Thursday business

By the time I got home from sending off Wednesday's post the laundry had indeed finnished it's 4-hour cycle and the Patient had kindly draped all of our unmentionables on the drying rack and over the heater in the bathroom. The sun was pouring through the living room windows so things got dry in a few hours. And nothing turned purple this time!

Yesterday's trip to Venice has only reaffirmed my thoughts of how difficult it is to describe such a place. Like love, like sex, like porcini mushrooms or the sound of Pavarotti's voice, you simply have to feel it, taste it, hear it for yourself. There is no way that such a place as Venice can be adequately written about, although God knows thousands have tried. You simply have to see it for yourself. However, that will not deter me from trying, but not yet. I need to let the day simmer in my mind, stir, settle, sink and gel. Then I'll write about it. It was glorious, though, even frigid minute of it.

This being Thursday, the food wagons are here and so was I, buying more verduri grigliete, pasticcio de pesce, and stuffed eggplant. That ought to see us through until we leave here on Sunday morning. The main square is jammed with stalls selling mainly clothing, but also some leather goods, flowers and plants, housewares, fabrics. The way it seems to work is that you don't haave to go anywhere to buy underwear or a shirt or sox; it all comes to you once a week, sometimes twice. And on each occasion the place is packed. Plenty of retain therapy around here.

Report from our Personal Delta Travel Adviser says there are plenty of seats for us to make Business Class from Pisa to JFK and "maybe" from JFK to LAX. We will make that flight but might have to sit "in the back." Oh well . . .