Strange Pilgram

go fish!

2012-02-10T07:05:00.000-08:00

Punkone was sick this week.
Yea, remember him? Sweet little guy is in FIFTH grade. Yeoza. He's so amazing, such a sweet soul and seeming in a constant struggle to cope with the crap that life dishes out.

Sounds a bit jaded, I know.

But the US version of 4th and 5th grade have not been easy on this guy. More specifically, homework is sucking his will to live. As you can imagine, this doesn't sit well with me and I keep myself up a good many hours, devising how I might reverse the tide and inject the joy back into our weekday nights.

OK, so just for clarity... this isn't about "do your homework" kind of stress. This kids does his homework. He's organized, he plans ahead, and just gets to it. It's amazing to me he's related to me at all.

This is about having our time as a family being delegated to providing a right environment for him to do homework in. The environment that we spend a great deal of energy shaping to mean "family" for us. The space where we share stories, act silly, discuss news, laugh at bodily functions, connecting with each other in a way that only we can.

School has him all day. So, yes, it irritates me that it hedges in on my time with him. It irritates me that we can't have a few hours, everyday, in which we do just what we damn well please.

We're evolving. I got us a huge dining room table and it's surrounded by boxes of pencils, glue sticks, rulers, scratch paper... we sit around it all night and chug away at our homework together. We still act silly, discuss, and laugh at our farts. But we all have a bit of sadness in our hearts. A longing for nights when we could sit around the table and play a game of "go fish!"

U - O

2012-02-09T07:52:00.000-08:00

umbrella open
colors cast
respite in the rain
with you at last

ombrella aperto
i colori sono cascada
riposo nella pioggia
finalmente con te

you don't win friends with salad

2012-02-08T20:14:00.000-08:00

This tune plays through my head
As I reach for the salad tongs
Pile high the spinach leaves
And then almost a bit giddy
Pick my way through the bar...
Beets (always!), carrots, celery
Beans and seeds
Cabbages too, both red and blue
No, not blue
Potatoes, asparagus, mushrooms
Slightly steamed broccoli and cauliflower
Radishes to salt
Drop of guacamole on top
Maybe you can't win friends with salad
But I love making friends with me

an exercise in optimism

2012-01-27T21:17:00.000-08:00

leaving at 5 am gets me home by 4
there's no traffic
my neighbor waits patiently at the door
she calls me sweety
Starbucks is open
And I like driving at night
tunnel of light through darkness
gives me time to think
or indulge in a daydream

and about 4 o'clock
we weave and we talk
through paths and events of the day
two beautiful faces so happy to see me
and one a bit later slides his key in the door
although there is much that I miss
I can't quite complain as there's nothing I long for.

distracted

2011-09-13T07:17:00.000-07:00

A litany of something in the background
What was it?
"Replace the letter or letters with the letter or letters..."
"What fraction of boys is the least..."
Or something... you lost me at the second letter.
I'm staring at a brick and feeling very good about it.
This is a nice size brick
Painted white.
How odd... I generally don't like the look of painted bricks.
But there is something about this brick
Something unifying, well known.
Hello brick. Have we met?
Stare into it like it understands.
Can you read my thoughts?
I decide I'm certain that it can.
The brick sees all.
Sees the meltdown, smackdown, the lowdown
But still it stays.
I get the sense that the brick gives us the benefit of the doubt.
Knows our good intentions.
Is sure of love and lasting.

Or maybe just lacks the ability to go.
But no
I don't feel anguish or desperation
Or even the absence of a thing
The feeling is good
This is accepting
Even pleased.

"...underlined letter or letters and write the new word"
Like brick, trick, trip, slip, ship, shape, sea, swell, breathe, sigh, neigh...
Sorry. What?

diffraction

2011-08-30T09:57:00.000-07:00

When things are right
I see rays of light dance across the bay
Music carries my day
I’m right at home
At home in my heart
And I rightly shine
Until I don’t

When things are right
Morning light marks the new day
Bringing the come what may
The world seems lush green
And wills my being
Until it won’t

When you and I are right
I am never happier in the worst of storms
The world and I get along fine
I can be what I am
Am what I be
That is
until
I’m not

face of the earth

2011-08-23T04:08:00.000-07:00

A left and a right and a left-hop-skip
I think I've gone and hopped right off it

I've let myself dive into the persistent cloud-cover,
feeling the gray and gloomy days.
While lush mountains with their woolly green coats
flock the sulking Shepard.
Who sits on her rock and consoles her heart
drawing rivers with a stick in the mud
You see, the earth and the rain are playing a game
coaxing this crab from her shell.
For sit long enough on the most comfortable rock
and your bony ass will get sore
And your numb bum and the soft filtered sun
will cause you to stretch and to eye (unawares)
Whereupon Mother Kesey and her gang of merry pranksters
Swiftly sneeze you into the sky.

punkette me dit

2011-08-19T22:33:00.000-07:00

My mash up of Punkette and MIKA:

And she says
why do these stairs hate me?
why do I fall down so much?
world has gained up on me!

And she says
I have so many scrapes
look here's another four
it's true her knees are cut and bruised

And she says
I don't want to play or jump
I just keep getting hurt
I try but then the world fights back

And she says
I give up on this world
Can I watch another show
The couch is the only safe place for me

And she says
as she bites the dust
as she hits the floor
you'll come give her wings
to go back for more

as she get's fed up
and needs to scream and shout
you'll shout with her too
and show her what to do

get up! jump to your feet
get up! come feel the beat
get up! feel the beat
Dance! dance! dance!

...

Really, just an excuse to post MIKA's latest release ;) Danse!

dreams

2011-08-18T12:49:00.000-07:00

I have dreams.
Dreams of scaling El Capitan
Clamped to the edge of the world,
Drifting at the edge of space.
Dreams of tall pines and sap on my fingers
The sting of scraped knees and my breath
Caught as we sway with the wind.
Or being old and weaving loose ends
The loose ends of a fortunate life.
Loose ends that slip into a comfortable knit
With an old friend with the right loose ends.
Dreams of being unknown
But knowing myself
Just driving off in a new direction
And being exactly what I feel like being.
Or spinning these things
Bits of death and love and reaching far places
With an unseen touch into the web.
Into the ebb, into the bed,
Into... and
Out of my head.
I will not live in dreams
But dreams are the thing.
The things that fill up the vast empty spaces
An oil that carries heat from the fire
To everything cold
To everything real.

laying tracks

2011-08-01T11:15:00.000-07:00

Sun shines off rails
Grass crisp to golden
And I imagine the clang from cow bells
Across the dusty path on some Italian mountain top
My body is the vessel I use bring myself into work in the morning
Back through the door at night
But I am the cool shadows
Rainbows cast through the air that sits on the edge of leaves
Those colors in my eyes
Breathing in the sun
The urge to dance in public
I am the same in any language
In any place
Its still me
Seeing sleeping bears in the hills
Willing to climb all the way to the very top
Just to slide down

- Christine

think I can

2011-06-28T17:28:00.000-07:00

Reposted from "Gram at 5AM"

I like the train.
Sort of the same way I like wooden bowls or handmade baskets
Spice racks
This strikes me as strange.
Trains symbolize technology
Steel, speed
But from an era gone by.
And my pace on the train is slow
I notice things along the track.
The kinds of trees, where pools are or hovels hidden away from the street.
Old telephone poles left to stand with their scraps of cable cut.
I study the landscape the way you might examine the yarn you chose for knitting.
Riding the train gets me thinking about home and what's for dinner. Something served at the table with placemats and napkins. Ready for love and quality time.
It's all quality time.

shadow run

2011-06-18T06:21:00.000-07:00

This morning was tough. Lots of reasons to stay in bed. My half-assed enthusiasm getting out the door was made up for by a mad dash from the car to train. I hope I remembered to turn off my lights.

The light now makes the world look like it has been cut out on black construction paper and lit from behind. Like that siloette of my brothers head he made in the second grade. The sky is a swirl of light blue and grey; everything else is still black as night.

Reposted from "Gram at 5AM"

summer days

2011-05-01T21:25:00.000-07:00

Wow.
Seems I blinked April away. How did that happen? I'm now sunburned and ready to collapse in the bed at night with beaten muscles and a clear head.

I am loving our block. It's not exactly like where I grew up, but reminiscent of it. Kids play in the street, tag and hide and seek spills over into neighbor yards... I can tell my kids to "go outside and play" and they do, drawing neighbor kids out for random fun.

And I'm playing catch or basketball or tag right along with them. When do Moms stop doing this? I can't remember the last time I saw another Mom shooting hoops or playing catch with her kids. Did I miss a memo? Is there some etiquette book somewhere that I didn't bother to read? Oh I'll chat it up as much as the rest of the Mom's on the block, but I can't resist an invitation to play ball with one of my kids.

The happy result is a sunburnt and beaten body. Plus two kids that took all of about 2 minutes to fall asleep tonight. I think I'll join them.

Do you do or do you don't?

2011-03-30T06:55:00.000-07:00

I never really realized how much working full-time takes out of you until I had the chance to not for a time. And it was a nice "not" because I was fortunate enough to do so without taking on too much financial stress. So my "not" was a course in finding natural rhythms and productive relaxation.

And wouldn't it be nice if we could all live like that, all the time? In a state of productive relaxation. Could be an oxymoron. But that's as best as I can describe it. Without knowing it, I began to look younger (amazing what consistent, sufficient sleep can do for you). And jumping head first back into my full-time career has felt like I've aged ten years in six months.

And in my idle moments (60 minutes worth) commuting in to work, the commutes of my recent history creep up into my brain. The rusted iron angel over a neighbor's door. Noticing cracks and colors and ... well you know.

So as the black awakens to dusty blue,
I'll ask this (to myself and you):
Do I want this life or do I don't?
Because if I'm here, that means I must.

hello hello

2011-03-27T20:00:00.001-07:00

I was asked: Grab the nearest book, turn to page 56, read the 5th sentence. Just a whimsical exercise from the local independent bookstore. But I was idle this morning and I bit.

56th page
5th sentence

"I sit there thinking about how much courage it takes to live an ordinary life."

Seriously, sometimes things happen that really knock you on your ass, right? JHC. Damn. That's exactly what I'm sitting here thinking about. How did the universe know? And how considerate of it to alert my conscious mind of it.

Much sweeter than the swift kick in the pants that it usually takes for us to grasp hold of what's going on in our lives.

There's a bit of history here too that I should probably let you in on. That constant drive to be anything but ordinary. That's great. But it can land you in a place where you're never happy with where you are. It's never enough because you're not that super hero you think the world needs. And it takes courage to see that taking the ordinary things in your life (your wife, kids, job, ...) and really LIVING it is amazing. It's the stuff that makes the world burst and lets real joy into your life. That kind of living is where heroes come from.

I miss writing and I've missed your blogs. Some time away has made me realize that the exchange of words and ideas I have here is such a valuable component of my inner reflection. So hello again. I'll see you around.

Love,
CGram

Ann's Coffee Shop

2010-10-21T05:42:00.000-07:00

comfort

2010-10-21T05:41:00.004-07:00

In the wake of an amazing vacation or the incredible experience of being abroad for a few years, what do you get excited about when you get back home? I keep finding myself focusing on comfort, and I went back to a little place today that could be the physical expression of the feeling.

It's a little diner named "Ann's Coffee Shop" and doesn't seem to have been touched by the silicon valley it sits in. They have cottage cheese and peaches on the menu and a navy bean soup of the day. My neighbor orders a glass of 2% milk and a liverwurst sandwich on toasted bread with lettuce, mayo and mustard... He's obviously come home. The decor and the majority of the clients all had their heydays sometime in the sixties, but that too has a comforting effect on me. I found it grounding to be in a place that was perfectly content being just as it is... and always has been.

cute as a button

2010-10-18T05:47:00.003-07:00

Our Peet's Coffee opens at 5 am. I am floored by this fact. It's one bit of insanity that I move back after 3 years of Italian soaked paradise and set myself to commuting across the bay at 5 am... quite another to discover that there is a stirring of activity at this hour. Human activity.

