Grocery Shopping in Italy or... 272 Grams of Pesto is Equivalent to a Crap-ton!

So we are really enjoying our living like a local experiment – 3 weeks in Venice.  Wow.  Americans don’t take three week vacations.  I mean, you may have that much time allotted to you, but no one ever goes ‘on holiday’ like they do over here.  We work too hard, we multi-task way too much.  And oh yeah, the business would probably close down without us there – right? 

Reality check. 

So I asked for the time off.  I hoped that they would understand the importance this trip has to me – and to my surprise, they did!  But Italian Catholic guilt, which is second only to Jewish guilt, had me concerned that I not give them even a moment’s pause or cause to rethink their decision.  So I busted my ass for more than a month before leaving so that everything that I could possibly control and complete was done.  Finito.  Kaput.   Projects that were sitting on my desk gathering dust were miraculously moved to the top of the To Do list.  I asked a couple of my team mates to pinch hit for me for a few tasks, but other than that, my desk was clean, my away messages were set and I was O-U-T out!

So we get here (see previous post) and the apartment is great – for that first night.  Apparently our apartment, (we shall call it ‘the step-apartment’) was occupado the night we arrived so they put us in the Italian Palazzo equivalent of the Penthouse.  Only problem with that was that we only got to enjoy it that first night.  Two bedrooms, Murano glass chandelier, view of the canal and a damn good-sized kitchen.  And then on day two we get its red-haired step sister. 

It was nice while it lasted...

You ever been to IKEA?  Seen those tableaus they put together where they show you how you can live in 300 square feet?  Well welcome to the next three weeks.

Not that it’s bad, it’s actually pretty comfortable.  By European standards.  We've got a small living room, a decent sized bedroom and bathroom but a teensy, tiny galley style kitchen.  Maybe it’s a kitchenette?  Wait, it’s Italy so it’s probably a ‘kitchetini’ – yeah, that’s the ticket!  The refrigerator is like a dorm sized fridge.  Which is fine; we plan on cooking a lot and I don’t need to lay in supplies to feed a Biafran family of 12, but wow.  Oh and under the sink there are three (3!!) different garbage cans for your various recyclables.  Paper in one, glass and plastic in another and biodegradables (read: food and other yucky stuff) in the third. 

Garbage is a big thing here

Now I’m a horrible recycler – I honestly don’t think about it all that much.  So I've got that going against me.  But everything on this island garbage-wise has got to be floated off.  So these people take this stuff way seriously.  I now fret over the garbage.  I second guess myself over garbage.  Oh my God, I wrapped the banana peel in a paper napkin – is that bio or paper?  Oh wait, it's both.  I must separate and categorize my waste. Good Lord.  When I’m in a hotel on vacation I want to leave the towels on the floor and have my sheets changed every damn day – I do not want to have to ponder the deeper meaning of garbage.

*Massive run-on sentence alert*  So in making my garbage, we visited the market in Garibaldi which is also in our neighborhood of Castelo to gather some food to make dinner and some snacks so we aren't spending every minute in pursuit of pasta.  The thing I love about Garibaldi is that it’s a real neighborhood.  So many of the neighborhoods in Venice aren't really neighborhood-ish.  Not that you can always see anyway.  A lot of people live above stores or above restaurants, bakeries, etc.   There doesn't seem to be any difference between being zoned residential or commercial.  You just are.  Single family detached dwellings don’t really exist here.  So if you live in an apartment over a glass store, you don’t have a yard, or a stoop or a campo to hang out and meet your neighbors in.  But Castelo and Garibaldi are different.  There are more parks and green space; there are wider streets so the shopping is more centralized.  And in addition to the little green grocer markets and fish stands … there’s the barge.

The barge is a floating green grocer – every fruit and vegetable you can imagine as well as some you've probably never seen before.  Everything is sold by weight and even the crudest of markets here have all invested in pretty impressive weights and measures technology.  Like most Americans, I buy food based on the size portion I need, actual weight be damned.   I rarely know the weight of the containers, boxes or packages I regularly buy and I’ve managed to survive this long.  Personally I like to stay as far away from ANY scale as possible.  And here’s another  newsflash – I don’t know jack about the Metric system. 

