16 December 2011

My mom is a ninja

I'm back in Massachusetts after an uneventful flight with the ever-cheap, yet endearing Iceland Air.  I'm happy I was able to return, fee-free, with all my belongings, even with one-too-many carry on items and a few too many pounds of luggage.  Some of the unique items that graced my suitcases are: a 10-inch long, 100-year-old nail found in the stone wall of an abandoned house in the Alps; a handmade bell to hang around the neck of my first goat; one half of a pair of buck horns, found in a stream; and two pounds of French cheese.

The first three were gifts from Matteo and Gaia Chindemi, and not insignificant in weight, but well worth the trouble of transport.  The final item is to make up for my lack of cheese a year ago when I came home last.  "You didn't bring any cheese?!" my family asked me in dismay.  My mom wields guilt like a ninja - you don't know it's coming, as she leans in for an innocent hug, then "ki ai!"  Her ninja stars come flying and no matter how many Matrix back bends you do, you are not swift enough.  It haunts you for a year until you return with cheese.

Happy Holidays!

P.S. Don't tell my mom I said that stuff about her being a ninja.  She might ninja punch you with love.  And by "ninja punch" I mean shower.  She's really good at that, too.

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