From Tuscany to the USA

We often become our surroundings-I'm like a bottle of extra-virgin olive oil, as we are adaptive by nature. So that when I escape from Tuscany and land in the USA, I need a minute to grasp reality.
First of all, after sweating for twenty straight days in Tuscany, I thank the man/woman who invented air conditioning on a daily basis. My friends are still dying in Tuscany.
Strange things have been happening. Two straight days my mom has slammed on her car brakes upon spotting the UPS man, who knows her, stops his truck in the middle of Reisterstown Rd and hands her her packages.
I finished a pint of Ben and Jerry's Chubby Hubby.
I began reading the book "Eat, Pray, Love", have sent love messages to at least three friends and have decided to work on my marriage that officially ended on June 30th, but which unofficially never really ended.
A lot has changed in the past three years, including me.
Yet, throughout the changes in me, I've found two consistent elements- my kids.
I have spent the past six nights in my little girl bedroom, ruminating over the good, the bad, the ugly and the miraculous.
My mind keeps returning to the night I took the wrong train, was heading for Lucca and got lost in Porcari (Shitville), where I spent two hours trying to convince a lost, runaway kid to return home.
At a certain point he reminded me a lot of me.

Emerald Green

Raising my kids in Tuscany, especially my deaf son, took me away from the competitive American way of living school and kids. The fact that I had no idea what the people surrounding me were saying contributed to this feeling, meaning that if they were competitive amongst themselves- I had no idea- I just smiled as an American mom in Tuscany. And my son grew. Then, along came my daughter...and with her my total acquisition of the language. Still minimal competition among children.

A family friend who is currently sweltering through a writing class in Florence came to stay with me this past weekend. I took her and my kids to a traditional town festival held at the soccer court surrounded by emerald green fields near my house. My kids disappeared for the entire time we were there, returning only to request money for ice-cream. She looked at me and asked, "They occupy themselves? They play outside freely with other kids?"
I replied, "Sure".
She said, "American kids don't know how to occupy themselves, they go from indoor activity or outdoor sport to indoor activity- always organized and supervised...no room for creativity."

I chose to live just outside of the main town in a residential area because I wanted my kids to be able to play tag and hide-and-go-seek just like I did as a kid. It's summer in Tuscany, they're free and out playing until midnight every single night. I chat with my neighbor- a 70 year old widow and her other neighbor who comes to talk to her to keep her company every night- from my terrace. I tell her about Jordan's accomplishments and Sofia's 7 year old escapades with my mascara and heels.

Strangely, we don't gossip, we communicate and complain about the unbearable heat suffocating us...yet, somehow, it never seems to bother my kids.

The other day I went to visit a friend of mine in his office and at a certain point he told me he wanted to give a girlfriend of his a ring. He had never given her a ring and he had this spontaneous desire to give her a ring. So, I said, "Okay, it's 7,30 and the shops close at 8- move it and we can make it in time".
He grabbed his things and we were out the door in a flash.

We walked a block and a half and he said it had to be an emerald. Even better! He told me to pretend he was shopping for me and to request to see emerald rings as we were approaching the door. I said, "No problem, Sweetheart".

We walk in as the man is about to close and I request to see his selection of emerald rings. The storeowner replies that the emeralds are in the other store, but he may have had one in the safe. He opens the safe and pulls out this beautiful emerald surrounded by diamonds set in 18 kt gold. My friend says, "Try it on."

The only problem was that I had wrapped a silver ankle bracelet with dangling hearts around my middle finger and as I pulled it off, we all couldn't help but notice that my finger had turned green.
*Smile*
I cleaned it and slipped the ring on my wedding finger.
Oh God....
It fit me perfectly, the most beautiful ring that looked amazing on my finger.
Must have because my friend said, "I'll take it!"
I said, "Shit!!!"
Damn that was a nice ring that will be on the finger of another woman...
I looked at him and said, "Sweetheart, the only reason I'm not going to get violent is because this was one of the coolest, most spontaneous things ever...and I am happy for that woman."
I slipped my ankle bracelet back on my finger and went home to my kids.

Emerald green is my favorite color.