Everything in Europe is measured using the Metric system.  President Jimmy Carter tried to get the U.S. to embrace this otherwise universal measuring system back in the 70’s.  It was a dismal failure and may be one of the reasons he was only a single term President. Regardless, I’m convinced that aside from a 2 liter bottle of Diet Coke, the only Americans who recognize grams, kilos, etc. are drug dealers and DEA Agents.

So I’ve got my beautiful zucchini, fresh peppers, asparagus and fragola (strawberries) and it all comes to about six Euros (around 8 bucks and change).  We head to another market to buy pasta, bread and oh look (she said rather excitedly) fresh pesto!! 

So it was about 10 Euros per kilo, I figure there are only 2 of us so 250 grams should be perfect.  Well, she gave me 272 grams which wouldn’t bother me much, but damn!  272 grams of pesto is like a vat of pesto!!  And of course I can’t tell her it’s too much – wouldn’t know how to anyway.  She’s looking at me like I’m a dumb tourist who’s holding up the line (I am).  So I duck my head and take my bucket ‘o pesto and bury it in the basket hoping Michael doesn’t ask me if there’s some reason I’m stocking up for Pestomagedden.

The good news is the stupid pesto is the best I’ve ever had.  We’ve done Pappardelle with veggies and sausage (and pesto), chicken scaloppini with fresh gnocchi (and pesto) and used it as a condiment on an antipasti platter as well.  And I still have damn pesto.  I think it freakin’ regenerates itself overnight or something.  It just won’t go away.  When the big one hits there will be three things left standing:  cockroaches, Cher and this pesto.

By the way, you’re all invited for an authentic Italian meal sometime soon.

Guess what I’m serving… 

             

   I crack myself up.

Whoever Said 'Getting There Is Half the Fun' - Lied.

Whoever said, ‘getting there is half the fun’ – Lied.

There are things about travel that you really don’t want to think about – like how you’re really going to get somewhere and how much it’s all going to cost.  Travel these days sucks and it has for about 12 or thirteen years now.  Not that it was a piece of cake before, but at least you felt like you were on your way to some grand adventure.  Now getting to where you’re going is in and of itself, the adventure.

My hubby and I have traveled before.  That’s not the problem. But for us it’s always the worst part of the vacation.  At 6’4, Michael is never really comfortable on a plane.  I realize that no one ever is, but if you’re my size, it’s at least a little better.  However, there’s nothing fun about 10+ hours squished up in a space that’s really not big enough for a Springer Spaniel, forget a regular or super-sized person.  And we always get the winners when it comes to flying.  You know the ones I mean… the snorers, the stinkers, and the 4 foot 7 female who has to recline her seat back right into the lap of my husband, two minutes after take-off. 

So this time we’re flying out of Miami, which sucks since we live about 12 seconds from the Fort Lauderdale airport, but whatever, we are heading to Italy for three weeks. This is a once in a lifetime kind of thing babycakes!   We fly through check in (thank you Lufthansa!) and then join a never ending queue for security.  I swear to God there are shorter lines at Disney World on July 4th.  And the stuff people try to get on the plane?!  This one lady was a rope length  ahead of me.  You know what I mean; no matter where we moved, she was always on the other side of the rope in front of me.  Anyway, she’s kicking her backpack forward because she is so important that she can’t stop texting for a minute, and I notice that’s she’s got a half empty water bottle sticking out of one of the outside pockets – NO, NO y NO!  She’s also got two oranges or tangerines, or something citrus-y in plain sight, oh and let’s not forget this wooden-tree object that I swear to God looks like an Australian version of a Billy-club poking out of the top.  Now I ask you, is it possible that this is her first plane ride ever?    I’m worried that I might have 3.2 ounces of shampoo in my carry on and the TSA is going to tase me for it and this chick’s got a weapon and is possibly transporting Amazonian fruit flies, but I’m the one that’s going to get strip searched.  Like Taylor Swift said, “I knew you were trouble when you walked in.”

