It’s so beautiful outside it’s almost impossible to do anything else but stare out on the bay in a peaceful sort of daze. How can one work? Perhaps this is why most island countries are underdeveloped — buildings, education, indoor plumbing — fuck no, let’s grab cocktails and head to the beach.

I’m reading Under the Tuscan Sun; the novel is much different from the movie and filled with lovely food descriptions like:

Our favorite is spaghetti with an easy sauce made from diced pancetta, unsmoked bacon, quickly browned then stirred into cream and chopped arugula…we grate parmigiano on top and eat huge mounds.

That makes my mouth water — I can hardly wait to try it. Under the Tuscan Sun is filled with such idealistic bites, and dreamy realities. A life where one is always tan, wearing white, drinking prosecco and eating olives. My life really isn’t too far from that bliss, I’m very fortunate, however, my chapters usually end with a hangover and a bizarre anecdote, like how this morning my boyfriend asked me to dress up as one of the winged monkeys from the Wizard of Oz. We recently saw Wicked. It’s no excuse.