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We decided it was time to repaint the picket fence.

The curved pickets are pieces of sculpture—works of art. For hundreds of years those whitewashed points and curves have worked their way into our collective hearts and psyche as an integral part of the American landscape. Ours definitely needed a lot of scraping, priming and painting, but we were up to the task. It had been about 10 years and we knew pretty much what to expect. Or so we thought. (more…)

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What’s going on here? Is this some kind of a prank? Well . . . if so, it’s not very funny!

It all started this afternoon when I was sanding the kitchen window sill getting ready to repaint. I decided to get fancy about it and vacuum at the same time to eliminate all of the dust from the electric sander. It’s easy. Just hold the hose of the vacuum cleaner about an inch from the edge of the sander and all of that dust is miraculously sniffed away. No problem. (more…)

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We have a little black and tan dachshund named Izzi-B. For 14 years now she has consistently searched out the highest possible perch on the sofa and that’s where she settles in to just look around to see what she can find, or sometimes (more often), to take a nap. For some reason, she wants to see the world from the top down, and I can relate to that. (more…)

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We arrived in Indiana on a Monday afternoon. After a wonderful dinner at Piper’s on the southside, we drove to beautiful Brown County, where we settled in for a good night’s rest. The next morning a brisk walk seemed in order. In less than a minute, Harold single-handedly assembled the “motorcycle” from its pieces, which were casually scattered about the living room floor. (more…)

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Sometimes Mondays are all about Tuesday.

What?! Are you confused? Don’t be. Tuesday is the name of our daughter’s chocolate lab. No, Iris does not work in research at Hershey headquarters in Pennsylvania. No, she didn’t adopt her sweet puppy on a Tuesday afternoon, but we do celebrate Tuesdays as double days. They become Tuesday’s Tuesday. So here we are on Monday, and my grand-dogger and I went to the beach. What’s so special about that? Well, nothing really . . . yet everything! (more…)

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We just finished our first year of this blog and had a blast writing for you! We thought it might be fun to share the most popular stories as voted by clicks from our readers around the world. Of course, writing daily, we never really know what will strike a chord with anyone, but remain committed to write from the heart about what naturally happens in this life of two Americans “trying to live as Italians.” We hope the experiences and lessons learned are both amusing and also thought provoking, as we all learn and grow together through shared experiences. Well . . . blah, blah, blah—let’s get on with the results! (more…)

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On a winter day in 2006, the old oak tree in the back yard came down with a devastating crash. It had faithfully stood there shading the entire house and yard for over a century, stretching its incredibly strong arms in all directions creating an intricate canopy of jagged dark lines covered in lacy green leaves. (more…)

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I looked up and saw something incredible.

There on the hill across the valley was the star that I had all but forgotten about. It’s actually a deep woods surrounded by olive groves and old farm houses, where the edges of the woods are delineated be different plants so that it resembles a three-dimensional star gently laying on the hillside. I first saw it about 6 years ago when my mother (then in her early 80s) and her husband, Harold, were visiting for several weeks. I’ll never forget it. (more…)

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How strange!

Italy in November with literally millions of olive trees, yet no one is picking the olives—and no one ever will! Instead, they will raccolgono, gather them, or prendono, take them. Just try to use the word “pick” on Italians and note the puzzled looks on their faces. They probably can’t imagine what you are even talking about. But, if you say gather or take at just the right time, not only would you be well understood, but might even find yourself up on a ladder in the middle of an olive grove for a few days. (more…)