almost. up. to. date.

Today I slept in.  Till the MOST glorious 10:30 am.


I have not slept in since roughly 3 weeks ago.  I barely knew how to function with that much sleep inside of me.  (As I type in a hotel lobby at 1 am.  Hypocrite, here you sit).


I took my merry time getting ready inside of my ridiculously decked-in-red room.  Because.  I.  Could.


And then I went and stopped by the conference to meet my boss.  We scooped up an astronaut for lunch.  I didn't say much during the lunch, except to the waiter (yay Italian skills that won points with the astronaut for getting our lunch super speedily).  More observation mode.  I don't talk that talk.  I felt kind of small and insignificant.  But maybe it was just that plethora of sleep.

So after lunch, my boss, myself, and a very nice big whig went to San Marco's to actually see the inside.


I loved the inside.

 I love these kinds of floors.

 I love the mosiacs on the ceiling (oooo, shiney).

 I love the saints!

 I love dark passageways!  I can do anything good!  Wait . . . .

 But seriously - take a LOOK at that window.  I could have looked at it all day.

 Umm, so I kind of ignored the "no foto" thing.  So this is a shot looking into the left transcept from the other side.

 And here is one of the side chapels (again, look at that glorious floor).

 So here's the dome without a steeple, open it up, and 

 yeah, no people, just a bejeweled gold screen that was completed in the 1300's (ummm, people who went to Venice with me 6 years ago, we REALLY should have paid the 2 euro to see this.  It would have been worth not eating a gelato).

 And here is Saint Mark.

 And here is a baldachino carving.  I love cartoon-like mediaeval art.  The quirky, personal, bulky simplicity of it appeals to me like none other.  I think that's the holy family below.  With Jesus taking a bath and slipping out of St. Joseph's hands while Mother Mary is distressed?  Hard to say.

 Umm, I have no idea what is going on in the picture below, and I don't think I actually looked it at before I took it.  That is my story and I am sticking to it.

 Yep, it's a pretty church.  I'd forgotten how much I love Byzantine art.  Must be Turkish somewhere in my mediterranean mutt heritage.

 Just look at how glorious and transcendent that is.

 So then we went up to the Loggio and to see the horses, and holy moly, was it worth the 4 euros.  


Because we got to look down.

 and across (magnificent pieces.  I want one)

 and then out.  Why hello, piazza.  My, you look gray and big.

 The real ones are so much shinier and better.

 So, do you think there's any chance I could get a table-sized edition of that incredible clock?

 The figures hanging out in the stonework entertained me to no end.  Each one is so unique and teeming with personality.

 Again, WHAT is with dropping the children?  WHAT is that child doing?  Do they not realize they're 30 feet up?  And that it's cold outside?

 Fun little birdie that randomly appears in the midst of all the spikey things jutting out.

Another memory shot - there is a picture of me from 6 years ago with my face covered in gold and blue Carnivale paint next to this lion.


Having serious, serious bang problems with no-workable flat iron here.  :P  Dang different wattage!

 Look!  There's a poster for the Hubble talk on a regular old store!  That's us!

 Caught our astronaut ducking into the church to prep for the talk.

 The talker and the translator.  And priceless artwork behind in San Vidal's.

This part of the talk was awesome.  Dr. Grunsfeld explained that while astronauts had not officially visited Venice before his talk, they had certainly seen it.  From the International Space Station.  Umm, yeah.  How does that Brian Regan skit go?  "Yep, so when I was taking a walk the other day - AHEM - on - - the - - moon - - - "

 Proof that I do hang out with astronauts occasionally.  

Contrary to this picture, I have not gained 40 pounds on this trip.  I just wanted to state that for the record.  :P


The evening ended with the most wonderful, incredible dinner with a Nobel laureate in physics and his lovely, lovely wife.  By far one of the golden evenings of my existence.  They were real, warm, and delightfully human.  The two men chatted science while the wife and I compared notes on favorite childhood books, what it's like to grow up feeling like the odd one out, why self-knowledge and expression are essential to the human soul, and why the Emily series were superior to Anne of Green Gables.  And why I need to re-read the Shoe Books.  And what it's like to cook haphazardly without a cookbook, and why cooking is such an intensely human and intimate thing.  What makes relationships and marriages work.  I could go on and on.  She was my pre-birthday present from God.  It was most intensely wonderful evening.  And the meal was a masterpiece in itself.  Prosecco is a gift of the gods.


She made me remember what makes me passionate.  One year it took to forget and then remember it.


But like all good revelations in life, it begs the question.


Where do I go from here?


Quo vadis, Domine?


Hmmmmm.


Cerco e penso.  E prego.