Golfing in Tuscany: Heads Up Retired Folk in Florida

Description:
HOTEL AND GOLF IN MAREMMA
MONTE ARGENTARIO
A luxury resort located in Monte Argentario, it has 56 junior suites including private balconies. The Club Junior Suite is the jewel of the resort. It is characterized by an ethnic style. The Tuscany Junior Suites and the Gallery Junior Suites are characterized by a medieval Tuscan style. The interior decoration is enhanced by an elegant and refined style. It is completely immersed in nature.
The aesthetics center called Espace is the ideal place to relax and regenerate your body, it includes a Finnish sauna, an indoor and outdoor swimming pool and gym.

Just when you thought the most life had to offer was retirement in some residence in Florida, I hand you Golfing in Tuscany.

It could be the beginning of your own golfing world tour.

Click here for details.

Adventures in Hair

Today I took my daughter to the hairdresser's. I went blonder and she straightened her hair. She has the most beautiful curly hair, but dreams of straight hair..and so, for a day, I made her happy. At a certain point she complained she was hungry, so she flipped her straight hair and said, "Mommy, can we go to Simona's to get a sandwich, please?" I looked at her helplessly, base smeared on roots and tinfoil wrapped on highlighted hair pieces, shrugged my shoulders and said, "Let's go!"

As we walked down the street of our small town, people stared at my foil-wrapped head. I smiled back at them and held Sofia's hand. We walked into the "Alimentari" and a woman flat out looked at me and started laughing. She said, "What happened to you?" I replied, "Highlights and a hungry daughter."

I'll sacrifice my vain self to satisfy a few hunger pains.

Every now and then, the American in Tuscany in me begs to be let out of the cage. If my seven year old daughter can walk around in one ponytail and one braid and feel beautiful...what's a couple of pieces of tinfoil and base?

Deviate

I collapsed on my daughter's bed...really long day. I looked up and saw it. There it was- the same flying buglike thingy in the same place below the lamp...flying. Not the type of free flying that we would all love to be able to do to escape from the boring-two-legged-daily-strut, but a flight pattern in the form of a square.

Now I've seen the suicidal dive-bombing into the windshield bugs, but never have I ever seen this type of bug-like phenomenon. I sat observing this unidentifiable flying bug for five minutes and not once did it deviate from the square-shaped flight pattern. Over and over and over again it flew in a square. The same pattern. THE SAME PATTERN!

Like men, some bugs just never change.

Stiletto

I arrived in Tuscany as a 25 year old newlywed, new Mamma- your typical American in dirty sneakers and sweats, hair in a ponytail. I went from playgroups with my other teacher friends, we all delivered within six weeks of each other, to strolling my child alone down the streets of Tuscany.

I found that old Italians are a lot friendlier with babies than old people living in Floridian residences.

Growing up, I read fashion magazines filled with Christie Brinkley, Cindy Crawford and Kate Moss. Since Kate Moss was just so not an option considering my ass was bigger than her entire body, my only other woman choices were Cindy and Cindy. I remember sweating to the Cindy Crawford work out tape in college with my other sorority sisters and I must say that it worked. Then I got pregnant and 50 pounds later, I shelved Cindy.

I don't know how I managed to ignore Italian fashion for twelve years, maybe the fact that I was too big to fit into the clothes helped. And then it happened. The great wake up, and I will never forget the day I stood looking around the Corso of Grosseto thinking, "Where the hell am I?" As if for the first time in a long time, I actually realized I was living in another country. At that precise moment I craved America, because I could not identify with anything in my immediate surroundings and it scared me. I flipped my ipod back on and retreated.

Slowly, I assimilated. I observed as an outsider wondering what it would take to pull me back in, while at the same time I rejected being pulled in.

For example, I dated a man who insists that women wear high heels. Never, ever in my life have I worn high heels, I'm already tall. Because I had never even considered wearing heels, I had limited my shoe-shopping to flat. Now, a whole new experience in shoe-shopping has appeared before my eyes. Sounds superficial, but apply that to your daily encounters. I didn't wear the heels to satisfy him, I wore them to try something different for me. I felt sexy. *Smile* Until I almost tripped and broke my ankle...but then I laughed because even when playing dress up, I am still me.

My skin changed.
So did my wardrobe.
And my hair.

