rollercoaster... ooh hoo hoo hoo!

Today, I woke up in a mood and vowed to do "something" about it.
I checked fb and found some of my travelmates had posted pictures, so I spent several hours going through them. I tagged those I had taken, when I was given a camera to make merry with. I tagged those featuring my new buttefly tote bag, my old pastel-rainbow windbreaker, my yellow poppy umbrella. I especially tagged those in which I wore my fuchsia henley-style top, or my purple shirt with the mid-length sleeves; those are shirts which never left Italy, making room in my suitcase, and my closet, for new blouses and tops.
And I found myself feeling blue. I missed my travelmates.
So I sent out a request in three directions: whatcha doin'? I was hoping for an invite to a barbeque somewhere, some grilled hotdogs, some ribs, some corn on the cob. Right?
Nothing doing. Not one of my parties responded with a "hey, Faustina, we were wondering why you weren't here yet!" or "hey, Faustina, come on and bring some pictures over!" Not one.
So, I told them I was having a pasta taste test. And then I did so. I carefully cooked the same amount of each dry rotina/fusilla pasta from the three different companies in its own pot, with its own spoon for stirring, to make sure there would be no cross-contamination of the flavors. I cooked each for the same amount of time, then drained each separately, again being careful to maintain individual flavor. Then I tasted sevral pieces from each plate, rinsing my mouth after each taste. And you know what I found? For these three imported pastas, there wasn't much difference in taste, but there was some difference in texture. Alma's had the closest texture to the fresh pasta we had made in Siena; Da Vinci was close, but not quite as good. Both were better that Barilla, which was billed as the "#1 pasta in Italy", but had an internal doughiness which was offputting.
By the time I was done with my experiments, my first niece had called to say they were going to a barbeque joint, would I like to come along? I did, as a matter of fact. I wanted ribs - but the guy in front of me in line got the last order. From a place that calls itself a "rib shack". Hmmffph.
After we ate, they headed to their baby girl at the hospital and I headed home to pout. Yeah, pout, that's right.
Trying to clear my mood, I returned to fb, mining the newly-posted pictures for more to tag. One of the great things about traveling with a group is this: they all took photos. With cell phones, with cameras, with iMachines. I used my phone sparingly to take photos, relying on others to document my holidays and, I must say, they certainly did a fabulous job of it. Through their eyes, I saw things I had missed, images at day AND at night, sights both common to the world and specific to Italy. Very nice!
Then an old Brit prof called to see if I was coming to philosophize tonight. Or, if not, perhaps to an old favorite locale for some friendly libations afterward? I thought about it and thought about it and finally threw myself out of my house to go be around people.
Good decision! I saw not one but two of my old profs, as well as a fellow Earthling, and NONE OF THEM KNEW OF MY TRIP. And i didn't bring it up. And that gave me a nice break and a healthy shot of my usual life.
I also dined on some juicy, finger-lickin', fallin'-off-the-bone ribs, Memphis dry rub slathered on. So good! And a right fine ear of corn to go along with those lip-smackin' ribs! I think I may have used at least five napkins, but it topped my night off quite nicely.
Thanks to the Brit!