Posted by on Mar 14, 2013 | 0 comments

Waiting for white smoke…

This wind could straighten your hair! I went outside for my usual morning surveillance of my garden, but boy, I was pushing on the kitchen door with all four paws (not an easy feat, make that ‘feet’, haha) and I’m not going out there until spring. Well, maybe a little before that.
When we’re in Rome, I have no garden and so am warm all day long because the sun pours in (south-facing apartment—the only kind) and I just sort of loll around and now I’ll think about our new Pope, who took the name Francesco, a great name in my book because we all know who he was and that he loved kitties. I think this pope will be a good one, not only because he is Argentine and probably knows how to tango and barbeque pretty well, but because he turned the job down a few years ago because he felt he wasn’t ready to lead millions into charitable and good-hearted lives and so I guess he’s been practicing these last few years just in case the cardinals tried again. And boy, do those cardinals need cleaning up and leadership.
I won’t get into the mess the Catholic church is in but somebody was needed to straighten out a long list of mishaps, so I hope Francesco is it. Wonder if he has been to Sicily lately…? And there are questions about Argentina during its dictatorship. No doubt the knots will come to the comb, as they say in Italy. Like those knots in my string I tear the throat out of..(oh, these prepositions—I’ve got to shape up; make that “I have to shape up.”)
So when I am in Rome, I marvel at the beauty around every corner, but I’m sad about the lack of kitties, because Rome used to be full of all kinds of kitties, every color in the kitty spectrum, some not so healthy, I’m sad to say, because they were strays and thrown out into the street by really horrible people who should be made to watch Garfield the rest of their lives, but now there is a lovely, open cat-wanderers-paradise right in the center of Rome called Largo Argentina (maybe the pope will visit the kitties there!) and kitties can bask on the ruins of ancient Rome and be ogled by millions of tourists and hear really deep things like, “Oh, look, Charlie, cats!” Well, of course there are CATS—it’s a cat haven although there was talk that the city wants to get rid of them. My underground contacts in Rome are working on upsetting that apple cart, thank you very much! More on Rome as I savor the memories of spaghetti alle vongole and mozzarella and the beauty of Bellini’s marbles. I’ll be back.