I'm humbled by the guy who shows up on his bike and stands there sipping coffee from his travel mug. Eyeing me hello while I sleepily fumble with my bag ticket coffee and try to punch my ticket without spilling the whole lot. He's managed to not only get himself to the train platform on time, but to do it well. He is clearly in control of his life.

This morning I am cheered though. I got out the door those 10 crucial minutes earlier that draw the line between feeling frantic and cool peace. Time to not feel compelled to speed through the streets. To return the smile from the girl working at the coffee shop. She, btw, is quite simply cute as a button and complements me in a different way every time I see her. Small things. Today she said my wallet was cute... She liked the birds on it.

I think we're all doing ok with 5 am. Like camping or tornadoes, it seems to bring out the best in us.

- Christine

outside looking in

2010-10-14T10:50:00.001-07:00

Well, that's about as deep as it's going to get because this post is just about me and my superfacial obsession with how my office looks and feels.

Yea, I have an office now. Isn't that weird?

I have quite a nice view from my window too. Some trees, lovely quartet of towering orange exhaust stacks, blue California sky. I'm not complaining about that.

It's just that when I have my desk facing the window, I feel like every Tom Dick and Jane who walks buy noses in on what I'm up to. It's unnerving. I'm constantly on the ready to hide open message windows.

I was so ill at ease that yesterday I turned the desk around so that it now faces the door. Problem now is that instead of gazing off at the blue sky, I look out into the hallway.

Tom Dick and Jane have noticed too (I told you they were nosing)... and to my surprise, seem to feel compelled to do something of a performance for me as they pass by. One guy just did this little side shuffle so that he could square his shoulders to the door and accompanied it with a smiling mumble. Very odd. Especially as I haven't gotten so much as a nod from this dude in the numerous hallway passings we've had. Seriously, he doesn't answer when I say good morning.

Where's that second cup of coffee?

Morning

2010-09-29T05:56:00.001-07:00

Seeing my punks here, in their new home after going to their new school... Their favorite new pass-time is playing tennis in the street in front of our house. We have a street light which permits us to continue even with the ever shorter days. Access to the outdoors is a priceless thing for lil punks I think. They pass in and out of our back door countless times every day.

The only change to our new routine that they are openly protesting is the drastically reduced time with me. I'm trying to figure out how to commute across the bay, work full time and reconnect with my family every day. Since I'm here now on the 5:28 am train heading west, sleep must have gotten shafted to the number 4 slot of those priorities.

The great things about waking up before 5 am?

The air is still untouched by the scorching sun.

The stars are just nodding out.

The chickens are still sleeping.

The passing landscape is shrouded in black and sparkling points of light... reminding me of other more exotic train rides.

"On the way home, night was approaching. I watched the distance grow between the train and the Adriatic Sea. Once the sky was black and all I could see were passing lights and highways and the train was quiet everything seemed familiar again. The night, lights, and people on the train, absorbed in their books and music, are all the same really. The same you find anywhere."

- Christine

Train ride

2010-09-27T17:30:00.000-07:00

I'm on the train for about an hour these days. It's one half of my commute. I'm on it now and thought I'd share the brilliance of this part of my day with you.

First off, I'm pecking this out with my thumb so I apologize for any thumb control/auto-correct errors that will occur. Yes, I'm blaming my phone for everything written here that makes absolutely no sense.

So what do we have here. The vast majority of my fellow riders are sleeping. You quickly appreciate that most of these beautiful souls wale up at 4 am to get to work on the morning and noise of any kind is swiftly scorned upon.

The wakeful crowd occupies themselves with their various electronics, or even paper based reading (but that can get noisy, so is also frowned upon).

We roll through one of the most beautiful canyons on the area and watch the now golden hills roll by. It's not terrible.

Well, I'm the next stop. I can't wait to see the punks.

- Christine

at the crux between not believing you are here and feeling like you never left

2010-09-27T08:18:00.003-07:00

A fair amount of driving on auto-pilot is required at this place
While you put on blinders and bury yourself behind brick walls.
The auto-pilot fills a new house with the things that you need.
It gets your children in clean clothes and pushes them out the door.
It hops you on the train in the morning and to meetings on time.
To teacher meetings and soccer games.
And into bed at night.

It's called surviving. And I've figured out that the presence of, or the ability to turn on auto-pilot can be the difference between function and dysfunctional. Between having your act pulled together and negligence. It makes all those necessary decisions for us when we cannot engage, for one reason or another and keeps us out of trouble. Raising too many eyebrows or shaking too many heads.

rug nap

2010-09-23T13:47:00.001-07:00

The chocolate chip cookies they sell in the cafeteria are killer. I'm quite tuckered out and so, upon forefit of my softball game today, I decided to take a nap on the floor of my office. The patch of sun, in addition to creating delightful reflected images on the wall, makes quite a cozy place to catch some time relaxing in a vertical position. I generally visit the sun patch once a day and listen to the crackle of my spine straightening out, but today I lumbar-ed down there for the expressed intent.

And here is what rug dreams are composed of: Upon waking I find my office chair disassembled and the filing cabinet knocked over, having nearly crushed me in my sleep. I right it but leave the chair for some unsuspecting soul. Mind you I was sleeping in the sun after having eaten an entire chocolate chip cookie, a glass of mango blueberry water and listening to "red red robin radio" on Pandora.

Not good.

Well, the radio tunes are actually pretty catchy.
And the cookies are delicious
And so are naps.

Just not all rolled up together. ;)

reflected butterfly

2010-09-20T14:55:00.003-07:00

The sun shines into my new office in the afternoon and I notice as I
twist in my ergonomically correct chair that the shape of a butterfly
is reflected off the metal back support onto the wall. My new office
succulent is already dying. I never have done well by these plants
and I wonder why I let myself buy another. The world map tacked to the
wall has already faded into the background of what I notice... as has
everything else. I no longer turn desperately out of supermarkets
upon entering them... necessity has forced her hand. Old office
trinkets have found their places, marked their spots in the
accumulating dust. So I guess it's good that I notice things like
imagined butterflies... well maybe it's a horse now... trotting back
and forth across the corner of the room.

And I'm here. Sometimes I let myself think about that sliding door
twist of fate that sent the alternate me on another path. That me that
stayed in Italy and let her children delve deeper into childhood
friendships and cement their standings in the Italian elementary school.
That me who savored the sight of rusty iron work over large double
doors, the sound of footsteps on marble sidewalks and how many fossils
she could spot in the stone on her walk to the school. And then I
can't breathe and burst into tears at what I have lost.

But if I don't let myself think too deeply I can see what I have
gained. What was that again? The ability to feel truly alien in the
country I've lived all my life? Yea, there's something more to it
that I just can't wrap words around at the moment. Thoughts as
fleeting as reflections, changed, and now gone.

Literally looking up

2010-09-17T14:47:00.000-07:00

Looking Up!

2010-09-17T13:34:00.009-07:00

Hi folks... Things are looking up. I'm finally figuring out this new fangled technology and honing out some space and time to start blogging again. I think in this case I really need to get my head back INTO the clouds. I'm SO ready to reconnect with all of you and that creative part of myself.
See you soon!
-Christine

Do it for "Pacing the Panic Room"

2010-08-30T16:03:00.000-07:00

Sorry, your browser does not support iframes.

new ground

2010-07-31T06:11:00.004-07:00

It's been a rough two weeks.

What can I say? First I guess a little background. I moved back to where I was living before Italy after 3 years. There were many reasons, I'm not sure any of it important for my purposes here. What is my purpose here? This has always been the place where I marvel at the world around me. Share that oblivion that swirls up in my head as I try to take it in. I think I can still do that. Well, at any rate, I would like to still do that.

A big chunk of these two weeks has been filled up with homecoming. A strange one though. The joy at seeing great friends again has been riding a wave of distaste for the culture. I hate the traffic. I hyperventilate when I enter the massive supermarkets. Hell, even the aisles of products at the pharmacy send my head spinning. I can't stand it, so I shield my eyes and run out of the store empty handed. I'm hiding in the cocoon of things I can accept. My friend's apartment, my office at work, old project notebooks. I can't stand to look at the world outside, so find myself at a loss for words on the "pilgram" experience.

It's shocking how lost I feel here. Not only in my head, but I have been literally getting lost. I don't remember how to drive through towns that I used to drive through daily. Streets are unfamiliar and memories of where they go are hazy.

And I'm not fully here yet. I have no family, no phone (for the love of all that is good and evil!!!), no furniture, no damn warm clothes... yea, what Steinbeck said about summer in San Francisco is true... making it even harder to acclimate. And easier to alienate myself. This can only lead to darkness.

So, after a distressing two weeks, I found myself driving my commute home. Cursing the rotation of the already boring same four songs on the radio. The tired classics and shallow new releases. But as I topped the pass from the bay into the valley, the red evening light caught my eye from the tops of distant hills. And for the first time since I've been back I saw my home the way I used to round the curves in Northern Italy. For it's amazing beauty. The rolling golden hills, the green scrub, the cool blanket of air. And my pilgram head latched on to this thread of hope. That maybe, once I get over myself, I'll start to see the wonder in the world again. YEA!!! Tiny dances of celebration erupting inside. This can work. All is not lost.

Lying on a floating mat, gazing at the sun through my hat.

2010-07-12T10:54:00.006-07:00

The waves cause a gentle sway
Of an inflated mat
And my body lying flat
As I stare up into my hat

Blue sky and waves are bright
But just an inch from my face
Is a dark and rainbowed space
And I am glad to be in this place

**ha... sometimes the titles end up longer than the verse

after all, he's a foreigner!

2010-07-10T20:45:00.005-07:00

I'm not sure why it is, but I have a tendency to do things the hard way. I always reasoned that it made life more interesting. Beh... maybe I'm finally getting too old for that.

Maybe this tendency can be attributed to being a bit too spontaneous or naive. And it's not that I don't weigh the pros and cons of the situation... it's just that when opportunities come along, "life is short" weighs heavily in the "go for it" column.

That said, I didn't make pros and cons columns when I married a foreigner. And even if I had, I'm sure "immigration services might prevent his reentry into the US" wouldn't have occurred to me.

When we lived in the US, my alien spouse had a green card. We showed up at our interview with our two proofs of legitimate marriage (the punks) and in literally less than 5 minutes we were out the door, green card approval in hand. Since he's already been living in the US for many years on various student and working visas, it almost seemed like a matter of semantics.

Then, as you know, we moved to Italy. And since we lived outside of the US for more than two years, we have to apply for a new green card. There are enough rules and regulations about green cards and I really don't want to give any further explanation than that as I'm far from an expert on the subject. But it all boils down to that.

I will say though, that don't you think there should be some sort of permanent green card for married couples? Wouldn't that save everyone, including immigration services a ton of work? They're just going to give it right back to him. I know, it's a permanent resident card... but couldn't I be the little piece of America that stays with him... sort of like stepping onto American soil when you enter an embassy abroad (ok, this could degenerate quickly). Maybe just a simple interview at the border to verify that the marriage is still valid. That would be easy. Marriage license and spouse and kids in tow... easy peasy!

Anyway, I head off the the embassy to apply. Like, a month ago. See, when we were in the US and we applied for the green card, he got permission to reside in the US while it was processing. We assumed that we'd get a similar permit this time around.

Yea, that was wrong. And he has to stay in Italy until he gets the green card. We've been assured that the process is much faster from outside the US and an entry visa isn't necessary. But the fact is that school starts in a few weeks and even faster (4-6 months) just isn't fast enough.

Maybe if I tell them that our 10 year anniversary is in September....

