I love it when a plan comes together

So the Red Sox are probably going to lose this series, although hope, foolishly, springs eternal.

And the weather here has turned a bit colder. If it got a lot colder, I'd have to buy a scarf, and I probably will have to ere long. It was a pricelessly perfect day, but definitely late autumn in feel.

But a good day nonetheless. First, I finished the translation of one of my texts, have developed some solid theories about it, located the professor who published the edition and commentary of the source, and we're trading emails. I sent him one asking to send him more, he said sure, so I sent him a longer one and we'll see how he reacts. I write in English, he writes in Italian, and everyone's happy. Hopefully. If nothing else, he can probably help me see the manuscript itself in late December before I come home (I'll take a day, and leave Venice a day early to see it, I think, rather than make another trip to Milan).

The text itself is quite funny. I've read it before, but have never done a line by line translation (it's about three hundred lines, it took me a couple of days because I kept stopping to read various side texts here and there). But as I was working yesterday and today I would be doing a slow-motion hard laughter in sections. I'd read a line, laugh. Read the next line a few minutes later, laugh again. It must have been a little odd for the people around me, but the text was funny. There's this farcical moment in the middle when the relic stealers have gotten into the crypt and get a case of cold feet, and, well, you'll just have to trust me, hilarity ensues (from a modern sense. I'm not sure if it was funny to a medieval person).

So that was productive, and I headed home and dropped off my bag. But it was coldish, and I didn't feel like making dinner right away, but I wanted some hot food, so popped over to the pizzaria to order myself a lovely proscuitto, artichoke heart, and mushroom pizza (6 euro. Cheapest and best meal in town). On the way back, the owner of the restaurant across the street was outside in the street, wearing a snappy shirt and clean black apron, as opposed to a more sloppy demeanor.

Italy is a snappy country, and the men tend to be groomed. The same was true in Turkey, and the only sloppy Turk I ever met was the fantastically successful hotel, antique, carpet factory, village owning maverick of a Turk in Istanbul. I decided that the sloppy people were the successful ones, at least in some cases. So I figure that Elio, one of the two owners of the Ristorante Bruno, must be successful and knows what he's doing. And I've been cultivating him. I took my parents there. I took Bruce and Karen there for lunch. We chat and greet each other when passing (which happens a few times a day).

Today, he commented on the picture, and I naturally told him I would prefer to eat at his restaurant. He laughed and told me it was full tonight, with two big American parties coming. I congratulated him, and told him I couldn't afford it anyway, that I bring my friends when they arrive, but as a student it was too expensive. He grinned, expansively, and told me I could eat there any time for 10 euros and have whatever I want!

So I will take him up on this offer, judiciously and carefully, so as not to overstay my welcome, but it made me feel all happy.

Maybe he needs a website built or something ...