I know that what I’m about to relate isn’t real, at least I don’t think it is, but I think that I myself am a plague on the nations I love most. For whatever bizarre reason, when I leave a place after a few weeks of being there and falling madly in love with the culture, a devastating earthquake seems to strike. I was in Turin, Italy last year when there was a minor earthquake that shook the buildings. It spilled some of my wine. Truly a traumatizing moment.

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Let’s Bring Back…

[Advance warning: this is a long one. Also, support my hypothetical gubernatorial campaign!] I was born at the wrong time. I’ve always known this. I long for the olden days […]

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Florida Escape Day 5

I woke easily and early this morning with a choked sob. I didn’t want to leave. I didn’t want to go back home to the cold and snow and ice […]

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