**I'll send you a postcard if you can name the movie I took my title from. The actual quote is "After all, she's a foreigner!"

touristy mix

2010-07-05T02:04:00.005-07:00

So hello, strangers. Hello from brilliantly beautiful southern Italy. Ever wonder if it's universally true that people in warmer climates are warmer socially? I adore Amalfi. It's a damn lucky to be married to someone with roots here.

How's summer in Amalfi this year? Well, the World Cup has everyone in a buzz. Even with Italy having performed so dismally, they still find someone to get behind. In latest matches the bulk of spectators seem to be supporting Spain, Ghana, Argentina and then Uruguay last night. My son has become a die hard Germany fan. Personally I don't feel the same passion about who wins or looses at this point, but I love watching the game. My twisted mind is usually hoping for whoever is behind to even it up and for the game to go into penalty kicks.

This is our beach, looks like towards the end of the day since I see the beds are being put away. It's a public beach but the beds and umbrellas can be rented from "Tonino-o-beach"... it's become our place to go over the years, mostly because of Tonino and his family. It's also one of the more relaxed beaches and full of kids being crazy. It's funny when you're with kids, it's almost better to go to the more crazy places because they have fun and don't bug the hell out of you so much. Punks.

We get here around lunch time, swim, relax, eat some fruit and crackers, swim, kayak, snorkle, and relax some more. Yea, it's a rough life.

When we've had too much beach we take an open bus (this is key, open bus = no vomiting) to Ravello. We're always impressed with what is going on in Ravello and makes us wish Amalfi would get it's cultural act together. The picture above is from the gorgeous Villa Cimbrone and there is a concert society that organizes concerts with Villa Rufolo. Our latest form of torture is to head to Ravello for the afternoon and return to Amalfi by foot. Not to be advised in flip-flops!

octopus brains

2010-07-02T20:15:00.007-07:00

I woke with one of my infamous claustrophobic dreams tonight. Something about defending an alien species of octopus brains from the human race. The humans wanted to enslave or kill them all and I negotiated an agreement that they would only go to war if they were given some way to defend themselves. I woke to a desperate bloody battle scene of fleshy octopus brains trying to squeeze themselves into armor.

And I haven't even been watching Doctor Who.

I suppose it's the nearing date of my departure from Italy. Another American family holiday missed. A windowless bedroom compounded with sleeping with my bed-hog son... I'm carrying a whole lot of unexpressed anxiety around in my chest, so I guess I deserve octopus brains.

Plus I saw a sack of dying octopi on the beach today. Yea, that probably didn't help either.

So what does a pilgram do when she has a claustrophobic dream? First she gets the hell out of the cave/bedroom. The balcony is a good place to breathe. She switches beds with her husband. She listens to the "Stranger than Fiction" soundtrack. And when she still feels restless, she escapes into the blogsphere for a bit.

Hi there!

Yep, feeling much better now.

paradise has a leak

2010-07-01T22:55:00.006-07:00

My toilet leaks because the gasket dries out
It takes a few weeks, but it eventually stops
As the rubber gasps and cracks its back
Waking from its slumber

I can relate
We sleep in deep comas unable to resist the plunge
The sun shreds the treads of our control, the lucidity
And squeaky beds, aged sheets cradle us to our rest

And I wake from that sleep with a clear head
but with a body that feels like it's been tenderized.
Hammered limp by the volcanic earth and salt.
Blue sky, bells, and clatter in the square
Birds that call "you who" all morning to the clatter of the square...
I guess it's time to wake up.

And we stumble out of our hospice like drunken babies
Sweet milk drooling from our mouths, the perfect image of contentment
Letting pickle jars catch our leaks...
Just give us a few weeks

isn't it ironic?

2010-06-29T16:33:00.002-07:00

I'm almost laughing. I've spent the last few months moping around inside my head at the fact that I am leaving Italy. Outside I'm bursting really, and loving loving everyone around me. Here I write it out and so perhaps you've missed that part.

A year ago I wasn't happy with how things were going in Italy. I loved my family life, I loved the culture and our city, but I needed more. I hadn't bonded with anyone after two years and that frustrated me. I realized that if I were to leave then, no one would miss me and I'd hardly miss them. And I set out to change that.

I quit my job and dove back into Italian classes. I spent my free time working the beginning of friendships I had and left behind the ones that sapped my life. I reached out more and pushed myself harder. And it worked.

I got that heartache I was looking for. Am I sick somehow to want this? I feel torn apart at having to move away from my friends in Italy. I want to cling to them and see them everyday, share their joys and sorrow. Sometimes I feel I can't possibly move away.

But I also feel lucky and joyful. I love these people and I'm looking forward to that feeling of welcome and warmth when I return to this northern most town in northern Italy. I'm tearing myself out of that cocoon of sorrow that keeps wrapping up around me. Part of me wants to hide away and disappear... and I won't let myself do that anymore. I suppose that was something I did in high school. Friends carry too much value for me now, and not that I can't live without them, but I don't want to.

bye bye love

2010-06-23T04:50:00.005-07:00

There's something so beautiful about saying goodbye to the people/places/times in our lives that have brought so much joy to it. Saying goodbye makes you reflect and really appreciate what has become such an integral part of your life that you've stopped thinking about it so much.

For me, it's many things at the moment. This beautiful city that beat me against closed doors for so long, and then finally showed me the side way in. Generous friends that didn't back down from the language barriers, who kept urging me to claw my way through. Gentle teachers that I found so abrasive from the start. And even the regular faces that took months to soften their expressions from scowls to kind recognition.

Saying goodbye makes me appreciate all the work that we have done to feel at home here. It really does feel like home, and I know that I will have a flood of good feelings come rushing back when we visit in the future.

And an especially sweet goodbye to a blogging friend who has recently passed. Bobbie was one of my biggest supporters and spread jewels of wisdom and beauty into my life. She always made note of the bright side of things. A woman much after my own heart. I will truly miss hearing her written voice. My sincere condolences go out to her family, especially her daughter Kitty.

-Christine

hello from Trasloco

2010-06-11T12:59:00.005-07:00

Sorry about my post yesterday. I generally avoid making apologies when it comes to posting (or not) here, but I think I let a little too much crazy show yesterday.

We're sorting this evening and it's going slowly. I'm still freaking out a little as Tuesday seem to be quickly approaching and more and more activities get crammed into the space between now and then. I need to collect my thoughts.

The shipping costs break down to $3.85/lb. With that figure in my head, I'm "weighing" carefully whether or not something stays or goes. Even things that I never questioned keeping before, like books are getting the boot now. National Geographics... bye bye. Egg, Dairy, Wheat Free Cooking... uh, see ya! I'm not looking forward to piling up the books from the library.

The kids are sorting too and started out really well. But then I started pulling things out of closets that they haven't seen in a while and suddenly the pile is growing. I think I'm going to have to make some cuts behind their backs. But I don't think it's fair for me to rank the importance of their things. I'm allowing things like the giant shark tooth shaped piece of drift wood that Punkone has had on his nightstand for the past two years...

I keep reminding myself how excessive everything seemed when it arrived here from the states. We let them ship everything thinking that a recreation of their home would give them a sense of stability. They didn't need it. It was like an excessive Christmas as box after box of toys was opened, remembered and then set aside.

They've changed so much in three years. Instead of a two foot high play table, we're thinking of setting them up with desks. The donation pile keeps growing with word puzzles and animal lotto and non-slip step stools.

One thing I can say for moving is that it gives you an opportunity to shed old skin and show off some new and vibrant colors.

don't grease your wheels when you're going uphill

2010-06-10T15:48:00.003-07:00

I think I can
I think I can

Moving date is scheduled for June 15th. I'm hoping this is a good sign.

See, 15 is my lucky number. For a long time it was just because I was born on the 15th.

When deciding due dates for my daughter the calender said the 10th and the ultrasound said the 20th so I said, "let's just make it the 15th."

She was born on the 15th. 45 minutes after my water broke weighing 10lbs even (no, not 15) but without a scratch on Mommy. I felt pretty darn lucky that day.

My husband's Mom, wife, and daughter were all born on the 15th. He's lucky too.

So, moving date scheduled, pre-pack survey done and I decide I've got a bone to pick with the moving company. We booked the move right before we took off for Sicily. I had one other quote come in higher than them, so decided to just count our losses and sign. Contract signed, scanned, sent and we're off for Sicily. For those of you who have never moved overseas, let's just say the move is more expensive than almost anything you can put in that box.

Week later come back to emails to find quote number three... a whopping $1300 dollars LOWER than who we've signed with. Ugh.

Upon closer inspection, it turns out that not only is this quote for the same services, but it's almost entirely handled by the same companies!!! There's the Italian start, a big ship in the middle and the US end. Only difference is the final mover in California. In fact, we booked our move with the central player (the trans-atlantic) part of the Q3's plan.

So I call up our mover to ask what's the dealy-O and he spews something about XYZ Port fees not being included and then Q3 says they are included and then I go back to our mover with something along the lines of figure out how to sort this out there or I'll cancel and rebook with Q3.

Mover lops $1100 off the original quote. Apologizes for not being able to match but hopes I'll accept the new quote.

Since when did $1000 dollars become something so trivial? This is amazing to me. And I have to tell you that it was difficult to accept the revised quote. I felt like I'd been scammed. Why didn't they offer that in the first place? Is there a softball team somewhere that won't get matching jerseys after all?

Since school has let out I forget what day it is. Feels like a Tuesday but I'm pretty sure that's not right. I need my planner now more than ever.

To illustrate, Punkone served us breakfast this morning. He has a "no clothes, no service" policy (it was posted on the kitchen door). This is because his sister and I spend the morning in our underwear. I think all the lack of scheduling around here is really getting to him.

trials of traslocare

2010-06-09T00:39:00.006-07:00

Traslocare= To move. Conjugates as transloco = I move

Seems like the perfect word for "moving". Think of it as "trans-crazy."

There are more than just a few crazy things about moving in Italy:

Unless you're renting a "furnished" apartment, the kitchen is yours and you need to buy and install it when you move in, and naturally, move it out when you leave. This is an insane waste of material, time, and money, but that's just the way it's done. If you happen to be reading this blog from Trento and you need a spiffy 3 year old kitchen at a great price, please let me know.

Light fixtures also go with you. When we moved in there were literally no lights wired in the house... just a bunch of live wires hanging from the walls and ceilings here and there. Another insane waste of time and money.

Offering used items to people seems to be taboo here. Apparently it's taken as an insult... you need to tread these waters carefully and with only the very intimate of friends lest someone take offense. From someone who is an avid hand-me-downer, garage sale and thrift shop scavenger hunter this cultural quirk is hard to understand.

No garage = no garage sales
No thrift shops
Internet sites advertising sale of used items are not as hot here as they are in the states. We've posted everything with little to no interest. The only items I've been able to sell are to other expats.

This leaves me with the last resort option of calling the local church and asking them if they can find a family who needs all our furniture, electronics, and outgrown clothes. I'm not a big fan of this as accepting these kinds of donations usually comes with the expectation that you're a member of the church. I'd feel better about helping someone without the underlying (or explicit) expectation that they subscribe to a particular faith. However, it's still much better than leaving it next to the dumpster.

-----

The other can of worms that I'm dealing with right now is reapplying for my husband's green card. The department of homeland security is SO much fun.

-----

Waaaa... I can hear you all crying out for my dire situation and I couldn't leave you like that. There-there... There is a nice shiny silver lining to my rain cloud: We just finished a week of sailing around the islands of Sicily...

Panarea

Sicilian fish market

Salina

granite e brioche (breakfast)

Caper bush flowers on the Volcano crater

Small islands off Panarea

Beach cove on Panarea

Stromboli

I think I'll be alright. ;)

countdown

2010-05-26T00:18:00.009-07:00

We just finished reading "Travels with Charley" by Steinbeck. John suits himself up with one of those pick-up truck/campers and takes off with his dog Charley for a few months to get in touch with the pulse of America. His stops and starts and his general impression of people in diners and on the back roads of the US. He takes his time wandering east to west to south to back home again. Reminded me a lot of our summer vacations driving off to some state we hadn't seen yet.

