ITALY: ROMA

We were in Rome on Tuesday, and when in Rome, do as the Romans do. I'm not sure what it is Romans do these days, but if it's eat pizza, walk a lot, shop, haggle with street salesmen, take pictures and eat ice cream, then by gollie, we did just as the Romans do. 

Our hotel is down the street from the Pantheon, once a temple -- twice it burned down -- to the Roman gods and now a Catholic Church. 

The inscription says this building was built by Marcus Agrippa, which isn't true because Marcus built one of the ones that burned down and they just used the same inscription when they rebuilt. 

We took a taxi to the Colosseum to meet our tour guide, our fourth tour of the trip. This was an eight-person tour with four couples and our guide. Here she is standing near one of the other couples. 

Nicole is convinced that this dude paid for his wife. I'm not sure, but he very well may have. What a weirdo, he was, asking strange questions every five minutes. 

Some were just dumb. "Did the emperor walk up these steep steps at the Colosseum with everyone else?" 

Uh, no. This was after the guide just had explained that the emperor had his own special seat in the front row. So, no he didn't walk with the common folk up the steep steps. 

Anyway, the guide told us that the emperor thumbs up or down to determine if the gladiator lived or died was made up by Hollywood. The emperor did give thumb signals, but more likely for something simpler, like to show if he was impressed with the fighting tactics of a particular gladiator. 

I took a moment of silence for all our fallen Christian brethren who were killed in this ampitheater some 1,800 years ago. 

There was a stage the gladiators fought on, but that didn't survive. There is a modern half-stage to give visitors a sense of the fighting platform. Now viewable is this underground system of tunnels the Romans used for the gladiators to enter from their school house -- yeah, they trained at a school. 

Up next was the Roman Forum, the center of life in ancient times. We learned that each time a war was won by the Romans, an arch was built for the Romans to march through to celebrate the victory. 

That's the Constantine arch, built after Constantine won a civil war and became emperor. He legalized Christianity in 313. 

This is from the arch of Titus, showing Romans with a menorah taken after they destroyed the Temple of Jerusalem in the first century. 

The guide told us the basic story of Julius Caesar, focusing on a group of senators plotting against the Salad Man and assassinating him. Here's his tomb. He's cremated. 

My favorite story she told was of two brothers who were declared emperor together when their father died, but one killed the other and tried to erase his name from history. 

I forgot their names. Cain and Abel, maybe? No, that's a bit older. Hehe. 

A wide view of the Roman forum. 

We then took a 20-minute walk to the Pantheon, with Nicole stopping the guide at one point to ask if some columns were the back of the Pantheon. 

"No," said the guide. "We're not at the Pantheon yet."

I bought two waters from a street salesman. He started at two euro each, and I got him down to three euro for two. I gave him a 10 and waited for my seven euro in change. 

That's when he tried to scam me. He gave me seven coins and started to walk away. "Excusi," I said, speaking Italian for one word. "This is four euro. I need seven."

He had given me a one euro coin and six 50 euro cent coins. Not on my watch, buddy. 

His scam continued as he took two of the 50 euro cent coins and replaced them with ones. That only added one euro. Still short two. 

This process kept going several more times, like we were on some sort of game show until I moved my hand away and said, "I have six euro. Give me one more."

After finally getting the correct change, I realized my group and guide had walked about 200 meters down the road without me. 

Speaking of roads, they say all roads lead to Rome. But I ask you, if you're already in Rome, then where do the roads lead?

At the Pantheon, we were told that it honored the gods until 609 when it was given to the pope and converted to a church. 

It has no windows, just a hole at the top where rain is let into the building. They can't close it because the structure would then collapse. 

The rain drains in these little holes in the marble. Red marble was the most expensive building tool back in the day. 

The painter Raphael is buried in the Pantheon (shown below). His bitter, bitter rival was Michaelangelo, which is funny because the turtle versions of those two have the most special bond of the four heroes in a half shell -- Turtle Power! 

That ended our tour. The rest of the day was Nicole and I exploring Roma, getting a little lost -- we accidentally ripped up our map -- and making sweet, sweet honeymoon memories. 

We went to the Spanish Steps -- under construction -- and the Trevi Fountain, where you throw coins into the water. Here are some beautiful pics, and I'm not just talking about the fountain. 

Stacey, are you satisfied that this entry has more pictures?

