It's aaalliiivveeee

Everything is growing. The rain we've been having has been feeding our lawn and garden steroids. The only downfall is now we have to mow every week and in a few weeks I'll be overrun with tomatoes. I have about 50 green ones now. I know, I know, terrible things to complain about. 

So far this weekend I've been immersed in awesomely domesticated tasks. Lawns and weeds and vacuums, oh my. But what struck me the most is how well everything is doing (even the weeds, much to my dismay). 

I planted these a while ago on our deck and have since forgotten what they were. Dalhias maybe? They're finally blooming and I heart them. 

Then there's these guys. We have 4 of these trees in our yard and I have no idea what they are. All I know is they bloom every year, they're super pretty and they grow like weeds. 

 The garden is also doing well. I realize though that I planted far too many tomatoes. I have 3 rows. I'd better learn how to can them. 

Cucumber ready for the picking. 

I'm crossing my fingers that this little guy grows into a squash. I don't have any luck with squash (which is odd b/c they're the weed of veggies). 

 The other side of awesomely domesticated: The domesticated male. Steven has so far spent the weekend working on vehicles and bikes. That gets him greasy. 

And silly. 

Haha this photos totally makes my day. What a goof. 

I can't believe it's already August, this summer is flying by. As much as I want the months to drag on until I have to take the PE, I am seriously ready for the heat to go away. The mosquitos can go with it. Ugh.

Liz DiNatale

Cleo's Tribute

My kitty Cleo died on July 16th and I wrote most of this post the day after. It's my tribute to her. She was an amazing cat. 

When my father married my step-mom, I gave away my cat. My s-mom was very allergic to cats and my cat was very much a cat. I promised myself that the instant I moved out of my parent's house I would have a cat again. And I did...about a week after moving into my first apartment at 17, I took Aurora home. She was a sandy colored mutt of a cat. She was sporadic, not very tame and did not trust people. She eventually warmed to me but even years later she would hide for days at a time. I eventually adopted two more kittens, Cleopatra and Persephone. I found Cleo and Persephone in the News and Observer's classifieds. They were an "oops" litter to a family in Clayton.   

I remember the day I met the kittens. I arrived to their house, greeted by a big lovable Rottweiler and showed to the kitten's box. Persephone was a big poof of white fluff. She had light blue eyes and was absolutely adorable. I had to have that one. Then they brought me this tiny orange slightly less fluffy kitten. They said they were thinking of keeping her because she was the most outgoing of all the kittens. She was strikingly adorable. I claimed the white poof and the orange poof (if they decided to adopt her out). 

A week later when the kittens were old enough to be separated from their mom, they let me have her. She had one black eyelid and one pink eye lid. She had stripes from her face that reminded me of Egyptian paintings. I decided about 5 minutes down the road that she had to be called Cleopatra.  

The 3 were a great trio.

I kept all the cats as indoor cats because I didn't want to lose them to cars like I'd lost so many cats as a child. 

Aurora escaped when someone left the door open and I can only hope she is alive and happy. 

Persephone now lives with my old roommate's parents.

And Cleo died too early.

On Sunday, July 15th, I returned home after catching Magic Mike with a couple friends, to find her laying on the floor, panting. Panting is generally not a good sign in cats. When I lifted her head, she was listless. I broke several speed limits and passing laws on the way to the emergency vet. They injected her with a heart drug and a steroid and started pumping her full of oxygen. The emergency vet told me that once a cat goes into heart failure, they usually don't come out. I was floored, how could Cleo have heart disease let alone heart failure!

Instant blubbering mess.

I call Steven...between incoherent sobbing he says he's on his way.

I was sure this was the end. I was sure I wouldn't have a cat by the end of the day.... But then a glimmer of hope. She bounced back dramatically. The emergency vet brought her in to see me. She was walking, she was alert, she was breathing normally. She was a motor of purring. 

That was the last time I heard her purr. 

They thought it could have been asthma, they thought it could have been anaphylactic shock, but then they heard her heart murmur. Regardless of how she rebounded, she had heart disease. I left her there to be observed for 8 hours. When I called to check on her at 6 hours, she had had 2 more episodes, so I left her there for the night. 

The next morning I picked up a sluggish, swollen looking kitty, and a greasy, British sounding emergency vet told me how bad a murmur is for a cat. That it does not bode well. That something is seriously wrong with Cleo. Oh and that they also did several more tests that would costs a couple hundred more. Thanks. Salt,  meet open wound. 

