Macho Guy and I celebrated another wedding anniversary this week. Well, maybe celebrated is too grandiose a word to describe how we marked it. We didn’t do a romantic getaway, as is our wont. It isn’t as if we’ve done it all. We haven’t.
We had fits trying to think of a new and unusual getaway this year that was also romantic. That is so embarrassing for a writer of romance to admit. Oh, the shame of it all.
Our first big anniversary getaway was a tour of Italy. Our anniversary falls in July, which is undisputedly the most wretchedly hot and humid month of summer. We traveled through Italy on a tour bus with inoperative air-conditioning, drowning in perspiration. Have you ever tried to bite into a semi-liquid chocolate bar from Perugia? Most of the hotel rooms were “naturally air-conditioned” too. It was so hot that summer in Italy I gave up wearing a bra. I gave up wearing makeup too because it melted and slid off my face.
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