occurence until this weekend (stupid work responsibilities getting in the way of my extended Italian vacation.)

We ended up Trieste a port town right the Adriatic Sea.

Our first stop was Castello di Miramare, once the home of Archduke Maximillian and his wife Empress Carlotta.

If I am not mistaken, the decor was very lovely. The reason I am a little unclear on that is because we had caravanned with friends and between the two families we had, in tow, two 6-year-olds, a 5-year-old, a 4-year-old, a 16-month-old and an 11-month old.

The kids were not the problem, at least not for the moms. But, one of the tour guides - a woman I am pretty sure had been fired from a previous job as a crochety school marm for being too draconian - hovered over us like a vulture on a pack of lost hikers. Seriously, the way this woman acted you would have thought we fed the kids a breakfast of candy bars and Coke, topped it off with a little crack for good measure, then dipped them in honey and turned them lose on the precious antiques.

In reality, the kids were very well-behaved. Reagan leaned over the rope (barely touching it) once to look at a statue of The Virgin Mary in the chapel. "No! No!" she was stearnly reprimanded. Interestingly, an adult couple behind us who did the same thing only leaning so far as to nearly knock the pole holding the rope over didn't even get a second look from Broom Hilda.

After several sighs, and a few throat-clearings that made us think she was going to cough up a hairball when the kids dared open their mouths to ask a question about the things we were seeing, we decided it was best just to hurry through the castle and get them outside.

The grounds were beautiful and more importantly, the vulture remained inside. Now, I offer Exhibit A, do they look like wild-eyed, honey-covered, hell-raising children? I think not.