Florence Photos Are UP

All of the Florence photos are divided between two different albums in my photo blog Ryan and Ron Do the World. What you will also find there is one smaller album of the Tuscan wedding celebration along with four short videos highlighting Tuscany and Florence.

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Chow Tuscany

Our plan was to skip out today and return to Florence. However, our plan had significant holes in it. There supposedly was a bus about a ½ mile from the villa, but there was no marking to identify a stop. Getting the bus depended on previous experience or dumb luck. Since it only came through once every few hours, these were not odds I was in favor of considering.

However, first things first, I wanted coffee. Andrea thought ahead, because at 10am when people would be roaming the grounds, even if sleepily, pastries were delivered. The kitchen table was filled with different pies, cakes, croissants, and other sweet delights. What they did not deliver was coffee. The villa owner lent us a coffee pot, so others came to the rescue. We all sat around outside eating, drinking, and chatting until the Sandman disappeared from our memories for at least today.

Gradually, people started disappearing. Some were leaving for other cities before returning home. Others were going for a drive in their rental car. We were still weighing our options for the great escape. For those who were staying longer, there was a wine tour planned for Tuesday, but now that the masses were parting ways, I was chomping to get back to Florence. Eric, a co-worker of Andrea’s had already committed to taking a couple into Florence to the train station. There was no room in the car for us too. However, he graciously offered to return for us later in the day. We had told our B and B host we would return before 5:30pm when he had to leave for his restaurant. If we hadn’t, he would have had to drive back into the city to let us in.

Once breakfast was over, I was antsy and wanted to move. I could not get on the Internet no matter what I did. The Wi-Fi would not work for me; the villa owner gave me a cable to connect to the wall outlet, but it refused to work too. I did not want to spend the entire day looking over pictures on a netbook mini-screen. There was also the fear of truly not knowing how to turn my phone off from roaming and winding up with a considerable roaming charge like I have done in the past.

Eric returned by 3pm and was ready to drive us to Florence. I was sorrowful about the seemingly wasted day which could have been spent seeing the museums of Florence. Once back in the city and rechecked into Fabio’s, we wanted to take Eric for dinner as a thank you, but he wasn’t certain about the others’ dinner plans, so decided he had better wait to see what the others back at the villa had planned. Instead, we went for a beer and an appetizer before he returned to the Tuscan villa.

Once we said good-bye to Eric, it was too late for any museum admissions; all we could do is window tour and window shop. That is not entirely true as so many shops stay open into the evening hours. We were able to go into some stores to browse. The only thing we decided on buying was a sheet of Florentine paper to put into frames for the two guest rooms. 

For dinner, we went to the place Fabio had suggested; it was near the B and B. It is called I’Raddi. The food was reasonably priced and tasty. I would have reviewed it on TripAdvisor, but I could not find it listed. There was not enough motivation to suggest it as a new listing, so they lose out.

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A Tuscon Wedding

People started moving about early in the morning, but not one person was showing his or her face to the outside world. When I finished showering, Ron had disappeared, so I wandered down the trail to the other buildings to see if he happened to be there. No sign of him. The only person around was one of Andrea’s friends. Although I intruded on her peaceful morning, she was gracious enough to offer me a cup of freshly brewed coffee. We had a pleasant chat about life in general before I thanked her and moved on.

Back at our building, I ran into Ron. He had taken a walk with the parents of the bride. They had not found a coffee sharing person yet, so he and I decided to walk the mile to the mini restaurant down the road. It turned out to be a mini-mini restaurant, which we were fortunate enough to have found open. Those who ventured there later found it closed. It was Sunday after all.

Wedding events were not scheduled until 5pm, so the 37 guests were free to lounge around the pool or elsewhere to occupy their own whims in whatever way they wanted. As the day progressed, the caterers arrived immediately bustling away in the kitchen of our apartment. They had every surface covered with either ingredients or utensils. Three cooks did not seem to spoil the soup; they worked like a well-seasoned cast iron frying pan. Not a single voice was raised during the preparation.