People started whistling and seeking conversation with me. And I had no idea how to react or act. Old habits began mixing with new- my time spent as a cocktail waitress learning to diplomatically send obnoxious people away - mixed - with me realizing that the new me is international and even stylish...compared to sweats and sneakers. The best way I can describe the experience of being newly single is that of a 38 year old woman fresh out of high school, thrown into a sea of sharks carrying luggage.

I'm not interested in planning a future, settling down, having a family- I've already done that and my kids have an exceptional father, I'm just trying to fill my new heels and to see how far I can get without breaking an ankle.

Mother-in-Law Lipstick

Yesterday, Jordan decided to stay home with a friend and Sofia transferred to my mother-in-law's house- she says for a week.
And
I
hit
the
beach!

I met a friend of mine who's a flight instructor in Brussels. We updated ourselves on our lives and soaked up some June sun...until it got really windy.

Then, we headed to the top of the beach establishment, grabbed a table and she went to get us two cups of iced coffee. As I'm sitting there, a crowd rushes to the beach and I follow. Apparently there was some type of beach mini-tornado warning. As I'm observing the crowd, my eye glimpses this adorable little girl on the jungle gym. I look again and think, wow, she really looks like Sofia. But I'd never seen the bathing suit and her hair was in a braid- I never put her hair in a braid. I return to my seat as the drama ends, but that little girl thing bothered me, so I went for a closer look.

Suddenly, I got a glimpse of the little girl's lips...smothered in mother-in-law salmon lipstick. And then I knew.
THAT little girl was my daughter!
I yelled, "Sofia!"
She turned her head, smiled that horrifying salmon smile and yelled, "Mommy!"

Some things, my friends, whether you're from the USA or Tuscany, are as universal as the choice of mother-in-law lipstick pink.

Buses, Yachts, Sushi and Church

The morning began with a bus almost running over my foot...the slogan on the bus: Intolerance Kills.

I took the hint.

Then, I headed to the beach for a half hour of free time. As I was driving home, a yacht turned the curve on its way to docking at the port for the summer.

Later that night- sushi in Grosseto (miracle of all miracles) with my girlfriend. We had endless sushi and sashimi and finished the dinner off with ice-cream crepes topped with bean jelly. Don't ask.

We girltalked forever, said our goodbyes, double-cheek kissed and I made my way to the Church where my son had a concert. After three hours- consider I was late- they ended the show with two Grease songs. There's something extremely comical about watching middle school children dance to Grease songs sung in an Italian accent.

I sung along with them- love those Grease songs!

And so ended another day in Tuscany...

Playing Hooky

I am a huge believer in mental health days both for my kids and myself. Every now and then, when I see my son ready to collapse from exhaustion, I let him sleep in...my daughter rarely needs one of those free days-she provokes them:-)
So, after spending 48 hours in front of the computer working on a project the entire weekend, Monday morning I broke free.

To the beach!!! How does a human being live twelve minutes from the beach, having lived 3 hours from the nearest ocean forever and not escape?

Note: I never once played hooky in high school, and from what I heard, Robert E. Lee Park was the place to go.

I spent one hour and fourteen minutes here, just my ipod and me. And I was reborn.


Today, on the other hand, I spent 53 minutes waiting in line at the post office to pay some bills. I can wait in line for ice-cream and for the Nordstrom annual sale, but waiting at the post office is sheer torture. Never go to pay a bill the first of the month in Italy, everyone over the age of 60 is in line to collect their monthly pension, nightmare. However, I met a friend of mine standing there outside..and he informed me that a tourist "resort" called Riva Del Sole had recently opened a heated salt water swimming pool and that he would be playing hooky later in the afternoon.

I slapped him five.

Jewish in Tuscany

My son is graduating from Middle School and here in Italy, before going to high school, they must pass an exam. This exam, aside from State-given exams, requires the preparation of a mini-thesis for each subject. For history, Jordan must prepare Auschwitz, which means that Mommy must prepare the powerpoint presentation.

We are one of three Jewish families I know in the town where we live. Jordan will begin his presentation by saying, "I am Jewish." We not only work on educating about the cochlear implant, but we give a face to a religion that is practically non-existent in this predominately Roman Catholic town and country.

Although, there are Medieval hilltop towns that enjoy a history of Judaism like Pitigliano. Click here to read about it.



