The day has arrived for the new journey to Italy. Right now I'm sitting in the comfort of my living room, writing in my pretty silver covered journal, given to me for this occasion. I know I'm typing on the computer, but I'm copying from the journal. Don't be so picky.
All the last minute things will be attended to at the last minutes as usual and I am confident that anything I've forgotten can be bought at my destination or done without. Do I really need a razor? Who'll know? Hmm... Hold on a minute. Let me get one of those because one never knows who'll know, does one? I have packed my new funky reading glasses with the "look at me" motif.
I have my three journals, two drawing books, three books to read and some clothes. I know there are those of you who are dying of curiosity about the three journals. Well, I'm going to save you from that fate. The rest of you are probably not even reading this so you've nothing to be saved from. Lucky you.
Three journals: One to do this. You know, the new silver one. One to write exactly what I ate, spent and saw and one that I write in every day to talk about me - and maybe - sometimes you.
I thought this time I would be saving tons of money because the euro got so cheap, but look at what happened. It sky rocketed way up again. Since I can do nothing about that I have no choice but just to go and have fun anyway. What's a girl to do?
We'll talk later, maybe while I'm flying over the Atlantic. We'll see.
Just remembered, better pack the sun block. Why not? I'm an optimist, don't you know.
Later.
Sunday, December 28, 2008
Friday, December 19, 2008
Here We Go Again
When I returned from Rome last November I wondered when or if I'd ever go back. After being away from home for ten weeks I thought I'd never want to leave again. The truth is I haven't traveled far from Montclair in the year since I returned. But I got an offer I couldn't refuse. My son Ron was going to be in Italy for the New Year and asked if I wanted to tag along with him and Ken. Now when Ron asks you to share in any adventure he's having, just say yes. Don't hesitate. Don't think about it. Just say yes. If you want to laugh a lot, learn how to put a positive spin on anything and always glide downstream, you want to be with Ron. Sure he never knows where his keys are and sure he'll always return to the room twice before you actually set out but it's a small price for the sheer fun and good feelings you'll experience. AND not to mention the people you're bound to meet along the way. I may not have mentioned this before but Ron is a people magnet. He'll start a conversation with anyone, anywhere. His "hey, how you doing?" will absolutely translate to italian and we'll be sharing drinks with the most interesting people.
I've enlisted my good traveling buddy, Pat to come along. So while the guys are visiting the colosseum - a place I'd have to be dragged to kicking and screaming - Pat and I may be visiting one of our favorite churches or museums.
We'll be bringing in the New Year in Florence way before you here in the US have even gotten your party duds on, but we'll raise a glass to you all.
I hope to be sending messages often once I arrive in Italia. The wifi spots are expanding and the computers are getting smaller and smaller so communication will be a snap.
Should have bought those euros when they were 1.29, but who knew.
Talk later from Italy.
I've enlisted my good traveling buddy, Pat to come along. So while the guys are visiting the colosseum - a place I'd have to be dragged to kicking and screaming - Pat and I may be visiting one of our favorite churches or museums.
We'll be bringing in the New Year in Florence way before you here in the US have even gotten your party duds on, but we'll raise a glass to you all.
I hope to be sending messages often once I arrive in Italia. The wifi spots are expanding and the computers are getting smaller and smaller so communication will be a snap.
Should have bought those euros when they were 1.29, but who knew.
Talk later from Italy.
Tuesday, March 25, 2008
Who's Reading My Gmail?
Everytime I open a letter on my gmail site I get a list of advertisers on the page.
Every advertiser relates in some way to words within my letter. If I write that my back hurts and I'd like to get a massage - voila'! - pain management centers, chiropractors, massage therapists, or any sellers of services relating to that text, no matter how vaguely, will appear. Wow. (Don't want to use too many exclamation marks. I heard it was a girlie thing and who'd want to be accused of that?) I digress.
So, wow, not only is Google reading my mail but they're selling it to others. It's like having all these people looking over my shoulder. They're not just looking over my shoulder, they're invading my private space. I used to think of my private space as the area within two feet of my physical being. But now I think about it as the space inside my head, where I keep my most private musings. What are all these "stuff sellers" doing there? And how free is this email service really?
This leads to the really creepy thoughts about who's out there spying on me? You may be concerned about the NSA, FBI, CIA or even Mossad but I wonder how GM or GE or Pfizer will use this info to talk me into buying things I don't need - to separate me from my hard earned dollers. Or maybe the newest political party will use my thoughts to prey on me, my fears and concerns.
Do I have to go back to snail mail? Does Verizon record my telephone calls and sort through my words? To what end I couldn't guess.
I'm starting to get a little nuts now. Maybe I'll have to stop communicating all together.
Uh, oh. No talking? No writing? Is that like no water?
If I think about it, I have to guess that someone has probably been reading my email since the start. So, I'll continue doing what I've been doing for so long - spilling my guts on the electronic page but maybe not all my guts.
Every advertiser relates in some way to words within my letter. If I write that my back hurts and I'd like to get a massage - voila'! - pain management centers, chiropractors, massage therapists, or any sellers of services relating to that text, no matter how vaguely, will appear. Wow. (Don't want to use too many exclamation marks. I heard it was a girlie thing and who'd want to be accused of that?) I digress.
So, wow, not only is Google reading my mail but they're selling it to others. It's like having all these people looking over my shoulder. They're not just looking over my shoulder, they're invading my private space. I used to think of my private space as the area within two feet of my physical being. But now I think about it as the space inside my head, where I keep my most private musings. What are all these "stuff sellers" doing there? And how free is this email service really?
This leads to the really creepy thoughts about who's out there spying on me? You may be concerned about the NSA, FBI, CIA or even Mossad but I wonder how GM or GE or Pfizer will use this info to talk me into buying things I don't need - to separate me from my hard earned dollers. Or maybe the newest political party will use my thoughts to prey on me, my fears and concerns.
Do I have to go back to snail mail? Does Verizon record my telephone calls and sort through my words? To what end I couldn't guess.
I'm starting to get a little nuts now. Maybe I'll have to stop communicating all together.
Uh, oh. No talking? No writing? Is that like no water?
If I think about it, I have to guess that someone has probably been reading my email since the start. So, I'll continue doing what I've been doing for so long - spilling my guts on the electronic page but maybe not all my guts.
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