It happens so easily...I climb up into the dome of a church in Florence with a few students...after I return to the states I see a video about that dome, one of the historians interviewed in the video is named Rocky Roggiero, I stumble across his podcast (have now listened to all 100 episodes), I buy his book, and now I am creating quizlet on the terms used in his book, because I don't now the grammar of the architecture. Chiostro dei Morti hallenkirchen
(Disclaimer…when I am tired…by humor is sometimes dark, and often a bit dramatic. This is not a cry for help. I really am laughing) Time for this week's "Friday Rant!’ Since I have neither the time, nor the inclination, to pour out my traumas to a trained professional, anyone who friended me on Facebook is going the have to be burdened with this one...I apologized beforehand...but seriously 2020...REALLY? Where to start? I hate having my picture taken...I wasn't always this way, literally, at one time, it was no problem for someone to snap a quick photo of me looking like I just wandered out of an opium den in Haight-Ashbury …and once, since my parents really do seem to have had really good fashion sense…and following the lead of my Dad, who never seemed to dislike the camera, I even seemed to enjoy it. ...and then it happened...baby teeth fell out, which I survived without too much trauma. My adult teeth grew in, which I don’t remember being terribly fazed ...