We discovered I'm an expert haggler. I think. We bought a selfie stick and sunglasses from separate street vendors, who are in their own little world on the Roman streets, selling some of the most random shit I've ever seen. 

Nicole brought a $20 selfie stick that didn't work, and boy, was she bummed. She wanted me to get one off the street, so we ask a vendor how much. 

12, he says. 

No, that's too much. 

Ok, how much? 

But we walked away, knowing he would follow us. OK, eight, he says. I turn around. "I can only do three."

Eight?

Three, I said.  

OK. 

I give him three euro. He stares at his hand. 

Eight. 

We just agreed to three, I said.  

He sulked back to his stand. 

Later, Nicole broke her sunglasses, so she tries on these fake Ray-Bans and likes them enough. Vendor says 25. 

We play the same game. 

No. 

How much? 20? 

We walk. 

He chases. 15? 

We can do seven, I said. 

10?

We walk away again. 

OK, seven. 

So we paid 10 euro total for a selfie stick and sunglasses. Starting total price was 37 euro. 

I wonder if this works at home. When I get back, I'm going to the Jaguar dealership, pointing at the $37,000 model, slapping down $10,000 in cash and driving off. Should work, right?

We happened upon a church called SS. Ma Trinita. So beautiful. Here's the ceiling art. 

When we were discussing Italy with Pan and Nikki at pizza making school back in Sorrento, Pan told me to get a suit made in Rome. High quality, he said. 

I didn't do that, but I did buy a pretty sweet jacket. They tailored it. "Perfecto," said the guy at the store. You can't tell, but it's blue. 

We capped off the day with dinner and ice cream. We got beef fillet from this high-rated steak place -- Baccano -- near where we were for most of the day. 

It was really, really good. Tender, tender. Comparable to most good steak places I've eaten at, except the portion was small. But that's nitpicky. 

You can see a fry on the edge of my plate. We split the side, and it was also damn good. Had a little crunch to it and tasted sort of like a baked potato. 

For gelato I got two scoops: Snickers flavor and chocolate. Nicole got stracciatella and mint. It was our seventh ice cream stop of the honeymoon, every day except Monday. So good. 

And that's Rome. I don't know if we quite conquered it, so don't go building an arch in front of 817 for our return. 

But I think the emperor would have given us the thumbs up. 

ITALY: PIZZA COOKING CLASS

As we wait in the Naples station for our train to Rome, I'd like to take a minute --just sit right there -- to go back to Friday night in Sorrento and the highlight of our trip pre-Rome. 

We were picked up by a private driver in front of our hotel and whisked 30 minutes away up the hills of Sorrento. 

Of course, as with all transportation in Italy, there was some slight confusion. When he dropped us off, he wasn't sure which building and then got confused when we told him we were going to a pizza making class. 

He eventually figured out that it was the house up the hill -- yes, we were always going uphill or downhill in Sorrento. 

There we met our instructor, Lucciana, and our fellow classmates, an Indian family from San Fernando, Calif. 

After getting to know the family a little bit, Lucciana showed us how to make a little chicken dish as an appetizer. 

That's us after the class was over. It turns out that I was not a star pupil. Head of the class? More like dead last in the class. 

If there had been a written exam at the end of the session about what we learned, I bet I'd have kicked butt. Though the 12-year-old Indian boy, Sean, seemed quite astute. 

First things first in pizza making is the dough. Lucciana gave us a good laugh when she said the dough is like a woman, every day is different, based on the weather. Some days more water. Some days more yeast. 

And much like my expertise with women, I did not master the dough. 

Lucciana went through her kneading process and then gave us all the ingredients to take our turns. 

Here's Nicole working on her flour game. 

That's Sean's grandmother and Sean's left arm. Lucciana judged our doughs when we were done. Sean won, Grandmother was second, Nicole was third, fourth through sixth was mom and dad and their younger son, and then in last place was me. 

For appetizers we had the chicken and the best eggplant parm I've ever had. It was also the best thing I tasted in the first six days of our honeymoon. 

Lucciana, maker of the world's best eggplant parm, kept calling me Geno. Which is fine and all, except Nicole liked it and hasn't called me Gene since. 

"Geno, time to get ready." "Geno, I love you." "Are you hungry, Geno?"

Then it was time to make our own individual pizza. We didn't use the dough we had made in class as Lucciana said proper dough needed like 10 hours to settle right. So we used dough she made earlier in the day. 

