I'm leaving for Italy with PK today, and we'll be running around the country for two weeks. Primarily, we'll be staying in Tuscany in a villa my mother-in-law rented for us with a real live Italian chef that I'm dying to meet and praying will give me a few dozen recipes to bring home... hopefully in English, since my Italian is limited to things like "I'm lost" "Please translate this for me" "My name is MamaKitty, I am 28 years old, I am from the United States, where is the bathroom, and how is that restaurant?" I can say a few more things than that, but not bad for only having 2 months and an audio thing to learn, huh? :)
We'll be making our way to Rome, Venice, and Florence as well to sample the local flavors and, of course, so that I can go shopping. SO EXCITED!!
I know what you're thinking. I'm thinking it too.
"But MamaKitty. You're doing so well! Eating all those carbs is going to KILL your progress!" Well, you're probably right. So, what's my plan? I'm going to eat, of course. But I'm going to eat smart portions... or as smart as I can. And we're going to be doing a LOT of walking while we're there because we're not going to be renting a car and the hotels we're going to be staying in are so close to the attractions that we want to see (namely: the Colosseum) that we're jut going to walk everywhere.
Weight as of this morning: 186.6 LBS. Woot!
Health update - You might have seen on Twitter yesterday that I had a bit of an issue and had to go to the Emergency Room. Yes, it's true. I did. I was wrangling the animals to put in their travel cages and the asshole bird attacked me. She bit into the inside of my thumb several times and caused some nerve damage. I don't know how significant that damage is yet - I have to see a hand surgeon when I get back from my trip. That should be super. I can't feel the tip of my thumb, but from about the middle, down is throbbing ALL THE TIME, and in so much pain I sort of want to puke constantly. PK said we're gonna sell the bird when we get back. If we don't, I'm sticking her in the oven and setting it on broil.
The picture below is obviously not my hand. That'd be gross (no really, it would be - when I say it's shredded, I'm not kidding). The arrow is pointing to where she grabbed me and wouldn't let go.