We brought her straight to our vet who did her own exam and sent us off to NC State Cardiology for a chest ultrasound. It's about 10 am now and this is the 3rd vet Cleo and I have been to so far. The cardiologist told me more of the same. Heart murmur rated at a 3 out of 6. She's the right age for heart disease. No idea why she bounced back or why her liver values are up. I leave her to them for an ultrasound and hopefully an answer on how to keep her alive. About when she was due to be picked up, they called me and told me the results. They confirmed that she had severe heart disease. Her left ventricle was very enlarged. She was likely in heart failure on Sunday. However, because she is presenting so oddly, they ask if they can do another XRay and blood test for a teaching opportunity. 

About 2 hours later I can finally pick her up. Her Xray showed the fluid in her lungs from Sunday had cleared. That's good! The cardiologist said with medication, she could last another 6 months to 3 years.  They pile me with pills and directions on how to give them, strip me of more money and send me home to try and get her to eat and drink. It's 5:30pm. She spent over 24 hours with vets, and it still didn't save her...

She wouldn't eat, she wouldn't drink. I gave her the anti-nausea drugs, nothing. I checked on her periodically and she didn't so much as move around the bed. At about 10pm, she started breathing heavier. So I force fed her some water and gave her the two heart drugs we'd been given. She was really irritated with me and hid under the bed...cat's hide before they die.

At about 11:20pm give or take, I went up stairs to check on her one last time before bed. She was under the bed, breathing heavily, staring, unblinking. I'll spare you the details, but she passed about 10 mins later. That was the hardest thing I've ever watched. My heart broke several times as I watched her struggle for what felt like an eternity.

We were inconsolable. I was glad that she left on her own accord. I wish I could have made it more comfortable for her but I'm glad it was at home on one of her favorite resting spots instead of a metal cage. I'm glad I was there for her passing even though it hurt to watch. I'm sorry she spent the last day of her life being poked and prodded but I had to try and save her. I so much wanted to hear her purr again.

I don't pray much anymore. But I prayed to spare her and when she wasn't, I prayed my thanks for letting her be with me.

Because of how unique her disease was, we're allowing NC State to do a necropsy on her so they can learn what went wrong. I'm glad she's contributing to the advancement of veterinary care. Afterwards she'll be cremated and returned to us. 

This morning when we moved her into a container to bring to the vet, the place where she died, the place where she laid in our house for the last time...it was still warm.

"The flame that burns twice as bright, burns half as long"

Liz DiNatale 7/17/2012

Today Steven, Kate, Will and I laid her ashes to rest in the dirt of a newly planted Saucer Magnolia. It will bloom around the time of year that she was born and give us a short reminder of how beautiful she was. 

  

I searched high and low for a Saucer Magnolia and only found one yesterday at the farmer market. It's the only tree that I felt would do her justice. 

I miss her presence in the house. It feels like something is missing. At least I had her for 8 purr filled years. And at least she's not struggling or in pain anymore. 

Liz DiNatale

Cleo: May 2004 - July 2012

My very own recipe

I love baking and I'm pretty fond of cooking. I find that these, above most of my "adventures," are deemed domesticated. Which is fine. I enjoy eating - baking and cooking allow me to eat. If that's domestic well then at least I'll try to be awesome at it. 

I started baking before I was tall enough to reach the counters. I believe I used a step stool. I remember one Christmas in particular my Mom had not been able to do any baking whatsoever until Christmas eve. So she took my sister and I into the kitchen, gave us each a recipe book, told us which cookie to make, said she was doing fudge and let us loose. I haven't looked back since. Then during my parent's divorce I made cookies every Thursday night so my brothers and sister and father would have a cookie in their lunch on Friday (I used to make the lunches too). I didn't really know what I was doing then and would add all the ingredients into the bowl at once and stir as much as my wee arms would let me. 

My brothers used to call those cookies cement. 

I've gotten better.

I swear. 

Now a days I tend to save my baking for Christmas. Mostly because I love making fudge and cookies and pies. It also saves me the calories throughout the year. However every other month or so a couple bananas get a bit too ride and then...I just have to make them into bread...what else do you do with ripe bananas? 