Bitch walked right on through.

So 8 hours on an A-380 into Frankfurt, Germany, decent movies and lots of wine, but no sleep to speak of – by the way, you do not want to be a smoker passing through the airport there.  They lock you in this 10x12 glass box and make you inhale not only your smoke, but the smoke of all the other desperate Cancer-chasing goobers.  Plus you are literally on exhibit like a bunch of monkeys.  I actually felt sorry for them and as you can see from the above, I don’t feel sorry for smokers period, so that’s pretty damn bad.  

Frankfurt to Venice is really a piece of cake, one hour non-stop and you fly over the Swiss Alps low enough to take iPhone pictures.  It’s really quite cool.  Once on the ground, and the luggage is swishing its way down the belt to us.  All the pieces made it and if you’re anything like me, you basically break into the Hallelujah chorus when you realize it’s all going to be ok from here on out.

Except that we aren't there yet. 

Venice’s airport is on the mainland of Italy, Venice itself is an island in a lagoon with other smaller islands all surrounding it.  It’s still another hour plus by boat.  But first, we must schlep.  We've got about 150 lbs of luggage between the two of us, haven’t slept in almost 24 hours by this time and it’s a chilly 15 minute walk to where the boats are anchored.  Michael’s got it handled, but I cannot seem to drag my suitcase without it feeling like my shoulder is separating from my torso.  Seriously.  And I’m all over the little walkway.  This suitcase has a mind of its’ own and I am going to die from extreme shoulder pain and I’m going to take down some poor German tourist with me. 

Alilaguna ferry is another test.  When the boat arrives they throw out this 2 foot wide gang-plank for me to negotiate with my 300 lbs of luggage and by-now separated shoulder.  I couldn't keep it together on an 8 foot wide paved, on the ground not rocking over water, stretch of space but now they want me to walk the plank?  I am less than graceful under most normal circumstances.  These people really do not have a clue what they’re in for.

So the guy gives me a look, I stare him down, heft my 400 lbs of luggage strapped and dangling from my neck, shoulders and dragging behind me and go for it.  Woot.

I am badass.

An hour long ferry ride and we are finally close to our final destination.  We are trying to keep our eyes open on ride but both of us are sleep deprived and the stress is getting to us.  I can see it; I can feel it – if we can make it another 15 minutes winding through the narrow calles of Venice proper we will be home free.  But no one said anything about Aqua Alta!  The ferry bumps the quay and then we are forced to disembark into about 8” of water that’s lapping over the dock.  Whatever.  Michael is Superman and grabs all 900 lbs of luggage and leaps about 12 feet getting only a slight splash for his efforts.  I pick my way through and manage to only get wet up to mid calf.  Sigh.  Oh well, we are almost there.  Ten minutes later and everything has been dry through the route until we get to our hotel/apartment.  More water… this time there’s no getting around it.  Shoes off, pants rolled up and into the lobby that has about 4” of water in it.  Thankfully everyone is safe, we’re here and now the fun can begin.  Olga and Ali even manage to find us our own pairs of boots – just in case.

I don’t want to think about ‘just in case’…

Life As I Know It and The Grammys

Doing what you want to do isn't nearly as easy as I thought it would be.  Not writing, not crossing things off a 'To-Do' list, finding time to get healthy, spend more time with friends - none of it. The fact that I haven't taken the time to write in this blog in two years is glaring evidence.  I sometimes feel like I'm stuck in some sort of time vortex that sucks literally weeks out of my life without me even realizing it. Good intentions go right out the window and all I'm left with is a dirty house, piles of laundry and the realization that not much that I wanted to do has gotten done.

So instead of bitching about it, I've decided to live with the less than pristine home, buy new clothes when I run out of things to wear and adopt a 'hey, whatever' kind of attitude about things that I've previously put at the top of the 'must do' list.  It'll either work itself out or not.  At this point I'm not sure that I care. 