Last year, Jordan was Bar Mitzvahed in Siena...

We left for the Siena synagogue at 7:00 am, all six of us in my fit-five-person car, slammed in...really enjoyed that warm, cozy family feeling as Sofia Madyson's elbow jammed into my chin. Jordan looked handsome in a white button-down shirt and a pair of khakis with a kipa that I believe my step-father gave us before we moved to Italy.
My mom had prepared to wear a very pretty sleeveless black dress with black hose and heels, but when I saw it, I said, "Mom, this is an orthodox synagogue in ITALY and to arrive requires a mile and a half hike on cobblestone medieval streets...DO SOMETHING!!!"
The end result- she threw on a pair of black leggings and gold sandals and a spanish-looking shawl to cover her shoulders- God I'm sorry I don't have that downloading thingamajig. LMAO
I wore a long black skirt, black short-sleeved shirt and my grandmothers gold locket.
Just in case anyone was curious.

Okay. We arrived, still don't know how we did it, because my stepfather can't walk, at 9:00 am. The rabbi greeted us, kissed Jordan's cheeks, exchanged mazel tovs and started the Shabbat Service. There was another Bar Mitzvah the same service, adorable boy, and until about 10:30 we were the only ones in the service. People arrived fashionably late.

Allow me to say this: we have cochlear implant radar. Obviously, my mom, Sofia and I were sitting on the opposite side of the synagogue from Luca, Eddie and Jordan, so every now and then we would send signals to communicate. I will say that Jordan can still read my lips like a champ, because I managed to scream at him a couple of times for being restless...wordlessly from across the synagogue. At a certain point, I see Jordan frantically trying to get my attention because an elderly man wearing a hearing aid and a cochlear implant entered the synagogue. I spent ten minutes screaming silently for him to walk over to the man to show him his- yes, in the middle of the service, because everyone seemed to feel free to say hi to everyone else within the service, but Jordan was too shy.

Then the man left the room to walk outside and Jordan got up his courage to go and talk to him...keep in mind, this is his Bar Mitzvah- very laidback atmosphere and friendly. He spoke to the man, who received his implant from Prof. Martini in Ferrara and returned smiling from ear to ear. Cochlear implant moment.

Then....................................................................the Rabbi motioned for Jordan to come up to the Bima and my stepfather followed. As I told everyone in other posts, this was a symbolic Bar Mitzvah, reading from the Torah was not possible as Jordan had never studied Hebrew, so he was responsible for reading the prayer before and after the Torah reading. Read 'em like a champ!

*I cried*

It's just one of those moments where you sit back and think...I never ever in a million years thought my deaf son would be able to speak at his Bar Mitzvah, then the flashbacks slam you and the whole thing becomes overwhelming. Combine that with thoughts of my Pop and I had no chance. At one point the Rabbi from Florence, which is the head synagogue site of Tuscany, covered Jordan with his Tallis to bless him. I looked at my mom, she looked at me and I started digging for the kleenex.

We didn't understand a word of the entire ceremony, it was all in Hebrew. But there was a lot of love and faith in that room and some things go above and beyond language.

After an incredible kiddush...Jordan had fries at McDonalds.

*Smile*

The Yellow-Brick Road

Argentario- (40 minutes from my house:-D)
An Italian facebook friend wrote this as his status: People ignore you and treat you like a toilet...they're terrified and take it for granted that you will never succeed. They never smile at you.

Light and happy comment.

There are moments in life when you see exactly where you want to arrive. You have a plan and the most frustrating thing is when others set roadblocks...not normal roadblocks-lead blocks.

Strategies:
1. Smile first and they will smile back.
2. Make a plan, believe in it and stick to it.
3. There are times when you must deodorize the stench, and times when you must smell back.

Happiness IS contagious. Self-confidence IS evident and inspires people to believe in your plan.

Italian drivers are crazy, so when in Tuscany, proceed with caution.

The further down the road you manage to drive, and the near-misses of suicidal lions and tigers and bears that cross your sturdy path teach you to drive with caution, be aware of speed detectors and learn the curves. Know that when you reach your destination - distracted here and there by a fascinating poppy field who introduces you to vintage wine, regardless of the fact that the air-conditioning broke in the 105° heat, you drove miles on a flat tire and ran out of wiper fluid so that your window is a collection of insect blood- when you catch your eye in your rearview mirror...

