Writing after one of the most delightful dinners I have had this year-- funghi porcini cooked in olive oil (no salt was to be had in the household), and then a lovely combination of fresh tomatoes, figs, prosciutto crudo and mozzarella di bufala, all eaten on a lovely chinese table in my mother's Milan apartment. We have escaped to the city, and lo, there is internet of the wireless variety!
Anya's visit is coming at a perfect time-- enough alone time before and after that my mother doesn't feel neglected, post her tumultous year working on her latest book (I will link to it at some point in the future, when it is ready for publication. And her old books. She is a good writer, if I do say so myself.) Having her here, however, is an absolute delight. She is a lovely girl, who I hero-worship on the sly, and I am very glad that I live in a country that can entice her to come visit.
Anyway, there is delicious cake and tea to be had, so I will stop hogging the computer in its lone outpost in the kitchen. We ane in the centre of town and can see the whole city from the window, and there is beautiful classical music on the stereo. What am I still doing on the computer?