Here's Nicole spreading her tomato sauce on her pizza. 

She added mozzarella and parmesan cheese and olive oil. I added zucchini and the cheeses. I ate almost my whole pizza before three scoops of chocolate gelato came out. Yum. 

We also got wine, Coke, water and a shot of limoncello. We're not sure how much the three-hour evening costs because it was part of our package, but damn was it worth it. 

And not just for the experience of pizza class and the lessons from Lucciana. We really hit it off with the other couple, Pan and Nikki. We talked about football, poker, traveling, Italy, work and life. 

When we said we were from New Orleans, they said oh, we're going in September. I gave them some non French Quarter restaurants and said we'd meet them at Mandina's when they came. 

That's our view from Lucciana's balcony. She's been cooking in this village her whole life and said she would never move. Duh. 

That's Nikki to the far right. 

It was a great night, and I could imagine a life in that area, with Lucciana cooking all our food and us touring the Italian islands with Pan and Nikki.

And there would be eggplant parm. Lots and lots of eggplant parm. 

ITALY: SORRENTO

On Thursday morning we had to say goodbye to Venice. Our hotel was across the street -- sorry, canal -- from the train station, which took us to Naples before a car brought us to Sorrento. 

We just had to climb over this cute little bridge to get to the other side. Well, it was a cute little bridge on Tuesday and Wednesday. Carrying our luggage over it now looked daunting. 

Just as we began our struggle, two Venetians grabbed our bags. Not to help but to get paid. I said no. They continued to grab. I said no a second and third time. 

As I was saying it the third time, they were halfway up the steps. I rushed up the steps to make sure they didn't flee with our luggage. 

When we got to the end, they said "10 euro." Nicole said no. "10 euro." She handed over five. They waited for the other five. She defiantly said no. "Five total." And we left. 

They should be grateful. I would have given them one euro each. 

Other mishaps that have happened on the first six days of our Italian honeymoon: 

-- Our train to Padua was delayed 20 minutes. Our guide said no biggie. 

-- Our flight to Venice was delayed half an hour. We still arrived on time. 

-- We each walked into the wrong bathroom in Padua. Nicole read the sign wrong and waltzed into the men's room. I didn't even bother to look and went to the opposite bathroom. As I was finishing washing my hands, a woman came in and was slightly startled by me and said something in Italian. 

-- Nicole was a half step from getting off the train at the wrong stop on the way back from Padua until I grabbed her and got her back inside the train. 

-- In Venice, we got on the water bus going the wrong way and before we realized that, we fell asleep on the bus. We awoke and had no idea where we were. The bus circles back, and we were actually on course. But for all we knew, we were headed for Greece. 

-- Some guy yelled at me in some language -- not Italian -- for putting my feet on the seat of a water bus. It's public transportation. I was like where I come from, you lucky I ain't peeing on the seat. 

-- My shaver is not working. 

-- Nicole got a major blister on the side of her foot by the heel. We bought a needle and bandages from the pharmacy. 

-- On Friday, the ferry back to Sorrento was delayed by 45 minutes, and we got a weird explanation -- in English -- from a worker. No one understand what in the Capri salad he was saying. There was something about Naples and not waiting. It sounded like nonsense. 

Anyway, we spent four nights in Sorrento. Because of a ferry worker I pronounce it Sorrrr-rennnn-toeeeeee. Every time. Even as I'm writing this from my Sorrrr-rennnn-toeeeeee hotel. 

Our hotel had this crazy ramp to get to the reception area. It went up a steep climb, flattened for a second, then went up again before twisting around a corner to some steps. 

Our room -- No. 415 after our Venice room was 416 -- was on the fourth floor, the pool and hotel restaurant was on floor zero, and reception was negative one. All this after going up this huge ramp AND then a flight of stairs. 

So what's street level? Floor negative 20?

Our travel agent, Jan, left us some strawberries, wine and a note. How sweet. 

On Friday, we went to the isle of Capri, about a 20-minute boat ride from Sorrento. If this was America, there would be a bridge to the island. 

We made the mistake of trying to walk into the heart of the island. We got about 20 minutes up a steep road before going back down to the port to get a taxi. Saw some locals coming home from the grocery, though. 

By the time we got anywhere in Capri we were starving. I ordered the fish of the day. 