You see yourself as you have never before seen yourself.

And you reach that destination, baggage in hand, smile on face.

Gone With the Wind...Festival

Saturday I broke free from my computer and headed for the beach...I found this man jumping in the middle of the sea and a huge festival in Marina di Grosseto! Unfortunately, as soon as I put my toe in the sand, it started pouring, so I had to leave.

Later that night.....

Drama at the disco! My friend and I went to see a hot man shake his thing at Latin American night. He was a superstar, but the demonstration was long, so my friend and I went upstairs. She hopped the cube and I stood by the side. At a certain point, I looked behind where we were dancing to see a little man pull a very long knife out of his pants. So, I jumped on the cube, heard a tremendous "Straaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaapppppppppppp!"- so much for my pants-and told my friend not to move. The fight ended, no one got hurt. The bouncer confiscated the very long kitchen knife and we resumed dancing.

The next day we hit the beach- amazing day- and this is what happened...





We ended the weekend at our favorite pizzeria where we had Pizza with
-mozzarella
-stracchino
-fresh tomatoes
-rocket lettuce
-speck
and spicy olive oil....

Amazing, amazing weekend in Maremma.

(I have to add that as I'm posting this, the door to my house is open. There is a small group of people congregated in the court by my house. They are singing the AVE MARIA- strangest thing...)

Bean Soup and Book Tuscany...The Dollar Rises

Stranded in Tuscany is not the absolute worst thing in the world. Wine, cheese and nutella do wonders for a trapped American Mamma. The man who gifted me the fresh eggs suggested a wonderful recipe of bean soup- he was warned that I am a disaster in the kitchen and is trying to help my desperate self...

Bean soup recipe- Lil Taste of Tuscany for Two

Throw one big potato, one onion and one carrot in the food processor with a couple of teaspoons of olive oil (Italian- not the cheap Spanish stuff)
Fill a pot with water and boil for half an hour
Add one can of beans, a piece of Rosemary (I have a garden full of that stuff), salt and pepper.

Continue cooking and add short pasta.

The beans may be substituted with peas, chick peas and clams and shrimp.

I'm considering blowing up my kitchen to cook some bean soup for my kids.

In any case, now that the dollar is getting stronger compared to the weakening euro and if I push Tuscan vacations by emphasizing how many pairs of shoes you can now actually afford....I may remain trapped, but I won't be alone!


So...check it out and click it up! And if you're interested, send me an email: jodi@rallycaps.net

Title: TUSCANY FOOD & WINE TOUR

Period: Package valid all year
Price: TOUR FROM € 499,00 PER PERSON
Description:

1ST DAY Arrival in the afternoon Hotel La Palma: Check in, welcome cocktail, accomodation in room.
Dinner and overnight stay.
2ND DAY Breakfast and visit to the Medieval village of Capalbio, oil tasting in the ancient oil mill, lunch at restaurant with typical Maremman products.
Return to the hotel for a short rest. Transfer to Porto Ercole for a waterfront promenade in the late afternoon. Typical seafood-based dinner.
Return to the hotel and overnight stay.
3RD DAY Breakfast and transfer to Magliano in Toscana, free time to visit the village and walk around the ancient walls, which offer a breathtaking view of Argentario, Giglio Island and Talamone Gulf. Transfer to an innovative winery, near Magliano in Toscana. This ingenious architectural construction was recently built by one of the most renowned Tuscan families of the wine world. Accompanied by the wineproducer, you will visit the estate, observe vinification methods and peek inside the barriccaia, the "treasure room" where the wine sleeps, in special barrels, for long periods of time. The visit terminates at the guesthouse where you will test 3 different types of wine by enjoying some special testing such as: cheese, salami and other delicacies. Transfer to Pereta, visit the village and the tallest tower in Maremma!
Return to the hotel, dinner and overnight stay.
4TH DAY:Breakfast and transfer to Porto Santo Stefano to board a ferry for Giglio Island. Arrival at Giglio Harbour, meeting with the guide and transfer (by public bus) to Giglio Castle, surrounded by impressive walls, visit to San Pietro Apostolo Church.
Seafood-based lunch in a charming restaurant with a sea view. Transfer to Giglio Harbour, Waterfront Promenade with shopping, return ferry to P.S. Stefano. Return to the hotel, dinner and overnight stay.
5TH DAY Breakfast and transfer to Talamone, free visit to the characteristic harbour constructed in rock. Late-morning transfer to a horse farm near Talamone just inside the Regional Park of Maremma.
Homemade Lunch served with typical farm products. In the afternoon possibility to observe a demonstration of how the horse trainer breaks in horses. Return to the hotel, dinner and overnight stay.
6TH DAY Breakfast and transfer to Orbetello; visit to the center and boat trip to Orbetello's famous natural oasis. Lunch with typical lagoon products in the historical company of Pescatori "fishermen".
Departure.
Additional Information
- ***Hotel Accomodation, double rooms with private bathroom
- Group discount: 1 free for every 25 paying
- Individual rate net
- offer valid from February to June and from September to December
- July and August upon request
- ****/*****Hotel Accomodation quotation upon request


