I’ve been thinking about this a lot lately (anything to keep from writing), and it dawned on me, I really only have one item on my bucket list. Of course, there are the usual things like seeing my son graduate college, get married all that jazz. Write a best-seller, but to me those aren’t really bucket list type things because for the most part they’re not in my hands. No, the only true bucket list thing I can come up with is one that I’ve had for more than twenty years now: Eat My Way Across Italy. No, not in the way that self-absorbed chick did in that execrable book that won’t be named. No, I’m not going to Italy to seek spirituality and hefty book advances. I want to EAT.
First, I’ll go to Sicily. Yes, I want to spend an entire month there eating nothing but calimari. After they throw me out for consuming all their squid, it’s on to Rome. Yes Roma, where pizza was born. Real pizza–oven baked and oozing with mozzarella, tomato and basil. And that’s ALL, none of the garbage dumps we call pizza here. After I eat pizza until I explode. I want to spend an eternity in Tuscany where I eat nothing but cheese and drink oceans of really good wine. Then I’ll start all over again. That’s all folks. My complete bucket list: Italy.