Under the shade of trees and a gazebo, long tables were set up for the bountiful food that would follow. In the meantime, there were dozens of chairs set up on the lawn for the ceremony. It resembled church seating. Creating an aisle between the chairs was a long white runner for the bride to walk down. It was sprinkled with yellow and white flower petals. To the left of the guest chairs, was a small platform where a violinist would perform prior to and during the ceremony. When the florist arrived to deliver their goods, sunflowers adorned the celebration area and filled vases elsewhere for a lovely flow of energy.

On each of the chairs was a small brown bag sealed with a sticker that proclaimed “Andrea and Marc’s Wedding – June 23, 2013”. Underneath each bag was a program giving the guests tips on having fun, what would happen during the ceremony, and what to do with what is in the bag after the ceremony is over. What the bags contained were multiple handfuls of candy confetti the likes of which is used for decorating cakes. This was to be tossed in lieu of rice or paper confetti. As promised in the wedding program, the ceremony was short, sweet and romantic.

There was a two hour ‘free-period’ after the ceremony and before dinner was served. During this time, the church seating transformed into restaurant seating with tables and chairs to seat 8 at each were waiting for the hungry guests. Typical of an Italian dinner, the meal was multiple courses. Rather than list it all, there is a picture of the menu below. Forgetting my diabetic issues, I ate everything and drank wine like tomorrow would never materialize. There is never a guarantee of a tomorrow, so I couldn’t risk letting these delectable pass me by, could I?

A band started playing where the violinist once was, there was now a dance floor. The transformations to accommodate each next phase of celebrations were swift and seamless. We shared a table with the same group from Andrea’s work who invited us for dinner last night. Again, the company was significantly enjoyable; laughter was generously stimulated and shared by all. In one section of the lawn, the married couple had set up a “Photo Booth”. There was a camera on a tripod set up, but before you ventured into a pose, you needed to adorn yourself. This was all thought of ahead of time. There were Viking hats, Roman warrior breastplates, shields, oversized glasses, funny hats, and assorted other “extricate your inner child” paraphernalia. The band played long after we went to bed at 1am.

Truly, this is within my top three best weddings I have ever attended.

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Under the Florence Sun Going to Tuscany

Today we are starting the family hook-ups in preparation for the Tuscan wedding that is to follow this weekend. Ron’s grand-niece Elise and her boyfriend John arrived this morning after spending a couple of nights in Venice. Ron’s plan was to do some touring around seeing sights from the outside and the free ones from the inside. There isn’t much free here. Even some of the popular churches charge admission.

We took them to the Duomo, but Elise was refused admittance. She was wearing shorts and a sleeveless top. I could not believe the hypocrisy and sexism in this as men who were dressed in the same manner were allowed entry. Regardless, I waited with her on the steps in the shade. Elise is truly extroverted making her an enjoyable companion even if she was barred from the church.

Conversely, we did get into Basilica de Santo Spirito for free, where there is a wooden crucifix carved by Michaelangelo. Somehow, we did not see any guards collecting a fee nor did we notice any signs. It was not until later that we realized there was a fee for admittance to his specific chapel within the church.

For lunch, we returned to the same piazza where we had dinner Thursday night, but a different choice in restaurants. This one Osteria del Santo Spirito, was a much better choice, even if it sounds like they only serve first holy communion. Italian restaurants can be extremely confusing with their portion control. Menus offer primo and secundo choices, where the primo is generally either a pasta or risotto dish. Often times, having ordered this as my single entrée, it had turned out that the portion couldn’t fill a demitasse cup. Yet, the price could fill my piggy bank. A cost of 8-15 Euros should provide something more than a tablespoonful of food. With this in mind, the three men ordered the full portions, as opposed to the half portions.

Ron had gnocchi swimming in cheese sauce; my rigatoni macaroni were covered with a tomato sauce sprinkled with dry Ricotta cheese. John dared to try a pasta dish that is served with gelled fish row. As the hot pasta melts the row, it provides a fishy sauce. Elise was the smart one with some forethought ordering a small portion of the same rigatoni I had. John’s dish was too adventurous for my taste and honestly, I don’t think he was overwhelmed with joy at his choice either. He mentioned more than once that it was an ‘acquired taste’. He seemed to be waiting for his taste buds to start acquiring a flavor appreciation, but he took a considerable sized portion as a to-go package. I doubt it ever ventured further than the refrigerator to the trash once we were at the villa.

