Today is one of the reasons why I don't want to retire in North Texas. Apparently this July is one of the hottest on record. I just received my electric bill with service dates of 6/10-7/10. Bob and I were not at home for most of that time period. We set the thermostat on 80 when we are traveling. Yet I received the highest electric bill in the 22 years we've been in this house. And we don't have a large house by FloMo standards. It kills me to pay that bill.

But now, to add insult to injury as the saying goes (I think)...on one of the hottest days of the month, our a/c compressor stops. We have no air conditioning in our house. And there's 5 people here right now. Five pretty sweaty people. Very soon, cranky people. Bob and John thankfully left this morning for air conditioned offices. Pam, Becca and I will brave the heat. Poor Becca. She has the added sweat-making back brace, complete with foam and plastic surrounding the upper half of her body. And she can't go in the pool. I thought about sleeping in the pool last night, but I didn't think it'd be safe.

Well, the a/c guy is coming out today. I'm looking forward to air conditioning, but not to the price of a new unit. Our old unit gave us a good 17 years or so. We had to fill it with freon on several occasions, and we knew it would soon have to be replaced. But why do these things always happen at the most inconvenient time? Please don't tell me character building.

Simple pleasures

It's funny how your perspective on things can change when you travel abroad...things I appreciate about my home in FloMo...

> a shower with great water pressure with a shower head that doesn't have to be held in my hand as I wash
> a shower with a door
> a shower that doesn't have me hurdling to get into it
>face cloths
>soft toilet paper (Okay, I'm obsessed with the bathroom issues.)
>good restaurant service
>fast restaurant service (There are times when I just don't have 3 hours to eat lunch.)
>strangers who smile at you as you pass by them, just to be friendly
>men who have the courtesy to let a woman out of the elevator first
>no smoking laws in restaurants, even when eating outside
>a Chick-Fil-A sweet ice tea
>road signs in English! They really help, believe me.
>a church community that is alive and thriving
Just simple things really.

A few funny stories from Italia...

Bob and I hopped on a tram to take a ride into the center of Milan. About 10 minutes into our ride, we heard a screech and some scraping noises. The tram stopped and one of the conductors got off to inspect a parked car that just happened to have its nose on the tram track. Remember I told you that cars are parked everywhere?? Apparently the tram driver saw the car, but decided to see if the tram could squeeze by. Obviously not. So one of the drivers got off to go look for the car owner in the bar across the street. The other tram driver sounded an alarm to alert anyone nearby that just may happen to see what was going on. After some minutes, a very harried young man ran up to the car, with a look of apology on his face, hopped in and drove off. The tram then started on its way again. We eventually made it to our destination.

After getting off the tram, we decided to get something to eat before we sightseed. We spotted a decent looking cafe across the plaza and had lunch there. Before we left, I made my way to the "toilett." I should have thought something was strange when a "gentleman" (and I use this term lightly) was walking towards the bathroom in front of me and already undoing his belt and unzipping his pants. There was only one door marked "toilett" and I was unsure about entering, much less following this man into the same room. There was an English-speaking man behind me who assured me that this was indeed the correct room. I wasn't sure of what I would find as I opened the door. What I discovered later was a communal room with two sinks and stalls with doors clearly marked men's and women's. What I didn't expect though was the man in front of me deciding to use the sink instead of the stall. I immediately turned around and got out of there as quickly as possible. The English-speaking man behind me just shook his head and continued into the toilett. Before entering later, I had Bob run interference for me!

Our sightseeing trip to Milan was short, but we were able to see the duomo and the main plaza in the city. The visit was complete with a taste of gelato.

When in Rome...

Okay, well, I'm not actually in Rome, nor do I plan on being there this trip. But I am in Italy, though northern Italy, which I hear is very different from southern Italy. Probably like comparing a Yankee and a Texan. In the few days I've been here in Milan, I have made these observations. Forgive me for generalizing a bit, though, I don't think I'm that far off.

When in Italy, to be like a native, I would ...

