Hello there, Friend!
In a couple of weeks, my family has an incredible opportunity to explore the country of Greece together! Kevin has a meeting on the island of Crete, and the whole kit and caboodle of the Thomas gang is piling on and going with him, right down to our almost three-month-old newest grandson. I know it will be a fantastic time. But I, being the Whiner 49er, have already started my litany of “what ifs.”
“What if it’s really, really hot there?” “What if someone gets sick?” “What if I don’t like the coffee pot in the place we’re renting?” “What if I never get over the jet lag?” Somebody call me a waaaambulance!
Oh, believe me, I know how annoying it must be to hear someone whine about “having to go” to Greece. I’ve told myself to “shut it” a few times now. I’m just so used to my creature comforts here: My coffee pot. My A/C set at the temperature I like. My, my, my. Oh my!
Our family made a similar trip a couple of years ago. That time we went to Italy. We flew into Venice, where we stayed for a few days. Then we drove to a small city called Vittorio-Veneto and ended our stay in Verona. (We only stay in Italian cities starting with the letter “V.” We’re kind of picky that way.) That trip was valuable, valiant, and virtually vibrant!
In Venice, we were in two townhome-type places that opened up in the middle so that we could be one big happy family. These townhomes had front doors that led out onto a small street, and the back doors led out to a rather large canal. There were two small decks but no railing whatsoever. It would not pass any child safety requirement here!
We had access to two washing machines but no dryers, just a wooden rack to hang wet clothes. (We also had the same setup in Verona; washing machines were available, but there were no dryers. When we got home from the trip, I learned that few people in Italy have dryers. Electricity is just too expensive for such a luxury.)
Why am I telling you all about laundry in Italy? I’m getting to my point, I swear!
When we stayed in Vittorio-Veneto, we stayed at a lovely small hotel called Hotel Calvi. It is run by a couple named Alfredo and Flora. The hotel has been in Alfredo’s family for four generations. We came to love Alfredo and Flora. They would do anything to make us comfortable. There are only 17 rooms, and we took up 4 of them. We had seven adults, three girls and an almost two-year-old boy. We were hard to miss. All of the other guests seemed so refined and quiet . . . . and then there was us. And yet, they treated us like we were their family. Kevin and my room had windows that opened (no screens!) to look out at a mountain! At the same time each day, we’d see a line of donkeys walking single file along a path, heading down the hillside. It was so beautiful!
During our stay there, Flora told us she’d happily take care of our laundry the next day. We had planned an outing with the whole hee-haw gang, and she told us to just leave our dirty laundry on our beds, and she’d take care of it all. (I told you I loved her.) And let me tell you, we could produce some laundry!
Across from the hotel was a small bar with a couple of tables on the sidewalk. In the late afternoons, it wasn’t unusual to see a small contingency of Thomases gathered at one of those tables, no doubt sipping Aperol spritzes. We were in the heart of Prosecco country, and when in Rome—er—Vittoria Veneto . . .
On the day our laundry was taken care of, we had been out exploring all day. When we got back to the hotel, we noticed our laundry had yet to be returned. No worries. Might as well go sit with a spritz, that’s what I always say!
Across the street we went and sat at “our” table. We tilted our heads to look over the hotel and the mountainside vista behind it. Look! Up in the sky! Is it a bird? Is it a plane? No! It was . . . .
My underwear.
There, atop the hotel, waving in the breeze like Six Flags Over Italy, were my underwear on a clothesline. Dear God! It was bad enough that someone else was washing my underwear. I didn’t even feel great about Flora seeing my undies, but the whole town? Puh-lease! It’s not like there was a sign hanging there reading “Patti Thomas’ underwear!” but still! Just knowing they were my unmentionables hanging there for anyone’s gaze made me cringe.
Now, I love a good clothesline. We can’t have one in our neighborhood, so it’s the dryer for us. And let’s face it, most of the year in South Florida, it’s too hot and humid for anything to get dry on a clothesline anyway. But I used to love to run through the sheets on the clothesline as a kid.
Oh, please, Lord, don’t let any young children run through my underwear on the hotel rooftop!
I regained my dignity when my underpants were taken down and hidden in a hotel room drawer. But I’m wondering what the situation will be in Greece. Are there dryers there? Or can I look forward to exposing my underwear to another foreign country? Time will tell.
This is a very roundabout way of saying how much I appreciate my regular old life right here in Wellington, Florida, USA. I can so easily take for granted the everyday blessings: My coffee pot. My dryer. My car. All just things, I know, but things that make my life pretty comfortable. I want to look around and see these things with fresh eyes and utter a “thanks” for what I have.
What are some ordinary things you’re thankful for?
I’ll still be around for one more letter next week before I take my underwear and go to Greece. So until next week!
Written with love – – – Patti XOXO
“Piglet noticed that even though he had a Very Small Heart,
it could hold a rather large amount of Gratitude.”
A.A. Milne, Winnie-the-Pooh