May 21st, In a Place Far Far Away.

I've decided. 

I really have. 

Lounging here in this cold room with three wooly blankets and my sister's breathing machine humming away I really have decided that we have it all wrong back in the states. 

We spend at least 2/3's of our life.  No. We spend 32/33's of our lives working at jobs we really hate. Putting up with assholes who believe that their next big promotion is hinged upon them proving we are nothing and they are the next big god. 

We worry about having the money to pay for the ultimate Whirlpool front load washer and winning the lottery so we can finally buy a Wolff stove and building a place where we can put in a half acre swimming pond with an outdoor kitchen. 

And we work and toil and save for our someday. Our someday where we can live like kings. Where we can finally look back and say that it was all worth it. 

And I will tell you I am the biggest proponent of believing in being responsible

That means you work for four decades, you don't spend money frivolously. You save and work so that some day. 

Some day. 

Some day. 

Some day, you will have saved enough money to travel. 

And you decide to indulge. You study and research and study some more. And you find the perfect location. You decide on Italy. 

Italy. 

Oh, I remember that from high school. 

Something about Julius Caesar and Et Tu Brute and wine and the Christians and the Lions and whatever else you had to learn to pass a basic history lesson. 

But over three decades after high school you find those obscure facts are not just boring items you had to learn to prove you were smart on school. 

What?  You mean these people actually existed?

But wait, I digress. 

So we find a place to stay a few days in Italy. And since we are going from Venice to Rome anyway, we should spend a few days in Tuscany. 

You look and look and you hear of an uninterrupted town called Volterra. More research and you hear of something called an agriturismo.  You learn that's a working farm. By law, they must make more money off of the farm than they do their guests. 

Hours later you find something interesting. So you go further. You go to the first original photo web page, Flickr and search for the name of the place. You find someone's pictures. Someone from Amsterdam. Arno,  from Amsterdam has several photos of this rustic farm. 

You leave a comment asking for his advice. Several exchanges later you contact the owner and book your trip. 

More research, months go by and after a nightmare of planes trains and automobiles you pull up to a a lonely drive in the impossible hills of bright and dark green Tuscany. 

What awaits you is to absolutely die for. 

I'm not kidding. The scenery is breathtaking. I only wish the English language had better adjectives. 

And after your first two senses of smell and vision are overloaded you sit down to a genuine Tuscan meal. 

Let me make sure you understand this. Here in the good ol You Es of Aye,  we buy whatever is on sale at the Kroger store and we are great at cooking our dinner at 7 Pee Em and we clean the dishes at 7:30  and we sit in front of our big screen TV and chat with one another on Facebook and we wait until someday we can finally take our 12 1/2 day vacation of our dreams. 

And 4,724 miles away there are people who live every day along the Tuscan hillside, planting their garden, harvesting their olives for the presses waiting for some misguided Americans to come where they have dreamed all of their lives. 

I really don't want to go back to to hectic misguided life I live. 

Tonight, late tonight in this farmhouse, I am dreaming of being an Ex Pat. 

I no longer care about American politics. I no longer care how much money I have in Edward Jones. I no longer care about my pretty fully equipped red Lexus SUV. 

I look at these people who's lives are spent trimming the olive trees and harvesting their vegetables and herbs and who travel to the market each day. Who would never ever dream of cooking anything out of season.  They would sooner be part of the Estrucian tortures than cook something out is season. 

Those people who are smart enough to realize that true life is lived by pouring a cup of coffee in the morning while looking out at the most majestic of God's creation. Watching the shadows of the clouds playing peek a boo with the ever so green hillsides of Tuscany heaven. 

And they watch. And wait. 

For the clever Americans. Those that toil for sixty years so they can enjoy this piece of heaven on earth for 4 days. 

WHAT ARE WE THINKING?

Tonight, Ican honestly tell you I don't have a freaking clue.