> have to drive fast and crazy. Forget the road signs, of which there are way too many (and who can read them anyway?) and just drive however you like. No one follows the rules of the road. As long as you don't kill anyone, you're okay. Taking a taxi anywhere in the city is like going on a ride at Six Flags, complete with the strong grip on Bob's hand. The cabbies drive anywhere they like, even if the road belongs to the trams. Riding the tram rails, slamming on the brakes inches from the tram. Oh yes, now that's a taxi ride.
> have to park my car in a different spot every day. Parking is a real problem in the city. Cars are parked everywhere. Literally every empty possible spot. That could mean on the grass somewhere, or on a sidewalk. And the cars are nose to nose. If you can't parallel park, forget it. I think I'd just park my car once and leave it there forever. I'm not sure I could get in and out of the spot without damaging it or another car.
> have to smoke. Italians love their cigarettes. Tobacco bars seem to be on every corner. The country is in the process of passing smoke-free laws and that won't be very popular. So people congregate on the sidewalks and in front of restaurants and smoke.
> have to love to eat late and linger over a meal. The whole "eating late" idea is prevalent in Europe, but taking 4 hours to eat a meal is not something we are used to in the states. Last night we went to eat in the center city of Milan. The restaurant was in a very pretty area along the canal. The Romans had built the canals centuries and centuries ago. Our reservation was at 8:00 pm. Menus consist of about 4-5 courses. We didn't leave until midnight. It wasn't that we took that long to eat. Service is slow. Italians are not in a hurry (unless they are driving). Eating is expected to be an "experience worth enjoying." So at midnight, upon leaving the restaurant and hailing a taxi, one would see that the city was still wide awake. On a weekday, stores were still open. People were still walking around as if it were 7:00 at night. Crazy. I will tell you that my body is not used to getting in bed at 1:00 am and waking at 7:00 am.
> have to love my native language. Italians love their language. They seem to talk louder and more demonstrative. Not as many Italians know English. I found that out a few times on my excursion into the city yesterday. I walked into a tobacco bar to purchase a tram ticket. The shopkeeper didn't understand me and called over a younger female assistant. Her English was very limited though she was probably in her early 20's. While I was walking around the city, I had a few people come up to me and ask me something in Italian. They couldn't understand me and I couldn't understand them. I didn't enjoy that feeling.
> have to engage in PDA. Oh yes, Italians are romantics or so I've heard. PDA is everywhere, and across all ages.
> have to love graffiti. There is graffiti everywhere! It seems that not one building is spared. It's all over the city. Some of it is art actually, but much is just writing. I have to say that it takes away from the beauty of the city and gives it a "dark" feeling.
> have to love wine. No problem there. Bob and I were introduced to a new drink that we are surely going to have to find in the states. But you can only drink so much of it...

Bob and I are going to have an opportunity to sightsee a bit in Milan later this afternoon before we go back to Germany tomorrow. There's a Duomo (cathedral) and some other interesting sights. Apparently Leonardo DaVinci's original Last Supper is displayed somewhere in the city. We're sure there are some pretty areas of the city. We just need to explore.

Ciao!

Are we ever to old to learn something new? I hope not.

I am sitting here in a hotel lobby in Milan. It looks like any "normal" hotel lobby that we would find in the states, except that the language is clearly different. I'm in a foreign country and I can't understand the language. I don't like this at all. It makes me feel separate...alone...different...even ignorant. And what makes it worse...most people speak English. Yes, most western Europeans can speak at least two languages, their native and English. Bob's German colleague, Stephan, whom we are traveling with on this trip, speaks German, French, Italian and English, and all very well. He says he dreams in English, not even German. Crazy! I can't even imagine dreaming in another language.

So can it happen? Can I even learn another language now? What will it take for that to happen? I bought a European phrase book in the airport. Common phrases for 14 languages. Do you think that's a start??
Auf Wiedersehen. Au revoir. Ciao!

The Pain of Being So Far From Home

I just feel the need to blog this and say how blessed Bob and I are to have the family and friends we have in our lives. Most of you know already, since I've been emailing all day, that Becca fell off a ladder at Pine Cove and fractured a vertebrae in her back. Playing "commando" of all things. Her duty was to be on the tower (20 feet high) with a megaphone. She loves that job. Well climbing up the ladder, it decided to give way, and down she went, landing with the megaphone hitting her head. So Bob gets a call at the office in the UK. (Did I say we were in London on business??) It's 3 a.m. Texas time, 9:00 am London time. I come into the office at 10:00. He doesn't want to tell me. I see this look on his face. I can tell something is wrong. He tells me Becca has called and that she's okay, "but..." My heart drops to my stomach. I get the sketchy details and of course, want more. But we are across the ocean and it's 4 in the morning in Texas. Good luck. Lord, I am now very thankful for Bob's blackberry. I initially hated the intrusion it had in our lives, but now am grateful that it can easily connect me across the ocean.

I am so thankful for the friends and family who offered to handle this for us in our absence. As of this writing, Dan and Donna are picking up Becca from Pine Cove. They are driving her car home and taking her to their house to recuperate temporarily. Pam asked for a week off from work, most likely without pay, but willing to work whatever over-time she needed to the following week. She will stay at our home with Becca.

I praise God for the family and friends He has surrounded us with. I know He has Becca in His hands. The pain of being so far away is still there, but we are comforted. Again, His faithfulness never ends.