Don't look.

Does this mean I can't look out?

Too late. 

See?  I told you not to look. 

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. 

Last Night in Venice

And it feels like it's been a week. So far our time has been wonderful.

It's a tough trip, I won't lie about that. We travel well together, this little band of family. But the walking and walking and stairs and walking have my legs screaming.  My calf muscles are like rocks. But I can tell the stairs to our second story flat is getting just a tiny bit easier. 

Tonight we packed up our things as much as possible and then went to dinner. We found a small place that had great atmosphere. 

This morning it was very rainy as we toward the Rialto. As we came upon a Campo I saw the church doors open at Chiesa di S. Salvador. When I entered the outer doors I could hear the sound of the choir. Of course no cameras or video recorders are allowed. I creeped in the inner doors and it was as if I could hear angels singing. 

Then I did something I wasn't supposed to do. I snuck my IPhone quietly out of my pocket, kept it low  to my waist and hit the video button.  The sounds I got might just be worth the wrath if the angels. 

I would post the video if blogger was friends with IPad. Hopefully I can upload it to Mark's netbook later. 

Anyway the rain continued for most of the morning. Knowing we were leaving Venice tomorrow, Brian, Mark and Care Bear decided to go to the train station and get our tickets while Helen and I went back to a small Bar (Coffee shop) we found yesterday. 

While we were finishing our cappachino and pastries Brian called to say the boat would not be running until the afternoon and they were coming our way, perhaps a three minute walk. 

Fifteen minutes later he called to say they were lost. I went out and gave them a couple of cross streets. They thought they were close. Thirty minutes later they were hopelessly lost, which is easy to do in Venice. 

They finally arrived and we all had a good laugh at their expense. Lots of walking later we found a place for lunch and then went up to our room. Helen crashed out for the afternoon and the rest of us went in hopes of going to St. Mark's Cathedral. Unfortunately they were not allowing anyone in and so we decided to go to the top of the Campanile. 

THAT was well worth it. 

Returning back to our apartment, Brian and Care Bear went to get tickets, Helen and Mark went shopping for a bit and I stayed in for an hour or so. 

Then off to dinner and another charming place and now we are finishing up the evening. Done packing, looking at pics and slowing down for the night at 11pm

Next is our favorite agriturismo which means we will not have access to any wi-fi. Which is bad, but it's really not. 

We might perhaps have access again on Friday when we arrive at Manarola in Cinque Terre. By then our legs will either be in great shape or be made of jello. Probably both. 

Buena Notte. 

Charming

We started off yesterday meeting up at my brothers' place separating the Euro into envelopes for each place we were staying.

We left Indy just after 1 p.m. heading to JFK.  

CnC was in the aisle for that flight. 

The flight to Venice seemed longer this time (9 hours) mainly because we had less leg room and less sleep. Then a fairly long boat ride to San Marco where we met our host who took us to our house we were renting. 

Up to the second story and we stepped out onto our small balcony at a glimpse of this. 

And it just kept getting better. 

It was fun watching my niece and CnC getting completely lost in the charm. 

If Blogger would let me post a video from my IPad I would upload the fabulous sound we heard here when someone had paid for a musician and a singer to join them on the gondola ride. 

We found a great place to eat pranza (lunch) and for one in his life just simply sat back and savored every bite of his spaghetti bolognese. Helen ordered the spaghetti carbonara, I ordered pomodoro. Carrie and Brian ordered margharetta pizza. Everything was fabulous. Of course we deliberately avoided the more touristy joints. 

After walking for a couple hours we came back to the flat and napped for a couple of hours. My sister, who is sporting a boot on her broken foot stayed back while the remaining four of us went out for pictures. 

The gondolas were beautiful. 

Then after wandering even more, we decided to grab a very late night bite. 

Only day one. And we feel a billion miles away from reality. 

Nice to have wi-if. 

We're here for three nights and then on to Volterra for four. We won't be online after we leave here for four nights. 

Buena Notte. 

I'm FREE!

Last day at my client's today. The last few months have been a real pain in the ass so I'm sure not shedding any tears. 

And tomorrow we leave for Italy. 

A couple of places we are staying have wireless so I might get a chance to post some pics and a few words if you're lucky. 

In the meantime, enjoy pics from four years ago. See you soon. 

Stealing the Spring Frolic

I was standing in line at the spring frolic with some of my friends when I heard a couple of kids yelling my name. When I looked over they were running towards me yelling, "You won. You won." 

I thought they were joking. Me?  Win?  I went running into the gym where the elementary school principal had just pulled my name from the list of entries to win a new bicycle. 

I had been Mr. Busey's favorite for a year or so. I don't remember why or how I got to be buddies with the principal, but it made me feel kind of special.   I ran up to the stage area and remember hearing the crowd clapping. It was surreal for a 5th grader who was known only for her new cats eye glasses and general nerdiness. 

And I was allowed to pick out my own bike from the Schwinn store. 

It was raining when Mr. Busey arrived at my house in his new car to take me to the Schwinn store. We arrived and much to his chagrin I wanted the boy's version of the banana seat bike. It was one cool bike. 

