god

I am the kind of mother who touched her children every night and prayed to god in heaven to make them smarter, braver, stronger, and better than the way they were the day before.

I asked that they be kind and direct and courteous and love their parents.

I asked to make them better at what they love and put music in their hearts in the morning.

I prayed to make me a better mother, but if only one prayer can be answered, I wanted god to care for them.

I am the kind of mother that wept when they failed.

I shook when they are on stage and I gasped when the spaces of breath are too long.

I am the kind of mother who waited patiently for them to figure out the math.

I am the kind of mother who said wipe it up, I’ll make more.  It doesn’t matter.  Breathe.

I am the kind of mother who explained boys don’t get it as fast as girls and that the pamphlet forgot to say ask permission to touch anyone under any circumstances.

I am the kind of mother who said you can save yourself for marriage.  It is always an option.

I am the kind of mother who said you will need your brother one day don’t talk to him like that.

I am the kind of mother who cries secretly, fearing their future and praying I did enough.

of returning to work and things you wish you didn't have to do and not wanting to think about it too soon

The last day in Palermo brings great angst.  Last night, I dreamt of being back at work and having to tell my boss something he might perceive as unpleasant.  It was intermittently interrupted by loud music and this weird electrical sound outside my window.  But I digress.  (turns out the local primary school is outside my window and the wind instruments are playing.)

Today, we toured the Teatro Massimo, the third largest theatre in all of Europe.  To my great disappointment, it was built in honor of Umberto Primo, who has a statute gracing every harbor everywhere,  His statute here is large and prominent, surrounded by arches of the porto and by the sea.  Imagine my surprise to hear that he is displeased by the great theatre built for him.  He says Palermo is nothing and does not deserve such a theatre, and he never sets foot inside.

you truly have to be here to appreciate the immenseness

this is the ceiling and the painting are window that open to increase accoustics

Poor Umberto Primo.  For such a lucky man of war, he was an unlucky man of taste.  But fortunately, Al Capone did step inside.  Godfather III was filmed in the theatre.  In Spite of either of these two, the theatre is amazing.  Stepping inside is incredible and now that I know the King's box is available ( Umberto made it a public affair), I will not hesitate to try and book the best.  We have missed the opera, ballet, and other performing arts all by a day.  Such a poor planner I am.  And there are no last minute stand up seats in these theatres.  No these are for the noble, or at least those who can pay.

And in the boys will always be boys category, there is this duo who find the visual behind them hilarious.  It doesn't matter, 28 or 68, they all still have boyish humor!  Enough said on that!

We take off to see another piazza, not previously explored.  This is the plebicita, the parliament of yore.  The locals call it the "Champs Elysee " of the island. Regardless, it is a fine building with horses charging as if they would leave the building for the drivers. Hooves above your head, with brass green blazing their legs.  Down below, standard breds (or the Italian equivalent) trot through the street with carts behind.  These horses almost blind with blinders (sorry for the horse take on this) and hats, stupid beyond belief.  The traffic booming around, these horse take of trotting forward, and tour buses beside them.  I told my son, I would rather be a French dish.  I apologize for my perspective.  My horses have acreage and only one rider to respond to.  Theses poor guys, must go forth regardless of traffic, weather, or noise.  These horses are fed.  They have shoes, with wooden plates, I might add.  It is just a luxury in the US and not here.

Shopping.  Well, yes the last day should be about shopping.  We leave the piazza and head to the one wine store that I liked.  It turns out not to be a wine store, but a souvenir store.  Matters not, we buy the limoncello for our friends.  We buy balsalmic vinegar for those who don't drink.  We buy candy for those we aren't sure of.  We are thinking of you, not being here with us. And, while I am happy I can buy this for you, next time, I want you to come with me.

the monument for those who died because of the Mafia

science fair in a church of the 10th century

a pope in front of the cathedralle

our view from the deck

our veiw from the patio

I am thankful for Michele, our host.  He was most kind and most helpful.

I miss my husband, glad my daughter came, glad my one son came and thinking Lindsay could have made it, and the rest of you, we just need to decide to go!  Patrick, you live up to your Saint name. Our next destination is only one year away...

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Rising to the Occasion of The Choice to Give

Today, on the way home, I pulled into my local Publix parking lot like usual.  It was 40 degrees and damp and cold out.  I had just driven in from Jacksonville.  There at the end of the island was a woman holding a child with a snow suit on.  A man stood beside her with a sign that said, "Help my family and 3 children".  The sign was made with cardboard mounted on styrofoam.  They stood, with him holding the sign and her swaying with the child who looked heavy.  He should have held the child and her the sign.  First doubt.

