In the continuing saga of Bucket List: Italy!

Italian Flag

It's been a few weeks since I decided to sell my junk to pay for a trip to fabulous Italy, and it's not going too badly! I've made a couple hundred on eBay, and if I keep up this pace, the trip will be paid for by spring, and my travel buddy and I will be on our way to Europe by early summer.
It's not as if I don't have plenty of stuff to spare. I've always thought I could outfit several families in the event of a natural disaster, from clothes to furniture to toys to old Bee Gees albums.

The best part is that each sale represents a lessening of the clutter -- let's be honest, the borderline hoarder situation -- in my home. I may exaggerate, but I really do have much more than I need, so getting some of it gone can only be a good thing!
So far I've unloaded several Star Trek Hallmark Christmas ornaments. Okay, I used to love these things, and I may have felt the slightest tug in letting them go. I had a tree just for Star Trek ornaments in my larger, former house. Here I don't have room, so my attachment for them has diminished. Ka-ching! Now they're money in the bank. Also gone is an old Girl Scout doll, a few tee shirts, and a tiny little baby cowboy hat.
It's not much, but each thing adds to the trip fund, and subtracts to the junk load in my home.

I'd eventually like to move into a small cottage, so downsizing is a priority anyway. This way, I'm motivated to do it faster.
For an added challenge, I've decided to learn to speak Italian. I'm listening to an Italian language disc in my car commuting to and from work daily, and when driving around town. I figure I'm getting in around an hour a day. Not bad!
At this point, all the new nouns, verbs, adjectives and phrases I'm learning are floating around, disjointed, inside my head, refusing to come together cohesively. It won't be long though before I'll be able to organize them into sentences.
I can say one or two now. For example: "Che una pharmacia qui vicino?"
Not sure I've spelled it correctly, but it means, "Is there a pharmacy near here?"
This could be handy to know!
If you'd like to try and do something similar, I recommend you just dive right in. To avoid backing out, I announced my plan on Facebook . . . so it's Facebook official!
Then I listed five items on eBay, and I try to list three to five a day to keep the inventory fresh and stocked.
I ship several items a week at the buyer's expense. It's becoming routine, and that means it's becoming easy.
I need to decide that if things don't sell in a certain time, I'll donate them or otherwise get them out of my house. This isn't going to be easy in some cases, I admit.
But it's very satisfying to see the house emptying out a bit while my bank account fills up a bit!
Pick your destination, find a travel buddy, and start making plans. It's always easier to do a project with a friend or family member. My daughter, Brie, and I are going to Italy together. Where would you like to go?
Ireland? Spain? Australia? The American West? Alaska? On a cruise? Iceland? Hawaii?
Hey, just make up your mind, make up your plan, and JUST DO IT!

Litter But, Litter Bug, Fly Away Home!

The other day I was driving along when I came to a four way intersection. Another vehicle reached the stop sign before me, giving them the right of way. I stopped, and they cruised through.

As they did, the passenger waved at me in polite acknowledgement, and simultaneously tossed a piece of litter out the window of her van. She did this without batting an eye. 

It was done so casually I realized she didn’t think twice about it. She wasn’t in my face about it, and would have probably been surprised to learn her action offended me. It obviously didn’t even occur to her that it was wrong of her to toss out this good-sized piece of trash, leading me to believe she does it all the time. If I’d been a cop, she’d have gotten a $500 fine. I think she’d have tossed it out even if I’d been a cop, because she just didn’t to seem to think anything about it. 

I always thought litterbugs were evil twerps who knowingly, furtively tossed their trash out while nobody was watching; gleefully getting away with a crime that defaces our communities and highways.

Turns out they’re just stupid and thoughtless.

People, you can put a small trash bag in your car, stick your garbage inside, and put it in your trash can at home when it gets full. Why, why, why make the situation in our world worse by lazily tossing your refuse out your car window?

Just . . . don’t. OK? 

This has been a message from someone who gives a darn. 

in favor of gratuitous praise

When you do a job well, do you crave a little bit of praise? Sure you do.

How about if it's a job you're supposed to do every day/week etc. as part of your normal routine? Maybe something as simple as washing the dishes after supper, or tossing in a couple loads of laundry? 

Do you think you deserve an Atta Boy! for doing your normal, everyday chores?

Forget deserve -- do you WANT an Atta Boy! for slapping butter on your hubby's toast in the morning? Or for hauling the fat, nasty trash out on Tuesday night?

I do! I want me some gratuitous praise! Just because I'm so terrific. 

