Italy day 1, the Heart of Rome

We left our home in Michigan shortly after breakfast on Friday, and arrived in Rome shortly after breakfast on Saturday. The time between is memorable only in a sort of questionable or tenuous fashion. There were two planes, three airports, a few odd meals here and there, but those places, and the exact number of hours of dark and light, is a little blurry in my memory. What is not at all fuzzy to me is my first day ever on a new continent, riding in the taxi through lands unknown, turning a corner and finding that we were surrounded by ancient ruins, and lugging our stuff into our temporary Roman home with awestruck eagerness.

In Rome, the seven of us stayed in an apartment only three blocks from the Spanish Steps in one direction, Trevi Fountain in another. We were in the heart of the high fashion district, right on the Heart of Rome walking tour, as recommended by Rick Steves, and that's what we did with our first day, although on so little sleep it might have been more like a Heart of Rome stumbling tour. From the Spanish Steps and Bernini's boat fountain we wandered through narrow streets made of pavers and lined with tall, colorful buildings. We found lunch in a small alley restaurant, and were surprised to turn a corner into a small square (piazza) and find the Pantheon in the middle of the modern day hustle.

It was a Saturday, and every piazza, every street, every restaurant was crowded with sight seers. We ducked in a church here and there, we stopped again for snacks and beer, we wandered by Marcus Aurelius' column and looked at the reliefs, we struggled through the crush of people at Trevi Fountain, we saw parliament and the post office, and we got briefly lost before going back to our Roman home to refresh before dinner.

And we made it. I think a couple of us took short naps, some of us just washed our faces, drank water, changed clothes, and dragged ourselves back out again, but regardless of the method, we made it out for dinner and back again before finally collapsing for the night. I found it surprisingly easy—it was the awe of being in a completely new world that kept me going. That amazing feeling, however, didn't keep me from finally dropping into a restful oblivion shortly after dinner.

And that was day 1.

Project 365, weeks 35-36

Two tribute pages, and two weeks to catch things up.

Cookie

Grief is a vivid, living emotion. It is not controllable, it has a mind of its own. I've heard it described as a sharp pain, or as a dull, consistent ache, and I have felt it as either, or both. Bringing a pet into your home is easy. Giving them food, shelter, and love is easy. Giving them room in your life is easy. But I'll bet few of us who bring those babies into our warmth think at that instant about the time they will leave it. We don't think, in those moments of bliss, about the pain of leaving, the feelings of regret and loss, the terrible, debilitating, breathtaking ache of seperation. Not that anyone ever said that losing them would be easy, but who could ever have guessed it would be so hard.

We lost Cookie today. She'd been with us for all of our marriage, for so many of our wonderful moments, and our darkest ones. We will remember her walking the ledge in our old house, dragging whole loaves of bread to the basement when we weren't looking, littering the house with socks rescued from the laundry during the long hours of the night, draping herself over my shoulders, my lap, my head, my computer, or any part of me just to be closer, regardless of my feeling about her plans.

We will remember with geat tenderness the way that she let Calvin climb all over her, drag her around, tackler her, and still come back for more.

She was not your typical cat. She greeting strangers with aplomb, she came when she heard her name, she was always present. One of our old neighbors described her as "more friendly than a woman on elimidate". She was so present in our lives that she leaves an immense, gaping hole in her absence. Healthy until her last week, when a tumor closed her throat and began depriving her of breath, the most we could give her in the end was her freedom from suffering, as graceful a retreat as possible, and that is always a difficult gift to give. As I discussed with Calvin, when her suffering ended, that was when ours really began.

It is not for her that we weep, but for ourselves.

Project 365, weeks 33 - 34

Two weeks over three pages, but not really a picture a day. August 13 - August 26.

Back to reality with a bang

There's nothing like hitting the ground running after a relaxing vacation. Of course that should be the time to do it, when your energy has been replenished, your mind rested, and your soul reinvigorated. Sounds great, doesn't it? We got home Thursday, started the laundry, and headed out for a makeup swim lesson. Friday was a doctor appointment, then a wedding an hour away. Then Saturday we made the same drive again to go to the Mid Michigan Renaissance Festival. Because the Renaissance was such a big deal here in mid Michigan. Of course.

It was a timely trip, though, since we're in the middle of a several week unit study of Italy, including the Italian Renaissance. The Mid Michigan Renaissance resembles something more like an English Renaissance, mind you, if not something more current and commercially sinister, but knights, ladies, and pirates are knights, ladies, and pirates nonetheless. Calvin went in pirate garb, in fact, complete with his Pirate's Cove hat we picked up last week. We got stopped twice in the festival by people wanting to know where we found a Pirate's Cove in the festival grounds. It was amusing.

If nothing says Renaissance like dust, soup in a bread bowl, camel rides, lazy tortoises, shopping, and lots of hilarity and fun? Then I'd say they're doing it right. Otherwise, they should rethink their business plan.

***as a side note, you may recognize Calvin's "pirate" costume for the "Martin the Warior" costume he got from his Nonnie for his birthday, it's just doing double duty right now.