And when he gets on that home stretch, that last day or two of driving, he comments that this was one of those times when the journey ends before the trip is done. He was no longer interested in observing and probing and trying to take in the vibes of the places he was driving through. He just wanted to get home.

I feel like that now. I'm trying to stay present and let myself keep falling in love with Italy. For example, if only you could just hear the sound of the birds they have here. The rondine fill the background city sounds with an organic softness. It's indescribable. On it's own you might say it's a high pitched whistle, but it's more than that. It echos off the buildings as they bank from under the roof overhangs. A light brilliant layer to the lower sound of voices, bikes and footsteps in the morning. I love opening up the windows to these sounds everyday.

And getting lost in the Alps. Last weekend we decided to take the scenic route home from lake Como, headed for the wrong mountain pass, which ended up being closed and had to take a detour through Switzerland. Incredibly beautiful mountains like none I'd ever seen before. And I loved it, but in a bitter sweet way. Like watching something new and beautiful in the final hours. You're in awe, but in the back of your mind, you know the end is near.

Of course I'm also excited. I'm going home to the US, beautiful California and a job I have missed. I'm looking forward to being able to call my parents during my morning commute... reconnecting made easier simply because of a change in time zone. Feeling that American pulse again. And I'm clearing out the accumulated crap from our house. I love simplifying and shedding the excess. And I'm excited to see the next few months in Italy unfold. I'm looking forward to sailing and Amalfi, but trying desperately to not let the heartache of moving away cloud the days.

present history

2010-05-19T00:27:00.004-07:00

I wash myself with the warm morning sun
Herding the punks off to school
Through palace doors
Over marble floors
We do things like take out the trash
Well child check-ups
Shoe laces tied in double knots
Mop up milky cheerios
And shake the sand out of our shoes
Shuttered charm and markets
Sustain the modern buzz
of iPhones and pilates
Tempering it well with organic sustenance
Feeding that part of us that we didn't think we needed
Like the dust from backward small towns left behind
Italy doesn't give you that option
There's no leaving behind, no forgetting
And the whole of time stays with you

what the hell woman?!?!

2010-05-18T02:01:00.004-07:00

I have this little voice in my head that keeps asking me this question. I have a billion thoughts running around and yet I'm resisting the urge to write any of them down here. I think partly because they are not in tune with what I tried to grow with this blog. Partly because they are difficult to face. Maybe also because it just feels like whining and I get enough of that already from my punks. Boils down to moving away from a place I spent so much time falling in love with is hard.

So I need to purge. This isn't going to be beautiful or poetic. I can't get any where near that though without airing things out first. Please excuse the mess.

Our decision to return to the states is based on both rational and emotional reasons. We came here with the understanding that the "worst case scenario" was actually pretty good. We'd get to dive into my husband's culture for a few years and learn Italian. My job was graciously put on hold and my husband's looked like a thrilling adventure. If it bombed, we'd simply move back to a life that we loved in California.

SO that's what's happening. And rationally it's all good. Our tenants in our house in CA happen to be returning to their home country in June, freeing it up in perfect timing for us. Even the stress of uprooting the punks seems to be going reasonably well thus far. Goodbye parties are being planned, friends consoled...

So why am I in such a funk?

I'm realizing that I am much more attached to this life than I imagined. Also, this move seems much more final to me. I dreamed for years and years to live abroad one day. Now I've done it and it's coming to an end. I'll move back to the US, slip back into my job, hike, visit the ocean, garden and eat great Indian food... all things that I loved doing before. Things that I miss. But I'm finding now that I don't want it the way it was before. I want it to be more than that. This experience needs to have changed something about where my life goes from here.

And in recent days I guess I am starting to believe that it will be different because we're different. We'll see things differently and do things in a different way. God I hope so. Otherwise it feels like it was all for nothing.

abbastanza bene invitation

2010-05-12T08:14:00.005-07:00

I want to let you know about a new project I am starting. It's called "abbastanza bene" and it's a poetry blog, in Italian. I choose "abbastanza bene" as the title because the expression means "ok" which is a generous description of my level of competence in Italian these days and I thought it was cute that the word "stanza" was hidden in the title of a poetry blog.

It sort of spun out a comment that a friend of mine made not long ago. She told me that she "adored" the way I expressed myself in Italian and that I should write much more before I learned too much of the language. It seemed a curious comment to me, but peaked my interest nonetheless. The kick came last night when I found myself awake at night, spilling out lines of a poem in my head, in Italian. And I thought, well, why not?

I linked to the blog on my sidebar under "siamo qui" (we're here).

face of the earth

2010-05-10T00:16:00.003-07:00

glipmar

2010-05-01T05:44:00.003-07:00

That's "pilgram" turned inside out.

And turns out, that it's a pretty good adjective for how I've been feeling lately. Glipmar 'bout sums it up perfectly.

See, we've decided to end our time in Italy.

So I'm inside out. I feel excited about what lies ahead. I feel sad about leaving Italy behind. I'm looking forward to time with old friends and already missing the time I've had with the new. Both happy and sick about the coming weeks ahead, weeks of getting rid of everything we won't ship, sailing the Sicilian seas, packing, and the joy of Amalfi. It all lies ahead in one giant ball of stress. I've gotten so far ahead of myself that it's paralyzed my ability to live one day at a time.

Glipmar.

finding your tribe

2010-04-24T12:27:00.006-07:00

When strangers meet, there is that nervous anticipation. Wondering what this person will be like when they open their mouth. When they meet your eyes. The online forum where you met suggested that you should have some of the same ideals, after all, how many shades of breastfeeding, co-sleeping mothers are there? Rainbows! You're screaming inside. Nervous excitement. Hope. You realize how alone you've felt since you moved abroad. You're nervous that you're pinning too many hopes on the kismet coincidence that this woman happens to be passing through the same town you've run off to. After all, you don't want to scare her away with over-eagerness. She might think you're some kind of freak.

Scanning faces for that look. Not knowing what she looks like at all, but only that you've decided to meet in this park. The kids take in the playground and you take in the scattered mothers. No one meets you with that same look of expectation and they're quickly dismissed.

And then you see her walking toward you from across the grass. Like an angel. She and her papoose in a scarlet wrap and the three older children move with her like ducklings. And you adore her already.

Some friendships grow with time, linger and it's the sum of experience that builds their importance in your life. But this one erupted with intensity and passion. You permit yourself to be consumed and savor every moment of it. Her strength and beauty. That smile that comes from happiness of years gone by, so genuine it pierces you. We shared in our trials and joys at natural parenting, marriage to non-American men, and living abroad. Language and education and exploring this mad world with our children.

3 months passes fast in love. The purest of feel good hugs. Calling across the park with our final goodbyes. And that melancholic sigh when we realize our schedules are suddenly empty once again.

a little space please...

2010-04-23T00:06:00.007-07:00

Personal space is an interesting thing. This invisible zone that no one is allowed to enter except for a very brief greeting. The zone reserved for only the most intimate of our relationships. And the vast majority of people get this. Is it something hard wired in our brains? Or is it cultural?

I've come across arguments for both. In the Smart Guide to studying in the USA site they explain personal space as a cultural difference and advise new comers to avoid closing the gap when someone backs away from them or touching someone during a conversation.

I know for certain that this personal space is a much smaller area in Italy. Almost non-existent. It is standard practice to lean against the person in front of you while waiting in line. If you inch forward they just slide right up on you. Or they will be so close that you're certain they're trying to smell your neck or rob you.

And while you (ie, me) are freaking out, they think nothing of it. Not a synapse of alarm or seduction or malice fires in their brains. They're just standing in line.

But then I read a study published in Time that found that the personal definition of personal space was controlled by a portion of the brain called the amygdalae. The found that people with healthy amygdalae had a personal space of about 2 ft. while a woman who happened to have severe damage to this region of the brain was comfortable with half the distance.

Does that suggest that cultures with little or no sense of personal space lack developed amygdalae?

Maybe we could add it to their milk... like vitamin D. Sure would make buying tickets for the movie feel a lot less like going to a rave.

On the other hand, it might be nice to not be bothered by someone's arm around your shoulder, or being able to speak more discretely with the people around you. Huh... I wonder if this is why Americans are so loud.

la prima cosa e' di amarlo

2010-04-22T00:22:00.001-07:00

The first thing is to love it.
Happy Earth Day.

Love, SP

sacred space

2010-04-18T11:55:00.004-07:00

When you live in the city
Even one with plenty of parks
When you don't have a yard
Or driveway...

I recently obtained access to an outdoor basketball court. Punkone and I are loving it.
WHO'S UP FOR HOOPS?!?!

Seize the Day!

2010-04-14T00:30:00.005-07:00

Have you ever noticed when you are on vacation or staying for a limited period of time in someplace new, how you gobble up all the place has to offer? You go to the museums, a new cafe everyday, wander down hidden trails, and basically turn over every rock you can get your mugs on. And, perhaps in your enthusiasm, you might befriend a local. And in your first conversations you discover that they have never seen that famous gallery or bothered to stop at the historical society.

Or maybe you've been that local and found yourself caught up in the eagerness of a visitor passing though. A friend or relative that has a list of places they must see. And for a few days you catch that exploration fever and your commute and grocery shopping and weeds to pull in the garden are forgotten.

My husband, for instance, lived in Rome his whole life and never visited the Vatican Museums or the catacombs until I dragged him there. And it's not that he wasn't interested. It's just that when you live in a place, you don't feel that urgency. You figure you'll see them eventually, but never get around to it. And thirty years slips by.

Why is this? It's a question of time and how we experience it. When it's been sectioned off and rationed out, we feel it slipping away. It always passes at exactly the same speed, but we generally don't notice unless we're told that we only have so much of it.

When I moved to California the first time, it was for a three month internship. I had three months and I went somewhere new every weekend. I saw as much of that state in those three months as I did in the five years that I lived there later in my life.

So, having observed this, I try to trick myself into being the tourist every now and then. I tell myself, "this is the only April 15th 2010 you'll ever have!!! Is there anything you'd like to do today?" or "If I were going to leave this beautiful place in, say 6 weeks, what would I want most to do?" It gives me just enough kick to get out of my lazy comfort zone and get out on the weekend or finally invite those friends over for dinner.

Insert your favorite soap opera title,

-SP

the weight of time

2010-04-10T21:17:00.005-07:00

There seems to be a standard rule for the relationship of people years to dog years. I guess it helps people to understand where their dogs are at in their lives.
But I don't have a dog.

I have punks.

And I've been thinking a lot lately about the ratio of grown-up to lil'punk years. It's not so simple to understand.

They're clearly different. I can remember finding it nearly impossible to utter the phrase "nineteen eighty." It seemed like the planet had been knocked off axis when teacher informed us that it was no longer seventy-nine. What was the world coming to? And I'd struggle to wrap my aural cavity around eighty without gagging. Seventy nine was so smooth. Had the world gone mad?

And the monumental leap that every birthday brought. The wait for Christmas. Or recess. These memories cause me to speculate that it must be at least 10 kid years to every grownup year. And how much of who we are is defined by those first 10-20 years? Do you think I'm crazy? Letting nostalgia run amuck? Of course, those are the "formative years." Maybe think about it this way... How much does the 9th year weigh in relation to the 39th?

Some thirty years later I could tell you some good stories about my 9th year. My youngest brother was born. I remember the camping trip when my parents told me and my two younger brothers that we were going to have a new sibling. And the bets were immediately placed between my brothers and I. They wanted another brute to gang up on me with. I wanted a sister I could play dress up with.