We still had time to kill before the prearranged taxi drove us to the villa in Tuscany where we would settle for two nights. Trying to walk off our dinner, fatigue took over with the younger ones long before it did their elders. A coffee stop was in order to while away the remaining hour or so.

At promptly 5pm as scheduled the taxi/van was there to transport us. The ride was a paltry 30 minutes, but the cost was a significant 70 Euros, which we shared with Elise and John. No wonder the Italian economy is in shambles.

Without any real expectations of what a Tuscan villa would be like outside of vivid imaginations, we were pleasantly surprised. The hills in the distance and the fields surrounding the villa itself are covered with olive trees and grape vineyards. It was as delicious as any imagination could perceive it to be.
We were greeted by the bride, Andrea. She is the older sister to Elise and another of Ron’s grand-nieces. He being one of 7 children, there are lots more grand-nieces and grand-nephews running around. Andrea and Mark had a quick civil wedding back in Colorado for the grandmothers on both sides of the family who could not get to Italy. We were shown to our room which was one bedroom of a two bedroom apartment, which included two full bathrooms, a living room, a dining room that could seat 20 and a full sized eat in kitchen. Andrea’s parents were given the second bedroom. The second floor included additional apartments where she placed fellow workers who came for the celebration. Just 30 steps out the back door were one of the swimming pools.

Down a trail weaving through olive trees were two more buildings, each with full apartments and a humungous shared kitchen. This is where all of their friends were staying. All totaled there were 37 people who arrived for this wedding. The actual ceremony is scheduled for tomorrow, but the festivities continue. Andrea and Mark booked and paid for the entire stay at the villa and for those who chose, it was available through Tuesday. On Tuesday, there was a wine tour scheduled for anyone who cared to stay and imbibe.

Tonight, however, was the night to party. Female friends had arranged a hen party for Andrea while Mark’s buddies planned a stag party. A whole lot single person celebrations were planned a little too after the fact, but a bus came to pick them up at 6pm. Off they went back to Florence to kick up their heels. Ron and I had stayed behind and wandered the surrounding land. We were not quite certain if we would eat dinner or not since we had no idea what the plan was and had not done any shopping.

As we walked back to our assigned building, a crew from Andrea’s workplace was busy cooking up a dinner. As soon as they spotted us, they invited us to share with them. Seven of us had a communal meal of spaghetti and steak. The food was tasty, but the companionship was spectacular. I had not laughed so hard in years. They are not only a fabulous group of medical professional people, but they are dynamic human beings. We stayed up until close to midnight having a grand time.

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Giving the Finger

I have been lagging behind in writing. Some brilliant ideas come with consequences. When we travel, I always have a battery recharger with me for my camera batteries. My particular camera requires rather particular batteries, which are not only hefty in weight, but in cost as well. The charger for them is duly expensive. After years of traveling, the charger had gotten knocked around my suitcase causing the protruding electric prongs to become wobbly and finally ineffective. Rather than be inserted into an outlet, they would rather retreat like man parts when entering freezing water.

Brainstorming, I thought it would be prudent to get some Styrofoam to cover the prongs, hence making them stable in the suitcase. After hunting down people who knew what Styrofoam was, I finally found some. When testing it out, it became apparent that little bits of white chemical balls were going to start sloughing off decorating everything else in the luggage. The next option was to try foam rubber. Finding a place that sold this was more of a challenge. I had suggestions, but before I could set out, someone mentioned a sponge. Eureka! This was the solution. Off I went to buy a sponge. Then to hold it on and in place, I bought 2 hair scrunchies. This keeps the prongs safe and the batteries in place while inside the suitcase. Perfect!

