I can smell the Prego!
I am going to Rome.
I have not purchased the ticket, but the money is there.
Thank you!
Thank you!
Thank you!
Or should I say “prego!”
I think that’s the word for thank you.
Grazi is the word for your welcome, right?
Hehe.
I have no understanding of the Italian language.
My only interactions with Italians has been in North Beach, and that felt rather like a show, come watch the Italian guys do their crazy thing and don’t forget to tip big!
I did rather like going to The Steps of Rome in North Beach when I was still eating sugar. It was a great place to take a date, have an espresso and something sweet. I never knew exactly what I was ordering, but it all tasted delicious and I did not mind being flirted with by the Italian waiters.
I remember once getting this enormous chocolate dusted ball of hazelnut ice cream.
I ate that right the hell up.
There was a waiter from the Angelic Brewing Company that came out and visited, Michael I think his name was, and we went to the bar tucked away in the alley–Specs–ate wedges of cheese cut from a large wheel on saltine crackers, then drank pints of Guinness.
After that it was up to Steps of Rome for coffees and desserts.
Now, I am not drinking, or eating dessert.
Or, oh hold your breath, eating dairy.
Day five people.
I do not know that I can call myself vegan yet, or if I will forever and ever amen, but as the lactose is shaking its way out of my body I am feeling a lot better and after reading up on dairy addiction, hello morphine in milk! I was pretty down with giving it a go.
Plus sexy monkey in New York is vegan.
I hear they taste the best.
Ahem.
And onto other breaking news.
Not ashamed that I am being motivated by a man. Whatever it takes, if that is a character defect working for me, then so be it.
Anyway.
I will be getting the airline ticket once the funds land in my account.
I have done a lot of internet searching and jumping about from site to site to train to airplane and it makes better sense to fly then to take the train at this point. The Thello trains do have a 35 Euro fare, but nothing available the times I can go. After plugging in various different dates and times into the matrix the best I can get is 100 Euro each way.
This is not a bad price, but considering I can get a plane ticket from about $215 American, and it won’t take ten to fifteen hours each way to travel. Rather it would be two hours.
I think I will be hitting the plane.
Between the generous gifts of two friends in San Francisco, I will be Roma bound within the next few days. Hard to believe.
Yet, I woke up saying yes and there it was, after I got back from my mental relaxation session at the American Cathedral, a sweet message from a friend who I haven’t seen much of or went about much with in San Francisco.
But sometimes you create a bond with someone.
You may forget that bond.
They don’t however, and the miracle is, I get to pay, or play, it forward.
I know it.
In fact, I promise, here and now to do so.
Nothing would make me happier.
Well, knowing where I am going to live and what I am going to do for work, would be the cherry on the hot f (gr)udge sunday, but I know better than to expect that answer anytime soon.
I did take a moment last night as I was laying in bed just about to drop off to sleep when the New York question popped into my head.
What if we hit it off?
What if I just move in?
I ain’t got much, a rolling suitcase, some notebooks, and a 20lb bike.
He’s got a spare room.
What if?
Of course I have not brought it up again. There are a few people other than my head I need to check in with. Including, said gentleman. What a lark, I love that I can even consider this, that I can even say, hey, yeah, I will take you up on that.
You are cute.
This could work.
Sounds like a recipe for crazy.
But who the hell said I was sane?
It would be saying yes to an entirely different circumstance than any I have said yes to before. And the thought of “you can’t fuck it up if it’s meant to be and you can’t manipulate it into happening” went dancing through my head.
There is no right.
There is no wrong.
There are no mistakes in Gods world.
When I think of all the places I have gone because I said yes to doing something that I was afraid of I think, my God, I am one lucky bitch. I have gotten to do things simply because I said, ok, I’ll try that.
Nanny for us?
Ok.
Go to Burning Man with us?
Ok.
Cue flying in a four seater Cessna above the playa with a pigeon. Or sitting in the front row of the burn circle on Burn night, not once, but three times over the six years I have gotten to attend.
Ride my bike where?
Ok.
I don’t have a bike.
You’ll help?
Ok.
Suddenly flying down the hills coming into Santa Monica, going over 55 mph on a Felt 35 Road bike, clipped in, so connected to the wind that I cannot feel anything but alive, burning with joy, bicycling at the rate of the speed limit on the way to doing 569 miles for the Aids LifeCycle from San Francisco to LA.
I can live with you where?
In Paris?
Ok.
Cue the last five months of my life here abiding at 36 Rue Bellefond, 75009, Paris, France.
Let me say yes, again, and again, and again.
Yes.
Yes.
Yes.
OH God.
Yes.
Auntiebubba 