Sometimes I think I have the maturity level of an 11-year-old. Other times, I am absolutely convinced of it. We’ll be walking around someplace beautiful, and instead of taking in the amazing architecture or historical significance of the place, I’ll be doubled over, laughing hysterically because there are two stray cats getting it on in…
We needed a place to stay in Frigento. The home that my grandfather had bought my grandmother all those years ago didn’t have heat, so it was out of the question. We arrived just a few weeks before Easter, but even then, the house was still too chilly. I didn’t need much convincing on this…
“Is … is that a peacock?” Rand asked me as we walked through the village. “Where?” “Over there, by the church.” “I highly doubt it,” I said, squinting in the direction he was pointing. “I don’t think that-” And then I saw it. “Yup,” I said. “That’s definitely a peacock.”
Our plane landed in Naples just as the sun started to set. Vesuvius loomed over the city as we sped out of town, the volcano turning deeper and deeper shades of purple in the fading light. We were heading towards my grandfather’s village. I suppose it eventually became my grandmother’s village, too, after she married him…
Rand and I got home last night. Since we landed, I’ve been waging a losing battle against jet-lag. It is 9:15 am, and I really want to go to sleep, which, even if you take into account ALL of the time zones I’ve visited in the last few weeks, makes zero sense (depending on which…
Sometimes, I take for granted how much my husband puts up with. – Indeed, that might be the understatement of the year. If my beloved is reading this, he’s probably done a spit take all over his computer while sputtering, “YOU THINK?” My poor, maligned love. He puts up with a lot. From me. And during…
Today’s post is by my friend Dan, on whom I have a little crush. You might remember Dan from my account of our trip to the Oregon coast a million summers ago, or from his other brilliant guest posts on the blog. Sadly, it won’t work out between us. Dan’s already madly in love with…
I was looking through my photos of Rome from my trip last spring, and I realized something: it is impossible to look cool while tossing coins into the Trevi Fountain. Behold:
My cousin’s village in Italy is a relic of the sort you rarely see outside of Indiana Jones movies or PBS-programs narrated by David McCullough. It winds up a hill, dotted with ancient stone houses, now conveniently equipped with electricity and spotty hot water. The local children, carrying heavy monikers of saints or artists, call to one…
Tales of Food, Feminism, and Fury
by Geraldine DeRuiter
Available Now!
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