Well all reasonable creations come a little blood, sweat, and tears. The sweat was hunting down the potential supplies from store to store in high heat. The blood and tears came later. While trying to cut into the cellulose sponge, the screwdriver that I thought would be sufficient was not. The next item was a knife. It slashed through the sponge quickly and easily, but unfortunately, my finger was in the way. It was a deep wound, bringing on the blood and tears. It actually bled for over 3 hours if I did not keep pressure on it. There was no way we could get a bandage tight enough to stop the bleeding, so it needed hand holding. For once, one hand knew what the other hand was doing.

Need I say how difficult it is to type with a left forefinger that looks like the end of a baton? The f-g-r-t-v and 5 keys were now vacationing due to my lack of dexterity. Adding to this is the knowledge that the negative Internet connection was not going to improve my cyber communication skills in any way. Strangely, I could surf the Internet, albeit at a snail’s pace, but I could not access our own website www.budabab.com nor could I send e-mail from our own account info@budabab.com. So particularly strange.

In order to divert my attention away from my Internet issues, I had to content myself with our first afternoon into the evening walk in Florence. Poor me! We spent it wandering aimlessly as we looked at some of the ancient historic sites. This was my fourth time here and my second time with Ron. Our last visit was in 1993, so it was undeniably exciting to have a reason to return. Only two nights were allotted for this portion of the trip, and then we venture off to Tuscany for two nights, and then return here for three more nights.
We ventured to the Pitti Palace, the Duomo, Ponte Vecchio, the outdoor museum of statues by the old city hall, and various churches that were open. This is undeniably a city where nightlife rules; throngs of people are milling around the piazzas and walking the narrow streets. Most streets are so slight in width that the sidewalk on each side of the centered one car lane only allows for single-file walking. There is no shortage of people in the plazas where restaurants circle the perimeter, generally a church sits on one side corner like a matriarch overseeing her clan, and a fountain adorns the center of the square complementing the scene as viewed in foreign movies.

People are eating late into the night. At 11pm, patrons are still arriving, looking for menus, and tipping back drinks. The restaurants are full of reserved tables still, at this late hour. Regardless of the mobs of people busily involved in social activity, the sound level was moderately static allowing residents in the apartments above to enjoy their television without having to blast the volume. There was a steady buzz so unlike the voluminous raucous sounds bringing to mind hooligans at a football match, which is what we hear outside our own windows.

Sticker shock hit us like a professional baseball pitcher’s fastball. Regardless of our diligence in hunting high and low, we could not find a budget eatery. We finally settled for a place in the piazza where we had been twice. It was only by sheer fortune that we were able to get a table, it was that busy and we had been refused by another restaurant that could not accommodate us. We chose Ricchi Pizzeria, where I had a pizza, Ron had risotto and each of us had a beer. The bill came to €54, which certainly churned my stomach more so than the pizza did.  If my pizza were delectable, I would not have been so upset, but it was essentially tasteless. I could have done better with cardboard, tomato juice, and skim milk cheese.

By 11:30, we finally wandered back to our B and B Casa di Annusca at Via dei Serragli 126- (+39-338-314-1076  fbaudone@me.com). This is a fabulously rich accommodation with artwork in every nook and granny. Even the interior doors are graced with murals.

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Greetings from Florence

We are in the ancient city of the Medicis and of course Michaelangelo's most spectacular creations. However, right before leaving, I sliced a chunk out of my left pointer finger. Three hours of non-stop bleeding should have been a clue that stitches were needed, but the day before our journey, I had State Exams all day. No time to figure out where to go for a nee dle and thread. Since then, the abundant bandage that is not occupying my finger tip, makes it near impossible to type on a netbook keyboard.

The wifi where we are staying does not reach our room, so not only is the Internet a problem, but using Viber on my phone is also. 

Before leaving, I had an overdue maintenance done on my camera. They updated the software on it. I never tested it before leaving. Now, each time I take a picture, it takes 3-5 at once. In spite of turning off multiple exposures, it has not solved the problem. 

Suffice it to say, regardless we are having a great time. Saturday, we'll leave for Tuscany for the wedding, our reason for being here. Ciao!

