One Guy from Italy

One Guy from Italy might be my favorite restaurant. Well, it’s not my very favorite, but it definitely ranks in the top five restaurants in my hometown. It’s been around for over forty-years, and twenty-five-plus-years-ago, when we were going to Tech as a young couple, we frequented the place. The location is great. The food is outstanding, and it was always a good time. Maybe the good memories are what brings me back time and time again. Maybe it’s the most delicious calzone I have ever had. It’s probably a little bit of both.

We arrived back in the states just in time to catch a couple of my nephew’s basketball games. He’s a sophomore in high school and getting to watch him play sports is one of my favorite things. This past fall, I got to catch one of his football games. When I came home last spring, I got to watch him play baseball, and tonight I got to watch him play basketball. He scored some points. He got some rebounds, and he made some passes. I don’t know much about the sport, but I’d say he played a pretty good game. I am so used to watching football and baseball. Those events can take HOURS, but basketball is a much shorter game. It was over before I knew it. After the game, we knew we would want to grab a bite to eat, and when my family asked what we wanted to do after the game, meeting at One Guy from Italy seemed like the perfect place to meet, and it was!

We ordered our calzones, and there was lot of chatting and laughter at the table. My sister and brother talked about business. My husband and brother talked about sports. My niece even did a comedy show for us. Most of the jokes were terrible but watching her laugh at her own jokes was awesome. Her favorite one was, “I finally watched that documentary on clocks. It was about time.” No one liked that one but me. One that my guy actually liked was, “I was wondering why the baseball kept getting bigger and bigger. Then it hit me.” LOL! The one that most of us liked was, “My boss told me to have a good day, so I went home!” Maybe we liked it because it was so relatable. Either way, family dinner was fantastic, and it reminded me why I love being home.

There really is no place like home, but this jet-lag thing is for real. Jet-lag is a funny thing. Simple decisions seem very difficult. Going to a restaurant where I know the menu, I know what I like, and I know exactly what to order is a great thing when you have brain-fog induced by the jet-lag. I took everyone’s order, and my niece actually placed the order. I didn’t even have to do that…such a relief when you are pooped. Once again, another reason I love home is that I can be around people who don’t care if I have nothing to add to the conversation. They don’t care if I just sit and listen, and I love going to restaurants where I don’t have to think. I can just go and enjoy. There is something so comforting about all of those things.

As I lean into this blessed holiday season, all I can feel is gratitude. I am so grateful that I enjoy my family so much. I am so grateful that my mother-in-law would choose to join us for a basketball game. I am so grateful to be around people who want me around. I am so very grateful to be in a place where having fun and being relaxed comes so naturally. When people say, “there’s no place like home,” I finally get it. Coming home to a good calzone is just a bonus.