Taking Oliver to go potty is like walking a drunk, homeless man. First of all, he smells like pee, secondly he runs aimlessly in random directions, and darts back and fourth across the sidewalk without reason. Also, like all drunk…
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Florence Italy
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When size matters: Coffee Culture In Italy is a column I wrote a while back for a newspaper in Florence. This piece covers the difference in coffee consumption in the US versus Italy. Since I love covering cultural differences it…
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expat life
Leaving The Table Is Like Announcing That You’ve Eaten A Neighborhood Child
February 12, 2013It’s no secret that my in-laws do not like me. Why? I have no idea. I mean, I know I’m weird, but they hated me way before they had a chance to get to know me. Given the way that…
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Last night we attended yet another marriage class brought to us by the Catholic church. I like the priest, because he’s really liberal and doesn’t have that attitude that I’m going to hell because I’m not religious. Anyhow, his lecture…
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Watching an Italian mother with her child is like watching a hen peck a worm to death. It’s slow, and cruel. Eventually the worm stops wiggling, goes limp and accepts that it’s going to be devoured.
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