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When the Spirit Hits

Today is Pentecost Monday, which is strange that it is a double day holiday over Sunday and today as all current researchers show that Hungary is Catholic just about in name only. Well some are “Hey, any excuse for a party!” while some countries are “Hey, any excuse for a holiday!” When I was in elementary school, I asked my mother if we were Jewish; the Jewish kids had more school holidays than the rest of us. When she said no, I asked about conversion procedures.

Well, this has been a productive time here at the homestead. After joining the gym at the Marriott Hotel, my mind has been surprising my body by actually getting there five times a week. After walking the treadmill at 3.5 miles per hour, I complete 10-25 repetitions on 7 different machines. There is only one machine that actually shows miles rather than kilometers per hour. I didn’t realize this at first. I had been using the other machines cranking it up to 6.8 kph.

When I first started on the other machine, the speed almost sent me into the Nautilus hip adduction machine, hip first. It took a couple of seconds to realize why I was moving faster than a thoroughbred in training, when the sign stating the obvious was visible. Although I am fairly adept at speed reading, reading at high speeds is a different story.

A gym work-out takes a real chunk of time out of the day. It takes me a solid twenty minutes to get there, at least an hour and a half exercising, twenty minutes in the Jacuzzi, and then another twenty minutes rewarding myself at Starbucks when I finish. 

There was a book publisher that offered to have me send in a proposal for a book they wanted to have rewritten and updated. They were graceful enough to wait patiently until the semester was over before I turned something in for their evaluation. Finally, it was sent off today. If it is approved, it is something that can be completed over the summer.

With that in mind, there has been another block of my time spent working on a new professional website that should debut in another week or so. Details will follow as things progress. The other irons in the fire including marketing the Feri apartment, updating my CV, and making travel plans.

We will be going to Florence for a week next month. Ron’s great niece is getting married in Tuscany. She and her beau rented an entire villa for the wedding, but we will only stay 2 nights and the rest of the time in Florence. We have both been to Florence in the past, but one cannot tire of Florence.

At the end of August, we are returning to Italy, but traveling through to make our way to San Marino, to spend a couple of nights. Planning ahead, we booked our tickets to Panama for our December/January get-away with a side trip to Nicaragua.

Holiday or not, I spoke with a lawyer in the US today about making out a will. It is complicated since we have a bank account and Ron’s retirement in CA, a property in FL, we are registered voters in NJ, and my credit card goes to NM. When we finally whittled it down, the attorney asked who would get the property if something happened to both of us. That hit me like a trick question. I hadn’t thought about it, and we certainly hadn’t discussed it. I guess we will just donate it to the Tea Party! Joking!

On Facebook, someone had posted a link to a local videographer company called ICandyFilm. Some of the samples were fabulous, so I sent them a note saying as much. One thing led to another and they are coming over to discuss filming the apartment. It will be great adverting and if we ever decide to sell, it will be ideal.

It hasn’t even been a week since I finished school and already there has been so much accomplished. If this momentum continues, mountains will be moved.

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All Aboard

ALL ABOARD

We were cruising for the last time out of Modesto. This would be our last spin in the Saturn before turning it over to Marsha. Marsha was going to be in Hawaii when we left town so we had to get creative with arrangements. We found that Amtrak leaves from the San Francisco airport, so we could leave the car in long term parking for Marsha’s return from Hawaii. That sounded like a plan until we found out that Amtrak would not let us take our large luggage on the shuttle that goes from San Francisco to Emeryville, where the actual station is located.

I never fail to fall asleep in the car or any vehicle: land, sea or air, as long as there is motion involved. This day was different. This day was our last trip out of Modesto, traveling Route 99 to 205 to all of the other veins of highways that deliver you to the city of fun and entertainment. I was wide awake and seeing the scenery in a new light. It was as if I was taking mental photographs to remember what it looked like as we sped by mile by mile. I was never so refreshed on a car ride and anxious to experience one adventure at a time, taking careful consideration not to anticipate the sequence of what was planned for our future. It was not as arduous to stay in the moment as I had anticipated and was a worthwhile venture.