Last Christmas we attended our friend's Tacky Sweater party and munched on some super yummy Buffalo Chicken Dip. I hated the thought of what was in it...boxes and boxes of cream cheese. I was eating my weight in calories. Sometime between that party and our annual New Years party with the Butlers, someone told me how Greek yogurt can be used in place of sour cream and sometimes cream cheese in cooking. Lightbulb....

This is when I created my very first, my very own recipe. My crazy brain thought this one up from scratch and it actually tastes good! I've been wanting a way to share it but I hadn't made it since that day. Well today we're heading back over to the friends who had the Tacky Sweater party and this time, I'm armed with my style of Buffalo Chicken Dip. Give it a go but don't tell anyone it's actually healthy until they can't stop eating it. 

Ingredients:

1 Cup Texas Pete (or other) Hot Sauce

17.5 Ounces diced chicken booby (that's chicken breast: one big can, one regular can)

2 Cups drained Greek yogurt (you drain it with cheese cloth, if you can find cheese cloth)

1 Ranch Dressing dip mix

1/2 Cup Shredded Cheddar Cheese (or whatever you have in the fridge...like me)

1/2 Teaspoon cumin

Flour to thicken

Directions:

Strain the chicken and shred it to little bits. 

It's amazing how well a potato masher works for this. 

In a medium saucepan combine yogurt,

Chicken and ranch dressing packet,

Set to medium heat and mix. 

Add hot sauce and cumin

Mix and cook until nice and bubbly

Add cheese and cook a little longer until cheese is good and melty. The dip will be rather soupy at this point. Add some flour to thicken. I end up adding about 1/4 cup of flour I believe. It will depend on how wet your yogurt was. 

Serve and enjoy! You can serve it hot or let it cool (as it cools, it thickens more). 

I like to serve it with cut up celery to really emphasize the healthiness and also celery goes really well with hot sauce. 

Omnomnomnom

There ya have it. That's healthy Buffalo Chicken Dip. Create, devour, don't feel bad about it!

If you have any questions about the recipe, leave me a message and I'll try to answer them. 

Liz 

Wifely duties: Walking the dogs

This weekend was filled with interesting experiences while walking the poochies. 

On Saturday I made an executive decision and we finally drove down to the Haw River to check out the walking route that Steve and Cindy Jones walk. It was a tad over grown so we didn't go far but camped at a cluster of rocks and threw the ball for the dogs. We didn't have to stay there long for the dogs to get tired since they had to swim back up stream to return the ball to us. That was hilarious to watch. They'd be paddling towards the ball like they always do and then they'd hit the current and their whole body would turn sideways but they'd still be paddling towards the ball. 

As we were making our way back to the car we heard some voices up ahead. Then I rounded a corner and could vaguely see a couple people ahead of us, it looked like they were walking away from us (hehe I was wrong). The dogs were up ahead so I hurried a bit to catch up and reel them in. I barely got a couple steps farther before I saw it....a full moon....and it was still daylight out. 

So those voices we heard? They were definitely the girl making happy noises. I flushed, called the dogs back and told Steven to stop b/c they were "#@&*($# up there". Steven started laughing immediately. 

We give it a second, they collect themselves and their clothes and moved on towards the parking lot. We followed on, but they kept stopping to canoodle again. I didn't even bother stopping the dogs from saying "hi" I figured they didn't have a leg to stand on if they were going to give us crap for having the dogs off leash. It got to be annoying waiting for them to move along so I finally called out, "Hey, if you want to wait for us to pass, you can get back to what you were doing." They must have liked this option b/c they pulled off the trail immediately and let us pass them. As we walked by I said, "Nice ass, by the way" and we giggled our way back to the car. 

Wish I had my camera for that one.  

On Sunday, while Steven rode his road bike with a couple guys, I took the dogs to Rocky Road for a stroll. I enjoy this trail b/c it's typically vacant except for a couple mtn bikers. Plus it has a section of trail that borders a big stream so the dogs have plenty of chances to get in the water. As we made our way down the trail I let the dogs run down the banks where it's easy enough and then I throw the ball for them for a couple turns each. At one of these points, the dogs are all in the water while I'm on the bank and I toss the ball out into the stream. My eye's casually drift downward until I see a really big black stick. I'm thinking, "huh, that's a strange looking sti...OH MY GOD THAT'S A BIG F*(@&ING SNAKE!!!" Haha, I literally jumped back. Thankfully it's a black snake and not a poisonous or aggressive snake. 

