Fanatic Feast

(Editors Note: This post we suppose to be posted on Tuesdays but due to no free WiFi in Houston, no WiFi in Newark, a dying battery in Rome and construction on the WiFi network in the hotel in Ferrara, it just hasn’t happened.)

This morning I took Cobi, the family dog, on a pre-dawn run. As the sun slowly rose we were treated to a beautiful blue glowing sky and a lighting storm in the background. But I did miss the lunar eclipse.
Yesterday (Monday) I tested out the iPhone at the Apple store in First Colony Mall, I was rather unimpressed. It did have a couple cool features, touch screen and no buttons, but I didn’t feel it lived to it’s over hyped expectation. I could not type very well because I had new feel for the letter keys thanks to the touch screen.
Last night the remaining Sugar Land based Lewis family members enjoyed a true blue American dinner, Barbeque. I felt it was up most appropriate for my final dinner state-side.
Becky and I enjoyed the décor.

Yum. . .

As you can tell from the pictures I enjoyed personally hand-picked peanuts as my appetizer. Our tacky but cleansing paper towels served well as classy white napkins. They came in handy when cleaning my hands after eating the ribs (Pun intended). The enriched white bread served as a perfect complement to the Bar-BBQ sauce that engrossed the sausage and brisket. Nothing says, “I’m eating an American meal”, like a large serving of American Fries, that’s right American Fries, with extra salt and pepper. The beans were equally great as the rest of the meal. Dinner was followed by soft self serve ice-cream and in a small vanilla cone. I’m going to miss American Dinner likes this one, but I expect the Italian food to be even better. I can’t complain.
Although I did feel pretty un-American due to my inability to wipe my plate clean.

I over-packed.
Notice the two large jars of peanut butter.

Always make sure you have plenty of toiletries.

These poor clothes did not have a purpose, they won’t be making the ship or in this case the flight.

Here’s the final count: four bulging bags.



Here’s where I’m headed next. . . .


Peace out.