Men..you've gotta love 'em, can't live without them...
I mean what's not to love? Where else could you find someone who knows everything about as mundane a subject as tires? This seems very trivial until you are stuck somewhere with a flat, or even worse, driving around on it. I confess, this was not one of my finer moments...
I know, as modern women, we should all be familiar with changing a tire, but who, aside from perhaps Serena Williams, can pop the lugs off after Discount Tire has tightened them with a pneumatic drill?
Where else could you find someone who can decipher those red dashboard warning lights on a Toyota? Personally, I couldn't imagine what system might be awry when a small red dog house started glowing on my panel. But, of course, Paolo instantly knew. Perhaps the Japanese might like to revisit their imagery...?
Who else can repair hairdryers, espresso makers, mosquito trappers and courtyard fountains?
I won't begin to tackle the whole garage door opener genre.
Who else can look a pair of my nemeses, barn swallows, in the eye and say, "This is War!" If the wire spikes and poison don't work, we'll call on Max and Knox to come blast them.
Who else would walk a half mile stretch of our main drag, Williams Drive, in search of my hubcap, lost when I whacked the curb while narrowly avoiding a major collision. (Trust me, there were no happy faces on this little excursion despite my complete innocence.)
Who else would spend days finding the most advantageous routes to ferry Rigmor and me back and forth over the Atlantic in the fewest hours...and pay for a premium class ticket for his sweetheart?
Well, it's the loved one, my fellow, my guy. So, Paolo, my loved one, caro mio thank you for everything and I will be thinking of you and certainly missing you every day.
So Rigmor and I are off but we send.....
Besos...Baci dall'Italia
Ciao!
I mean what's not to love? Where else could you find someone who knows everything about as mundane a subject as tires? This seems very trivial until you are stuck somewhere with a flat, or even worse, driving around on it. I confess, this was not one of my finer moments...
I know, as modern women, we should all be familiar with changing a tire, but who, aside from perhaps Serena Williams, can pop the lugs off after Discount Tire has tightened them with a pneumatic drill?
Where else could you find someone who can decipher those red dashboard warning lights on a Toyota? Personally, I couldn't imagine what system might be awry when a small red dog house started glowing on my panel. But, of course, Paolo instantly knew. Perhaps the Japanese might like to revisit their imagery...?
Who else can repair hairdryers, espresso makers, mosquito trappers and courtyard fountains?
I won't begin to tackle the whole garage door opener genre.
Who else can look a pair of my nemeses, barn swallows, in the eye and say, "This is War!" If the wire spikes and poison don't work, we'll call on Max and Knox to come blast them.
Who else would walk a half mile stretch of our main drag, Williams Drive, in search of my hubcap, lost when I whacked the curb while narrowly avoiding a major collision. (Trust me, there were no happy faces on this little excursion despite my complete innocence.)
Who else would spend days finding the most advantageous routes to ferry Rigmor and me back and forth over the Atlantic in the fewest hours...and pay for a premium class ticket for his sweetheart?
Well, it's the loved one, my fellow, my guy. So, Paolo, my loved one, caro mio thank you for everything and I will be thinking of you and certainly missing you every day.
So Rigmor and I are off but we send.....
Besos...Baci dall'Italia
Ciao!
That Pops is ALRIGHT!
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