Sorry for the piss poor picture, it's from my phone and I might have been a bit wobbly. I contemplated throwing a stick at it...but if it's a black racer, then it's aggressive and it would charge me. And while it is harmless, that's still really freaky. So instead I walked down the trail some and called the dogs to me, trying to get them to avoid running by the snake (for a 3rd time). All of them, in their infinite wisdom ran right by the damn thing. That was the last time I let them run down the bank without me inspecting it first. Apparently they're snake-dumb. 

After their last ball tossing session in the stream I sent Gunnar and Rhea screaming through the woods to try and dry them off a bit more. By the end of the walk, Gunnar was Mr. Spider Face. 

Lots and lots and lots of spider webs out there that day. I got my fair share too. What puzzled me is they would reappear in places I'd already walked not a few moments before. As if they're just waiting for someone to tear down their masterpiece so they could build it again. I can deal with a lot of bugs, but I hate anything that touches my face. Be it flies or spider webs. Loath. Seriously loath. 

That pretty much sums up my weekend. Besides walking the dogs, seeing a random dudes bum and jumping from snakes I managed to cook a dinner one night, edit some photos and buy Michael's out of frames. 

Liz 

Awesomely abroad: An Italy Rant. Part 5!

I officially talk too much. Catch up by reading Part 1, Part 2, Part 3 and Part 4.

We cheaped out and got 2nd class tickets for our train ride to Bologna. It's hard to not be frugal when every euro is $1.30 (it has dropped a bit since then I've heard). Before leaving Venice, I had looked up a couple hotels that had rooms available. I didn't make a reservation at any of them, we decided to wing it. Which is cool in theory, much harder in practice. I realized how essential a map is once we arrived in Bologna and we had no idea where the street that had the hotels actually was. 

A bit of wandering and some sore shoulders later, we stumbled upon one of the hotels I had found. It looked impressive from the outside and when we walked in, we were even more impressed. Gold accents, completely white and plush reception area. It was swanky. I nearly asked the man to repeat himself when he told us the rate was only 89 Euro per night. Having just spend 210 Euro per night in Venice, I felt like I was saving a fortune! So we booked our room for a night at Tre Vecchi in Bologna off the main road. 

Our room was equally impressive with gold accents, a large bathroom and a street view. 

View from the window. 

After settling in, we hopped on the (ever so slow) internets to find someplace for dinner. We arrived on a Sunday though and pretty much everything closes on Sundays in Europe. Inevitably, we consulted the front desk of our hotel. A very nice Russian woman who spoke very good Italian and English sent us to a cute little restaurant called Anna Maria. She said it was "not for tourist" and "authentic". We were hoping to find some authentic Bolognese sauce since it supposedly originated in Bologna. It wasn't quite time for dinner (remember, it's a late affair in Italy) so we set out to wander the street to grab a snack and check it all out. 

We forgot out rule to "never stop at the first place" and stopped at the first trattoria we found. Damn it. It was run by a bunch of college kids. No true Italian roots in any of them. Fail. The sandwich wasn't too bad and then we sipped a couple espressos down (as is Italian custom, hah). Then off exploring we were. 

Bologna was one of the most unique cities we visited. I would say perhaps as unique as Venice even. This is because its architecture was completely different. The architecture in Bologna was very renaissance. Or at least it seemed that way to me. 

After working up an appetite, we found the restaurant recommended by the Russian-Italian lady. I ordered a pasta with Bolognese sauce and...I can't remember what Steven ordered. This place was alright, they made a mistake and forgot to  bring me a salad or something but the service was generally good. The Bolognese sauce was super oily. I don't know if that's how it is traditionally made but to me I felt that the sauce was separating too much. It was tasty at least. The star of our meal was dessert though. I got a deliciously refreshing bowl of lemon gelato and Steven got a bowl of some innocent looking fruit salad. They must have sprinkled the fruit salad with fairy dust because it was amazing. When we were leaving Steven asked our server what the syrup was made out of. He tried not to answer, saying it was a secret but Steven persisted pushing that we'll be leaving for the US the next day! Guess what it was....

Orange Fanta! Wanna Fanta?! Yes. Yes I do. All over my fruit from now on. 

It was pretty late by the time we staggered to the hotel. That was the last honest to goodness Italian dinner we had. 

