Mood:
crushed outTopic: "Berlusconi in Love"(6)
Frodo has been thinking about love all day. With the dawn, he will depart for Mount Doom and give himself all of St. Valentine's "day" to return to the Shire with something appropriate for Samwise on the same date that commemorates hoodlums gunned down in Chicago. Despite the ill fortune of those particular predecessors, Frodo has generally come out of this crisis management exercise pretty well. Frodo likes to believe it is because he is a romantic, at heart.
Frodo prefers Shakespeare's "Romeo and Juliet" amid all the considerable competition. When Romeo hides beneath the balcony and listens to the words of the fair Juliet, hearts flutter in performances to this day. Frodo is eternally indebted to the Bard who provided him the many opportunities to voice the responding "glove upon thy hand, to touch thy face" thereby serving Frodo so well while supine upon the reclining seats of his Rambler Station Wagon. Sigh.
Affairs of the heart are never subject to planning. Perhaps that is why the Italians are so good at making it. On the morrow, with spontaneity as his guide, Frodo will sally forth (Hmm, Sally--"you better slow your Mustang down") and cast his eyes upon retail products of every type. Perhaps the voice of Johnny Mathis ("I must be going, my heart is showing, I'd better hurry awaay. . .") will supplant chocolates and semi-precious stones on this occasion. Last year, for example, Frodo found himself in Kroger, of all places, and stumbled he did into the aisle that contained, among other things, Tea.
Genius it was, that directed the Hobbit to gather as many different and exotic boxes as he could carry. Attest he can to the chemical reaction which occurs when the correct mixture of this magic elixir blends with the gift of blue eyes and a rogue's libido.
Too bad Frodo didn't discover this many years ago. He might've become Prime Minister of Italy.