I want praise heaped on my head just for getting up in the morning, getting dressed, leaving a dollop of milk in the jug for somebody else, and turning up at work on time.

I want DONUTS for turning up at work on time. 

Whoever thinks you should only be praised for going above and beyond must have a very puritanical work ethic. As a lazy so and so, I'd just as soon let the dishes pile up in the sink and let you eat cereal for dinner as go to any trouble if you're not going to take any notice of it anyway. 

If it's a matter of deserving, let's take it a step farther. Do you accept gifts for your birthday, Christmas, Mother's Day, Valentine's Day, your wedding anniversary? 

What did you do to DESERVE any of these gifts? 

Nothing. You got born. Big deal. You had a baby. Aren't you special! You lived to see another December. Woot! 

Yet you persist in accepting, and hopefully giving, gifts on such occasions, don't you?

Praise is the same. Sure, you'll give praise in obvious situations, like if I just jumped into the duck pond to save your kid from drowning; or discovered an error in your favor on your tax return (assuming I'm not the accountant you're paying to do so); or wrested the controls of the airplane from the terrorist's hands and safely landed it, though I've never flown a plane.

Yeah, you'll praise me then. 

But what about when I remember to pick up your shirt from the cleaners? Or buy you a new toothbrush before you ask? Or bake you a nice cake on your birthday -- and I didn't forget the date? 

Or just picked up the house so it's pleasant to come home to. 

I'll give you some if you give me some! 

So hit up the donut store...I'll be in to work in the morning. And I like peach roses if you're surprising me with flowers. 

Prepare ye some gratuitous praise . . . that is, if you want me to keep on ironing your clothes. Oh, wait, I don't iron. You choose the chore you want me to continue. All it takes is a smile, a thanks! and a thumbs up. Praise for praise!

on Ugly Ambrosia

I just cooked up a hot, steaming pot of sheer ambrosia. It looks like a pot of barf. It's my dad's stewed tomatoes recipe, slightly altered in amount and detail, as one does. And I don't know if it's my current mood, or what, but it's the best thing I've ever tasted, hands down.
Better, even, than chocolate.
So what's in this slop?
One can of Hunts whole tomatoes . .. the big can. Not the school kitchen size, but the big home size can. Brand probably doesn't matter. Go for what you like.
A sleeve of those Ritz knock-offs, Townhouse crackers. All crushed up while still inside the sleeve, then dumped in on top of the whole tomatoes. Oh, cut up the tomatoes in the pot. You can use Ritz or Saltines, too.
A good splash of milk. Don't stint. Doesn't matter fat content. Probably. I used two percent tonight.
A couple of good shakes of dried, dehydrated, diced onions. This gives the dish a most wonderful crunch.  I probably put in about two tablespoons tonight.
About two thirds of a stick of butter. Overkill. Usually don't use that much, but it was melting on the counter.
Two big tablespoons of white table sugar. You can use salt and pepper too, if you like. I didn't tonight. Then you mash it all up together and heat it up on the stove for however long your other stuff takes to cook. Tonight I mixed some browned ground beef with two boxes of Kraft Mac n' Cheese/Jalapeno Pepper flavor. Yum! That took around 10 minutes, so that's how long the stewed tomatoes cooked.
They came out especially delicious tonight. There they are, looking disgusting in that pretty yellow bowl.
And I can tell you they are absolutely, undeniably, scrumptiously perfect.
Sweet. Crunchy. Wonderful texture.
Ok. Go try some of your own. Let me know how you like them!

A journey of $3000 begins with $2!

So in the continuing saga about my decision to go to Italy next summer, I've made the further decision to learn how to speak Italian. I'll drag Brianna into it if I can, since she's going too, but I will learn regardless.
I paid bottom dollar -- seriously, around $15 -- for an Italian language course. I got Total Immersion rather than Rosetta Stone, because they claim to be just as good for a whole lot less money. New it would have cost around $50. Rosetta Stone new is hundreds.
I stuck it into my car's CD player on my way to work the other morning, and proceeded to repeat words and phrases with no idea what the hell they meant.
Last night I put in the computer part of the thing, and my computer won't read part of it. The part it will is all vocabulary, so I know know how to recognize words for octopus, desk, gorilla, duck, orange, tree, hotel, and many more exciting things -- exciting because they're in Italian! Back in the car today I began to understand the uses of the words for "this" and "that." Don't ask me what they are. I'm not retaining yet.
As far as paying for the trip, I'm ahead in dollars against those spent on the language course, as I sold a Christmas ornament on eBay today for $17! So I'm $2 to the positive!
I figure this will run about $3000. So if a journey of a thousand miles begins with one step, then a journey of $3000 begins, in this case, with $2.
As for where to go, we're leaning toward half a week in Venice and half a week in Rome. Friends who've been there are full of tantalizing advice about where to go and what to see. Face it; Italy is fascinating all around. If I had a month and unlimited funds, I'd see it all: Verona; Pisa; Florence; Padua. But since I don't, I'm going for a relaxing schedule.
We'll fly into Venice, stay four nights, take a train to Rome, stay three nights, and depart, richer in culture and experience, poorer in pocketbook.
Stay tuned for how the quest proceeds to learn Italian and to raise the dough for the trip!
Arrivederci!

