Love, Italian style

Dear Marc, we're just back from Milan.

I know you probably say that a few times every year, but I seldom do. I relish the words "Yes, we just flew in from Milan". It's so Jackie Collins. I can't seem to get enough of it. Milan was hot, stylish and everything tasted so much better than anywhere else. I don't know how they do it.

We didn't know what to wear, so we ended up with me in eBay, Anders in suit and Vanja in one of those Indian dresses that capture the soul of tree-climbing princesses everywhere.


The ceremony itself was a breezy affair, that kept everyone in good spirits and on their best behavior. Just look for yourself, do you feel like these people are slow? NO! They have lots of stuff to experience. Let life roll.














The music was my favorite - loud and enthusiastic. OOMPA OOOMPA.
Da da da dadadadadadada.
Nah. It doesn't work. You had to be there.
















The bride looked every bit as divine as she is.
















The groom didn't look bad either. And he sounded wonderful.















What can I say? It was a blast. It was everything a wedding should be.
Then the next day, we saw a little bit of Milan.



















We went to 1o Corso Como to look and laugh at their $2000 blouses and then went to Peck to witness the serious business of food. I have never seen so many delicacies at once.












I felt like a poor peasant peeking in through the windows to the Russian tsar and tsaritsa before the revolution. I felt envy, hunger and fascination, mixed with a little bit of lustful disgust at the plenitude of food, offered to the rich in who's also in possession of a healthy appetite. Anything a food obsessed mind could imagine was there, looking more delicious than the human eye could possibly process. We inhaled the aroma of heavenly coffee and headed for the streets again.

So we didn't buy any food, but I bought my brother a gift that got us into trouble at the airport.
"Madam, you have two knives in here" is not what any one wants that x-ray guy to tell you. Blushing and giggling, I had to run back to the check-in again, to save the flight from a potential picnic bag attack.

now must sleep.
tomorrow, help me!

I need to look like a superfriendly mom when I bring Vanja to check out her new pre-school, then professional in tomorrow's meetings and then stylish and modern as I go out to dinner with clients in the evening.

What outfit should I wear that would bring me from granola to Grand Marnier and cola? What a disgusting drink! But you understand what I mean, no? Help me. I need help. You're the one, Marc, bring it on.

love
-e