Bev Petrie, Rug Doctor

Bev has been tearing through the house with her rug cleaner...


Karen, Margie, and Anne O’Brien tore through the furnace room...

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A Rainy Day in the Heart of Rome

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Before our trip, I had naively assumed that we would be able to just walk through the Coliseum but as it turned out, we needed tickets for it, too. If we’d had smart phones, we could have purchased the tickets online after visiting the Sistine Chapel and walked right in. But it was late in the day and anyway, we were cheap luddites who only had dumb phones, so we decided to come back later. This time we checked and double-checked our voucher before leaving Luciana’s place. Once on the metro, it was a short ride to the Coliseum. Vouchers in hand, we once again experienced the smug delight of passing the line of those who waited for hours, four deep, to buy tickets at the door. The steps leading to the upper levels of the Coliseum are steep, a challenge to my titanium knees, but I was too proud to take advantage of the elevator. When Gauss and I reached the second level, the sheer size and age of the place took our breath away. Gauss likes to picture how the bui...
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When in Rome...

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Gauss and I had been through Rome only once before following our ill-fated flight from Sri Lanka to Italy in 1982. My memories are hazy and few. Back then we landed at Da Vinci airport and had to get to Milano. Nerves jangled, we were not about to board another plane just then, so we took a bus to the train station. I recall rolling past the coliseum and being a little surprised that it was right there , although I was unable to muster anything resembling enthusiasm. This time we vowed to pay attention. I planned only one thing in Rome—a visit to the Sistine Chapel in the Vatican Museum. I made an online reservation a month in advance so that we would not miss it, printed the entrance voucher (NOT TRANSFERABLE printed across it in bold letters) labeled it with a Post-It, and added it to the folder of important travel documents. We had another aim for the day as well: to get Italian SIM cards for the cell phones we'd purchased in anticipation of the trip. Despite the seve...
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Gas Station Gourmet

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Gas station dining at its finest Our next mission before departing for Sardinia was to recharge our phones. After the check in phone debacle, we were skeptical about the existence of a Meridiana counter at the Rome airport, so we left Ostia Antica a bit early to do some reconnaissance. A visit to Da Vinci airport confirmed that Meridiana Airlines actually had a gate at there, but it would not open until 1:30. We also discovered that Vodafone didn’t have a kiosk in the airport, so we ventured into the town of Fiumicino to scrounge for some lunch and, we hoped, to find a way to recharge the phones. We came upon a corner market that could take care of the phones, and when we finished, we asked the clerk if she could recommend a place to eat. She directed us to a gas station a couple blocks away. Luciana circled the place twice before parking—we had to convince her that there was actually a restaurant on the premises. Inside, it looked like a typical gas station/conven...
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