Fields of Yellow

So I found myself at the top of the world yesterday, lost in fields of yellow.  Nearly fell down the hill when I realized there were figs on the trees; nearly fell again, in a more tragic manner, when I realized they weren't ripe (tasted to make sure, flung the unripe fig carcass with appropriate drama).  Also to my dismay, I was writing feverishly in my head as it all whirled around me, the wind and the empty meadow and the blossoms, so I told myself to shut up and forgot all the pretty words that were bludgeoning me and just looked, breathed.  Blew the last of my camera battery on photos of yellow fields and my stupid face before I got to the fig orchard and the dark green slant of San Luca's hill and the dusty sunlight over it all.  Thus camera-less and thoughtless, was overcome with joy, sweat, clear air, and sunburn, and felt a smug pleasure that I didn't have to worry about documenting it anymore.

I almost didn't even write this post.  Because it was mine, you know?  It was ALL MINE.  Also because it was hard to remember anything, via having told myself to forget.

Kept expecting to run smack into a wild boar or something, it was so quiet.

Did go to Florence on Saturday.  Weather was crap, but in a nice way.  Everything eery-green the way it tends to be just before a storm.  Rolling fog making the winding drive even more white-knuckled.  Vale's friend Vita--whose name means "life"--kept telling her to slow the fuck down.  I saw a sign that read "Ristop," which is I guess Europe's way of making "Rest Stop" cute.  Last time I was in Florence, my impression was: wow this place is full of Americans and smells like shit and the person I'm infatuated with isn't here.  This time only two of those things were true!  Florence isn't my favorite, but I liked it better this time.  Got a different perspective, shopping with my sexy savvy Italian lady-friends, trying on leather jackets by accident, being harassed by market salesmen, eating traditional Florentine stew and ravioli with sage butter (nom), sipping an espresso to get out of the rain.

In equally relevant news, I bought big hoop earrings.
Because nothing says Italy like big hoop earrings.

Oh and we got the dog.  His name's Dani, he is a shaggy-haired, drooly behemoth, and he immediately stuck his nose up my skirt so I guess his...heart?...is in the right place.  (No yeah, I know it is.  There has been a lot of dog sex around here of late.)

I do hope I write another post before leaving, so as not to end on the note of dog sex.

In conclusion: dog sex.


Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

The Insufficiency of 'No'

Feelin' pretty good about all the recent national discussion about sexual assault on college campuses. Good because it's happening. As ever, some of the things said will be constructive. Some won't. I want to take issue with a common sentiment:  that boys and young men should be operating on a "no means no" policy, should be taught that this is the appropriate method of determining whether consent is present. I say nope. Nope to "no means no." It's not enough--it's a starting point. A mind-numbingly obvious starting point which, even if one obeys, does not bring our culture out of its predatory funk. When a person says no, whatever activity he or she is declining should stop immediately. That's a given. How long will it take for everyone to understand that? Dear jeebus, I hope not much longer. But there's more to it. Women should not have to be gatekeepers. The absence of no is not an invitation. On the street, at a bar, in the bed
Read more

GoT Rape?

[In order to put this out into the world, I have to write a sort of prelude: I haven't read the books, and I haven't seen enough of the show to have an assured, totally informed opinion about it. What I know is that being a woman is really freaking hard sometimes, and that there are triggers which suddenly overwhelm me with all that difficulty. This show is one. It makes me reel at all the sexist bullshit that is embedded in my life--in friendships, relationships, interactions and non-interactions with strangers and coworkers--and it begins to feel insurmountable. It's people I love, it's me, perpetuating this stuff. To be fair, when I first saw GoT, I was in the pits--self-esteem was crashing and burning; I'd recently been shown a diagram by a nurse which depicted (no lie) cookie-cutter cutouts of a woman with her "heart" in her chest and a man with his "heart" in his dick; and while working in a bar, I was experiencing way more ogling and hara
Read more

Rainy Wednesday With "Puh"

Image
Spent this rainy afternoon with an old friend. English lessons are becoming quite musical--Beatles, Bob Dylan, ubiquitous contemporary pop, and my favorite blues guys are nice teaching tools.  For Ginni, anyway. If anyone has any advice about 12 year old boys (going on 13), let me know.  My very presence appears to terrify him.  My only real experience with such creatures is my brother, and as I recall we spent most of that era trying to kill each other. To my Marylanders: happy snow day!  (Is there snow?) UPDATE: Spending the night with the men, drinking Castello Rosso (good Italian beer), eating crescente (local specialty, like focaccia but uber salty), listening to the Sex Pistols, and playing darts in the basement with the "Lebowski Darts Club."  Happy gal, me.
Read more