God sometimes gives us unexpected gifts. Our gift has been a grandson who enlivens our lives and makes retirement very different than the one we anticipated. He is a special joy. And that's "Casey." In 2006 we fulfilled our dream of living in Italy for a year. It was every bit as wonderful as anticipated. This blog begins in 2005 as we prepared for that experience. Since then we have explored many places together. That's the "Travel." And finally, I am a person of opinions--spiritually, politically, on just about anything and that's the "Other Stuff." Welcome to my blog.

Sunday, August 12, 2007

Italy on £8 a Year

Remember Frommer's series? Europe on $5 a day? Well, I have him beat--fair Italia on just £8 a year--a whole year. In all truth--that is what I did--honestly.

All it took was grapes and pasta--daily--for 364 days--almost a year. Sounds good? It was! Too good!

Last week I went to the doctor. But before I could see him, came the nurse. The one who ferrets out little secrets such as blood pressure, heart beat, etc. The first moment of truth was when I was forced to step on the scale and watch little weights slide back and forth until finding the perfect place to stop. Bravely, I then asked what the scales had said a year ago--and that is where Italy on 8£'s a year was born.

Since I had 20 £'s to lose before arriving in Italy, that now puts the total at 28 £'s. Intelligently, I have decided that the only thing to do is attack the 8 before even considering the 20. Of course, as I write, Ken has brought me a bowl of ice cream (not gelato.) What should I do? What am I doing? Guess.

The good news is that I don't feel as big as I did in Italy--the land of no female over a size 4, flat tummies and sexy bodies. There is no doubt that, in general, people from the United States are weightier than their counterparts in Italy.

Then grown son--approaching 40--said that I shouldn't worry about a little weight--a person my age, has earned the right to enjoy life without sweating it. Now, I am not sure how I should take that. Was it love? Am I that old? Am I on my way out? I am sure that it was confirmation that there are too many £'s.

Finally, Grandson Casey assures me, with all the finesse of a 9 year old who loves his gramma a whole lot, that I am not fat--just squishy and he likes squishy. Followed by "squish, squish, squish" as he gives little pinches. More confirmation, to be sure.

Now, I hate to think of disappointing Casey and leaving him with nothing to squish. What kind of gramma would I be? Should I just give in and enjoy my waning years? What about all the clothes I see which I really would like to wear--and look good in while wearing? Maybe Casey doesn't really need squish.

I do have a dream which may serve as motivation. We are returning to the place Casey now calls home next summer. I would love to be slim and trim then. Isn't it nice when we hear such things as "wow, you look so good!" Yes--28£'s it is.

Note: This is an entry with no illustrations.


Judith in Umbria said...

Jane, you lived a fairly confused life compared to un'italiana, you know. And so do I. We both mix in foods from home, we eat out much more than they do, and we don't hustle around on foot as much as they do.

I'm convinced that increasing amounts of exercise and a healthy diet-- like lots of vegetable antipasti-- are the clue. When I dieted my face went really bad.

Want to do a shape-up buddy thing? Less cars more walks? Eat well from among the healthy choices? I'm ready.

Jane said...

Judith, you hit it right! But also I was eating big pranzo and cena daily which is not what I do here. Let me think about the buddy thing as I tend not to be a good buddy--friend, yes, buddy, no