I don't know the words to describe how I'm feeling right now. This is probably because I'm not really sure how I'm feeling right now. I'll just put down shell-shocked and leave it at that.

In early March, Elvis decided he had had enough with this project. He loves his job, what he does, most of the people. Just not this project. Sadly, this is because of one bastard and one bastard only. Although, to be perfectly honest, I don't think he's apportioned enough blame to the management, or lack thereof, of his own company. Be that as it may, he requested a transfer. Well, demanded with menaces, if we're still being honest. And the big bosses in Dallas and the big bosses in Frankfurt agreed, and they both said they'd get us out of here. The local big bosses, of course, claimed that they never realized there was a big problem. And when confronted with the evidence that they sure as hell did, they came back with the feeble reply that they didn't think it was THAT big a problem. This, despite the fact that they've been hemorrhaging employees and consultants for two years now, each one of which saying the same thing in their exit interviews. And that, try as they might, they haven't been able to persuade a single one to stay. Hell, The Penguin's very own employees are bailing. If they can't stand him, how can they expect everyone else to deal with him, especially with no support from the local company?

Not that they didn't try, of course, but way too little, and way, way too late. As in, not until after Elvis said that he was out of here, first chance he got, whether that chance was with The Company or somewhere else. Loss of income is a powerful motivator, isn't it? And the Customer surely wants him to stay. Elvis is extremely good at what he does. Astoundingly. And he's proud of his work, puts in all the hours that God sends to do it right. Not that he gets paid extra for all that time. But you'd better believe that the company does.

I'm turning this into a rant, and it is helping clarify my thoughts, but this all is not really the issue at this point.

The reassignment that they had in mind was contingent on the contract being signed with another customer. We later heard, through a very reliable source, that the start date on the new project would be September.

And now it's happened. The contract is signed, the wheels are in motion. The New Customer wants Elvis to be their lead guy in his field. The other big dude on the project is a guy we already know, as he was working on this project. He can't stand The Penguin either, which is why he bugged out over a year ago. He's a good guy. The whole thing sounds good.

They want us there on or about June 1.

That's really fast.

Although, on the other hand, it's more warning than we usually get. We had four days to move from Frankfurt to here, for example, although we were expecting to move soon. And we were planning to leave here within the year, regardless of whether the company transferred us or not.

June 1st is not even two months. The last two weeks of May we'll be in the US for my brother's wedding. In two weeks we're going to Gozo for five days. This weekend is shot-- wine tasting on Saturday, and Sunday Elvis goes to the races. This kind of schedule does not leave a lot of time to Enjoy Italy, does it?

I really, really love it here.

That's my problem, I suppose. I said, when all this really, really started boiling (as opposed to the two-year simmer that proceeded it), that the most important thing was for Elvis to be happy in his work. I meant it then. I still mean it.

I guess I just thought I would have more time to say goodbye.

I don't want to go. I love Italy. I love the people, the food, the wine, the language, the land itself. I have friends here. I have a life here. I don't think I truly realized how hard this will be until today, when I was at Galli bantering with the little balding guy who's always looking to improve his English vocabulary, although he only speaks to me in Italian. He always asks me for the Italian defination of some pretty odd words, which makes me wonder just what kind of movies he's been renting. Germans don't really banter. The Turks do, but I really never got the hang of Turkish; just five verbs and a shitload of nouns, adjectives and adverbs. Enough to get around: not enough to banter. Then my cell phone rang, and it was Elvis, and it's all coming to an end.

Or a beginning.

And it is a beginning. This is the way I need to look at it, this is the way I've always looked at it until now. This is, after all, what we do. We move, we start getting the hang of things, feeling comfortable. We move. Lather, rinse, repeat.

We've gotten too entrenched here. Correction: I've gotten too entrenched here.

I can't tell anyone, not yet. It's not official yet, he's still under contract (although those are apparently being renegotiated, which is interesting as we've never seen the first ones, but I've gone over that little bit of nastiness ad nauseum as well), so I can't call anyone up for a bit of therapeutic bitching . I can't dump my truest feelings on Elvis, as he feels bad enough because he knows how much I like it here, how much it's going to hurt when we go. I think I'm the only reason he's stuck it out so long. Which must say something about how much he loves me, as he's the longest lived member of the project by far. Longer than The Penguin, even. And I won't make this any harder on him than it already is. He thinks he's failed, deep down, because he couldn't manage to stick it out to the bitter end.

I haven't cried yet.

But I will.