Rome Ravings

FMM: 7.5 miles

Howdy,

I just tried using my "I Translate" app to see what the Italian translation for "howdy" is. Turns out it's "howdy".  However, it also provides verb conjugations for it. I don't think I've ever "howdied", but I don't know for sure.

The latest buzz...

I splurged on two milk-carton-like containers of red wine.  One was .89 euro; the other was a whopping 1.15 euro. Boy howdy, they both tasted fine to me.  After all, vino rosso by any other name is just vino rosso, right?  And no cork bottle stoppers were required either.  A win-win.

Want to get up early and get your errands run?  Forget it.  Stores here don't post their business hours.  You just have to hope that the owner wakes up  when you do.   I would not suggest a 6 am doughnut run.

They have not heard of the blue hair special over here.  They  usually open for dinner at 7:30, my brother Tom's bedtime. He wouldn't like the food anyway.  We haven't seen roast beef, corn, or
radishes on the menus.

Interested in fashion?  These things appear to be in style:  unzipped low boots,  backless tops with  black bras underneath, red athletic shoes


Wondering about animals in Italy?  The answer is pigeons and more pigeons.  They are everywhere, and they are totally not afraid of humans.  In fact, I think they love me as they will happily brush up against my feet as I dine at an outdoor restaurant.  And they are happy to invite their friends over if I accidentally drop a crumb or two.  They don't mind being kicked.  Aw, heck, she didn't mean to do that?  They just come back for more.  A student reported a one-legged pigeon pestering her. They're tough old birds. My only solution is to head for tall tables, and hope for the best.


When Bob and I go somewhere , a persistent anxiety plagues him.   He will often say, "How would I explain THAT to your sister Mary?" For example, last night I stated that  I flat out refused to do anymore running across streets.  It was 97 degrees. I vowed to walk at a normal pace, in spite of the lawless frontier of weaving, honking, speeding and careening cars, buses, and motorcycles called a street over here. His comment, "Dear Mary, she refused to run, and now she's done."  Note:  I was unable to keep my vow and ended up "Mom running", as my kids call it, in spite of myself. But today I am NOT running.  I swear.

I love Rome's large stone pine trees.  However, they  drop long needles which can be very slippery.  I nearly slipped last week, and I heard , " Dear. Mary,  she was just fine until she slipped on a pine."

I could go on, but you get the picture. This poor man has been tracking and explaining me for forty years as of today.  It's not an easy task, and he has done a great job of it.  Thank you and happy 40th, Bob!  I don't deserve you, and you certainly don't deserve me.  He'll never see that since he claims he's never read any of my blogs, so I guess I'll have to tell him in person. And I'll do my best not to do a single thing that requires explaining today.

In other news...We attended my cousin's daughter's concert last night.  Her choral director had heard that we might show up, but she wasn't sure  why we we're in Italy.    She asked, "You're over here to write a blog, right?"  I just smiled.


Observing, swerving, and undeserving,
 I remain
 Tizzie/Tiz/Mom/Tizmom/Liz/Grandma Tizzie

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