Last night, we returned from our two-week adventure in the Tuscan countryside. I was sad to leave the gelato and the olive groves, but glad to be returning to my own washer/dryer, a bed that feels like home, and, of course, the soft, warm, relieved weight at the foot of that bed: Ivy.

I’d forgotten the flexibility European travel requires and how travel, in general, sets me up for surprises I might otherwise never have access to. Italians, in particular, live life on different terms; I didn’t see a single paper coffee cup while we were there, and we rarely left dinner before 11 pm. In fact, the only time I ever saw any Italian in a hurry was on the Autostrade, where the leisurely, cappucino-sipping, cigarette-smoking culture suddenly goes crazy-mad. The motorcycles were the worst.

I won’t turn my blog into a travelogue of the entire trip, but in the next few weeks, I will fill you all in on some of our more memorable experiences. Once I’ve recovered a little from jet lag, I’ll post some more entries. For now, arrivederci!