The trip, extremely abbreviated

 

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Day 1- The big culture shift. I went from small town Southern Louisiana funeral, to German owned airline to small Italian airport. We landed 6 hours behind schedule to a double rainbow. (That's right, A DOUBLE RAINBOW)

Look, the Frankfurt airport looks like every other airport.

Day 2 and 3- Pass in a blur of ecstatic joy. I enjoyed myself so much I could hardly stand it. And almost felt bad that I didn’t miss my kids yet.

Dang, I should be better at converting Celsius.

I don't understand why we don't have this at home.

I'm so happy I'm glowing.

Walking home alone, ahhhhh...

Day 4- Back to see David by Michaelangelo. I’m not much for religious art, but I really can’t get too much of that man. If I could have taken him home with me I would have. Even Jeff agrees.

Day 5 and 6- When in Rome… you walk until your feet ache and drink until they are numb. I’ve been to St Peter’s basilica and think that the modern day money changers are peddling Prada knock-offs. Bernini’s sculptures are breathtaking at the Borghese.

Listen, can you hear Jeff's feet yelling at me?

It's old. We saw it.

What could they be looking at?!

Oh, a fountain. That's old.

Thank you Pope, for the cleanest potty in Italy.

Jeff says, no more photos. But he's so cute.

I want those socks.

Day 7 I think I’ve nearly killed Jeff with walking, and I’m ready to be home. One last great dinner and it’s over.

Also, when I'm excavating ancient ruins, I also like to bring along my kid's IKEA stool. How appropriate.

What is love?

Love is when someone gives you enough frequent flier miles to buy an overseas flight. When they could have used those miles to upgrade themselves to first class (or at least business class) and you know their knees will be smashed into the seat in front of them in coach, while you will have plenty of room with your below average height.

Love is not red roses. Because they had red roses in first class (because I think their @#$% really does stink, and that's why they had roses lining the curved staircase leading to the upper deck.) And someone didn't even flinch.

Love doesn't even lose a step when co-workers go to the special first class entrance, and then come off the plane totally rested from the lay-flat seats.

So I conclude that love is not red roses, but maybe a big bunch of frequent flier miles.