The scales were still in it, and the freaking head was attached. They might as well have made me catch the damn thing, too. Good taste, though. 

Lunch took forever, so we only had time to get a taxi back to the port and get in line for our late ferry. 

Italy scored the winning goal of a Euro 2016 match while we were on our way back to Sorrento. The boat went nuts. 

On Saturday, we took a tour of the Almafi Coast, which is so breathtaking words can't really describe it. Here are some pictures. 

Positano

Almafi

St. Andrew Basillica in Almafi (above:outside, below:inside)

Ravello 

The minibus picked us up at 9 a.m. and brought us back at 6:30 p.m. We were exhausted.

On our way back to the bus in Almafi we ran across this couple we had shared a taxi with in Capri the day before. We never actually spoke to them either time. 

Nicole photobombed. 

Our tour guide was a pretty girl who said "hmmm" and "ahhh" at the end of her sentences.

It's called the Almafi Coast even though Almafi is just one town because Almafi always took a leading role, hmmm. 

Limoncello is actually made not with lemon juice but with the lemon peels, ahhhhh. 

Saturday night we ate at a more upscale restaurant, L'Antica Trattoria. Each of our pasta dishes was 23 euro as compared to 10-12 for a dish we've paid at every other joint. 

I ordered lemon pasta with cream sauce and lumpfish. 

Lumpfish apparently means shrimp. Not bad but not worth double the price. 

On Sunday night I had my favorite restaurant meal of the trip at O'Parrucchiano. I got the lasagna with eggplant, small meatballs and sausage with a side of fried zucchini. Nicole got spaghetti and meat-a-ball. 

Like Sweet Caroline, it was so good, so good, so good. 

Here was the entrance. Very cool. 

We did a lot of browsing in the stores in our four days in Sorrento. We bought an Italia jacket, some olive oil, a giant lemon, some limoncello, a onesie for my godchild, a handbag for Nicole, an Italian outfit for me -- pants, long sleeve shirt and belt -- and a Sorrento ornament. 

Our best purchase was this plate from Positano, the most beautiful part of the Almafi Coast. 

And that was our four days in Sorrento. By the way, I'm still saying it the drawn out way, just spelling it quicker for you to read. 

Here's the center square of Sorrento as we head out for our final stop, Roma. 

ITALY: VENEZIA

Before we jump into my honeymoon, a few words on not posting for nine months. I tried to write about my mom's death several times but couldn't stop crying -- it was brutal -- and my solution was not to write about anything indefinitely. 

My trip to Italy, however, has relit my writing mojo -- it is worth noting that I have had four published NOLA articles in this timeframe. So here we go with our trip to Italia. A wedding festivities post is sure to come at some point after the honeymoon adventures. 

Wow. That's what I keep mumbling to myself every time I look around in Italy. It's so freaking beautiful, you could just look around forever. And then some more after that. The buildings, the mountains, the water, the beaches, the towns. So bellissimo (was auto corrected to bellies sumo). 

With that said, three complaints before we get into specifics -- and pictures! -- of Venezia. 

The smoking here is ridiculous. It's like every child in this country at some point gets a soccer ball and a pack of cigs. The worst is at outside restaurants when the person next to you nonchalantly lights up. 

No one told me they don't got pepperonis here. I miss them so much. A warning would have been nice. On the second day I saw a sign that said Peroni, and I was like, 'Yes, this place has it.' But it turns out, that's a brand of beer. Sad. 

They don't cut the pizza. You cut it yourself with a knife. That's a minor complaint, but a regular knife ain't the best way to slice and dice a pie, ya feel me?

Here's the forms of transportation we've taken in six days in Venice and Sorrento: water taxi, water bus, gondola, cruise ship, mini cruise ship, tour boat, plane, train, car, taxi, minivan, city bus, minibus and golf cart. 

Venezia pictures

This is the back view of our water taxi going from the Marco (and I add a pause here because of the swimming game) Polo airport to our hotel in Venice. Amazing, right?

Also, the taxi looked just like the boat Indiana Jones got carved up by the big ship propeller in the Last Crusade chase scene. "My soul is prepared. How's yours?"

Straight ahead is our Venice hotel right on the Grand Canal. Service was excellent. Guy gave us a map and circled all the places we could go and where to get on the water bus. 

