|Still can't believe I was here.|
At last! The first weekend of June. Doesn't it feel glorious? Just last week I was in an Italian taxi cab, careening around the Colosseum at reckless speeds (pictures of my epic gelato affair to come). Now I'm in Saint Paul, with a garden to tend and a summer to get kick-started.
Grand Avenue shuts down on Sunday, becoming the longest stream of corndog-eating amblers you've ever seen. Our house on a hill is the perfect spot to watch the crowds go by. On the docket: boxes upon boxes of Old Dutch potato chips, hot dogs on the grill and an ice cold refrigerator full of our nation's finest, PBR.
It feels so good to be home.