|Bottom left: The Flat Cannoli Incident|
So I'm sitting in my apartment, which has been freshly scrubbed of all traces of holiday (barring some crisped pine boughs and a few stray antlers), working my way through pictures of my first trip to europe (with my mom and hansie) and also working my way through The Hills.
Lo C. was always the classiest.
I saved all year to pay for that trip. We went through France, Switzerland, Italy, and Germany. Taking the overnight trains. One of my most vivid memories is waking up early. The sun, working its way up the horizon, and the train working its way to wherever we paid it to go.
Mom met us for the last week of the trip. She lost her luggage. She got sick for the first three days. We stayed in one of hansies friends apartment, carving meat off of a cured lamb leg and working our way through three pound bags of euro chocolate while she slept in the other room.
The trip culminated in a sleep deprived train ride to the airport with the only bright spot being a cannoli we bought at some cafe in Italy last minute.
As my mom took the cannoli out of her purse, she unwrapped it to discover that it had been completely flattened in transit.
We laughed for a solid thirty minutes.
I with we all lived nearer to each other.
Those two are my best friends.