This is the inside of St. Mark's Basillica in the main square of Venice. You'll notice as we go through that even the ugliest church in Italy is prettier than Jennifer Aniston. 

Not terribly far from our hotel is a casino. Holy snikies, I can gamble on my honeymoon. It was founded in 1638 and is the world's oldest gaming house, so it was worth taking a look-see just for that. 

Nicole agreed. Oh yeah, Nicole, my wife, is on this trip too, and I should reiterate here that we're having the time of our lives here in home country. Ah, love. 

The website said it has a poker room, and I was intrigued. What we found there, however, was more like just a room. 

We showed our passports, and I had to rent a jacket to go into the gaming room. That part sounds fancy, and it seemed like this could be the start of quite an evening. 

I then walked into the slot machine room with Nicole. The website said it has 600 slot machines. It was more like 60. It looked like one of those side of the road casinos next to a Subway. 

I went to play poker upstairs. Uh, no. There were four -- count em, four -- table games going. Like total. That's it. Two roulette. One Caribbean poker. One blackjack. There were maybe 20 people gambling in there. 

Oldest gaming house, more like lamest gaming house. 

Roulette said 2.50 minimum, so I figured I could play a while as that's not a lot. I put 2.50 on red, but the dealer said minimum for that is 20. I think. 

It seems that whenever I talk to someone here with English as their second language, something is lost in translation. I am left dazed and confused. Alright, alright, alright. 

Anyway, it landed on black. 20 euro gone. I then played blackjack for about 20 minutes and ended up leaving the Venice casino five euro ahead. 

So yeah, I'm a winning gambler in Europe. Nicole lost 12 euro in her half hour on slots. What a loser. 

On Wednesday we took a day trip to Padua. We had a private tour guide, and she was magnifico. Here she is discussing the history of Padua with Nicole. Or are they discussing hair products? Hard to tell. 

The guide -- sorry to say we forgot her name -- kept saying "and this is why" whenever explaining the history to us. 

Padua, a rich town filled with designer stores, has a university dating back to 1222. It kind of started modern medicine by examining corpses. 

The Scrovegni Chapel was another stellar religious house. It was built by a man who had guilt over the sins of his father. He didn't want to go to hell himself, and "this is why" he built the chapel. 

We watched a video in Italian on the origins of the chapel with English subtitles. The guide apologized. 

The art inside is by Giotti from 1302-1305. He didn't know what depth perception was, but he was ahead of his time in everything else. 

The main piece is of the final judgment. Giotti painted Scrovegni at the bottom right above the door begging to be let into heaven. 

Then it was on to St. Anthony Basillica, my favorite of all the churches we saw in the first half of our trip. It had many chapels all around the church set up for different countries. 

It houses Anthony's tongue, chin and vocal chords -- all discovered to be still preserved 32 years after his death. "And this is why" religion and science are not the same. 

We touched his tomb with his body inside. And why we were waiting in line, it hit me: My confirmation name is St. Anthony of Padua. Good thing I put this excursion into our vacation package. 

Pictures aren't allowed inside, but here be the outside. 

When we got back to Venice, we went back to the center of the city for our gondola tour. It was magical. 

Still can't get over buildings being in the water. 

This was our gandolier. I held my camera up and took a no-look picture. Not bad. 

Can't say enough how much I enjoyed this. I never wanted it to end. I looked long into Nicole's eyes, told her how much I loved her, and then we smooched. And smooched. And smooched some more. I hope you say smooch at some point in the day after reading this. Fun word. 

This is my new Facebook profile picture. I never want to forgot that night. The water is so calm, and it's so leisurely. 

Our only noteworthy meal in Venice came Wednesday night at Vino Vino. I had the fish of the day -- in the family of sea bass, according to the waiter. 

One of the best fishes I've ever had. And I ate all the veggies but the carrots. Nicole's spaghetti with meat sauce wasn't too shabby either. 

That's our two days in Venice. The night there was so peaceful, I just wanted to sit outside and gaze around for eternity. 

Thanks for a wonderful time, Venice.  And now I have a story for my next dinner visit to Venezia's. 

WAITING BY THE PHONE

THE WORST YEAR

The past month or so has been a mix of highs (anniversary dinner, engagement party) and lows (Nicole's car crash, my best friend at work being let go), but the thing that's been on my mind the most is my mother. 

