Luckily Dad had a friend who was attached there, and he met us after a lengthy customs delay.“Dean, you old fuck,” My Dad yelled over the airplane...noises. “How the hell are ya?” Dad in a playful, happy mood, was not something we were very accustom too.“Colonel, welcome to Italy,” Said Dean. He was tall, and skinny. He had short black hair and a thin salt and pepper moustache. He wore khakis and a while button down shirt, with too much chest hair exposed. He had a slight accent, but his English. I didn’t anticipate making that many cookies, of course, but I still planned to bake cinnamon rolls most mornings. I could bake a dozen loaves of bread at a time in each of the two masonry ovens. This was all the capacity I expected to need.“What’s that, Papa?” C-Rae said pointing at the newest piece of equipment to be delivered.“That, honey, is our new Iris dough mixer. In the bakery, we need to make a couple dozen loaves of bread at a time. We still have to knead the bread before we set the. More

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