The fee includes:

- Full board from dinner on the first day to lunch on the last day, beverages included
- Celiacs menu available upon request
- Return ferry ticket from Porto Santo Stefano to Giglio island
- Environmental tourguide at Giglio island
- horse break
- Orbetello's lagoon boat trip
- ensurance and IVA
- h24 assistance


The fee does not includes:

- Entrance to Museum and Aquarium
- Tranfer on Giglio island ( 1.80 euro o/w to pay on the pubblic bus)
- optional insurance, local transfers, tips and extras in general not included in "what is included"

Documents: ID

Deep Thoughts Under the Tuscan Rain

It has rained something like 20 out of the past 24 days, yet every now and again the sun makes a brief appearance and I dance.

Fact: I am an independent mother of two.
Fact: Married men in this country seem to have no idea as to what the gold band on their finger symbolizes. I remind them.
Fact: When you reach a certain age, you have more of a chance of being blown up by a Kamikazee than finding love.(My ex gave me that little piece of information)
Fact: People hang their clothes in Tuscany and do not have dryers...I don't think they're forbidden, so I can't get the concept.
Fact: Children wear smocks to school until the fifth grade. White for girls, black for boys.
Fact: Fascinating Italian men are more fascinating than fascinating American men because their genes are more historically developed. I sometimes find myself lost in the middle of conversations about Geography, History and Art.
Fact: Italian schools are old, cracking and boring, but they supply you with the information necessary to hold a conversation with a fascinating Italian man.
Fact: Freedom is a state of mind.
Fact: There is absolutely nothing wrong with being an independent mother of two in Tuscany, especially when you add American to the equation.

To the Mountain!

I have been living in Tuscany for thirteen years. As far as driving goes, this is what happened. The first year I moved here, I could drive using my international driver's license. At the end of that year, according to Italian law, I could drive no more unless I took driver's education for the second time in my life and the Italian driver's test. I paid one thousand euros to re-learn how to drive, so that I could drive in a place I'd been driving in for a year.

*Welcome to Italy*

Then, something strange happened. I became so used to driving the narrow streets of Tuscany and dodging cyclists and scooters that when I returned to the US of A and the six-lane highways, I began having panic attacks. These panic attacks prevented me from driving long distances around Tuscany...until yesterday.

*Smile*

I overcame my fear, packed my daughter in the car and headed for the mountain, a small town called Santa Fiora, where my good friend had a motorcyclist event.

This was the view from my car as I not only drove, listened to music and talked to Sofia, but managed to whip out the camera and shoot the shot!

Welcome to Santa Fiora!

We entered inside a Medieval kitchen that had been transformed into a modern mess hall, where we chowed down with some Italian coldcuts, polenta and wild boar (Sofia ate that, I declined) and roasted something.

Then, we took a walk around the center and saw a famous motorcycle that won a famous championship:-D

Peeked down narrow medieval side streets...

And visited the local ice-cream parlour for some...

Smurf gelato!!!!!

And The Psychic Said...

There have been critical times in my life when I have seen pyschics. I don't seek them out, they kind of pop in at particular moments. I went to see this woman who lives in the Tuscan countryside - beautiful day, Tuscan hills and sunny breeze- I sat down at this tiny table and listened to what she had to say.