Tomorrow marks one year since I got the call. The call that signaled the official beginning of mom's deterioration. The call that said from now on any call could be the death call. 

I only remember that it was Sept. 12 because of prep football. Every year when prep football starts, we say 12 weeks of prep to go and at the end of each Friday night we say how many prep Fridays left. 

Because for the longest time in my work career, prep Fridays were by far the hardest nights of the year. Not so much now -- a story for a different day -- but I still count them off. 

The call came on the second week of prep Fridays last year. It was 10:30 p.m., just before the rush of prep actually happens and right after the time I go to the vending machine to get a bag of cookies and a coke -- my prep adrenaline. (Back in the day, this time would also be reserved for me and Lopes to do our prep chant: an old wrestling catchphrase parodied into being about prep football. Are you ready? ...)

I was thinking the other day: What was the actual date of the call? I only remember it as the second prep Friday, but since today is the second prep Friday of 2015 I realized that tomorrow the 12th is the one-year anniversary of the call. 

Anyway, mom called at 10:30 p.m., and I knew that wasn't a good sign. She was diagnosed with inoperable cancer in April, but her body was still operating normally through the summer. She didn't have a doctor and wasn't on any medication. 

The call ended all of that. Mom thought that night was the end. She couldn't stop throwing up. She begged me to come home immediately. 

I updated Katie on everything I had left to do, and she took over my duties. I raced home trying not to cry and/or drive my car off the Earhart. 

We got her under control, but that night began a steep decline where every step of deterioration down seemed like the end. Except it's not. 

There was the time I found her naked on the hallway floor gasping for air. There was the week of "vacation" at the hospital where she lost her mental capacity and said the most random, fucked-up shit imaginable (babies in the freezer, the cop getting murdered in her living room, etc.)

The two weeks where all she did was throw up. The nine-day stretch when she didn't eat anything -- and I don't mean she nibbled and barely ate, she literally ate nothing for NINE days. 

The growing tumors on her neck and back. The constant pain in her arms is the latest thing. And don't get me started on her cough. 

But she's still here, and as I try to cherish every waking moment I have with her, it just keeps getting harder. And not just because the process is taking longer than a college football game -- I mean, seriously those games are now almost unwatchable they take so long. 

It's that she's so miserable there's not much to enjoy. You can be having a good convo, she's laughing, and then bam! a shot of pain or throw up comes, and the good mood is gone. And the good part happens not often enough. 

You just hope it's over soon. She begs for it every day. But over means death. 

And that's a hard thing to hope for. 

THE TINA CURSING CORNER

My mom has never lost her cursing ways.  She recently played some music with the volume turnt up. 

"People in the neighborhood probably thought I was fucking crazy. I had it cranked up so loud. But what do I give a shit for?"

Mom says dad's hearing is so bad you can call him names to his face and he won't hear you. "Like you little shithead. You little asshole."

HAPPY PICTURES

Here's a photo essay from the good times in the past month. 

My Loyola monthly dinner group had our nine-year anniversary dinner on August 4th. It also marked our 100th dinner. Wow! A lot to celebrate. 

We went to Dick and Jenny's, and I had the black drum. Very good.

The nine-year anniversary gift is tin. So I ordered these little tin men online, and Nicole made them into key chains for the group. Rachel made everyone tin foil animals, and I got a dolphin that sits on my dashboard. 

I had a contest to see who could get closest to guessing how many of the 100 dinners they've attended. Kelli guessed 81, one off from her 82. She won a small bottle of wine. 

Nicole's aunts threw us an engagement party on August 8. Ninety-eight people attended, and I think everyone had a good time. So much food. So much dessert. This was our cake, the top half of which was chocolate. I ate the chocolate. 

Couldn't ask for a better group of groosmen. Well, unless, one of them hit it rich, and gave me a mil or so. Get to it, guys. 

The theme of the party was to wear your favorite jersey or favorite team colors. 

I ordered a jersey for the party. Alas, it didn't arrive. But it was waiting on my porch when I returned home from the party. 

Tyler is still my favorite. 

Nicole and I went to the beach for two days and stayed with Paul, pictured with me in the water. Nicole fell asleep in her chair after taking this pic. Hehe. 

Nicole turned 30 on Sept. 6. I told her I was trading her in for a newer model, but I would never. Well, probably not. 

After dinner at Amici, we went to The Bulldog, where I took this terrible photo.