Monday we awoke with purpose and started putting the pieces together to get us to Lamborghini! You see, Steven's uncle has a friend who works there and he was going to get us a tour! His uncle was the one who suggested we go to Bologna and he actually recommended the hotel we were staying in (though we didn't realize that until after we checked in). He told us it was a quick trip to get to Lamborghini from Bologna. Uh...maybe if we drove a lamborghini. I was a train ride plus a bus/taxi ride away, or a 50 euro, 45 min taxi ride, one way. It wasn't feasible. What a shame, since it had always been our plan to visit Ferarri or Lamborghini and if we had gone to Modena like I had originally planned, we could have made it (Ferrari is a hop skip and a jump from Modena). Or if we had driven, that would have fixed it too. 

With our original plans in shambles, we tried to make the best of it by shopping for all our family members that we had promised gifts too. At which point we realized another grave mistake. We had essentially waited until the last minute to shop and Bologna just couldn't deliver. That's not entirely true. If you wanted to fill your luggage with shoes, you'd be set. We did not. 

We wandered around Bologna for the better of 5 hours looking and searching and going in circles. We were somewhat successful and got a few gifts and also saw some of the beautiful sites on our way. 

This fountain was near the train station at one end of he main road. The structure was impressive and this fountain was suggestive. I think that horse has bad intentions. 

Oh and I found out that the dirty rats with wings do actually wash themselves

Steven's attempt at long arming our photo here resulted in one of the funniest photos I've seen of him. We call this "Blue Steel". bahahaha So suave and debonaire. 

This guy was on the other side of the park from the lady with the horse problem. He was by far the most clothed out of all the statues. 

He was also covered in pigeons and this is why. 

Someone was purposely feeding the stupid things. I should have punted one. 

This statue was the most impressive. We read that when this was built, it caused quite a lot of turmoil. The native Bologna people were embarrassed about the uh...detail....and wanted the artists to add grape leaves to hide the man bits. Honestly, I thought the women with the water canons out their ta-tas was more offensive than a little wee-wee. But maybe that makes me an American prude? Who knows. 

Still had to get our photo in front of it through. 

Besides the water canon maidens, Bologna is infamous for it's two towers. Surprise, surprise, they're leaning. One is leaning quite a bit more than the other. 

I guess the practice of geotechnical engineering wasn't really big back then. 

We had train reservations for 8pm that night but were fed up with wandering around aimlessly by 4. We caught a taxi and got the next train to Milano Centrale. 

We were exhausted. Both physically, mentally and emotionally. Bologna had been such a burden and kind of a disappointment. We were ready to go home. We were ready to hear nothing but English. We were spent. 

However, we were not cut a break. There we were, sitting in first class, minding our own business, I was even sleeping a little. When all of a sudden a woke up to Steven saying something in Italian to a women standing by our seats. She didn't speak much Italian, just kept on saying "food" and motioning to her stomach and mouth. We tried every which way to tell her we didn't have any food (kind of a lie) and to get her to leave. But she just stood there, expectantly. We had experienced our fair share of beggars in town and had gotten most of them to go away with a simple, no. (except for this one guy in Bologna that started motioning to my bag which was sitting on the ground by my feet. This made us uncomfortable and kinda pissed. So the next time we said no, we made sure he knew we meant business...and then he left). But this lady wouldn't budge. We said in "mostly" clear Italian, "No we don't have any food" but she just stood there with this half grin on her face and waited. Finally Steven used the Italian word that means everything "Prego" and that did the trick...how...I'm not sure...but she still walked away. After that little episode, I was really done. 

We stepped on the connecting train to Malpense and sat, halfway glad it was almost over, and halfway sad that we were leaving. We knew the Hawns were heading back the same day and not 15 mins after Steven had said "Wouldn't it be funny if the Hawns just showed up" I saw Matt and Jess and their luggage walking by the window. Oh what a sight for sore eyes. 

We shared our stories or woe and success as we traveled the last 45 mins to the airport. 

All four of us stayed in First Hotel that had a shuttle service to and from the airport. It took us a bit to find the shuttle when we arrived but checking in was a breeze and the luggage service was nice. From our experience in Trinidad, we knew it was important to check in online. In doing so, I realize yet another grave mistake. I had accidentally bought our tickets under Elizabeth DiNatale and Steven George. However my loverly husband's passport has his full name of Steven George, JR. Oops. I couldn't check him in online because his names didn't match perfectly. Crap. Mini-panic attack. There goes our easy flight in the mornin. 

