Torturing myself

Sigh... Carnevale kicks off on Friday. So I'm auto-tormenting with daydream collages borrowed from Guardi, Caneletto, the Comedia della Arte, etc., etc. With mental images of strolling, garbed in a masked motley of color, among the Piazzas and Piazzettas. With the fantasy of escape into anonymity--flotsam on the froth of revelry, calling for "madder musing and stronger wine," flinging "roses, roses, riotously with the throng." That sort of thing.

[Insert wistful sigh.]

But the best that I will manage this year is a round or two of bellinis (another recipe here) with dinner on Friday. And maybe finish up the Venetian costume history book that was an extravagant birthday present from Dearest.