I remember spending the evening with my Aunt DD when my Mom and Dad went to the hospital. She had finally piled us into the car to take us to her house to spend the night when my Dad pulled into the driveway. I jumped out of the car and he yelled "It's a boy!" I was so pissed.

And I remember taking the new brother to school for show and tell. I remember our third grade play. Being asked to decorate props instead of reading a part because I just couldn't speak up loud enough. I remember being in love with Chris Kirby (he was the lead) and hanging out every day with him and Jason on the playground. Playing "heart and soul" on the piano.

It all gets a bit diluted when you're a grown up. Memories come in terms of decades or eras. In my twenties, our college days, or when I was dating Garth. And now I'm thinking... worrying (I never worry) about this weight of three years and how it feels to me and how it might feel to my punks. We've both been thrown into this new culture and soaked it up in different ways. I think to a greater extent they've just lived their lives. They've gone to school and had the birthdays and Christmas' and the long wait for recess. And I've done some of that too. But at the same time I don't think I ever lost this sense of being in another world. And if I had, could I leave it behind? What chunk of their lives are we forcing them to part with? What fills up their hearts and what will be carried with them for the rest of their lives? It's 3 years for me. Three amazing years. What's that weigh in punk years?

eat food

2010-04-08T05:07:00.004-07:00

Most secrets to getting healthy are painfully obvious when you discover them, but have somehow become hidden by our modern way of life. It's so simple: eat food, drink water, sleep, and do what you love. How is it that these simple rules have become mantras or radical lifestyle choices?

When I was pregnant with my first punk I devoured all the information I could get my hands on about pregnancy and childbirth. I felt this need to be the healthiest I could be, make the right choices, and most of all, not screw it up. Fortunately, I was at the university when I found out I was pregnant and the only book on pregnancy the university bookstore had to offer was an anthropological study on birth in ancient cultures. It was about the inherent wisdom of women who know how to listen to their bodies and are supported by their communities. I'm thankful that this was the book that preceded all others that I would read in the coming months. Because, quite frankly, all the others are full of a lot of stress inducing garbage. It wasn't until my second pregnancy when I read Ina May's Guide to Childbirth that I finally found the information I was searching for.
And that was the sum total of her nutrition advice: eat food.

And this simplicity can be found in my other rules of thumb...
For health : eat food, drink water, sleep. Sit up straight.
Career: Do what you love.
Housekeeping: If you don't love it or use it, get rid of it.

Of course I don't have all the answers. Good gracious I'm only just 37. My family life has it's ups and downs, my cholesterol gets high, my back curves like a snake. But I like these kind of simple steps. Even ones like love is worth fighting for. That means the right thing for me now. I used to think it was a cowardly excuse for war. It's not. It's more about believing in yourself and being honest.

I like the sun warming and music and hugs. Simple things.

Maybe that's what I'm still looking for. Sometimes simple things are difficult to see.

fragile**

2010-03-31T15:33:00.005-07:00

at school in the spring
they're doing the usual things
growing tough and strong
as their little clay pots

brought one home today
to show mom and dad
his handmade creation
in the bottom of a bag

he told me how someone
laughed when it shattered
and asked for some superglue
but didn't seem like it mattered

and during errands today
we bought some more clay
and the kids set to it
cause he just couldn't glue it

preoccupied by messes
and being quite the hag
I take no time to notice
the shattered pot in the bag

nor the one on the table
that dries for tomorrow
he's balled it up
his heart full of sorrow

he falls asleep in the bed
and my regret lingers...
now I need help getting
superglue off my fingers

**aka: I suck

color summer

2010-03-31T05:22:00.004-07:00

Written's theme this week is Colorful!

odd balls

2010-03-30T05:08:00.005-07:00

I like the odd balls.
The one in the group of black trench coats staring at the clouds.
The window with the beaded curtains.
The pink houses.
The neon tights.

I smile at the portico capped with rusted iron angles.
The bimbo who wipes the gelato from nonno's chin.
Cherry blossoms at the bus stop.
Crazy curly frizzy hair.
Enormous orange hats.

Just when I'm feeling that I am the odd one out,
I look up and notice someone or something distinctly different,
The wonderful quirks that we humans bring to light,
That set things off,
But make it quite right.

runners high

2010-03-29T04:47:00.006-07:00

Spring, degenerating health, and ants in my pants got me out for not one, but two runs this weekend. Punkette on pink wheels came along to keep me company while M and Punkone set off further afield.

So I lace up my shoes, pull down the bike, and she and I wound our way through the city streets. Down the street, right through the alley, across the park, under the tracks, two more blocks and we find the bike path.

Punkette's chattering dances across the steady beat of my feet on the pavement. Mixing up my usual rhythm. "Why do bees like bright colors?" she asks, reflecting upon their attraction for her fluorescent yellow t-shirt. I make something up about all the bright colors in nature being flowers. That the bees have evolved to recognize bright colors because that was where they always found the pollen they needed. That it was only just recently that people started confusing them with crazy colored t-shirts.

"Let's talk of the things of nature" she says in an awkwardly translated Italian. Its something she's learned in school and I ask her to explain what she means in Italian. That I'm sure I'll understand. She doesn't look convinced, but proceeds.

And we run and bike, side by side and sweating, I quiz her... The game is to say if something is natural or fabricated. We quickly arrive at the crossroads of the wooden post, which is fabricated, but made of wood, which is natural.

She enjoys this and I'm distracted from my tiring muscles. Their outraged cry at the past months of neglect. "What are you doing to us?!?!" is muffled by this curly headed punk on pink wheels.

But I sense a lull in her enthusiasm for the ride so I point out a far off cluster of trees. I tell her that there is a bench near those trees and that it would be a perfect spot for a break. Again she doesn't seem convinced (when did my children begin to doubt me so much!?!).

Then I cut her off at the start of "I can't..." and offer to set her up with the mp3 player. To this she lights up. And we race ahead, my body's cries for mercy drowned out by Punkette's repeated renditions of "Lollipop!"

She does the "sassy" Mika part really well.

passigato

2010-03-23T06:21:00.007-07:00

Yesterday I went for a walk down by the river to see what spring was up to...

Basically I walked along this path and kept hanging my camera over the side to see what I could find...

I noticed that the buds became more and more open as I headed up river...

I was surprised to see this little guy out as it wasn't particularly sunny or warm. Guess he was just stretching his legs (the lizard I mean).

dancing

2010-03-22T07:06:00.003-07:00

In sharp contrast to my unintentionally depressing poem (I really need to work on that... there's much more underlying joy to that story than was revealed in so few lines), this video should make you smile:

Also, I am putting together something special for tomorrow's random thoughts.
Little bit of love,
SP

crash and burn

2010-03-22T00:22:00.000-07:00

When shooting at the wrong hoop
Standing centered dance floor
And hand made fortune cookies
Send him to the wrong brown hair blue eyes.

I felt like crap but I didn't know
The worst was yet to come
And that the worst is actually the best
That bleeding is vital

I'm a fool, a tool, face down in the pool
Following risk into the dark
Because it's the thing that feels right
And feeling right makes me smile

Too much joy to be had
Love to be lost in
To be worried about the hurt
After joy moves on and love dies.

So leave me standing, the fool
Laugh at my inexperience, the tool
Just choose you're own fate
And leave me to dance with mine

grinnin' ear to ear

2010-03-19T02:42:00.000-07:00

Just a quick hello to say what an amazing day it is today here in the very far north of northern Italy.

I'm not one to complain too much about winter and cold and gray skies. These things always seem to give me a little buzz of latent childhood excitement. But WOW, this warm fresh air, windows open, short sleeves and skirts kind of weather is AWESOME.

It makes me want to exercise.
It makes me sing to myself as I zip through the streets.
I find myself tossing 2 euro coins in musician's baskets.
Playing hide-and-seek with wild abandon.
And literally hopping out of bed in the morning cause I'm so thrilled to see the bright blue sky.

twisted youth

2010-03-16T01:24:00.005-07:00

Pigtails and backpacks
The rambunctious swarm
Black tights and hairspray
Somehow you're left out today

The velocity of growth
Hasn't yet finished it's work
The stunning looks hit your eyes
But you're still just a child

In your hoodie, your lavender backpack
Trying desperately to twist the joy of youth
Into something you're not sure of... how does this work exactly?
"Please, do you have any change?"

And where is the man that was holding that sign yesterday?
Is there an empty seat in a classroom somewhere today?
What horrors come to coerce you into this post?

If only the change could be
Never holding that foul sign again
Never pausing on corners, but to laugh
Arms slung over the shoulders of friends

____

Please go look at these pictures that tell a small part of the story of the Roma Gypsies.

found the fun factor

2010-03-11T04:07:00.005-08:00

Well, I'm always having fun, right!?!

But we went to Milan yesterday. The weather was beautifully crappy... snowy, wet, but not too cold. We were going there to get a new passport for Punkette. I tried to add as much excitement as possible to the adventure by filling out the application in the car on the way there, realizing that I didn't have her social security number nor did I remember the address of her emergency contact. Weee!!!

And getting into the embassy was SO MUCH FUN!!! You can't bring ANYTHING in with you. Seriously, we had to go find a Mailboxes Etc. to lock up my purse for an hour. Punkone had to put his chapstick in a little locker. Ok, they did let us keep our clothes on and enter with only the (incomplete) application and our passports. It was a riot.

The guys on the inside were soft (wiggle, jiggle) as jello though. I was really expecting much more of the third degree, but they were all super nice and let us get away with all kinds of silliness. I think they've got the guards fooled as to what really goes on in there.

And I made this goofy video. No, nothing remotely related to the embassy... I really wasn't interested in finding out what might happen if I attempted something like that. No way. It's just some fun randomness and discovery. Hope you like it.

Squares

2010-03-09T05:10:00.010-08:00

I've been just taking in the sights and sounds lately. These photos are of nothing in particular, just a few random squares... but I find them striking nonetheless:

This one is in Venice. I don't live here, but I love the way squares fill up like this in Italy. I also liked the matching hat/pants combo on the person in the foreground.

This is a square close to my house on Sunday.

Can you see the silence?
It's nice to get out just to do nothing.

mimosa me

2010-03-08T08:06:00.002-08:00

Smiling blue eyes was still there today. Even gave me a "Buona Festa" today. What a sugar.

Punkone had a rough day which did not seem to get better with the standard good listening and nodding. I had to pull out all the stops and apply hugging and kissing his neck until he giggled.

Punkette is a ball of energy, positive and directed today despite the insanely crappy state of her shoes. Or maybe because of this. Who knows what floats this girls boat. I'm just happy when she's happy.

I added to the flatness of my ass catching up with Bluebird's Mixed Tapes. I'm justifying this by swearing on the Festa della Donna that I'll put it to good use on my mp3 player and go for a long hike/run tomorrow.

Buone Feste!

my street

2010-03-05T07:27:00.003-08:00

When I step out from the cavernous darkness of our building, I often feel surprised at how bright and sunny it is. The air sings with the sounds of the city echoing off the stone buildings and sidewalks. Cars give off a knitted rumble as they drive past on the cobblestone street. And there is almost always an accordion playing somewhere, to the left or just half a block to the right.

Today it's the old man with the smiling blue eyes. He sits on his low stool and rocks and nods as the song unfurls it's way into my ears. This alone is Italy for me. This makes everything... Having my life set to sound brings a cinematic quality to it. Intensifies and brings weight to passing moments, gone more swiftly than the notes clinging to the air.

A coin toss a day that goes with a wish. That you'll be here again tomorrow.

hello sunshine

2010-03-04T05:29:00.002-08:00

and hello dear bloggers. I've finally pulled myself out of the sugar induced coma. Don't worry, I didn't eat all the cookies myself. Most of the double batch (well, half) was packed up and sent with Punkone to school for his birthday treat. IMAGINE!!! Being able to send homemade chocolate chip cookies to your punk's class for birthday treats. Italy is so cool. In fact, most parents don't do this, but send a sack of hard candy instead. I figure, if hard candy is okay, chocolate chip cookies are going to fly quite well.