I proceeded to the parking area where I usually choose to park.  As I exited the car, I turned to look at the family on the island.  I was contemplating buying them a Publix family dinner.  But, after I grabbed my bags, I stood upright just in time to see the adults running and then stopping to click open the van and jump in.  The man ran back to pick up a Publix sack, then back in the van and they squealed off.  I couldn't tell if it was because he Publix staff had just walked out.

I saw a very similar group at the Fresh Market.  A woman holding a child with a sign and the tenish year old sitting in the grass just staring at the parking lot.  Her sign said simply, "Help Please".

I did give the Fresh Market lady $5.00.  But, when I saw the trio at Publix flee the parking lot, another scenario popped into my head.  It was the warning of my friends and many websites: Don't fall prey to the Gypsies!

Lain Mckell photo on modern day gypsies Huffington Post

When we were in Paris, the Gypsies were the pick pockets, the fleecers, the ones that would take what is yours without sound or feeling.  They also have good tricks.  In an earlier blog I described the ring on the ground as the "catch" to get you distracted, interested and then ask you for money - all for the very valuable but too small gold ring.  It was a very good trick.

There was no trick at Publix.  There was no trick at Fresh Market.  And I don't know who these people are or where they went after they disappeared.  They are clearly not the Tallahassee homeless people that I have seen in the past.  Most of the time the men by the interstate have one sign on cardboard and it may say "help a vet" or "why lie, I want a beer."  Before I say anything  that is construed as stereo typing, I know that homeless people come in all varieties single, families and just unlucky.  I also have met two families that thought it was okay to sit in front of the Publix and ask for organic handouts.

I am not judging the decision or desperation or whatever puts people in this situation.  But I am looking at it differently.  The Gypsies and their tricks gave me a new perspective.  People who ask for things or beg are not all crazy.  They are not all destitute.  Though begging is not a life I would want, surely it could be a choice just as much as the life of tricks and petty theft.  For some people it may actually be a choice.  For me, I can tell you it would be a very desperate situation where I would prefer to stand outside holding a child in the freezing cold, when there is a Publix that could provide shelter 100 feet away.

I did not buy the chicken dinner for the three people.  I wanted to though.  I wanted to help, which is precisely what they wanted me to feel.  I am now more skeptical.  More leary.  I am not proud of this, but I am not proud of the people who were taking advantage of those feelings with a child on curb in a parking lot.

I don't feel indifferent, but I do feel like the trick may have made it to America.

Rising to the Return from Vacation

I have not taken a two week vacation in at least 15 years.  It was FABULOUS! The thing about the two weeks is that the first week you still think about work and check your emails, the second week you so don't care!  You stop grinding your teeth and your shoulders relax.  Your hips realign because you are not driving as much as you used to.  I am telling you there is a huge difference between the four day steal that I have done for the last 15 years and the two week vacation.

And then, when I thought I got back into the groove of work,  my daughter calls crying from Switzerland.  The tears were clear in the voice, even with the lag of wi fi conversation.  And I miss her as much as she misses a great plan for mass transit.  She is dreadfully upset with the Euro Rail options for an on the move back packer.

Rick Steves be darned, she is a college grad with a non-plan plan. And Europe is supposed to be aware of her intentions.  Well, not that bad really, but she is very displeased with the limitations of non reserved second class seats.  Though after looking at her pass, she has logged at least 20 rides maybe 30 from one place to another, including Croatia and Hungary as well as France, England and Ireland.  All in all, I think she has gotten her value from the pass and she has gotten value from the experience.  How wonderful she has the opportunity.

So, I miss her when she calls and I want her to be having a great time and enjoying the diversity.  For soon, she will return to Tallahassee, which by comparison, will feel small and not so much like Notre Dame.  But it will feel like home.

Home because her dog is here.  Her kitty is here.  Her horses are here.  And somewhere way down the list are her parents and family members.  And we will embrace her return and wait for the next opportunity to celebrate her announcement.  I for one, am not in any hurry.

But back to my reintegration into the work place...  I have worked now for three full days and I was so tired on Friday!  I went to bed at nine p.m. and slept until five thirty a.m. I got up Saturday morning feeling groggy and hit by a truck.  The fact that my ribs had not healed from the fall in Bordeaux reminded me not to move quickly.

I have to say it felt good to be in my own bed.  And so nice to have my own bathroom back with my things in it and my own towels.  And even nicer to discover that my husband had vacuumed the floor and cleaned the sinks!  lovely homecoming.

I am already plotting my next escape.  I hope before the return to France in 2014 for the World Equestrian Games.  I would love to see Australia or New Zealand or even more of California.  Pennies in a sack, every day, I drop my pennies in a sack....

Glad to be home, so glad to have a home to come home to!

Huffington: Put spotlight on new ideas | The Florida Current

Huffington: Put spotlight on new ideas | The Florida Current

Joy the Baker – These Things I’ve Learned in Thirty Years

Joy the Baker – These Things I’ve Learned in Thirty Years