The first stop was the Emeryville Amtrak station, where we had to check our luggage Friday evening for our Saturday departure. The weight allowance was 70 pounds per bag. One of our bags was 78 pounds and another was 73 pounds. Then the spare emergency bag that we stuffed all of our last minute “treasures” into was 38 pounds. This and two carry-ons, plus a backpack with the laptop were all of our former life that would follow us into the next life. As I contemplated this thought, my mind wondered to earlier that day when we gave away more than 170 shirts, pants, scarves, gloves and other assorted clothing items. After 170, I stopped counting the hangers that were needed to transport the clothes to their new homes. Our housekeeper had come for the last time that day and she was able to leave with cash and a car load of goodies that we could no longer use, fit on the truck, or carry with us. Now our life was further condensed to about 200 pounds of luggage and probably less as we continue this journey. This is too much weight to be carting around the planes, trains, ferries, taxis, and other modes of transport both here and abroad. The Amtrak Ticket Clerk demanding an extra $20.00 for having overweight luggage interrupted my reverie. Story of my life, even my luggage is overweight.

Feeling less weighted down, we headed to the San Francisco Airport Hilton where I was able to get a room for $59.00 plus frequent flyer miles on my airlines card, my Hilton Honors card, and by paying with Visa the current promotion awarded me another 1000 bonus points. Jackpot! Our room was a deluxe with a sitting area, but we arrived by 8:00 pm and then crossed the parking lot for a late dinner before turning in for our race in the morning.

As I was getting ready in the morning, there was an interview on the television with the author of the Under the Tuscan Sun, Frances May. All that I heard was her comment about having a dream about 101 angels and how she knew she would find them in Tuscany. She was not certain if they would all be clustered together or if she would come upon them one by one. My mind began thinking about angels, the 101 plus angels that we were leaving behind in California. They are the angels of friendship, the angels of compassion, the angels of love that filled our life with so many unforgettable memories. These angels will be with us for all of our days to come, out of sight, but always flying in and out of our memories until fate brings us together again. Shakespeare said it all with “parting is such sweet sorrow.”

Our last errand was to bring the car to the San Francisco airport and park it in long term parking for Marsha to find when she returned from Hawaii. By going to the farthest end of the parking lot, we were able to find parking directly under a marker sign. I just needed to remember to call Marsha in Hawaii and tell her where it was parked. From the parking lot shuttle to the airport, we descended on flight to find the Amtrak shuttle, which whisked us off to the Amtrak station in Emeryville for our train. Waiting on the platform brought back memories from childhood of the anticipation of a train ride. Being a child of a railroad employee and later an employee myself, there were many opportunities to ride the train. This is one mode of transportation I never grow tire of. On the train in coach and off to Denver on the California Zephyr, the trainperson was a woman with a cheery disposition. Departure time – 8:30 am Saturday morning…arrival scheduled for Denver Sunday at 7:30 pm. The coach seats were extra wide with a leg rest that could be adjusted to any height while the back reclined. All seats with the exception of the handicapped are on the upper level. This was going to be a comfortable ride and the thoughts of blissful dreams were dancing in my head. Once that train started moving, it was time for me to say, “Good night sun and good night moon”. Although there is a viewing car, it was not much different from our coach car other than the seating was arranged differently and covered in leather. One more car away was the snack car, and then yet another car’s walk was the smoking car. Surprisingly, I did not grace the smoking room as often as I thought I would, however; there were a couple of women from Iowa, sister-in-laws who bragged about being in the smoking room for the 36 hours we spent on the train, only leaving to get sodas, beer and once a quick nibble. It seems that their husbands worked construction, building power plants all over California at this time, but all over the states from time to time. They had not been home for seven months, but each had a family emergency to attend to and the last minute airfares directed them to Amtrak.

Motion is a narcotic for me. I do not need drugs, prescription or natural when in a vehicle. I cuddled up in my seat with the provided pillow and my new mystery book complements of my co-workers for a relaxing read-doze marathon. From what I viewed of the scenery between reading and dreaming, I had not misplaced my energy or attention. I was able to recoup all of the dreams that I never had due to lack of sleep for the last three months. It was mentally stimulating in a narcoleptic manner.