And they did. The Italians loved Grandma Nestle's chocolate chip cookies. Bambini and Mamme were hitting me up for the recipe after school. I was all the rage. Of course such a long standing family tradition cannot be divulged lightly. Next thing you know, you'll find it posted on the internet, or worse, printed right on the packages of chocolate chips! (Don't look now, but there is an empty package of chocolate chips tucked away in my recipe book just for this reason.)

Take that Italy! You may kick ass in pasta and saltimboca (prociutto and sage wrapped veal bites that "jump (salt) in (im) your mouth (boca)" ), but US Americans take the cookie!!!

Okay, enough ra ra. I don't even like Nestle'. Boo Nestle. Go steal their recipie but get your chocolate from somewhere else.

The party was a hit. The comment from one of the kids upon spying the tray of "ants on a log" was (translated) "I don't know what that is, but the prociutto sandwiches are good." As a result, we had ants on a log for dinner and have enough left over for snack today.

My only issues were getting some of the kids to keep their shirts on easily solved by innocently proposing that I call up their Mamma and ask if it's okay and breaking up kissing sessions. Yea, apparently a couple of these punks are "dating" and entertain their peers with extended kissing. They reportedly only got to 3 seconds yesterday. Seeing as they've gotten to 20 seconds on the school playground, I feel like I've adequately performed my duties as the parent in charge.

Ahh, the joys of 3rd grade.

headache

2010-03-02T04:57:00.006-08:00

My body has developed a delightful way to let me know I haven't had enough sleep. It bashes me over the head with a migraine. I'm sure that's what it is. The black spots in my vision tipped me off.

Thank you body. It was not enough that I was up all night with a vomiting child. The migraine is really the ~~puke~~ pink frosting on the cake.

Speaking of cake, said puky punk has a birthday party tomorrow. So, not only is he home today ~~being a pain in the ass~~ getting better and keeping me from taking a much needed nap, I also have to manage to prepare a long list of snacks and party favors. I'm thinking turkey sandwiches and stickers. Not to mention his birthday gift.

I'm praying that I ~~fall unconscious~~ get a good nights sleep tonight so that I ~~don't kill~~ can properly entertain the punks tomorrow afternoon.

This morning he walked halfway to the bathroom and... well it was too gross to say. I can usually handle gross, but apparently migraines and grossness don't mix well. Or punkone has taken grossness to a whole new level. Today I'm doing this mothering gig simply because I have to. There is no joy in it for me. Something is stirring up from inside of me, but it's not joy.

Yes, Mom, I do remember a certain girl scout trip when I was similarly afflicted and the only bathroom facilities were an outhouse. (Seriously, an outhouse? There's no charm in using an outhouse) I guess all I can say is, thanks. I hope you didn't have a migraine.

The only thing to do now is clean up and move on. Repeat. Joy will come another day.

20 things that nurture me

2010-02-26T01:45:00.004-08:00

my punks - There is no denying that these two people nurture me in ways I never imagined possible. I've been blown away by how much I've grown since becoming a mother. It has given me access to a part of my soul I didn't even know I had buried in me. It's forced me to face the music of who I am and made me so much better for it. It's shown me that we are never done discovering ourselves. My two punks are by far the two greatest forces in my life.

walking - is my salvation. Simple, continuous walking. It brings depth to my daily routine and provides just the right amount of physical distraction to release mental tension.

time alone with M - the positive nurturing impact of time alone with my husband surprised me. I didn't think it could make such a difference in our relationship.

stretching - I love the release, the breath, and the pause that I get from stretching and I do it many many times a day. It not only releases built up muscle tension, but gives me just a few isolated moments to center my mind and refocus.

soup and a sandwich - as amazing as fine cuisine can be, I think I still feel the most nurtured by a hot bowl of soup and a toasted sandwich.

sailing - pure bliss... I must move in a direction that brings much more sailing into my life. Everything from scraping mollusks off the bottom to oiling the topside teak... from leaving port to dropping anchor (what a torture)... I feel completely at ease with the world when I'm sailing.

writing - nurtures me by allowing me to purge my soul. Writing the words helps me to process things and reveals new ways to think about them. It's almost as if another (usually wiser, more stable) person is writing to me. I always feel renewed after writing.

music - always and any way music. Listening to albums, the radio, my children playing it, the artists on the street, in clubs... music immediately lifts my spirits. Music lets me tap into hidden pockets of energy... I can run twice as far, play twice as hard or transform a bad day into a good one just by listening to music.

weather - Rain, hot sun, thunderstorms, summer breezes and snow storms are my favorites, but I'm thankful for it all.

a clean house - I originally wrote, cleaning house... and there's something to that. The whole process of keeping a home feels nurturing to me. Creating a space that feels good is so important and in the end, nurtures us.

hugs - I like the warmth and the density of a hug and physically holding on to the people I care about. I fall into hugs, feeling the expansion of your lungs, absorbing the rhythm of your heart.

family - There's something wonderful about being with someone related to me. That comfortable understanding that you love each other without any explanation. I feel very much at ease when I'm with my family. I need to work harder at keeping in touch with them... but my heart is always open for them.

being in transit - is a meditation for me and I feel very much at peace while in transit. What's that saying, "life's a journey, not a destination"? Everything from buses, cars, boats, trains and airplanes... I'll settle in and find the rhythm of travel. The way the earth passes by. The people with me. Or what's really going on in my head. I always find something new along the way.

dancing - everywhere, anywhere dancing is a joyful expression of my already upbeat mood... and pumps me up even a bit more. I feel high when I'm dancing. I love to interrupt my day by cranking up the stereo and completely throwing myself into some funky dancing.

comfortable stylish clothes - a bit materialistic perhaps, but in a culture where clothes are a necessity, I definitely feel nurtured by clothing made of beautiful fabrics, textures and colors.

seeking the truth in my friends - trying to figure out what's really behind "fine, thanks"... it's so easy to just skim the surface of our relationships, I like to push things and dive a bit deeper.

the ocean - I love being near the ocean, to breathe the ocean air, feel the wind, the sounds, and especially the smell of the ocean. I treasure the days when I can literally spend hours in the salt water... I go to sleep after such a day feeling the rise and fall of the waves.

climbing - I haven't done this since my kids were born and I miss it. I miss the physical exertion, the adrenaline, (the scraped arms and legs, salty sweat, muscle twitch) and the sense of accomplishment and relief when you finally reach the top of a difficult climb.

buying my food from farmers - maybe it's mental, but my food tastes better when I get it from a market. I enjoy it more and I eat more raw fruits and vegetables. I feel physically nurtured by this food when I eat it, praise it, and enjoy ingesting every bite.

fresh air - of course this goes with many of the other things that nurture me, but when push comes to shove I'll feel better just opening the windows.

If you enjoyed this please visit the beautiful Braja at Lost and Found in India to find out what she and others are nurtured by... and add your own 20 things!

beautiful RTT

2010-02-23T05:03:00.005-08:00

Tuesday is beautiful
Optimistic, upbeat
Shaking off the Monday sludge
With both feet into the week

Tuesday bliss found when
Two packs of Hanes arrive underground
A hot commodity for my little one
Who won't compromise a comfy bum

Tuesday is time for lessons
Music, Italiano, and una bella figura
Unfolding the hidden mysteries
Of a place so rich in history

Tuesday behaves, works, and gets things done
She doesn't complain come rain or sun
Radiance doubles back and pushes her up
A day for doing, without giving up

Get you're dose of RTT then get going!

extended weekend

2010-02-22T01:19:00.003-08:00

The passing and use of time. It's become such a dominant topic of contemplation. At first it was a daily slap in the face as I repeatedly managed to arrive at places when they were closed. Time and time again, after seemingly maticulous care in getting the timing right, I'd get it wrong. But we're past that now.

And we're past acceptance. That point when the quirky hours have finally registered and we just learn to deal. The time when we remind ourselves to do some extra shopping on Saturday to carry us through to Monday afternoon. The time when I was still aware of the shift in temporal dynamics and felt a great sense of accomplishment in having discovered the proper strokes to get my boat with the flow.

Now we're here. And here is something more pleasurable. The peace in my body when my mind resisters chores piling up by Sunday night, after a weekend of homework and random family fun. A ease that registers from knowing that there's Monday for housework. Because it knows nothing else can be done, no shopping, errands or anything from outside the house really. It's all closed, and time is decidedly down time.

Just like Sunday has shifted to family. We're here, taking pleasure in these pockets of time that seem to have presented themselves from nothing. Perhaps a forced hand that carries the lingering stench of Catholic righteousness... but a result that finds me enjoying a better use of time.

I have a family history of : cancer

2010-02-19T00:17:00.004-08:00

When you start getting into the finer details of a language you find yourself wound up in expressions that there are no words for in the other language. For instance, I understand "ti voglio bene" as something like brotherly love. An expression of love for someone that you not in love with. It literally translates as "I want well for you" and than cements the meaning in my head, but it's not something you would say in English.

On the other hand, I find myself surprised sometimes at how literally expressions translate between English and Italian. For instance, honey moon is luna di miele and a fish out of water is also used un pesce fuor d'acqua.

Well I found myself in some twisted version of these two the other day... I'm not exactly sure where it lies. I was doing some research for natural health products and discovered that the Italian phrase for colon is i due punti.... lol... get it? "the two points" aka :

Yea, I'm easily amused.

gelato returns

2010-02-17T01:00:00.003-08:00

What a beautiful place, this northern Italian city... where you mark the passage of time by the opening and closing of the gelateria. With carnival and the promise of spring, they open now after a four month hibernation. One by one, day by day you spy the random person walking down the street sucking up the sweet nectar of a drippy cone of gelato. And even though it's still cold, the four of us went out for our inaugural treat Monday night. We arrived a bit late, the doors having just been closed, bins being put away. But the gelato lady saw our four pairs of wide gelato eyes staring through the window and waved for us to wait, she'd let us in. Four delicious cones served up and she even knocked a few euros off the price. And we walked that slow lick by lick walk through the quiet streets. And a cold night somehow seemed warmer.

happiness

2010-02-12T03:31:00.003-08:00

Since a few have asked to see the picture I was talking about yesterday, I decided to dig it out. It was taken pre-digital camera, and I actually haven't physically seen it in a long time, but carried the image around in my head. So here it is...

I know there was nothing exceptional going that day, so I think I always had that energy. By nothing exceptional, I mean something like a birthday or a holiday or something. That said, it was in general an exceptional time in my life.

It's taken in our home... our sailboat. And I'm about 7 months pregnant. We were living on the boat, working on a post-doc and writing a thesis. Waking to the characteristic sound of the port. The clanging of chains, creaking of dock lines.

There was a bath house at the marina that we used... no shower on board and we used the toilet only in dire midnight emergencies. You can imagine how many dire mid-night emergencies a 7 month pregnant woman might have ;) We had no oven or stove and cooked all of our on board meals in a coffee pot. Things like raman noodles and instant oatmeal.

And it was January. Granted, January in the San Francisco Bay isn't too bad, but it can get a tad nippy at times. We had a little portable electric space heater when we were home at night. This was great motivation for me to go hang out on the university campus during the day.

There were pelicans. And in the channel out to the bay, sea lions. And in all this, there I am. Couldn't be happier. In the middle of doing something... who knows what. I turned around and M snapped this photo. Just perfect.

let's step outside

2010-02-11T08:03:00.005-08:00

Ever see a snap shot of yourself that you didn't know was being taken? Your beaming smile, that joyful gleam in your eye. There was a story you didn't even realize being told to the world. A romantic adventure of a beautiful soulful girl ready for anything. Arms open. She moved through every day with that infectious passion for life. She lit up the room and made things sparkle.