Pop Life: Justin Beiber's  Possible Deportation and Beyoncé's Incredible Bod

Living in South Florida has its ups and downs.  For one, we draw a very glammed up crowd down here.  Texans can argue with me (and by God, I know some of them will!) but we ARE the third coast.  Cali's got it going on and New Yawk is trés chic.  But Miami is badass and you will be hard-pressed to find a lot of people who will disagree. Sun, sand, nightlife and fab parties aside, being a place that draws the rich, famous and the famous-for-being-famous has at least one huge drawback... Justin Beiber came here to party.

Let me make it clear:  we don't need you Justin.  

You don't add anything to the mix.  Yes, we have both women and men that have more after-market parts on them than most hoop-dees rolling around on their twenty-twos.  That aside, we also have real people who are talented and contribute to the betterment of society as well as the SoBe glam quotient.  Be it through their athleticism, musical or artistic talent, philanthropy or just by being their most wonderful selves  -  so we don't need a punk ass, mediocre singer who drag races neighborhood streets in an effort to buy himself some street cred. 

I think you set it up.  I think you figured since you weren't going to the Grammys and didn't have anything better to do, why not get arrested?  I wouldn't put anything past the Biebs and his PR machine.  And yes Scooter Braun, I'm looking at you.

Next up is a petition that's already been signed by over a hundred thousand people demanding that his skinny Canadian butt be deported - put me down.

So the Grammys came and went and I have to say that I enjoyed it - for the most part.  I thought the performances were actually better than expected (lip synching aside).  I even kind of dug the collaborations, though last year's Alicia Keys/Maroon 5 is still my #1.  Here's a few thoughts:

P!nk:  I love you girl, God knows I do.  But as impressive as your Cirque du Soleil schtick is; we've seen it before.  Worse, we've seen it at the Grammys before.  I know you're on tour and it's hard to come up with something totally new while in the midst of that, but please try... try... try....

Imagine Dragons and whoever that was with them... :  OK so I looked it up (what the hell did we do before Google?)  anyway, THAT was Kendrick Lamar.  Sorry dude, you were awesome but I didn't know you before that performance and then the whole Macklemore Twitter "you were robbed" thing.  You were awesome, they were awesome - everyone was awesome.  I loved seeing the big drum thing - even though ID did it at the American Music awards.  And yes, I know I just called P!nk out for recycling shit, but whatever.  It was exciting and all that pounding made me think 'damn, what an awesome ROCK performance this is!" which is good considering they won for Best Rock Performance.  What can I say?  I'm spot on, just a little late to the game.

Kacey Musgraves:  You poor thing - you should hire someone to break the kneecaps of the guy that set up the Grammy performance schedule.  Really.  You did a great job, but to put you on in your cute little light up square dance dress and sing a sassy Grammy winning country ditty after shit was exploding, literally exploding on the stage 20 yards behind you only 10 seconds before your first note?  Bad timing, sucks for you. Congrats on your win - don't  hold your breath looking for a congratulatory bouquet from Taylor Swift though.

Speaking of Swift:  You looked great, you sounded great, but WTF was with the multiple hair whips?  One was fine, it didn't even look all that staged, but then two?  Three?  Four???  Sorry, just didn't feel right and looked even worse.  I figured by then you'd be satisfied that you actually had more screen time than all of the winners... put together.  Guess not.

Lorde:  Oh Lorde - I love the way you sing.  Some people were making fun of your over the top awkwardness claiming it was staged for dramatic effect.  I don't buy it.  I think you really are awkward.  The black dip-dyed fingertips on the other hand were pure Goth drama.  More subtle than a dress made of meat or walking around with a stuffed swan as part of your evening wear.  Watch for it to show up on every angsty teen you know.

Same Love:  Highlight.  Definitely. Mary Lambert is a goddess.  Nice job and quite the F-U to the rollin' right.  Kudos all around.

