Walkin' the Walk and Talkin' the Talk

Last Saturday our friends, Mirella and Roberto, took us to a nearby restaurant run by a
bunch of nuns.

Too bad I forgot to take photos inside. But, afterward as we strolled home, The Man took
several short videos of our walk. I pieced them together into one movie and you can watch
it HERE.

The sun was shining, so ALL the Romans were outside. It's also the end of Carnival, another
reason to be out and about and why you'll notice a few people dressed in costumes.

The walk takes us through Piazza Navona, to Angelo's old coffee bar, Campo Dei Fiori, and
finally to a demonstration that occurred in Piazza Farnese, one of my favorite piazzas in Rome.
Oh, and the demonstration was for the Right To Die issue that's being fought here against the
Pope. Another reason why it was so crowded that day.

This video captures pretty much what we do here a lot; that is, meander around talking, trying
to understand exactly what is going on amid all the chaos (me), and enjoying it all (The Man).

Ciao.

The Official Commemorative 64th Birthday Video

Here are a few WORDS from The Birthday Man.

The Boy

This is the boy that
lives inside The Man,

the budding poet,
actor, musician and
artist emerging,

a traveler, like the
immigrants he came
from, with dreams
of a cabin in the woods
and a boat on the sea,

standing on legs growing
strong that will carry him
through what life holds in store,

He looks pretty good
for a boy of 64.

Happy Birthday.

Fat Tuesday, Still Fat On Wednesday

Every day is Fat Tuesday for me.
That's why yesterday was no big deal.

But, today is Lent and that's another story.

I was born and raised Lent-less. We generally tended to avoid
participating in holidays that required things like abstinence, penance,
prayer, fasting or almsgiving. We weren't into discomfort. No one
self-flagellated...not that I know of, anyway.

In fact, the only suffering I can remember at any religious holiday is
of the gluttonous kind, where I'd end up half unconscious on the couch,
attempting to unbutton my pants in order to save them from being
destroyed by the imminent explosion of my stomach which amazingly
seemed to contain an 'Alien'-esque creature composed of half-digested
turkey legs, mashed potatoes, stuffing and waldorf salad which was going
to burst forth and wreak havoc on my loving family, not to mention my
mother's mauve, satin-brocade sofa.

I like the idea of Lent. It's a time of reflection, a time to step out of your
comfort zone.

This year I've decided to celebrate a little Lent or, as I call it, a "Lentil."

I am going to observe forty days of self denial.

Last night before I went to sleep I spent some time contemplating what I should
sacrifice for my Lentil. I thought of the usual things; chocolate, alcohol, cursing.
However, I decided I wanted to succeed.

Then, in a moment of probably divine inspiration, it hit me. For my Lentil I
will give up ONE HALF of everything I eat. For example, this morning I poured
my usual bowl of breakfast cereal, BUT I poured one half of it back in the box.
For lunch I only had one bowl of soup, not two. For a snack I ate half an apple
and gave the other half to my other half. Speaking of whom, this afternoon
The Man brought me a piece of pizza and I only ate half of it. With gritted teeth
I gave the rest back to him.

That was hard, but watching his eyes pop and his jaw drop made it all worthwhile.

I will only eat half of everything. Oh, and to make it fun I'm going to eat with
my left hand, too.

As I write this I've been at it for eleven hours.

I feel weak.

But, with my last effort, I hereby give notice to the Fat Tuesday Committee:
Get a new mascot.

Puppy Brains

This is why
we like it here

You see things
you'd never see
in a sane world.










This woman thought it was
perfectly normal to shop in
the china and glass wear
department with a 250 lb.
puppy.









Someone should'a told
her to hitch up her
pony outside.


Whoop-ee-ti-yi-o!
Get along little doggies.

WomanAmok

There is "out of control" and then there is this woman.

I want to be her.

Just once
I want to flip out
I want to bang my fist
and yell
and scream
and pant
and moan
in public
for all the world to see.

I love this woman.
I don't want to know her.
God forbid she should ever be on my flight.
But, I just love her.

She obviously has no higher brain activity.
She is completely ruled by lower brain impulses.
She's an emotional trainwreck.

Her behaviour is why the slap was invented.

You may laugh when you watch this.
You may stare in disbelief.
But you have to admit
we've all been there, haven't we?

Have a nice day.

Getting Technical

Here is a video of a walk we took the other day across the Ponte Sisto.

I'm trying something new here.

Trying to be more technical.

Ha.

If I get good at this, I'll post frequent videos.

Meanwhile, all is fine here.

I have nothing to rant about.

Hello Kimitty

This blog is for Ms. K.,
my neighbor back in
Lime Plant City.

She likes all things
Hello Kitty.

Evidently, so do these
Italiani!

Every time this tram
passes by, I think of
my friend.

This photo would be so much better if she were standing there ready to board.

Scuola Giorni

This morning I reluctantly returned to school. I'm not sure why I was reluctant.
Maybe I'm just mad because I still can't speak this darn language. Well, I speak it,
but I don't speak well. Luckily, our friends are patient people and are always kind
to the verbally-challenged, bumbling sidekick The Man takes with him everywhere.
These people reacted enthusiastically when I said I was going to go to school.

It's for them that I go.

I had to take an entrance exam when I signed up to take classes. It was a one-page
test with some pronoun, singular to plural, and verb conjugation exercises. I flunked.
They assigned me to the "elementario" class.

I don't think there's any reason to translate.

I polished my shoes, I wore my best-pants-that-still-fit and a clean sweater. I put
pens and paper in my Hello Kitty backpack and off I trudged...in the rain...to school.

I guess I walked kind of fast because I got there about twenty minutes early and had
all this empty time to think about what I had gotten myself into.

Ugh. School. Two hours a day, twice a week, for two months.

At least it's not every day.