August 15 A.M.

I'm sitting on the roof deck looking at the mountain view profile of the witch Circe. Everyone is sleeping, as I should be, but maybe eight hours was enough? I'm a little wacky with the jet lag, but I did get to eat some of the mozzarella di bufalo yesterday. That is some seriously good sh*&. It rained off and on (?????) I didn't even know it could do that in the summer in Italy, but we sat on the beach anyway because Sabaudia is just that beautiful. I can see the sun trying to bust through the overcast clouds; hopefully it will be successful.

There are a stack of Italian magazines inside on the table: one is a Vanity Fair with a pretty blond (she's a television hostess? I don't think that translates into American?) on the cover, one is a tabloid with Italian soccer star Francesco Totti and the same pretty blond strolling hand-in-hand on the beach. They own the beach house next door and last night I could see the soccer guy sitting on the curb watching his son ride his bike. In front of his Ferrari. Duke is very very very excited about the Ferrari. I don't know who they are, seeing as how I'm American and all, but because there is paparazzi on the beach who follow them around and magazine covers with their smiling faces, I've decided they are the Italian Posh and Becks (Victoria and David Beckham). Although I will not voice that opinion aloud for fear that the Italians will kick me out of the country and never let me return.

I think I need to go back to bed.