Last night our neighbors and their daughter came to dinner. She has just received a secondary degree so we were celebrating. You know dinner will be a success when our neighbor brings a cake. Cakes here are all yellow and not very thick or sweet. They can have anything in them. This time it was apples and chocolate. Jim’s and my favorites. Jim made an amazing dinner of grilled everything, potato salad, which people had never had and loved, green salad and this and that. Enrica wants to know what he has put in everything and she is appropriately amazed by his cleverness. He put rosemary, typical, and limoncello, not typical on the chicken he grilled. It was delicious and why not? He enjoyed having someone pay so much attention to what he made. As usual dinner started at 8:30 and went on till 10:30 with fun and laughter the whole time.

This morning it was even more beautiful than usual. It had rained in the night which is very rare. 

Maybe because we cleaned up for guests last night our kitchen looked better than usual.

After second breakfast and market, I decided to go painting in a nearby field. The threat of rain was real and forecast, but I had no problems. I took my umbrella and that made all the difference. The street where I am painting is a sneaky back way for people. It is totally off my unusual path. I saw people I have never met. One woman walked by from the earthquake housing. She was not young. She told me that her house in the Historical Center had been destroyed by the earthquake. I realized that she may never get to live there again. Even if it is restored it may be too late for her. 

Liberties were taken

Jim went off on another adventure with Irish Dude that included coffee and small towns. We both made it home and were having lunch when the rain came. We have had our windows open all day. 

Shoes for sale...much flatter heels!

I have been wanting to comment on how far down fashion has slipped here. You may have noticed that there are not pictures of high heels and only a few of amusing t-shirts. I am laying the blame for this reduction in fashion directly at the feet of the Danes and American. Women are wearing much more sensible shoes. People do not go so far as to wear Keens, but mere walking does not seem like such a balancing act. Women are wearing capris and casual shirts. Sometimes, until I look at their feet, I am sure they are not Italian. And possibly the worst is that men are wearing white socks with sandals. This used to be a sure way to spot a Dane, but no more. 

The Danes who live here NEVER wear white socks in public. This picture, taken from a hidden camera in the market, has been changed to black and white to further protect the identity of this white sock wearer.