The Luckiest People Marry Italians

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My beautiful wife really needs to get this shirt for Christmas.

'Cause she got lucky.

And perhaps there is a downside to marrying an Italian-American, but one thing is for certain:

Food is always in one stage of preparation or another.

Of course, there are a couple of minor downsides...

...like the need for things to be in order...

...the need for constant movement...

...the sometimes quick temper.

We watched a movie about an old mobster getting out of jail and returning to his old neighborhood. I liked the movie (despite the tired old Italian-mafia theme) because the guy talked like my Dad and my Grandpa.

Everything was black and white.

Food preparation was evident.

Family was supremely important.

And best of all, when the guy swore in Italian, I laughed out loud.

He was short-tempered, principled and straight-forward.

My wife was watching along, of course, and I mentioned that the guy was a lot like Grandpa.

"That's a nightmare," she said.

"You always knew where you stood, and you always ate really well."

There's the need for a garden.

The true need to have a couple of kitchens.

The fierce loyalty.

The sense of right and wrong.

Damn my wife got lucky!

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