We now know that there are four owlets this year. I’m told this is well beyond the two-baby norm for Great Horned Owls, but the Broomfield owl pair are experienced parents who also have a good food source nearby: a colony of prairie dogs out at the Rocky Mountain Metropolitain Airport.
The two above are checking out an empty engineering office in BRM05. Sorry, kids – it’s already been promised to somebody as part of the Broomfield re-stack.
Owls have been nesting on the Broomfield campus for some time, and every year (so I’m told) they have babies.
I guess it was past bedtime for baby owls.
The BRM courtyard is a protected area that attracts wildlife; I’ve seen rabbits in here as well.
San Francisco’s Mission District. It’s a little scary to think that a chica sexy might need a beard trim, but then again, this is San Francisco…
Guitar, Play More SoftlyNicola Di Bari |
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| Chitarra suona più piano
qualcuno può sentire soltanto lei deve capire lei sola deve sapere che sto parlando d’amore cantano i grilli nel grano e un passero sul ramo nessuno dorme questa sera nemmeno lei a quest’ora stringe il cuscino e sospira la luna e’ ferma nel cielo la lucciola sul melo chitarra mia suona più piano anche se incerta la mano suona chitarra che l’ora l’ora di darle tutto il bene che ho nel cuore di dirle addio per sempre o perdonare e amarla come un altro non sa fare l’ora di respirare un poco d’aria pura un prato e’ verde quando e’ primavera il sole e’ caldo e poi scende la sera per noi la notte odora di fieno io dormo sul tuo seno dio come batte il suo cuore la gente sogna a quest’ora dormi chitarra che l’ora l’ora di darle tutto il bene che ho nel cuore di dirle addio per sempre o perdonare e amarla come un altro non sa fare l’ora di respirare un poco d’aria pura un prato e’ verde quando e’ primavera il sole e’ caldo e poi scende la sera l’ora di darle tutto il bene che ho nel cuore di dirle addio per sempre o perdonare e amarla come un altro non sa fare l’ora di respirare un poco d’aria pura un prato e verde quando e primavera il sole e caldo e poi scende la sera |
Guitar, play more softly
Someone could hear Only she must understand she alone must know that I am speaking of love the grasshoppers in the grain sing a sparrow on a branch no one sleeps this evening not even she at this hour holds tight the pillow and sighs the moon is still in the sky the firefly on the apple tree My guitar, play more softly even if the hand is uncertain play, guitar, that the hour, the hour to give her all the good I have in my heart to tell her goodbye forever or forgive and love her as no one else knows how the hour to breathe a bit of pure air a field is green when it’s spring the sun is hot and then evening falls for use the night smells of hay I sleep on your breast god how her heart beats people dream at this hour sleep, guitar, that the hour, the hour to give her all the good I have in my heart to say goodbye forever or forgive and love her as no one else knows how… |
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On March 31st, 2008, my residence in Italy was officially revoked. This was easy to accomplish. A few days before, Enrico and I had gone together to Lecco’s Ufficio dell’Anagrafe (I guess a reasonable translation would be “Population Records Office”). This is where you go to record transfers of residence (within Italy), births, deaths, and marriages.
To undo my Italian residency, all that was required was to write a letter which the nice lady at the window dictated and Enrico transcribed (his handwriting being much more legible than mine). She photocopied my carta d’identita’ (Italian identity card) and gave it back to me, then told us to go to the Registry Office (within the same building) to officially hand in the letter. The lady there gave us a dated and signed photocopy, and that was all there was to it.
You may be wondering: why did I so easily give up what so many foreigners would give their eyeteeth to have? Taxes, my friend. Most countries in the world, including Italy, make all their residents, citizens or foreigners, pay some sort of income tax. The US is perhaps the ONLY country in the world which requires its non-resident citizens to pay tax. So, if you’re an American living overseas, you’ve got two sets of taxes to file per year. There is a tax treaty between the US and Italy such that the US gives you tax credits for the Italian taxes paid on the first $86,000 of your income. Beyond that, you’re paying both governments for the privilege of working. There was a time, in my Dotcom boom heyday, when I was paying over 50% of my income in taxes.
Since I will no longer be availing myself of Italian national services such as health care and education, I see no good reason to keep giving money to the Italian government, especially when I have to put a kid through college in the US. So I’ve cancelled my Italian residency. I can still visit at least as often I’m likely to have time to, I think the limit is three months out of every six. Supposedly at some point someone official will show up at our house to ascertain whether I’m still there or not.
