Fond (Temporary) Farewell: Naomi

Greetings, Gentle Readers!

It has been a while since we’ve talked, and I apologize.  The winds of change have been a-blowing, and I have been a bit buffeted.  

The very best buffet-y thing that is occurring is that I am preparing for a vacation to see my sister.  She lives in Rome, lucky sod, and I have been promising to visit for a while now.  So I shall spend some time wandering through The Eternal City.  I love Italy, but I am not a huge lover of Rome itself.  Sister Dear tells me that she will take this opportunity to change my mind, and I will return to the States pining for Rome.  I’m willing to be convinced. She's doing her best to get her tourguide friends to convince me, too.  I'm booked for an Italian wedding, a 5-hour long tour of the Vatican gardens & Museum, a twilight architectural tour of Rome, and a day trip to Tuscany for Brunello tastings.  (Sleep is for wimps.)

We’re also planning a weeklong trek to Morocco.  ‘Why Morocco?’ asks my mother.  ‘Why the hell not?’ we answer in chorus.  We have booked a three-day trek from Fes to Marrakech (or from Fez to Marrakesh, depending on which travel book I read: standardized spelling helps me plan, O gods!) which includes wanders around the Atlas Mountains and the Sahara Desert.  We have booked a traditional Moroccan cooking class, and we will soak in a hammam, and we will get lost in the souqs.

And we’re gonna ride camels!  Apparently camels are mean and stinky and spitty, but the camels of my imagination will love me and follow me around like puppies.  So I have given them all traditional Moroccan names: mine shall be George, in homage to the cartoons of my youth.  Sister Dear is going to name hers Seabiscuit.  Apparently hers will be quite speedy, or she’s talking the “ship of the desert” thing rather seriously.  Our guide will of course be riding a camel named Alice, for Alice the camel has three humps (boom boom boom)  and such a multi-humped camel can only be ridden by a master of the desert.  Dear Readers, I am a bit punch-drunk on vacation-planning.  Can’t tell, can you?

But of course, being me, I have all my clothes packed.  Do you know what I can’t seem to decide upon, Gentle Readers?  Yep.  Can’t decide which books to pack.  I have a crippling fear of running out of reading material.  Plus, if it’s a really good book, I’ll want to bring it home.  So I’m choosing books that I think I’ll want to part with once I’ve read them.  But of course, they’re not the ones I’m dying to read right now…  I’ve re-packed my vacation book-stash at least five times, and I leave tomorrow.  Please send me patience.  

I think I'm taking Walter Moers' Alchemist's Apprentice,  Brandon Sanderson's Way of Kings (it's the size of a George R.R. Martin, and makes me feel secure), The Artist, the Philosopher & the Warrior (about da Vinci, Cesare Borgia, and Machiavelli), and Crowley's Little, Big. But that will all change tomorrow, when I pack my carry-on.  

Wish me luck, and I'll post pictures when I can!