Donna and I had begun 12 days of a work-vacation (what other kind of vacation would we do without kids?) by flying to Rome, then heading immediately north toward the Tuscan town of Barga, where my cousin Missy had planned her marriage (she had a work-marriage, teaching yoga there before the nuptials). We planned to stop off on the way there, and my mom’s travel agent had found a little town midway. Our Garmin GPS did not work, and the town was so small my iPhone wasn’t picking it up. We made our way to Viterbo, which I knew our town was near, then stopped at McDonalds (to park) and phoned the hotel. We were still 30 kilometers away, the woman said, and when I told her my Garmin GPS was useless, she said something Read On »

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  Between crazy-busy travel and much work all July, and then a work-travel assignment in France, Donna and I took a two-day breather to celebrate our back-to-back birthdays. I’m not always very smart when it comes to marital issues, but I did know one thing: I did not want to be sitting around in Cleveland on Donna’s 50th birthday, wondering what to do, Donna glaring at me. (Guys, no matter how much they protest, no matter how much they tell you they don’t want to do anything, don’t give in to your partner. They don’t really mean it! I know you want to believe them, I know you want to take them at their word not to do anything special or make a fuss, but you do so at your own peril.) This conviction to Read On »

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