Ch-ch-changes
There’s no doubt in my mind that reading or watching Under the Tuscan Sun inspired countless men and women to travel to Italy and research the possibility of purchasing a villa. And Wendy’s slice of Sicilian life posts are sure to make anyone yearn for an Italian husband to whisk them off to foreign lands.
Too often, I suffer from the desire to radically change my life, in an effort to make it more interesting, less boring, whatever. In 2002, I ran off to Florence with two friends -- one of who was a younger female who decided to live her dream and move to Italy. I packed it in at my fashion job, cashed in some frequent flyer miles, and away I went...off to live La Dolce Vita!
Turns out that ti wasn't all red wine and dancing in the piazza. I missed Joe horribly. And I certainly wasn't prepared for the emotional toll of being in a foreign land on the first anniversary of September 11th. I don’t think that living life in a foreign land is the adventure that others think it is. Too often, it's frustrating and lonely – all of which is compounded by a language barrier.
So, what's the point of all of this? How does it relate to knitting? Somehow, I think it does. There's a link between this restlessness and my knitlessness. I just have to figure out how to cure one in order to cure the other.
For starters, I'm sympathizing with and living vicariously through my former NYC roommate, who is partaking in an executive exchange program. She's making notes of her antics in Tokyo. Given Colleen’s sharp anecdotal eye and ability to write, this will be far more enjoyable to me than Sophia Coppola’s script.
Anyone know the cost of a flight from LaGuardia to Narita?
Too often, I suffer from the desire to radically change my life, in an effort to make it more interesting, less boring, whatever. In 2002, I ran off to Florence with two friends -- one of who was a younger female who decided to live her dream and move to Italy. I packed it in at my fashion job, cashed in some frequent flyer miles, and away I went...off to live La Dolce Vita!
Turns out that ti wasn't all red wine and dancing in the piazza. I missed Joe horribly. And I certainly wasn't prepared for the emotional toll of being in a foreign land on the first anniversary of September 11th. I don’t think that living life in a foreign land is the adventure that others think it is. Too often, it's frustrating and lonely – all of which is compounded by a language barrier.
So, what's the point of all of this? How does it relate to knitting? Somehow, I think it does. There's a link between this restlessness and my knitlessness. I just have to figure out how to cure one in order to cure the other.
For starters, I'm sympathizing with and living vicariously through my former NYC roommate, who is partaking in an executive exchange program. She's making notes of her antics in Tokyo. Given Colleen’s sharp anecdotal eye and ability to write, this will be far more enjoyable to me than Sophia Coppola’s script.
Anyone know the cost of a flight from LaGuardia to Narita?
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