When we got back to my drive, it had been thundering. And as always was the case, our dog Rebel was panicked from the noise. Which unfortunately for me meant that he would go to any lengths to find a safe place. That safe place happened to be the inside of Mr. Busey's car when I was getting out. It was quite a wrestling match between a scrawny fifth grader and a 60 pound scared wet, muddy mutt. 

I still cringe thinking about  Mr. Busey's face as my stupid dog clawed his muddy paws all over the pristine car seats. I bet he is still cleaning those seats today mumbling under his breath.

But I had my brand new bicycle. I was the coolest kid in the neighborhood. 

(Close approximate without the front disk brake wheel and was all white, no sissy pink)

Everyone loved my new bike. 

Of course with time, I rode it less and less over the next couple of years. 

And one summer day I was outside with my brothers when one of their friends came riding up in one of their bikes. I was standing there while they were talking when I kept thinking that something wasn't quite right about this bike. It was obviously a pieced together job. 

I bent over to take a good look at the disk brakes on the suspicious looking front wheel. 

Now just wait a minute. 

I suddenly realized I hadn't seen my bike for a couple of weeks and here was this chopped up bike in my driveway that was sporting a front wheel that had the only disc brake around the wheel hub that was identical to mine. 

I knew right away it was mine. When we started questioning the kid, he made some lame excuse. 

We found the stripped skeleton of my bicycle up the creek about a 1/4 mile laying in the weeds. 

That was the last bike I have ever owned. Maybe one day I'll buy myself a new bike again. 

I'm still getting the banana seat again too.

Well Let's See If This Works

So apparently someone decided that blogspot should update to the last decade to figure out how to easily write a post from your IPad to blogspot and added an IPad app. 

I just found it tonight. I bought my IPad a few months ago. It's pretty easy to determine when it was because it was harder to compose a post on it and so my posts became even more infrequent.   It's also next to impossible to add a picture even worse a video. 

That was also about the time blogspot also decided you must type the HTML code to separate paragraph even though previous versions only required a return to separate the paragraph. 

So the above paragraphs are my test ones. 

Now we'll see if I can post a stinking picture. Hmmmm. Let me see what I might have in my little bag of tricks. 

Ah yes. Lisa Renna, whose lip job looks like a circumcision.   Why do these women think this looks good?

Ugh. 

Ok. First test. So far at least I like the ability to post a picture. 

Here goes. Lets publish. 

He's Baaaack

Finally Rumbles has arisen from the rubble.

And CnC 4.01 is stronger, better and heading to Italy with me, our sister, our nephew and niece next Thursday

I knew he was dying to go with us four years ago but his then last wife wouldn't hear of it.

That dead weight is now gone and it's time to fly!

Go talk to him. I've missed his stories.

Who Knows What Evil Lurks

At what point do governmental agencies become accessories to murder?

At what point do their deliberate choices to ignore the obvious and allow evil to continue do they themselves become evil?

When a series of governmet agencies and health agencies made choices over decades to continue to allow Dr. Kermit Gosnell to murder babies by taking a pair of scissors and severing the spine at the base of the neck of a baby that had been born alive after an attempted abortion. I shouldn't even refer to it as an attempted abortion as Gosnell's intent was to deliver the babies and then kill them. That's when evil becomes triumphant.

Late last week I decided I needed to read the entire Grand Jury report on the case. While it is some of the most horrific things I have ever read, I feel like I need to know. I think we sanitize ourselves too much from the evil that lurks in this world.

It's the same approach I take on September 11th each year. It's as if I'm fearful that if I do not hang on to at least one day in every year remembering what happened then its likely not to have held any significance.

I want to remember.

I need to remember.

And so it is with this evil.

After reading half of the Grand Jury report, I can tell you this is as much of an indictment against the abortion mills and those that support it as it is of Gosnell himself.

The report is rife with agency after agency that KNEW, they KNEW what was going on and they continued to look the other direction.

"Staloksi, the woman most directly responsible for the department’s oversight of abortion facilities, told the Grand Jury: 'I haven’t been in any facilities in probably – in an abortion facility in many, many years.' The citizens of Pennsylvania deserve far better from those charged with protecting public health and safety."

They SOOOOO wanted to have all types of abortion easy to get that they refused to even inspect the facility after reports were filed with the allegations.

Gosnell's "trip-up" was that he was also a pill mill. In fact he would still be slaughtering near-full term babies had it not been for the fact he was shut down in a DRUG investigation. Nothing was ever going to stop this murdering bastard had he stuck with slicing babies necks and infecting women with venereal diseases by reusing unclean instruments. Hell, he even used the same tubing to suck the baby parts out that he used for intubating the women to keep them breathing. If after reading that report you can ever again believe abortions are for "women's health", you are either lying to yourself or you're stupid. That the media wouldn't report this for years is telling. Only after FOX News continued to report it and it began spreading in the social media atmosphere did the diehard main stream media even pick it up. I would think the idiots would get tired of playing catch-up and start actually attempting to do their jobs.

Every single person that allowed this monster to continue should be indicted for murder. That includes those "mothers" that went to see Satan to murder their very own children.

I hope they return the feet that Gosnell kept as souvenirs to the "moms" so they can realize exactly what they have done.

There's a lot of blood here folks. Blood on the hands of a lot of people.

Now Wait a Damned Minute

Isn't the word verification on this stupid blog?

Somehow some bot has gotten through anyway. Now I'm pissed.