Wine...it's what's for breakfast.

So this weekend, somewhat bummed out about having to live vicariously through my friends who are in Naples this week, I decided to channel my energy into something other than pouting. We packed our bags and attended a wine lover's weekend complete with tastings, vineyard tours, and case-load sales on the crimson drink.What a better beverage to drown your sorrows in than wine?  It is the magically delicious foot-stomped concoction that has the ability to turn the clumsy into the choregraphed and the tongue-tied into talkers.  Wine can make us shed weekday inhibitions and inject our once-sleepy dreams with gusto.  It has a myterious way of turning on the music of our minds and somehow infuses our souls with the soundtracks of our life.  It can make our mundane existences come alive with animation, it makes me want to love, to live, to laugh...
So it wasn't Tuscany.  But it was a three-day breather for the both of us  The winding hills of the country and the wonders of a roadtrip that somehow always open the road to conversation.  We drank, we reminisced, we loved.  Our full-bodied weekend ended on a sweet and light note with a deliciously smooth finish....yep, I'll have another glass of that...
Bouna Lunedi, a tutti!

Buon Viaggio...or something like it.

Some precious friends of ours are leaving for Naples today.  They have never ventured to Italy before.  They are Midwest folk who uniquely have a broader palette than what most people here I know have.  This couple will not be the kind to return to the states and eagerly share with us that although they liked Italy, the people there just don't speak any English!  I have had the privelege of sharing dinners with them and these are the kind of people who aren't afraid to order something off of the menu that they can't pronounce, but want to try it simply because they like the way the name rolls off the tongue, even in a butchered Fargo-like accent.  They will not complain of their visit because the food had too many spices, or because the endless symphony of traffic was too much for their ears.  We have put them in touch with our Italian brother and a Neapolitan sister who are there so we may vicariously live through them over the next 10 days.  If we can't hug or lay eyes on our Italian friends, atleast our American friends will have laid eyes on them and will be able to tell us just how they looked as they shared cappuccinos. Our memories now have edges that have become smudged over time.  Jim and Sharon will tell us their travel tales when they return and recount the steps that Dennis and I took what seems, so many years ago.  If only you could bottle the smell of a wood-fire Neapolitan pizza into a jar or trap in a bottle the noise of the city. Customs might stop them and confiscate my jar as no one can resist the smell of a pizza verace, not even a customs agent.

So I wish my friends  a buon viaggio (or something like it). I am jealous.  Just a little. Ok, A LOT.  I am readying myself for work this morning. Same routine day after day.  I wish I was packing for Italy (or maybe I don't). Today I am not sure I would come back....

Buon Viaggio, Jim and Sharon. (or something like it)

Melancholy

Melancholy. I like the way it sounds. The word itself rolls off the tongue like melted butter on a dinner roll. Though the word doesn't conjure up images butterflies and rainbows, melancholy is an address I frequent when the winter slogs by.  These are the days I kick my own butt.  Foolish, foolish girl. I was told today that God inflicts wounds on us so he may heal us, fully and restoratively.  Some days I am content with my amputations, somedays I feel the ghost pains associated with my losses.  I have tried to wiggle toes that are no longer attached.  I have cried over lost opportunities and tried to scratch my head is disbelief over their passing only to realize I have no arm to lift.  So I wait.  Restore my body and soul, precious God, so I may mount up like an eagle, whole and new so I may swoop upon the valley of Melancholy, dipping and gliding, over and under. I am happy to visit for an afternoon, but don't want to look down for more than an hour or two...

A big fat No-Duh!

I love court TV.  Did I metion something yesterday about being sick of court TV?  Well, I lied. It is my secret indulgence, though probably not so secret, anymore...Yes, everything I need to know I learned from Judge Judy.  Judy taught me that many relationships are merely a coupling of folks who ultimately need nothing more from the other person than solely a co-signor with an obligation to buy something they will ultimately only use to meet someone else! Yup.  "Hey Flo-Jo, I need you to cosign for this Kia for me, baby girl."  Yup. He's using it to pick up honeys and YOU just signed for it.  Duh.  Judge Judy also reminds us that we are never to sign  lease with someone we are not married to or part of a conjoined twin arrangement with.  Personally, I think ONLY conjoined twins should ever agree to signing a lease together, that would mean Cheng and Eng the original Siamese twins are really the only two who should share property.  Should the deal go down, they could really make life hell for the other one. (Imagine trying to sleep while the other tries to man-handle Yoga on the Wii) Duh.  Judy repeatedly harps on us to never, ever have a baby with a man who doesn't have a job. This is a big, huge DUH.  Do we still have to tell women this? Ladies, this is never a good idea. You don't have to take Judy's word for it.  Ask Maury, Ricki, or Montel.  Havin a baby with  man who doesn't have a job is like wipin before you poop..it just don't make no sense!  So I tell you again, Judy will set you straight.  God will get you right, but Judy will set you straight....So, excuse me while I tend to my pack of  Ho-Hos and my court TV.  It's prime-time in the trailer park and I'm gonna crack a Bud before Judy puts the smack-down on another idiot! Boo-ya!
Stay on the straight,kiddies...
A domani,

Day One...Gone to the Dog.

Buongiorno.
Somehow doesn't sound as romantic as I had hoped it would straight out of the box. Day one. Gone to the dog...I have a nasty cold today. The kind that reddens the nose to the likeness of an alcoholic uncle, swollen and ruddy from one too many whiskeys.  A whiskey would be nice today...My dog has been faithfully lying at my side the last two days, sticking her wet nose on the end of my bed to carefully examine me when my coughing fits become uncontrollable. With the exception of thinking that I might be hiding a tasty treat in all of those wadded up kleenexes, she has been content to accompanying me through the extent of this boring, stuffy day.  Would soup be good? I'd love to try, but my taste buds are as unresponsive as moss. I should have gone with Dennis to the nursing home today.  Nursing home food is bland. Never enough salt or seasoning.  My young cousin used to say that nursing homes smelled like "hot dish and farts."  Hmmm.  Today my house feels like an infirmary. Kleenex boxes, empty cups with remnants of "fluids" all of my well-meaning friends insist I ingest.  Daytime TV is terrible.  My poor husband.  How does he do this all day?  I have two days worth of court TV under my belt and I am ready to roll up my sleeves and get back to work, me and my sputum.  Looks like tomorrow I will make a run for it and make it "Take Your Sputum to Work Day."

Hope your day finds you booger-free, dear friends...
A domani...

Can you hear me now?

Hello, race fans...
This is only a test. Do you love me? Do you wanna be my friend? Well if you do....
Don't be afraid to follow me as I share the wrangles of love, life (or something like it) and everything under the Tuscan sun...
Life is beautuful. Bouncy. Bumpy. Wanna walk with me?