Prego

The Streets of Venice

To my dedicated reader:

Thank you for your patience during my brief hiatus. I know that for you, gentle reader, my blog's absence is like pulling on the last bit of dental floss and getting a useless strand the length of your pinky. "Hey!" you say with mild exasperation. But then you realize it's no big deal, and you move on. Or, you try and floss.

My family and I have returned from Italia, the land of my people. In future blogs I promise to chronicle several trip highlights, including the strip of duct tape we spotted on our 747's wing as we flew out of San Francisco* as well as the cooking classes we didn't take in Tuscany.

It was a long, much-required vacation. I know it was a long vacation, because I had to cut my fingernails while traveling (twice, actually!). I also learned some Italian. My forte, though, is not learning foreign languages. I have an issue with verb conjugations and verbs in general, as well as adjectives, adverbs, nouns, pronouns, subjunctive clauses, and oh yes, verbs. I did, however, learn the word prego, which means you're welcome. Prego is also what the Italian bartenders, storekeepers and waiters say when you wander into their establishment looking helpless, confused and American. In that setting Prego means How can I help? or I'm at your service or your fingernails are trim!

Ciao,

The Sierra Musings Management Team

*see also the 03/01/2010 post "The Miracle of Duct Tape"