We tried to put that behind us and enjoy a dinner with the Hawns at the hotels "Italian" restaurant. It was about as Italian as an Olive Garden. And it was still in Italy, so you can imagine how bad it performed. 

There's no rest of the weary at First Hotel in Milan. The bed was as stiff as plywood with a cement base. The morning could not come soon enough. 

I'm sorry this is so long, but I swear I'm wrapping this saga up in 5 posts!

Check in wasn't so bad. We had to prove that Steven's pack was within carry-on spec (thank god it was, because we could have sworn it wasn't). When we went through security though, our world came crumbling down.....they made us leave the olive oil. When we were in Cinque Terre, we bought a small can of olive oil and a small jar of Pesto sauce. In Bologna we bought a small jar of Bolognese sauce. They let us keep the sauces....but they took the olive oil.....Beautiful, native olive oil. My heart aches to know it's in an Italian landfill now. What a waste, both in the sense of lost possibilities and excess garbage. 

If you learn nothing from this blog at least take my advice and check in online the day before your flight. Doing this will give you a priority seating zone and you'll be able to take your torture...I mean seat...earlier than others. This is a small but valuable victory. 

On the plane, everything seemed great. Until we took off 45 mins late. The curse...it returns. 

We lost even more time in the air. We didn't have a big layover to burn anyways. We. Were. Screwed. 

We landed with 35 mins till our next flight took off (not boarded...took off). We were met at the jetway by a nice guy in a bright orange vest that handed us tickets that said "express connection" and told us to run. I...hate running with a backpack. I refused to do it school...and then my bag was small. I ran for a bit but was being smacked in the back of my head with my pack and flat up stopped running (like an ornery mule). I didn't realize the gravity of the situation then it was explained to me that we had to go OUT of security to get through customs (US customs...in N...woo...) and then back through security to even get to our gate. Feck. I started running then. We barely made it. We were the last on the plane and it left the gate about 5 mins after we sat down. Side rant: When we returned from Trinidad into Miami, we were greeted with smiles and warm welcomes of "Welcome home" and some such nonsense. In NY (and it hurts me to admit this b/c I'm from NY and I constantly defend my home state), we were greeted by a man who obviously had the biggest case of hemorrhoids. There's no other reason he would be so grumpy. Then after that guy, we were rushed to his buddy who apparently had a wedgie b/c he was grumpy too. 

Landing in Raleigh was a sweet relief. We were a 20 min drive from our pups and beer (sweet hoppy sustenance). 

This concluded out FIRST (of many?!) trips to Italy. Our goal is to see the country by sections. This trip was all the north (though we may have to return to the north to visit the lakes) and the next trip will be the central part and then the south and then Sicily...where we hope to find our rich relatives. 

It was an experience I'd never want to trade. I learned a lot and experienced a lot. It was awesome. 

Things we learned in Italy (some of this might be repeated from previous lists):

• All Italians wear jeans and sneakers. The blogs are wrong. 
• Prego means EVERYTHING. When in doubt, say Prego. 
• Italians say Ciao, they hardly ever say Salve, the blogs are wrong again. 
• Don't speak Spanish to Italians...they don't like that. 
• Baccala' is gross. 
• Go to Verona, eat at Marie Callas. Tell Laura we said "Hi!"
• Venice is like an Italian Disney World Cruise. 
• B&B's in Venice are not always as they appear.
• In Venice, leave Dorsoduro, San Marco and the Rialto, get lost in Venetian neighborhoods (look for laundry). 
• Venice smells awful. It's better in the rain. 
• Punt a Pigeon. They're everywhere. 
• Don't waste money on valperotto (water bus) passes. Walk. 
• Take a bottle of wine on a Gondola. Grab other tourists, it's cheaper. 
• Drink water, eat yogurt, don't get sick. 
• Learn some Italian. 
• Make sure you buy international plane tickets under the name listed on ones passport. 
• Drive. It is freeing. 
• Buy first class train tickets. 
• Bring euros with you from the US. 
• Look like a tourist or you'll miss things. 
• 4 out of 5 dogs in Italy are Border Collies. We'd fit right in. :-)
• Don't spend more than a day and a half in Venice. 
• Either plan for a long trip or plan to return. 

Liz