This past week I developed a habit that I thought I left behind when I started kindergarten: afternoon naps. The combination of staring at sixteenth century documents for hours at time with intense humidity and heat is surprisingly exhausting. I find myself coming home for lunch with the desire to collapse on my bed outweighing the desire to eat. Accordingly, I have been sleeping for an hour or so every afternoon before eating and heading back to the archives, and it feels great. No wonder the siesta was invented! In any case, following my new tradition I took a nap after returning home from church today and was surprised to be awoken from sleep by the sound of church bells. Still groggy, my first thought was that Elisabetta must be watching the television, but the bells didn't sound close enough for that, so then I thought it must be one of the neighbors. Then, as the bells sounded one last time and stopped I remembered something: I am in Florence, Italy, and they have real church bells here, LOTS of them! Duh! It is funny that Italy, and Tuscany in particular, is so familiar to me now that every once in awhile I forget where I am and I have to be reminded. And in those moments my life feels very surreal; who would have thought that the little girl with the blond pigtails who spent her summers climbing cherry trees in Orem, Utah, and her summers as a teenager life-guarding and teaching children to swim at the Fircrest Pool in Tacoma, Washington would one day be spending her summers in Italy? I feel extremely blessed and grateful for all the opportunities I've had over the past four or five years, and all the adventures I've had, good and bad together. Thank you church bells, for the reminder!