The artichokes: drenched in butter. The pasta: drenched in cream. The cappuccino: don't make me laugh, it's whole milk of course.
And, damn, was it good!
But here I am, stunned by the amount of Roman pizza I had already eaten, but in love with the waitress in blue who could have stepped out of an Alabama diner, but was in Rome, just blocks from the Spanish Steps (one of the most-visited Roman squares, where the spiderweb of roads lead to Gucci and Dolce & Gabbana). She thought we were French and shook her delicious blonde curls and fluttered her blue-lidded eyes with a laugh and a "No!" when I asked if she spoke English. Finally!
3 comments:
i love your face in this picture. at first i thought you were sunburnt but then i realized maybe it's windburn? you got windburned in rome, like last week. i'm STILL reeling at the wonder of travel. anyhow, i like how you keep leaking out things in little trickles, maybe it mirrors the way it seeped in? i can only uptalk this evening and end my sentences with question marks? i heart angie angel. this is from frances.
I think I'm actually sunburnt in this picture because we'd been sitting outside and walking around all day. And it's a trickle because I can't seem to form any revelations/words about the trip mainly because I can't seem to sit still these days long enough to get something down. Maybe next week...
Angie,
What I want to know is, how are you and Pat not 300 pounds each, after this trip??
Not only are you not fat, you look awesome! You look thin, and you look Roman! You look lovely and healthy and happy, and look like you should be in a Fellini movie.
Rome served you well. Forget missed opportunities. They will only create gray hairs and worry lines and you will have more opportunities to come.
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