She told me that my life was in total chaos, that I needed to forget about men for a while because I attract all the wrong types and to concentrate on my kids. (She should only see my disaster of a house)She implored me to take them on a vacation.
I'm seriously considering it, only I'm limited to a tent:-D

She told me I had "the gift!"

(Note: if you're thinking of doing Tuscany this summer, click here for travel ideas)

In regard to men...I'd like a little something like this:


Excerpt from
The Bridge Across Forever
~ Richard Bach ~


A soulmate is someone who has locks that fit our keys, and keys to fit our locks. When we feel safe enough to open the locks, our truest selves step out and we can be completely and honestly who we are; we can be loved for who we are and not for who we're pretending to be. Each unveils the best part of the other. No matter what else goes wrong around us, with that one person we're safe in our own paradise. Our soulmate is someone who shares our deepest longings, our sense of direction. When we're two balloons, and together our direction is up, chances are we've found the right person. Our soulmate is the one who makes life come to life.

Not asking for much...
*Smile*

Today, a wonderful thing happened. I went for my usual cappuccino and croissant with peach marmalade and hung out with my friend to soak some sun and girltalk, when a friend of mine approached with a vase. He said, "Jodi, these are for you!"

*Half a dozen fresh eggs ripe from the hen!!!*

Hope is the last to die here in Tuscany...

Stop and Smell the Sunflowers...

This morning I exchanged a couple of text messages with a friend.
She told me that a good friend of hers had passed away from lung cancer.
I wrote: "What is her name?"
She responded: "Was"..."Sarah".
I replied: "This is just my opinion, but I'm pretty sure her name is still Sarah."

My favorite English teacher once told me never to use passive voice in my writing. I have since applied that rule to my life.

Caffè, Cappuccino Mousse and Castiglione della Pescaia

Three nights ago, I had dinner with two of my good friends and we decided to spend Saturday afternoon together for the first time in I have no idea how long.

*A day out with the girls*

We stopped in Follonica for a bit, then headed to Castiglione della Pescaia for some gelato. Beautiful day...finally the sun peeked it's frustrated head out of the rain. After the gelato, my friend called a friend who asked us to meet her at a bar for a coffee.

Here we are...

And this is the coffee...only it wasn't a normal espresso-it had a dip of frozen cappuccino mousse inside and I think I have never- and I've been living here a loooooooooooong time- had an espresso like this one!

As we made our way back to the car, we stumbled upon this:

And this:

A Medieval Festival..........gotta love Tuscany:-D I believe in reincarnation, past lives, etc., but I can't quite figure out if I can see myself in one of these ...

In any case, a day out with the girls = deep moment.

The conversation changes so quickly from subject to subject with each of us living a particular moment in our lives that it's like completing a crossword puzzle on the beach at sunset: a conversation combination of kids, work, love, laughter, sex and sun, so that when you finally return home- the fact that you don't always find the right word to fill in the blank...is secondary to the power of that sunset.

Summer Camp(ing) Tuscany

Okay, when it comes to vacations, give me a five star hotel, room service and a beach with frozen margaritas at the snap of an itch...........but, there's also a side of me that would pitch a tent, roast some marshmallows and suffer a mosquito bite in some now-how-did-that-get-there spot.

I went to a summer daycamp my entire life and lived for the two overnights a summer, while my sister spent endless summers at sleepover camp and never stopped living the experience even during the schoolyear. I have never spent more than eight hours inside a camper in my entire life.

*Smile*

But the idea kind of intrigues me. There are camper-passionate people all over the world who hop in that thing and drive for hours to park it at a home base and TRAVEL!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

So, seeing the Italian campsite on the beach in the Tuscan hills was a nostalgic and magical moment.

Ok...........

This is where the tourists pitch their tents!!

This is a bungalow with an outdoor grill...

So I'm standing outside the bungalow wondering what it could possibly look like inside, when my friend grabs a key and opens the door...Check this out!!!

Crazy...

The next thing I did was to follow the sign...(Beach or bust!)

...Up a short cobblestone trail...

Until I reached the beach, where I spent twenty-five minutes until I had to head back for lunch...beach-campsite-style:

Great place for kids and adults who...get a little tired of the five star hotel scene.

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