Hey Bey Bey:  Damn girl, way to make the rest of the female population feel absolutely sexless!  Not familiar with the song.  Were there lyrics?  I couldn't tell because all I could do was look at your bangin' bod in that dominatrixy body suit thing. I'm thinking that I'm not the only one that had that reaction.  Predicting a little brother or sister for Blue Ivy approximately 9 months from now. 

  Um, Wow.

Overall the Grammy's were pretty entertaining.  I thought there were a few clunkers (Sorry Willie) and poor Robin Thicke who had arguably the most played song of the year, ended up having to share the stage with a band that hasn't been relevant in more than two decades.  But no Miley, no GaGa, no Adele and no JT.  A surgically altered Madonna (and child) doesn't make up for that. 

By the way Madge, Satan called... he wants his outfit back.

NYC, GOP Politics and Facebook Timeline               

The past two weeks have flown by.  It’s always something - work, family, trips, and tasks.  Everything and anything.  The definite best part of the last two weeks was our trip to NYC.  Hubby and I cashed in a bunch of his Hilton Honors points and did it up right at the Waldorf Astoria on Park Avenue.   I’ve finally, finally gotten to a place in my life where I am extremely comfortable in such grandiose surroundings like the W-A.  Even so I still have a strong inclination to stick my hands in my pockets (like my mother told me to) when I walk into a place that has diamonds and silver, Sèvres and Baccarat.  The Waldorf is full of such incredible history and characters.  It’s one of those magical places that holds so much more than you could imagine four walls ever could. 

We had beautiful weather flying in on Friday and reservations that night at Todd English’s Ember Room http://emberroom.com/ a short walk away in Hell’s Kitchen.  Since it was Restaurant Week we took advantage of their special prix fixe menu and feasted on Japanese Eggplant, Chocolate BBQ spareribs and sea bass.  One of the things that I like most about eating out while on vacation, is the fact that we purposefully choose places that are not only great, but within walking distance.  There’s something that’s calorically freeing when you can get in a ten minute walk before and after chowing down!  We really need to start doing that when we eat out at home since we’ll hop in the car for a 5 block jaunt – it might ease the guilt a little or maybe even a whole lot.

Saturday brought with it beautiful white fluffy snow – and a Saturday is such an awesome day to have a Snow Day.  I know we were on vacay, but the locals actually smile when there’s snow on the weekend probably because they don’t have to worry about digging their car out to get to the office.  We did have to stop for our mandatory hat purchase at H&M for Mikey.  No matter how many times we travel in cold weather, he never can seem to find something he likes that will keep his head and EARS warm.  He totally went rogue and fashion went flying out the window when he chose a Deputy Dog hat with earflaps this time around.  Yep, he went there.   Besides, who was I to argue – it was freezing cold and I was bundled up from neck to shin in a fur coat.  Not exactly sure what kind of fur it is, fox, muskrat or maybe Civet cat; don’t know and don’t care!  My pal Annette lent it to me and it had been her mother’s (extra points for it having no doubt a fabulous backstory!) anyway, it was toasty warm and I love, love, loved  it.  I did live in fear of some PETA whack-job (yes, I said that) tossing a can of red paint at me but what was even funnier was the looks I got from other women.  Everything from jealous disdain to open admiration – I handled it well, I must say J  PS – if the camera adds ten pounds, then the coat added an extra 25!

Enjoyed walking around the city, hitting Macy’s, Time Square, Tiffany’s, Wall Street and Ground Zero.  The new Freedom Tower on the grounds of the former World Trade Center is coming along beautifully.  The feel of the city is so much different down in lower Manhattan.   Colder because of the absence of the tall buildings to break the wind shear effect and probably colder just because of the pall that remains over the area.  No one is ever going to forget; there’s no chance of that because everywhere you turn is a reminder of the lives that were lost that day. 

We made sure that we got our Broadway fix in with Chicago – then late dinner-ish meal at Medi Wine Bar http://mediwinebar.com/ where we had wonderful mussels and clams with a fresh Mediterranean salad.  Finished that off with fresh berries and mascarpone and no guilt as we hoofed it back to the hotel! 

