Jami, of Jami's Jam, Barefoot Farm Girl, Mud Dawg, and famed Keeper of the Kiki and the Mau, came for a wee-visit.
The Question of where to go and what to do was easily answered with; Let's go to Italy!
Yes, Paris is Paradise. Paris is Heaven. Paris is the Best of the Best. And all that. But Jami had been here before and we were looking for a good excuse to Get Out Of Dodge and to head for, hopefully, warmer climes. Things were getting rather cold Around These Parts.
We spent a Lovely four days in Florence. Indeed, one would expect Florence to be Lovely. What with all those old paintings, carved stones, and medieval fortresses, it'd better be Lovely.
The Florentines must've known Jude and I and Jami all enjoy things outside the norm. They gave us a Lovely Surprise. We were Witness to a Lovely Street Performance, staged, no doubt, just for us.
No normal pickpocket would do. No outsized American shoot-out at the OK corral could fit the bill. Nope. The Florentines had something else in mind.
Rounding a corner, we heard a Small Commotion. A Siena Rapida was facing off with a Delivery Van.
One man was on his mobile phone talking quietly and urgently. The other man was gesticulating wildly and appeared to be on the verge of Frothing at the Mouth. It seemed there had been an Altercation of Epic Italian Proportions. Only, it was odd as we failed to see any Physical Damage to either vehicle.
What could this be? What could this mean?
Uh Oh, what's this then? Frothing at the Mouth is now tapping, and we do mean TAPPING, He Who Talks Quietly While Carrying Mobile Phone sternly and forcefully on the shoulder.
We were glad for the distinct lack of Flying Bullets. We specifically quit the USofA because, amongst all that is wrong with the place, one must add: Every Problem's Solution is a Gun. We've had quite enough violence around us on TV, in the News, over the Radio, on the Bus, on the Streets, and in Our Lives to last 5 Lifetimes. Yes, Martha, it's utterly and completely true: You are 5 times more likely to die of homicidal violence in the US than you are in Europe.
Yet, there they were. Frothing at the Mouth and He Who Talks Quietly. Two men. Italian men, at that. Having a marvelously weird confrontation. In the middle of the West Bound Lane of a Major Throughfare. For All the World to See.
We took a few photos and continued on our way. We have no idea how things turned out. We wished them well and moved on. We had a Date with Destiny, you see (... pork chops... and apple sauce... see?) and nothing could stop our Onward Motion.
We were, after all, on our way to catch a bus that would take us to the Accedemia to see that most famous of Ball Touchers (thank ewe, Jami, the allusion is perfect, and if readers don't believe her, just take a long look), Michelangelo's David. Our appointment time was Firmly Fixed and we needed to get going.
The Question of where to go and what to do was easily answered with; Let's go to Italy!
Yes, Paris is Paradise. Paris is Heaven. Paris is the Best of the Best. And all that. But Jami had been here before and we were looking for a good excuse to Get Out Of Dodge and to head for, hopefully, warmer climes. Things were getting rather cold Around These Parts.
We spent a Lovely four days in Florence. Indeed, one would expect Florence to be Lovely. What with all those old paintings, carved stones, and medieval fortresses, it'd better be Lovely.
The Florentines must've known Jude and I and Jami all enjoy things outside the norm. They gave us a Lovely Surprise. We were Witness to a Lovely Street Performance, staged, no doubt, just for us.
No normal pickpocket would do. No outsized American shoot-out at the OK corral could fit the bill. Nope. The Florentines had something else in mind.
Rounding a corner, we heard a Small Commotion. A Siena Rapida was facing off with a Delivery Van.
One man was on his mobile phone talking quietly and urgently. The other man was gesticulating wildly and appeared to be on the verge of Frothing at the Mouth. It seemed there had been an Altercation of Epic Italian Proportions. Only, it was odd as we failed to see any Physical Damage to either vehicle.
What could this be? What could this mean?
Uh Oh, what's this then? Frothing at the Mouth is now tapping, and we do mean TAPPING, He Who Talks Quietly While Carrying Mobile Phone sternly and forcefully on the shoulder.
We were glad for the distinct lack of Flying Bullets. We specifically quit the USofA because, amongst all that is wrong with the place, one must add: Every Problem's Solution is a Gun. We've had quite enough violence around us on TV, in the News, over the Radio, on the Bus, on the Streets, and in Our Lives to last 5 Lifetimes. Yes, Martha, it's utterly and completely true: You are 5 times more likely to die of homicidal violence in the US than you are in Europe.
Yet, there they were. Frothing at the Mouth and He Who Talks Quietly. Two men. Italian men, at that. Having a marvelously weird confrontation. In the middle of the West Bound Lane of a Major Throughfare. For All the World to See.
We took a few photos and continued on our way. We have no idea how things turned out. We wished them well and moved on. We had a Date with Destiny, you see (... pork chops... and apple sauce... see?) and nothing could stop our Onward Motion.
We were, after all, on our way to catch a bus that would take us to the Accedemia to see that most famous of Ball Touchers (thank ewe, Jami, the allusion is perfect, and if readers don't believe her, just take a long look), Michelangelo's David. Our appointment time was Firmly Fixed and we needed to get going.
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