Jet lag is is a real kick in the pants. The way I understood it, you're supposed to come home, programmed to another time zone, and sleep for like, a zillion hours. Me, I can't sleep at all. And worse yet, I'm really freaking perky. My backpack is emptied, laundry done (what clothes I didn't throw away), ironed and put away.

But I'm also really scattered. It took me a good thirty minutes just to type those first few sentences. I mean, how can I sit still when there are receipts to organize and attention-whoring kittens to play with. Jogs to take.

Here's a tangent for you: I ate my way through Italy and lost five pounds. Doesn't something about that sound wrong? I'm not going to argue with the facts, but I am going to change a few things about the way I run my kitchen. No more artificial sweeteners, loads more olive oil. I've never been so stomachly satisfied as I was in Italy and yet, didn't meet with AES. You know, Ass Expanding Syndrome. End tangent.

I'm off to burn off some more weird, jet lag energy, and then to Mom's for turkey dinner. You know, speaking of satisfying.

Happy Thanksgiving, my friends.

Between the food and the people, it's hard to say what I've loved best about my last few days in Rome. It certainly isn't the monsoon we're having right now, or the nasty cold I picked up somewhere along the way - that is one thing I'm sure of.

But the food! The food isn't exactly your typical Roman fare. In fact, I've only eaten out twice since I got here on Monday. I've devoured the rest of my meals right here in the hostel at the Beehive Cafe. Vegetarian and mostly organic, the yummy meals are made right in front of your very eyes, from vegetables grown in the on-site garden, by Francesca and Gianluca.

Pumpkin/Gorgonzola quiche. Yogurt with granola and fresh fruit. Chickpea, lentil and broccoli soup. Tagliatelle with arugula, sun dried tomatoes and Parmesan. Multi-grain oatmeal with fresh pears and honey. Minestrone with crusty bread. Nutella crepes with ice cream. Wine. And tea. Lots and lots of tea with honey.

You get a pretty good idea of what's for dinner while you're eating breakfast. Francesca starts tossing vegetables into a big pot, and then it's only a matter of waiting. Dinner every night is a parade of exquisitely good food and a riot-a-minute conversation. Throw three Americans, a Canadian or two, a couple of Aussies, a few Brits, and a Greek gal into the same room with overflowing plates of pasta and free-flowing wine and the result is... well, it's the receptionist coming down the stairs to remind us that quiet hours have begun. Twice.

And then there's Carlo, the young Italian guy in the dorm. In common, Carlo and I have a bunk-bed and a cold, and not a whole lot more. But that seems to be enough to keep the conversation flowing. He is, I think, the most earnest person I've ever met and he goes to the greatest lengths to hurdle that language barrier.

This morning, I teased him about his snoring.

"Oh, no! Really? I snork?"

I choked on a giggle. Snork.

"Only a little," I told him. "I'm just teasing you."

"Tonight, if I snork, you..." he made a gesture, indicating that I should punch his bed from below.

"I would never!"

"Only for you, I tell you to do this."

And then this morning, when I saw him at breakfast, he asked if he had snorked again the night before.

"No, no. I slept like a baby," I lied.

There was no way I was going to tell him the truth. Just like I'd never, ever tell him the word isn't snork.

"I was just wondering if it would be impolite to lick the plate," I said, when he came to check on us.

"I won't tell if you won't tell," he said, smiling.

We were just spooning the last bits of desert into our mouths, seriously considering the plate-likcking thing, when he made a sweeping gesture with his hands.

"I could put a curtain up right here, so no one else can see."

Apple crumble. Toffee sauce. Rich vanilla ice cream. It was exquisite. And after a disappointing day, it was miraculous, too. I learned years ago, while traveling with Jen, that if you want to save a bad day, you eat it out. Spend too much money on ambiance, wine, and food that will go straight to your backside, and can undo whatever ills the day has done.

And Aberdeen was ill. Whatever degree charm Edinburgh possessed, Aberdeen had it crowded chaos. We walked the city with a "This is it?" cloud hanging over us, sorry that we'd made the detour. Turns out, we're Aberdeenshire people. Country not city. Can't win them all, I thought. And then, I turned to Angie,

"I think my credit card should buy us dinner and rescue what's left of today."

She didn't argue. We arrived at the restaurant expecting upscale Italian, only to find it had been replaced by an uppish scale not Italian place. Sea bass with carrot puree, chicken stuffed with broccoli mousse, cream of broccoli soup, warm bread and olive oil and apple crumble - steaming hot and heavenly.

I only wish there were more days that needed such saving.

(More travel adventures at On the Road.)

Spicy crab crusted sea bass.

If nothing else good happens to me ever over the whole rest of my life, it's gonna be okay. Because I had the crab crusted sea bass. Seriously, I still have a bit of a food hangover from the experience.

The girls and I went to Hibiscus for dinner last night to drink hibiscus martinis with orchids floating in them, and then dialed it way down to meet the fellas across the street for pints of cider and sarcasm. It was perfect. And now that I'm 29, and there seems to be no way to stall this turning thirty business, I've started to make a list of things to accomplish before then. You know, before I'm a really real grown up.

1. Learn to make a really kick ass martini. I don't even own a shaker, so I've got a ways to go.
2. Learn to say "No." and stick to it. I'm not a pushover, but I don't always... not get pushed over. Keen difference, you see.
3. Adios the credit card debt. So, you know, in the between time, gifts of cash will not be turned away.
4. Eat more crab crusted sea bass.

Whew. Goal-making really wear me out. Being an almost grown up is tough. Thanks for all the birthday wishes - it really was a lovely day.

Dallas Meet-up
Somewhere in those 200 comments below, it was suggested that we have a Dallas meet & greet. I'm very down with that. How's next Wednesday? Great, it's settled then.

Wednesday, July 25
8:30 PM
Ginger Man (back patio)
2718 Boll St
Dallas, TX