Arrivederci, Roma

We've decided not to go to Italy in August after all.


Yes, we--my husband and I--have agreed to delay our trip to Italy. Indefinitely.

The reasons are many, but the two biggest are seasonal and monetary. After really digging in to researching for a trip (including word-of-mouth "advertising") it appears that August would be the worst month to visit.

It is usually hot, and most of Europe goes on holiday, which means many of them go to Italy, and many Italian business owners (hoteliers, restauranteurs, shopkeepers) close their doors to get their own R&R. Some hotels are not air conditioned. I don't do heat very well; Paul doesn't do crowds very well.

Granted, a romantic getaway should involve some hot and sweaty activity. (You people! I'm talking about spelunking, and if you don't know what that is, look it up!)

We've been told that September is the ideal month. Cooler. Shops open. Less crowded. However, it's just not an option because of school starting. August was our only month when we have built-in child care, thanks to our gracious and generous daughter, who was willing to take on that responsibility after the summer classes at college are over.

Who knows? Maybe God will send us a windfall and the opportunity to take our dream vacation sometime after we've celebrated our actual 25th anniversary. But if we were to go now, we'd have to go into debt to afford the costs which are twice in August what my sister Jill paid last November. I regret having gotten my hopes up based on the amazing deal she got-- $1200 per person, airfare and hotel included!

Am I disappointed? Of course.

But--here's a more than a tidbit testimony for ya-- I have a peace in the midst of the disappointment. That part is an answer to my prayer: "Father, give me a peace to accept whatever the outcome without getting angry."

If you knew how closely disappointment and anger are in my emotional make-up, you would realize what grace has been shelled out in this decision. It was actually I who said first to Paul, "I don't think Italy in August is such a wise idea." Normally it's the other way around, Mr. Finance putting the facts to Miss Wanderlust. It was not the Typical Me begging, whining, and having a tantrum over not getting what I really wanted.

Yes, it's only taken 45 years and 10 months to get to this point. (Ask me in late August how I'm doing.)


Arrivaderci, Roma. You shall remain but a dream. And a song. Perhaps I ask-a my groom-a to serenade me with thissa, on our anniversary date-a, which might be more affordable at the Bel-Loc Diner-a than in Italia, anyway-a.

Ciao, Tuscany, at least in my fantasy.

Bye-bye-uh, Venizia, temporarily. I pray for the day we can spend an afternoon...or two...or seven, enjoying your splendor and beauty.