Ron was able to pry me lose from my seating by making dinner reservations in the dining car. I had always fantasized about dining in style on a train, but when I was a child, our family budget was picnics in our seats, not eating out fashionably. It was extraordinary to watch the waiter and waitress serving beverages and dinners on china as the train wobbled along at high and low speeds, but was more fascinating was to think about the poor chef who had to cook with the same aplomb. There were five entrees on the menu, no small feat for a moving restaurant. We settled on the roasted chicken which I have to honestly confess was delicious. The entire dinner was beyond our expectations and not much higher in price than a regular restaurant meal.

It was three am. I was wakened by the stillness of the train. When I looked out the window, we were not moving. The train stops, I wake. The train moves and I sleep. That is a lovely arrangement, but now I am yanked from my subconscious world of imagery, because the train has stopped. It has stopped in the desert of Utah. Why? At that point I did not know. All I knew was that my hibernation had been interrupted…for over two hours. Later, I learned from the two chain smoking Iowans that there was a freight train accident and we had to wait for the tracks to clear. We were actually delayed for three hours. Thank the gods of the nighttime reverie that I did not have to stay awake that long.

Sunday, I was definitely ready to get off of the train by noon. Unfortunately, if I had I would still be somewhere in Utah and still far from Denver. I tried to diversify my activity by going to the lounge car. They had televisions there where they showed movies to wile away the hours. The movie showing was one we had seen, Chocolat. It was worth watching part of it again and non caloric at the same time. Other movies were too loud to stay in the lounge for and there was no one around to control the volume. Fortunately, our friend Leinani had given us a goodie bag, which we nibbled on the rest of the trip: the snack bar had irregular hours. By Denver, I had caught up on 20 hours of sleep and finished my mystery book.

Ron’s nephew-in-law picked us up in Denver and took us to his house for a visit. Ron’s sister Marge came from Fort Collins to see her “little” brother again. She had been in Iowa for the 4^th of July when Ron was there. Ron’s niece Rita and she and Mark’s daughter Elise were there to entertain us. Oh, I cannot forget Annie, their chocolate Lab. She is five years old and still has more energy than five children with ADD on speed. One of the highlights was watching Elise’s soccer video. It is amazing and liberating to see such incredible young women excel at the sport. In addition, they were all beautiful. Mark and Rita have their basement decorated with the art of their two daughters from throughout their school careers. Kudos need to be given to their art teachers for the imagination they inspired in these two young girls, now women. The range and depth of media was beyond any that I have seen for the lower grades. Brains, beauty and talent, what a lovely way to celebrate a family gathering.

Mark took us to our hotel, another Hilton and more bonus points. I had called the hotel to make sure they guaranteed my room with my credit card. The desk clerk chuckled and said if we should up at 3:00 am with 100 other people she would be able to accommodate all of us without a problem. They only had 20% occupancy. Remarkably, I was able to rest well regardless of my cat naps on the train.

Faithful and charitable Mark was there to pick us up at the hotel the next morning to escort us to a breaking of the fast at their home. After our last meal with Ron’s kin folk, we said our good-byes once again. Still the reality of time and absence had not settled in when we hugged that last time. Mark drove us to the Denver airport to pick up our rental car. This is where my mettle gets tested. It is approximately a five plus hour drive to Gillette, Wyoming from Denver. Gillette is where Ron’s dear friends Sheila and Fred Billick have settled down until Fred’s retirement from the railroad. The question in my mind was WHY WHYoming? Ron had not seen them for a number of years and had recently reestablished a continually and more gratifying writing relationship gratitude to the technology of e-mail. Sheila had also found out about my love of seashells and sent me an apothecary jar that she had collected from their last trip to Florida. I in turn sent her some shells in a frame that I had collected from Thailand and other travels. Trying to stay in the moment, there was no anticipation of what the next couple of days would be like, but the thought of the drive to their home was not my favorite topic to contemplate.

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