bound for the USA

Well, family and friends in Spokane, I must really love you quite a lot.

Because only love for you could tear me away from this place.

As much as it breaks my heart, I am boarding a plane in a couple of hours.

I'll be in the USA today around 2:30 west coast time...

Arrevederci, Italia.

I will miss you.

a different view

Traded our view of Ischia for a view of Vesuvius, Capri, and a castel today.

It was difficult saying goodby to our house, but this hotel is definitely softening the blow.

The next five nights are bound to be excellent.

the movers came today

The movers came today.

They packed a lot of our stuff and locked it into crates bound for the US.

But they did not take our beds.

Not yet.

They gave us one more night in our Italian villa.

One more night watching the sun set over the Med.

Tomorrow, they will come again. They will take our beds. We will be forced to stay with some good friends.

The next day, we will completely check out of our villa and into a hotel.

Our hotel will be located in the heart of Napoli.

We will stay there a few nights while we iron out some final Navy paperwork and whatnot.

From our hotel in the heart of Napoli, we will say goodbye to Italy.

Sometime next week, we will board an airplane bound for the US.

That is the plan, anyway.

That is the plan.

But, if you know me at all, you know I'm not inclined to plan.

So, don't be surprised if I'm not on that plane with my family bound for the US.

Don't be surprised if I've chained myself to the top of Ischia protesting all the rules against me staying in this country forever and ever.

And ever.

the movers are coming tomorrow

The movers are coming tomorrow.

The movers are coming tomorrow.

The movers, are, coming, tomorrow.

The movers are coming TOMORROW.

They are going to pack up all the things in my Italian villa and load them on a ship setting sail toward the United States of America.

I have no clue why this is happening, because I do not intend to leave this country. Ever. I will sleep beneath the grape vines and hide under the beach chairs. I will dine on ripe tomatoes and freshly caught fish. I will wash car windows for cash to buy cafes. I will do whatever it takes to eat another pizza.

Fine, fancy moving company with your boxes and your crates. Take my things. Send them to the US. But I am staying right here. 

Zio Matteo in Cuma

Matt left last Saturday.

While he was here, he and I got into a sort of rhythm on the days Tony worked.

I'd get up and jog and take care of the kids while he slept until "brunch" time at which point he would emerge from downstairs alive and ready to make cafe shakeratos for us. I'd serve the kids their early lunch. He'd put on some music. More often than not, it was The National. I'd put Alaina down for a nap, read with Graham, then disappear into my room for an hour or so. I live for my alone time. Alaina would wake up, and then we'd go do some sight seeing, come home, eat, and stay up way too late talking about love and super moons and wheat.

One day, we met Tony at his office for an impromptu award ceremony where he received his final Naval award. Yay!

Afterward, we crawled around Naples eating as much pizza and gelato as we could handle.

Then, one day, Zio Matteo just packed his bags and said it was time for him to move on. To Perugia. To see a friend.

And then we missed him and his music and Graham kept thinking he was going to climb into the passenger seat once the car was started or that he was just downstairs reading.

He's still tromping around this country somewhere, so, who knows? Maybe we'll run into him again before we leave.

I promise they are going to make us leave this country soon. In less than two weeks, actually...

We'll discuss that later. I'm just going to continue living in denial over here.