on achieving my bucket list goal: Venice!

You  know how you sit around doing the same ole same ole, day after month after year, and think, "I'm going to DO something one of these days. I'm going to GO somewhere and DO something."
You might even make that ubiquitous bucket list the dudes in the movie made famous.

Good for you!
But do you ever actually DO anything on that list?
What are you waiting for? You're not getting any younger, Bunky.
The oddest things can tip you over the edge from rational and cautious to balls-to-the-wall, I'm DONE with waiting . .. let's go all ready!
 For me, it happened a few nights ago. I was reading a book from Nora Roberts' Key trilogy . . . excellent, as is everything she writes.
The main character is a woman who has never been anywhere (don't worry . . . she'll be going places with her love life, compliments of Nora). This woman collects post cards from places other people have gone. Ok, that's cool.
But she has given up on ever going to these places herself.
Well, the romantic interest stands in her living room one night, admiring her postcard display, and he says, "Nice picture of Venice. I've stood on that bridge.)
(The Rialto Bridge, in Venice, Italy.)
And I think to myself, hey! Venice is one of the places on my bucket list. And I thought, gee, why does that guy -- who doesn't even exist, really -- get to go to my bucket list city, and I don't?
And suddenly I thought, the HELL you say. I'm going to Venice! Before it's too late! Before I get old, or get sick, or get broke, or develop a fear of flying or bridges or water.
So I asked my daughter if she wanted to go and she said, heck yeah!
I've taken trips with each child after high school, though none so exciting as this. It's her turn.
We've invited a pair of our friends, but whether they decide to go or no, we are going to Venice, Italy next summer.
I ordered an Italian language course from eBay. We're learning Italian, and going to Venice! Prego!
So now I'm going to sell stuff on those Facebook sites to fund the trip.
I am so excited! I'm going to Europe in 12 months!
I'll keep you apprised about our year of Italian immersion as we get closer.
Is this a crazy idea? Absolutely!
Does that make it a bad idea? Who knows? Maybe by going to Venice, we'll not be here when the fault under Ohio busts wide open. Maybe everyone should go to Venice!
So there it is -- out there in the public.
Just wish me Buon Viaggio!

A little slower; a little fatter. But still having a damned good time!

An old high school friend and I were chatting recently on Facebook about people we went to school with who have died.
We've both lost several high school and several college friends.
For some reason, it seems somehow more offensive to lose people we knew when we were kids. After all, we haven't aged . . . how did they?
Of course, some of them never got the chance to age.
But now, as we've passed the half-century mark, we have to acknowledge that we're getting to "that age," where people we know will die of natural causes more and more often, until we're all just fond memories and pictures in albums stuck in the back of our grandchildren's closets.
And from what I understand, the "Millennials" don't want our fusty old albums. They'll photograph the old photographs, and toss the paper along the way.
So what's the point of this musing?
None, really. Just a realizing that for some, time is gone. And for those of us left, well, better enjoy it while you can! Yeah, I may be a little slower, a little fatter than when I was in school, but inside I'm still the same eager, curious, excited kid I always was.
Show me the world!
No excuses. Find a way to live your dreams. Cliche? Yeah . . . but things become cliches because they're common to many people.
What's your bucket list?
Mine includes such cliches and originals as: Train ride across Canada and Alaskan tour combo; river cruise down the Mississippi; do one of those gigs where you're the lighthouse keeper for a couple weeks in exchange for staying in the lighthouse for free; ride the Good Year blimp; get a big, orange Maine Coon Cat; sell a book; go to the San Diego Zoo; ride a trolley in San Fran; do the tourist thing in NYC, and see a Broadway show; drive a train; play Mrs. Hannigan in Annie; have a walled garden with little brick paths and a gazeebo.
Take that grand tour across the U.S. and back, seeing the sights along the way. Where is the biggest ball of string, anyway?
God willing and the creek don't rise, I'll get some of those in. Hope you get yours in, too!