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brinshannaraItaly for two weeks as of this Saturday. A week in Milan, then off to Venice for a couple days. To the beach for a couple more. Off to Florence for a couple more, then back to Milan for the last night before our flight.
With my parents. <insert bright grin here> Assuming my mother and I don't kill each other, it should be quite pleasant.
I bought my travel health insurance yesterday (online = lovely) and when prompted for an emergency contact name and number, I started typing in my dad's name and went "no, wait, he's coming with me... and so's Mom..."
That's right, ladies and gentlemen, my baby brother is my emergency contact. (Okay, he's 24, but still.) This still amuses me, and should anything tragic befall me in Italy, I will still chuckle at the thought that the Blue Cross will be calling my brother to inform him of the situation. No matter how much pain I'm in.
I have a stupid amount of things to do -- gotta go downtown and buy a new pair of jeans, buy a backpack, get all kinds of toiletries for two weeks, do laundry and empty out my fridge so that the things inside it do not form a revolution and attempt to take over the world while I'm away.
And yet, I am slug, hear me... well, whatever noise a slug makes.
In other news, today is the day that![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
drsnicket graduates from her residency program! Congratulations! (This, of course, does not mean she is finished working for her residency, I was informed yesterday. But anyways.)
Oh, I nearly forgot, if you want a postcard from somewhere in Italy, let me know -- send me a mail to my primary gmail address (which many of you know is the nicknameshiningmoon gave me [at] gmail [dot] com) or to brinshannara [at] gmail [dot] com.
A secondary goal of mine while in Italy will be to see if I can get the hockey scores in under 12 hours from when the games were played, unlike last time, two summers ago, when I was conscious for over 8 hours without knowing who had won the Stanley Cup. GRR. Go Edmonton, for what it's worth.
With my parents. <insert bright grin here> Assuming my mother and I don't kill each other, it should be quite pleasant.
I bought my travel health insurance yesterday (online = lovely) and when prompted for an emergency contact name and number, I started typing in my dad's name and went "no, wait, he's coming with me... and so's Mom..."
That's right, ladies and gentlemen, my baby brother is my emergency contact. (Okay, he's 24, but still.) This still amuses me, and should anything tragic befall me in Italy, I will still chuckle at the thought that the Blue Cross will be calling my brother to inform him of the situation. No matter how much pain I'm in.
I have a stupid amount of things to do -- gotta go downtown and buy a new pair of jeans, buy a backpack, get all kinds of toiletries for two weeks, do laundry and empty out my fridge so that the things inside it do not form a revolution and attempt to take over the world while I'm away.
And yet, I am slug, hear me... well, whatever noise a slug makes.
In other news, today is the day that
drsnicket graduates from her residency program! Congratulations! (This, of course, does not mean she is finished working for her residency, I was informed yesterday. But anyways.)Oh, I nearly forgot, if you want a postcard from somewhere in Italy, let me know -- send me a mail to my primary gmail address (which many of you know is the nickname
shiningmoon gave me [at] gmail [dot] com) or to brinshannara [at] gmail [dot] com.A secondary goal of mine while in Italy will be to see if I can get the hockey scores in under 12 hours from when the games were played, unlike last time, two summers ago, when I was conscious for over 8 hours without knowing who had won the Stanley Cup. GRR. Go Edmonton, for what it's worth.
