Foodie and the Beast are off to Italy for two weeks! I don’t think I’ll have time to post while we’re away because we’ll be eating and drinking and looking at old buildings and paintings and sculptures.
But who knows.
Rest-assured, I’ll be sure to document our eating adventures (they’re all planned, save for a spontaneous lunch or two).
This is how the Beast packs. He doesn’t have a toiletry bag so he put together his junk–Q-tips, a comb, and a stick of deodorant–for me to put in my bag, which is vintage Celine.
He’s not bringing the clarinet. I won’t allow it.
We opened up a bottle of Lailey Pinot Noir tonight. It’s that lovely Ontario red I’ve mentioned before. It’s available in vintages right now.
I just reserved tickets to the Vatican museum for Monday, October 5.
I’m hungry. We should make grill cheeses but it’s 12:15am, and the Beast says we’ll be asleep in two seconds. Not me though. I have to finish that wine because it will just go to waste if I don’t.
Can you bring an open bottle of wine on a plane?
I might be tipsy.
I’m so hungry! Isn’t there anything to eat around here? This is the first proper vacation I’ve had since 2005.
Did I tell you that I bought a suitcase today from Winners and had to ride my bike home with it duck-taped to my back? Well I did.
I still have two loads of laundry to do in the morning, and I have to pick up peanut butter for my dear friend Michelle, with whom we’re staying in Florence. Don’t they have peanut butter in Italy? What kind of fucking country are we visiting anyway?
But they have prosciutto. And espresso, gelato, vino, carpaccio…all those things that end in “o”.
I love those foods. And I love the Roman Forum. The Beast is going to want to strangle me when we go there. “Caesar did this and Cicero did that.” I don’t care though.
Okay. It’s 12:23 and nobody has made me a grilled cheese sandwich. This is bull shit.
I think I’m tired now. And extremely excited. Now I’m not tired anymore.
I don’t hear the Beast. Maybe he’s making me a sandwich, like I asked for.
Nope. He’s in bed with wine and a book on Jazz. This is bull shit.
I’m going to Italy.