It’s probably no coincidence (there are no coincidences) that as I type this post, the first snow fall has made its way here to Cleveland. The tiny snow flakes remind of dandruff  particles as they cling to the branches of the barren trees. I can feel the cold, bitter crack in the air, similar to the way the tip of a wet towel feels as it snaps against your bare skin. Pain. Pleasure. I’ll take both, please. Meow.

So sorry, that was a simple but rather innocent (not really) digression.  Now where was I? Oh, yes the weather. All this talk of cold places makes this SoCal girl yearn for warmer climates with soaring high temperatures found in places that look like this:

*Swoon* I can’t help but think about my late summer trip to Italy last year: dressed in shorts, or skirts that swung freely in the warm summer breezes; filled with the delicious smells of olive trees, grape vines, rosemary, tomatos, and sunflowers.  I’d throw on a tank-top, slip into a pair of…flip-flops (of course I did) as I made my way through the Tuscan region.

 *Heavy, belabored sigh* Today, however in CleveO, it’s socks (ugh), boots (argh), pants (noooo), sweaters (you can’t make me…) coats, scarves (please make it stop…) and hats (okay, I love wearing hats almost as much as flip-flops). 

Oh, what a glorious and magical place Italy was for me *more sighing*.  And I would gladly change places with the lovely Isabel at anytime, *raising hand highly above my head*. The story videotaped below is a Christmas story I wrote upon my return after exploring Italy. Gustare:

Baci,
Neve Black

p.s. The pictures above were taken on my tour through Tuscany.