Italian Capers

The following excerpt is from an actual conversation in which I recently had the joy of participating- the names have been changed to protect the obnoxious: Caller (in English): Allo? Allo? This is Marco. Me: Hello Marco. Caller: Yes, I think I have your husband's cell phone. Me: (continuing in English as the caller started it!) Well, that's not possible because my husband does not have a cell phone. Caller: This is Marco, I have his cell phone. Me: Marco, he does not have a cell phone. Caller: Yes, because I have the cell phone. Me: Marco, he does not own a cell phone. Caller: I think he left it here in my shop. Me: (in Italian) Marco, he does not own a cell phone! Caller: Oh, yes, then I don't know to who it is? Me: Okay, have a great day, thanks for calling. Hang up. The carousel pictures were taken in Strasbourg, France. We went to visit my french family and had a wonderful time. I honestly had forgotten that Strasbourg is so beautiful. More pictures to come.

This is how my sisters and I look in many of the pictures from our youth. My Dad was the family photog, so he orchestrated the pictures to memorialize our major life events. As we got older and whined about looking into the sun, we were told that the colors would look better with the sun behind him and us facing that direction.....REALLY?? WHAT ABOUT OUR SQUINTY FACES?????? Priceless. Here's the little spitfire on her first day. The boots are hand-me-downs that remain an all-time favorite. She told me they are her skipping boots, apparently, they also cause that little demure leg gesture.... Her favorite morning activity is to sort all the little shiny stones into their tubes. To mark the occasion, we had lunch afterwards at the Mensa, which is the Italian mess hall on the base. It's Z's favorite lunch locale. While it is a cafeteria, the food is wonderful. These Italians take their food seriously- and it shows! The place is always crowded. The people-watching opportunitie

I may be the only person on the planet who doesn't think time goes "fast." That concept just doesn't have a strong root in my ideology. I have no idea why, and yes, to appease most of you, I realize that may change in the future. For me, I feel breathless and vulnerable when I think about how significant-life moments pass at the same speed as the mundane moments.....and how all of these moments only pass by once. In September 1995, my Dad passed away. I was holding his hand at the time. One moment ticked by, undifferentiated from the others, and then my Dad was gone. The moment passed quietly, and yet my entire life changed in that instant. My life-perspective, my career plans, my family- all became redefined. All in one breath. All week, I have been intermittently tearful. My daughter asked if I would cry on her first day of school. I told her I probably would and when she asked me why, I answered: because you are getting so big, because you are still so sm

Our little daughter's first day of Kindergarten was today! The bus stop is just down the street. After much anticipation, she was thrilled the big day had finally arrived. She was more than ready to start her academic career and happily hopped onto the bus this morning. Her day was filled with fun and exciting new activities. She can't get enough. When she got home, around three this afternoon, she realized it wasn't dinner time yet. She then asked if she could go back to school. I said, "Sure you can, honey, tomorrow." "But Mom, why am I home already, you said I was going to stay ALL DAY!" At the end of the day, we were all overjoyed to have her home, especially this one...

"Some people come into our lives and quickly go... Some stay and make footprints on our hearts... And we are never, never the same." ~Author Unknown~ Toothache anyone? I propose another version. "Some people come into our lives and NEVER go... Some stay too long and leave deep imprints in our brains.. And we are never, never the same." I don't know about other families, but we have a certain number of people who more or less "attach" themselves to us. We SHOULD tell them to get lost. But we don't. I suppose we don't due to a mix of laziness and guilt. What have they ever done? They are so nice.....they mean well.... These people are not entirely unpleasant, just consistently present and perhaps outright aggravating. Seems we have found another person like that, the Italian version We'll call him Marco. He works at the Italian motorcycle shop frequented by My Man. I recently accompanied My Man to the shop one day. Marco was very excited