I have a picture like that of myself. Maybe it sounds conceited. But when I see that picture I want to dance. I feel thrilled. In love. Yea... just like being swept up in the arms of someone who loves you.

And I want to be the present version of that girl. I don't mind changing, but I'd like to always be inspired by what I see in that snapshot.

As you carry yourself through life... be it the mundane or a wild new adventure... step outside of yourself and take a look at that snapshot. The one for right then and there. And what do you see? Are you surprised? Proud? Does the joy bubble up from your gut?

That's what I wish. For you and for me.

lo stesso posto

2010-02-09T05:17:00.002-08:00

My young brain
Young, naive, American... I'm not sure exactly in which way it is best described...
Perhaps simply "mine" will suffice
My brain does something strange when attempting to comprehend the passage of time in this place.
This place being Italy.
When thinking about the things that have come before.
What has changed
And, I think, more importantly... more significantly... what has remained the same.

For example, in a film,
You see a young man in trouble.
He's running through the streets of Rome.
He's running through the streets of Rome of 90 years ago.
And the only props needed to make the scene are clothes from the era.
Same walls, same streets, most of them made in just the same way as they were then.
And you rush through time in "lo stesso posto"... the same place...
Indicated only by graffiti, the sound of traffic...

And 90 years is yesterday. This place marks the passage of time in centuries, not decades.
And much further into the past.
My past begins 200 years ago. Maybe 500 if you count Columbus sailing the blue.
Dinosaurs, Cave men, Columbus then the declaration of independence was signed.
If something was put down in 1200, I'd suppose it was put down in stone.

So you can now imagine, now that history is expanding, ever further illuminated
Like taking a ride into Seuss' snowflake.
World upon world keeps opening itself up to me
And it hurts my brain a bit.

I can sit in the square for hours getting lost in my thoughts, trying to pull myself through the history of the place without skipping too much. It's a fun yet tiring exercise. It makes you feel small... l you can see your exhistence in this place shrinking away into nothingness as the time line unravels for miles behind you. Everything before building building building until it swallows you up into an atom of a molecule in the air of the last fart it just let pass.

And I suppose you could do this anywhere. But for some reason the presence of man made things makes it easier for me.

But fortunately, we don't live for all that long
And we count off the time in weeks
Days if you're a wee one.
And look at all we can experience in this small insignificant space?
Growing ourselves, careers, families... to each his own ways to spend splendid days.
So spend them on something grand,
Something that brings you joy.
You know, those smiles that you can feel in your rib cage.
That's what I'm aiming for
To saddle up and ride it with all I've got.

Yee Haw ;)

tardi

2010-02-08T13:29:00.003-08:00

I've given some indication of our morning rituals around here. I usually write my posts in the morning, so, go figure, that's what's usually on my mind. To recap, they usually start by prying myself out of bed sometime between 7 and 7:20, prying the punks out of their beds by 7:30, getting them in clothes 7:40, chowing breakfast, 7:50, putting on shoes and backing up backpacks, 8:00, walking and arriving to school by 8:05.

This is a pretty tight schedule. Too tight. We tend to stick with it because is occasionally works brilliantly. Everyone wakes up, gets dressed, and eats without complaining. But the fact is that is OFTEN it doesn't work and we get thrown off track by 5/10 minutes for one reason or the other. And then punks arrive late to school.

Yes, I'm that shameful parent. I confess. And, honestly, I think this sucks of me. It stresses the kids out. And it's completely my fault.

On the other hand, it sometimes seems like even if I do give us more time, we still end up rushing at the end. Almost as if more time creates more problems.

But the obvious answer is to wake up earlier and forget about those brilliant days when everything works like a charm... and admit to myself that 30 minutes just isn't enough time to get two punks ready for school in the morning. I'm setting the alarm for 6:30 tomorrow.

officially obsessed

2010-02-08T06:47:00.001-08:00

Doesn't that just make you burst with happiness?

the sidewalks are filled with fossils and when they are wet they turn red

2010-02-05T02:26:00.005-08:00

a downward spiral for my attention
the spirals in the sidewalk
wet and reflecting a sky that is bright white
no sun, no blue but what a sight
reminds me of an exercise
painting with bleach on black
and the sidewalk is my two minute splash of color
before teacher takes the brushes away
(how long have you got? well,
maybe that's all you really need)
and we tromp back and forth
pounding pounding on something that's felt so much more
than the insignificant pitter patters
of minuscule feet
just look at the size of it!
the prehistoric beast
and the time so long ago
in another world
yet
here it is
in ours
pounding up on our feet
shocking the world still
spirals in stone
that reflect the white sky when it snows

Pilgram's hard lesson(s)

2010-02-03T04:45:00.007-08:00

If you feel like you've become a crazy person, then it's probably a good time to calm down.

I've been thinking about love and expression and ways to see joy in your life. The cold hard facts are that you can only teach these things by example. And hope that your punks have a little of it in them already.

But how can you do that when you're beating yourself about the basics? You can't. You've got to get those basics nailed down. I guess that's the "routine" I keep hearing parenting types talk about. Never thought I needed one. I suppose the hard lesson learned is that family needs an underlying structure on which to shine. Otherwise all that passionate energy just gets scattered on the clutter mucking up your life. And that, my friend, is what is making me crazy.

When you think about it, it's these realizations that make us sane. Maybe my poem yesterday
should have been called "be a Mom"...

Also, in case you were wondering, a shotgun shack is a house in which a bullet, having been shot through the front door, would travel unobstructed through the house, right on out the back door. Unobstructed, of course, except for any occupants, who would all be killed by that single bullet.

Makes you wonder how such expressions get started.

And now I've burned my coffee.

be a man

2010-02-02T06:44:00.004-08:00

It's a thing of joy
To see these boys
Arm in arm
Against the world

For the world will soon tell them
To stand alone

Embrace your spirit
Let it swirl in pink
Flash your bright smile
Let your eyes wink

For the world will soon tell you
To pull it together

Dream big beautiful thoughts
Full of all the love in your heart
Be the thing of your spirit
Right from the start

For the world will soon tell you
To be a man

To reign in that spirit
And burst your bubble of love
For fanciful dreams just aren't
What men are made of...

Hear the singing inside you
Leap to that sweet embrace
Let that spirit of boyhood
Shine though on your face

And I'll smile and dream wish pray and hope
That YOU will show the world
What it is
To be a man.

if you can't beat 'em, join 'em

2010-02-02T05:23:00.005-08:00

It's SO cold in our house in the morning. Friggggid. I can not blame Punkette for not wanting to get out of her nice toasty bed. So this morning, I hopped in there with her.

I have long benefited from the warmth of my family. I'm not referring to how nice they all are, but their physical warmth. Starting with my nice toasty husband of ten years, graciously letting me wrap my icy limbs around him, I discovered what "nice and toasty" actually felt like. Then the punks were born and I discovered that they too had this capacity to heat the bed up to near sauna like conditions. On cold winter night, I almost felt guilty as I realized I was warming up around the little bean body of my infant child. Just like a little hot water bottle in the bed.

So this morning, I shivered my way across the house to wake the kids up for school and just hopped right in bed with them. OOoohh... so warm for me, nice snugly wake up time for them, and after a few minutes, we were all ready to start our day.

ok ok, alright already

2010-02-01T01:45:00.002-08:00

Any parent out there can probably relate to that feeling of being taken over by a world and a persona that we never imagined for ourselves. That desperate helpless feeling as we realize our reality consists of pressures we never bargained for. Or maybe it's the desperate helpless feeling as we realize the percentage of who we are can accurately be described as "raving lunatic" or some closely related descriptive.

Well, I have these moments anyway.

I don't like worrying about the nasty look on the face of Punkette's teacher when she arrives late. But at the same time I expect that she should get out of bed in the morning instead of lying there for 20 minutes. Then the clothing battles. These things are making me crazy. And the core of the problem is none of these things justifies going crazy.

On the upside, kids with crazy parents must learn so much.

I'll just keep telling myself that.

Bursting

2010-01-29T04:17:00.004-08:00

I'll let myself be taken in
swept up
mashed up
savored
The explosive juicy fruit center

I'll shake it up
Build it up
Chew it from the inside out
Gobbling up more
Light and color

I'm not anything like how I look
Not at all who I see in the glass
Inside I'm dancing
Violet and blue
Dipped in red

Do you taste that?

teenage dreams

2010-01-28T13:13:00.002-08:00

I'm one of those people who was quite thrilled to be done with her teenage years. Never looked back. Never longed for those days since.

Until now.

"Forget all your ambitions and relax for awhile"

2010-01-28T02:57:00.003-08:00

said my fortune cookie.

First thought... OK
Second thought... what the heck kinda fortune is this?!? What is the fortune cookie trying to tell me? "Might as well just give up your dreams and sloth on the sofa for awhile"?!?!?
Third thought... this actually makes total sense. I'm temporarily living in Italy and not working full-time ... a sweet situation that has a definite end. An approaching end.
Smart cooke.

things found inside Punkette's nightstand:

2010-01-27T08:39:00.002-08:00

sheriff badge
water gun
lip gloss
gel pen
champagne cork
fake 50 euro bill
christmas tree garland and
26 empty toilet paper rolls

What could this kid be up to?

RTT: sweet dreams are made of this

2010-01-26T02:11:00.009-08:00

Ready for carnivale?

Punkette woke up this morning. Got out of bed. Got completely dressed BY HERSELF, ate breakfast, put on her shoes, and walked to school. She didn't scream even once. NOT ONCE!!!

We Pilgrams have been daydreaming about settling down. I'm thinking of a forty acre piece of land in the San Lorenzo Valley just between the bay area and Santa Cruz in California. Would you buy a piece of undeveloped land called "Cougar Point"?

Forty acres makes me dream of this (Punkone just might have enough legos):

While Punkone thinks of this:

And no matter how innovative the design, a rolling fireplace just doesn't seem like a good idea.

I guess that last one is more of a nightmare. Imagine your toddler rolling the fireplace around the living room.

bounce

2010-01-25T07:41:00.002-08:00

Ever feel like "bouncing back" feels more like being dragged behind a car on a gravel road? Sometimes we soar out of those pits and other times we dig our nails in and claw our way out. Fight tooth and nail. Smile first thing in the morning. Hug and kiss your kids. Check your posture in the shop windows. Smile at yourself. Sparkle and shine from within. Burst with joy, even if you don't know what for.

And why? Because it feels good to feel good.

So what kind of day are you having?

be a lover, not a hater

2010-01-22T02:04:00.008-08:00

Not something I usually think about but two events have recently got me thinking more about haters.

First was on Facebook. Generally a wonderful thing for me. I can post photos of the punks and all my relatives can see them. Little benign updates. But sometimes more comes through these updates. Things that I don't bother myself about and my relatives and I get along fabulously when we get together. Happy happy joy joy. I don't hear that they support Sarah Palin (this seriously sent me into shock... I couldn't imagine someone supporting her, much less a relative) and also their belief that if you don't speak English you shouldn't be allowed into the US. Sometimes ignorance really is bliss. Makes me want to start an anti-English speaking campaign. Everyone (near my cousin) has to speak another language for a day. Or we pick her up and plop her in some other country for a month. Any other ideas? I decided to just block her from my news feed.

Second is funny and a bit of a punch to the gut at the same time. A funny punch to the gut. Haha... aren't those the best?!?!

When we got out of the house to head to school yesterday, I see this:

My immediate translation was "No paper on the street!" I think I've already bitched about the fact that shops and bars just throw fliers all over the street as a method of advertising. But I thought that it seems like a strange thing to graffiti about... so I consulted with M.

Apparently it slang for "NO FOREIGNERS, GET OUT!"

So this is funny, no? Obviously not the smartest haters (is there such a thing?)... writing your message in slang so that all us foreigners just think there are a band of anti-litter radicals roaming about.