Sunday our sight-seeing took place in the hotel itself before leaving for EWR.  I thoroughly enjoyed it and a special shout out to the fine gentlemen at http://elliotstevensltd.com/  for making our final few hours totally memorable - Thank You!  Thank you too Bear <3

Wicked Liberal Disclaimer:

The following is meant to be funny; not disrespectful to my friends of the Republican persuasion.  The stuff I’m commenting on is based on members of the GOP primary and their camps bashing one another.  This isn’t an Us vs. Them kind of thing. Them haven’t even weighed in as yet.   It’s supposed to be an “you couldn’t make this stuff up if you tried’ kind of thing.  I’m positive that if it were a Democrat primary year, the same lunacy would be in full swing and there’d be just as much material, if not more (Hello – John Edwards?)

I’m totally not torn up that so many of my favorite shows are mid-season reruns since the GOP primary season is providing so much entertainment value!  Any primary is supposed to separate the wheat from the chaff. This was so much better as I think we are separating the fundamentally clueless from the morally challenged.   I was dying when I heard that the pseudo witch Christine O’Donnell was planning on making a run.  The fact that she took a three day seminar and touted herself as a “Constitutional Expert” provided me with justification for my snort/chuckle.  Then we had Michelle Bachman who stated that God had told her to run for President.  Did he tell her she wouldn’t make it past the primary too?  Maybe she missed that memo.   Oh, then we had Governor Good Hair from the Great State of Texas.  Rick, stay in Texas.  Your sketchy memory and questionable historical accuracy can be overlooked there as long as the oil rigs are a’pumpin.  

Mitt’s got a huge tax question mark over his head and bigamist relatives that high-tailed it down to Mexico.  Those kinds of skeletons don’t disappear once they make a run for the border.  And Newt, ah Newt – three wives, two mistresses and a gay half-sister has got to cause some upset among even your most ardent of camp followers.  Personally I think it makes him more interesting – but that’s just me J

The new Facebook Timeline is here people and I’m skeered.    I’ve converted over but now have less than 5 days to comb through almost 4 years’ worth of comments, status updates and pictures.  I’m not that worried about the updates and pictures; after all, I put them up there in the first place.  The thing I’m worried about is comments… do personal messages show on your timeline?  Did I cover myself when I clicked on the highest level of privacy?  I guess we’ll all find out soon enough.  Apologies in advance!!

Smooches! 

Better Keep Moving Or You'll Get Runned Over!

So things have been moving faster than fast lately and I figured it was about time that I stopped smelling the roses and started shoveling the manure faster. 

All around me things are changing and most of it has to do with new schedules and new responsibilities.  My husband and son are both very self sufficient.  That's not bragging, they basically are.  That doesn't mean that I don't ASSUME that they need me to help them get through their day.  They do.  They don't always tell me so, but I know they do.  

The last couple of months have been something of a cake-walk in terms of my responsibilities.  My son was studying for his EMT certification and was out more than in.  That's cool, it meant that hubby and I could spend more time together, everyone could feed themselves, wash themselves and dress themselves and we all pretty much coexisted in a kind of roommate-ish melange. Of course two of the roommates are sleeping together, but I digress. 

Since the holidays started, we have all been burning it at both ends.  Family in town, gifts to buy, cleaning, cooking and more shopping.  And then Firefighter I & II started and we can't just shuffle off to dinner 4 nights a week anymore.  Junior has to study.  Mama has to cook.  Yes, I know I mentioned cooking a few sentences back, but that was more "People are coming, time to dust off the spatula and shine!" rather than "Meatloaf Monday" cooking.   There is also the laundry.  I figured uniforms were God's way of taking the guesswork out of what to wear everyday but those suckers don't wash themselves! 

It's damn hard doing everything you want and a lot of stuff you don't. 

In other news, Beyonce birthed the bazillion dollar kid, Van Halen's original line up released it's first new song in 16 years and Justin Beiber says he doesn't want a career that mirrors Hanson's.  Hah! He should be so lucky.