I gotta tell ya.  Weirdness follows me around like a bad dream.  Hey!  Did I just make that up or is that a common expression?  The dream part?  If I made that up I'm pretty clever!  Anywho, let me recount my morning session of "laughter yoga".  I had never heard of it so assumed there was actual yoga involved.  Not so my friends!  Laughter yoga is an extremely forced, bizarre experience where one fake laughs, does all sorts of touchy-feely group therapy silly stuff, and does no exercise what so ever.  My stiff upper lip, New England upbringing made this one seriously uncomfortable hour, let me tell you.  There is constant eye-contact, (a must),  lots of touching, (yuck), "free dancing", (just weird), and way too much sharing of feelings, (I did not add to the conversation).  My friend C from school heard about it and suggested we give it a try as we do Pilates together and love it.  Fortunately we were supposed to be laughing throughout the session because every time we looked at each other we cracked up.  All the regulars, (really not an appropriate word here), are elderly ladies with obviously few outlets cause, man, did they let it out there.  A few were aging hippies with long grey braids and groovy clothes. (They were the most interesting dancers and the most intense starers).  Others were lonely gals who count these people as friends. (They were the weepers).  Then there were a few seemingly normal people but after seeing them in action that notion disappeared.  Let me fill you in on just a few of the "exercises".  There was the "imagine you are flossing your brain" where we all walked around fake laughing and moving our hands back and forth on either sides of our heads.  There was the "find a partner and discuss romance without words, just laughter".  That was a nice one because I got stuck with the only man in the class who may or may not have asked me to have sex as I was the only under 60.  Then there was the "car wash" where we walked between two lines of people while they laughed and ran their fingers all over us.  Very awkward!  I couldn't get out of there fast enough.  C who is exceedingly polite stayed to thank the instructor and to say good bye to all of the participants.  When she got in the car she looked at me and asked me if I'd ever forgive her.  Sure, I said.  It'll make a good Blog entry.  (By the way, I Googled "follow around like a bad dream" and it's all mine!  I'll let you use it.)  xxoo me

Our road is being re-tarred.  Or let me rephrase that.  A part of our road is being re-tarred.  They started this project days ago, maybe a week.  The sister was still here.  It is a piece of road less than 500 feet long where some underground wiring was installed, (a couple months ago mind you).  First they blocked off the parking area for a few days without actually doing any work, simply inconveniencing the residents.  Then they brought in the equipment and let that sit around for a day or so.  Then Wednesday they spent all day grating the section of road to be paved.  The right half of a narrow, less than 500 feet section of road.  All day.  Yesterday they sat around again.  Today they began tarring.  All this time my usual parking spot has been off limits so I've been half up on the sidewalk beside the recycling bins.  What really gets me is that all around this newly tarred area there are potholes and bumps enough to knock out your teeth.  But God forbid the town actually redo the roads.  This work is being done by the local internet company that was putting down the wires.  They only repaired the road because it is required in order to get permission to provide service here.  I'm sure someone pocketed lots of cash for this.  I'm getting really tired of Italy on this front.  It is corrupt and mismanaged and "who gives a shit" and "what can I get out of it", everywhere you turn.  At school the office staff are all Italian and seem incapable or unwilling to do their work on time or without incident and error.  In the front office, the receptionists are foreign and perfectly capable.  The Italians can't be fired as they have permanent contracts and unless they commit homicide are Velcro-ed to their desks.  The foreigners have temporary contracts.  Hmmmm.   I've been trying to get my tax forms from the woman responsible for such things and all I get is the Italian shrug and the "what can I do?"  Grace was supposed to go to a college fair this weekend but the school waited too long and there are no spaces for our kids.  Undoubtedly all of the high school students there will be from Switzerland or Germany or some functioning nation like that.  Italy has a lot going for it.  It is beautiful.  The food and wine are incomparable. (Sorry France).  The art and culture are epic.  But Jesus, living here can be downright exhausting!  Gonna go drink some of that good wine.  xxoo me

Alas vacation is really over.  Some things to note from the week were these.  The sister re-introduced me to pomegranates, (re-introduced to her by cousin D.), which cost little here and are soooo yummy!  We tried a wonderful new wine that even V liked and in fact she may have had more than me!  I've located the winery and intend to descend upon it sometime soon with a designated driver.   Nothing in Italy is ever open when you expect it to be.  Almost every museum, castle or shop we tried to visit was closed precisely when we chose to go there.   If we went on Monday , it was closed on Mondays.  If we went on Wednesday, it was closed on Wednesdays.  If we went at 2pm it closed at 1:30.  I'm sure it was a plot.  And these:

My daughter is ashamed to be seen in public with me.

This is why we don't often LET her out in public.

xxoo me