Ok... small beans I suppose. I didn't get my house burnt down or something really horrible. Just little scratches on my serenity. Nothing a smile can't mend. A smile and some shopping. I found some great buys (for myself, not the kids!) at 50% off at Petit Bateau... also across the street. I guess that evens it out ;)

RTT: euro trash

2010-01-19T00:35:00.006-08:00

How long have I lived here now? Almost 3 years. And it's taken less than that amount of time to break my 1-2 showers a day habit. I'm on a weekly rotation now. And I don't even smell. Well, at least I don't notice any smell. Is it true that people can't smell their own stench? Gee, maybe it's not language barriers that are keeping people away...

Random Amalfi photo...

My Punkette has ISSUES. Good god. Underwear issues. Pants issues. Sock issues. Shoe issues. Food issues. Now hair issues. To top it off she doesn't have a dog. And she has to go to school. And her mom makes her take the stairs. Doesn't your heart just break for her?

Punkone is disgusted with whoever invented English. What were they thinking? Take the words bare and bear. The meanings are in complete contrast with each other (a bare chest as opposed to a bear chest). He wants to know exactly who to blame for this absurdity.

M is on a doctor prescribed diet to reign in his triglyceride levels. I think at last check they were over 8000 something or others. That's not even too much of an exaggeration. He said the woman reading the test results turned white and asked him if he had children. RE the diet... We're actually all loving it. Well, except for M. We have these fiber toast things in the morning with jam. Punkette could eat this for every meal of the day. It's yummy. And filling. When he first started the diet, he felt so full he was worried that he would end up gaining weight, but after a week, he lost a little. Hopefully it will work and we'll get to keep him for a bit longer.

In other efforts to get us all healthier, we all learned how to cross country ski last weekend. Beautiful snow covered landscape and so much fun. We all enjoyed it immensely and are planning to go again this weekend.

Seriously the best picture I was able to take of my nephew. The kid moves.

Now I'm really rambling and I've got to go do my Italian homework. Happy Tuesday!

oh yea... TV

2010-01-15T05:15:00.003-08:00

I've been living without TV for nearly 3 years now. We watch DVDs but TV programming has been absent from our house. I like it this way, but in one of my efforts to improve my Italian, I started wondering if a little TV might do me some good.

That said, I thought I'd share the prime source of Italian TV programming on the web. Click on Rai.tv and you have immediate access to dozens of channels. They even have a cute little remote that pops up on the screen so you can flip through the channels.

Warning: The vast majority of Italian TV is crap. Talk shows, talk shows, more talk shows. The format is basically a circle of people all talking/screaming at each other at the same time with the random scantily clad woman in the background.

But I do like the RAI scuola channel. They have a series for foreigners in Italy to help them (us) both learn the language and a little bit about different regions and programs in Italy. Cool beans.

catching up on other cultures

2010-01-12T01:01:00.004-08:00

Edoardo Bennato... where have you been all my life? When you stormed Italy with your mad tunes back in the 80s, where was I? Painfully unawares in far off America. Listening to crap like Wham! and Huey Lewis.

Ahh... yet another discovered classic by this nube. I did notice the recurring buzzing theme. Maybe a surpressed affection for the kazoo?

Any great classics I should know about from where you're from?

brought to you by illy

2010-01-11T00:25:00.002-08:00

I like to dwell at the cafe'
To sit down and sip, listen, read, think
Maybe chat a bit with M
And I have a bookstore cafe'
The perfect place for this

In this cafe, this morning, in the piles of pamphlets on a side table
I found a stack of journals
Heavy stock, the kind that give a paper cut to the bone
But nice to feel and read through
Issue 27 of Illywords
The Culture of Listening
Full of beautiful graphics
Prose
In Italian and English
For free... so I took one

And found the following quote
of Yoko Ono:

"Especially after
You spent a lot of years with it
Because then
Life becomes like a lover
You have been
Close to
You know him so well
And yet every day
He gives you
A surprise"

Interesting. A lover you have been close to, you know him so well, yet, every day, he gives you a surprise... Really? Can we know someone (or life) so well, and still be surprised everyday? Could someone be so wondrous?

I think there is truth to this. I think my doubt might arise from my own perception of this someone (or life), a perception defined by some preconceived criteria, fulfilled, and now, limited. But if I let these ideas go, and listen, and see things again... I can imagine that I might discover something new. And be surprised.

Can you?

... the tip of your nose is always the same

2010-01-07T14:43:00.006-08:00

A string of lights snakes its way along the highway. There's something grounding for me about driving through the night. Traveling the land through light speckled blackness. The passenger train makes it's way through the mountains beside us. And I feel exactly the same here as I have on so many other night drives. Different car, different country... even different company... but my core settles into that same comfortable place. It softens and forgets where it is for a while.

Maybe that's why I find myself staring too closely at the most common things. The world at the tip of your nose is always the same. At least that's how it strikes me. Like I'm staring at elements. Same carbon, same hydrogen. The way water droplets form on spiderwebs. Grains in the stone and plaster. Leaves. Empty bag of chips.

And city lights in the night. The blackness of night hides the landscape, so shockingly different. Or shockingly the same. Night is night is night. And lit windows from a passenger train.

and finally... ... ... joy

2009-12-22T07:28:00.006-08:00

The blues seem to have haunted me this year
Exercising their grip at my throat
A weight on my back
Making me restless
Withdrawn
and, well, forced.
And I've been pounding at it
With markets
And baking
And music
A tree
Smiles
Hugs
Kisses
Bang
Bang
Bang
bang
And it's stayed cemented right there.
Damn blues.

But today
Something is different
Lifted, l i g h t e r .
It's more than
Presents wrapped a smile in M's eye snow boots cards singing celebration laughter and knowing you love me
More than these things
I wish I knew what
I feel like love finally won
And has taken over my heart
Painting my face with a victory smile
Dancing with joy and bursting with light
I feel like finally I can say... and feel most sincerely
I Merry love Christmas you

See you again in 2010.
-Strange Pilgram

let's zap their brains

2009-12-16T14:19:00.004-08:00

The punks and I had a really wonderful walk home from the dentist today. The temperature has dropped dramatically in the past two days. So cold, my nose hairs are freezing up and Punkette retrieved a stick from under a pile of leaves that had patches of frost on it. She was delighted to discover how cold it felt. What a goofball, that one.

Our walk from the dentist takes us first along the river. The Alto-Aldige. I think you can see blurry bits of it on the side of my background image. Yea! Did you know that was an actual map of my surroundings? Pretty cool. Anyway, the Alto-Aldige is a big rough looking river. The kooks around here have raft races down the river in the early summer, right when I'm sure it must be at it's most dangerous levels. Now it's at least 5 feet lower, and still has some pretty nasty looking currents.

But it's a wonderful walk. Lots of trees and the sun coming down into the valley. It's our last half-day off together before Christmas break so we decided to go somewhere special for lunch. Chinese. Just over on the home side of the river.

Lunch was uneventful other than that we ordered from their Sushi menu and it was DEEE-LICIOUS and I adore the family that owns the restaurant. They always take the time to chat with us about how we're adjusting to life here. One of the women even taught the kids how to fold the napkins into sailboats.

From the restaurant our walk wanders through downtown toward where we live on the other side. People are returning to work and shops are opening up after the pausa. We're window shopping for gift ideas. This included a drool session over where they have the 480 euro Lego Death star. I swear it was only 450 last time we saw it.

So the kids are dreaming up fantasy Christmas gifts... Punkone comes up with a list that would knock St. Nick back about a thousand bucks. But Punkette knocked it out of the park.

Her idea was inspired by the sight of someone tossing their cigarette into the drain. She goes into her rant... Why do they throw their cigarettes into the drain? That's for water! It's not a garbage! That's why the ocean is full of all that gross garbage! (gee... I wonder where she picked that up?)

And then the idea unfolds: I want Santa to bring me a secret zapper for Christmas. One that I can hide from everyone in my hands. Then when I see someone who throws their cigarettes into the drain I'll use it to zap their brains. I'll zap them just a little bit so that they start throwing their cigarettes into the garbage. I'll change their brains so they won't want to throw their garbage where the water goes anymore. They can still smoke cigarettes if they want. I won't zap them too much.

Now I have to admit that I'm always encouraging my kids to utilize their imaginations to solve problems. To think up crazy impossible things because someday it might be possible to invent such a thing. But, somehow I don't think mild brain alteration of litterbugs will come to pass.

_________

Dedicated to Think Green Thursday, and to goofballs.

comes and goes

2009-12-15T14:47:00.011-08:00

weather
rain floods
sunshine
strength
pain
memories
that make us laugh
and cry
worries
side aching joy
tomorrow
seasonal fruit
fashion
technology
hope and inspiration
marital bliss
security
the morning bell
waves
being pulled
by moon phases
patience
fresh sheets
and the lack of
funding
milestones
motivation
moments of
disorientation
confidence
and too much time dwelling on
terrible twos or your teens
and now your neck
the first crash
first crush
heartache
or indifference
your mean streak
and team building skills
a beaming smile
surprise birthday cake
and a big bear hugs
friends
family too
With all in this world
that
comes and goes
It's so nice to have met you.

swallowed in the sea

2009-12-14T02:26:00.006-08:00

I have reached my capacity for things new. Just today. Maybe tomorrow, or the next day too, but I won't worry about that. It's hard to explain the depth to which you are out of your element when you move abroad. It is wonderful, exciting, educational, expansive... but I think this alien feeling must be general among people who move for an extended length of time to somewhere dramatically new. Or maybe it's just me. To find that there is a limit, and when you reach it, you just want to go "wee wee wee, all the way home."

It's more than troubles adjusting to a new language, food, or routines. It's in the undercurrent of the culture. A foundation that doesn't support you no matter how hard you try to adapt. There's no footing, no traction. I feel like I'm always slipping, sliding, floating... there's nothing solid to hold on to. And that's fun sometimes. Thrilling. But sometimes it makes you want to lash yourself to the nearest anchor and plunge yourself back to where you came from.

Just for the music... I love Coldplay these days.

jumping the gun

2009-12-10T23:51:00.003-08:00

There's nothing that drives me more nuts than presents in the closet. I do not have the capacity to not give something to someone once I've bought it for them. Well, I have occasionally been able to wait it out, but I'm sure my stomach digested itself a little bit every time. Seriously, I get a bit looney trying to keep things under wraps. It's so much better for me to just buy the gifts, like the ~~hour~~ day before.

But then last year I ran into the problem of the gifts I was looking for being sold out. And my habit of last minute shopping has taught me that this happens routinely. These small shops just don't have the space to stock items. If there's something specific you're looking for, it's absolutely best to just buy it at the first opportunity. So this year I decided to get some of the gifts a couple of weeks before Christmas.

I think my brain was in the right place, but my heart just wasn't capable of holding out for the actual day.

Did I make it? No. I already gave one of the gifts to Punkette. And I was literally sweating from the conflict inside me... fighting to not give up one of Punkone's as well. That battle is still going on (this post isn't helping) Ugh. Now, not only do I have to go shopping again, I've got to figure out something else to get.

Sometimes I'm definitely my own worst enemy.

venezia

2009-12-09T23:29:00.003-08:00

Rasping weakly for air
You breathe in another time

Once chiseled from the flesh of stone
Now left soft, bleeding

Out your poetry
Wrapped in words, color and light

And water
That glorifies and damns

All at once

Venice close ups

2009-12-09T05:16:00.000-08:00

I went to Venice for il ponte dell'Immacolata this past weekend. We rented an apartment and just took our time. I found myself at once obsessed. The whole city was decaying, crumbling and grey, yet, these spots of color were everywhere. Maybe they stood out so much because of the contrast. The dampness that penetrates everywhere. Seeping out of the walls, over the edges, ruthlessly eating away the foundations of this enchanted place.

How can a place be hopeful and helpless at the same time? I don't know, but somehow that's how Venice makes me feel.