To Dye or not to Dye

Fifteen years old, blonde and beautiful, diabetes.
She flashed on my homepage yesterday with a status changing from in a relationship to happily single.
She commented on her own post that she was happy to be free and in the field again.
A series of posts and links followed:
Elle
We're Girls!
I'd like to see a falling star to make a wish..
Don't ever tell me you love me again, because you're full of it...
I wish that my heart would function again, we always fall in love with the wrong people..
Sometimes when I say I'm fine, I wish someone would take me in their arms and tell me it's all going to be okay..

She flashed on my homepage again this morning asking the following: How do you think I would look with black hair?
I wrote: You're beautiful, you would be stunning in green hair...we all have "black phases"...I've certainly been every color possible. But black is aggressive and trying to return to blonde afterwards takes forever. People seem to be nicer to blondes...once upon a time you were "Fro Smile"...where'd she go? Find her again and then we'll talk color.


She got it.

Insulin shots all throughout middle school with Jordan. Beautiful. She has this innate determination; we all do, yet sometimes we forget. Sometimes we just get caught up in other people and we forget ourselves.
When you're fifteen, you're in the tunnel.
When you're thirty-nine...it's all about seeing the light.
And sharing it.

Honey, let's fly the jet to Maine for some fresh lobster...

I just read the following fb status: Flying to Maine for some fresh lobster!
He and his fiancèe live in New York.
It took me 48 seconds to comprehend that he was actually gassing up the jet to go to Maine for some fresh lobster. 
They'll be returning to NYC this evening.
I asked him if he'd ever flown his woman to Kentucky for a cold beer and some real Kentucky Fried Chicken. 


5 minutes later another fb status popped up: Taking my woman to Red Lobster!

Reflections of a Mamma sitting on her porch in Tuscany as her kids are playing outside at 9,30 pm. Sofia just asked if we could go to the center for a water balloon fight, I'm still recovering from the foam party...

I have two members of the forum going in for ci surgery tomorrow, one 12 month old going in for a TAC and MRI and a single mom trying to grasp the degree of deafness of her 3 year old.

And as I think of what these families are going through, I'm wondering what it would be like to hop a private jet for some lobster. And I've had my share of lobster.

I'm thinking that I miss romantic.

Not the lobster kind of romantic, that would be nice and my heart would probably explode, but the Kentucky Fried Chicken, cold beer and picnic table romantic, even though I don't eat fried chicken.

After chewing on this for about an hour, as the happy couples enjoy their meals....the real questions are:
1. Are you laughing?
2. Is the conversation flowing as freely as the champagne or Coca Cola- depending whether you're in Maine or Red Lobster USA?
3. Is there eye contact?
4. What do you do on a private jet on the way back to NYC?

Strappy Black Patent Leather Printer

I fondly look back on the first time I did something as a single woman.
I bought a printer, followed the directions and installed it.
I kissed my muscles and smiled.
My next courageous feat was changing the lightbulb above my kitchen table, which required unscrewing and delicate handling.
Jumps of joy.
Throwing out the trash was a royal pain as the dump is like a kilometer away, until I incorporated the throwing out of the garbage in my daily run (walk).
Now, I kind of sit and observe everything and everyone. You can tell who lives life and who sleeps, who struggles and who shrugs.
Since that first printer installment, another one just broke.
Technology inspires yet intimidates me.
Today I went to buy my third printer in six months.
I walked into the mega-store and found one I just loved, printer love. The price was 49,99 and was a printer-scanner combination. I asked the hot media guy for assistance, he went to the computer and told me the price was wrong, it cost 59,99.
Mr. Miller, my old typing - Business teacher flashed through my head, and he was not happy.
False advertising!!!!
I got pissed off, felt taken advantage of, and complained.
I asked the guy if he would give me a discount based on deception.
He half-nodded.
Indignantly, I took another tour of the printers and found a lovely shiny black printer for 49,99 that was a printer-scanner-fax machine.
I asked him if he had it in stock.
He checked the computer and said the price was wrong.
NOT AGAIN!!!!
Instead of 49,99, it was on sale for 29,99.
I looked at him and he looked at me.
I asked him if he'd like me to pay him more since the price was wrong.
*Smile*

24 Hours of Sexy

This blog all began when I started outgrowing eleven year old sweatpants from college, dirty Nikes and Victoria's Secret cotton bikinis, because my eleven year old deaf son became independent and no longer needed 24 hour surveillance.
I began investigating sexy. It started with a thong, evolved into healing and exploded into using my experience to provide resources.
My son helped me find my own voice as he began using his.
Throughout the journey, people would always ask me, "Don't you LOVE living in Tuscany? Aren't you SO HAPPY there?"
I would always chew my lip on that one.
I worked a long, long time on sexy.
I have a new facebook friend who sees sexy 24 hours a day: to her, nachos and Italian porchetta at 8 am are sexy.

So I thought I'd see life through sexy...
Flying from Australia to Tuscany for love. Realizing that you cannot control love, you can only choose to give it. Feeling truly alone for the first time in your life as you suffer the flu in a country that is not your own. Getting out of bed, standing on your feet, and living one full month of yourself, by yourself before you return to take care of others. As you always have done...

Sitting on the terrace in a pair of fur-lined Uggs, your Grandfather's striped boxer shorts, a tie-dyed shirt and a scarf, relaxing until you hear the 15 month old launch a red lego onto your court from the terrace above...getting up and retrieving that lego three times, because once upon a time, you had a 15 month old who all of the sudden became 15 years old.
Lying in bed next to beach-blonde curls reading a fairytale about Princess Sofia as you read The Happiness Project...
Sweating on your keyboard..
A bottle of white wine and heaping plastic plates of Italian delights..
Running sprints in a small town with a group of 80 year old toothless women cheering you on...
A snapshot of a couple who has been through it all, smiling together on an empty beach that once was full...
Publishing your dream-child..
Riding your motorcycle along the Amalfi Coast with your daughter on the back...
Going back to school at age 40 something...
Tales from a carpool line...

I have worked on sexy and I have been inundated by sexy.
14 years later...I have chosen to be happy in Tuscany.

Freefall

A person chooses to bungee jump. The person prepares meticulously, mentally and morally and chooses to jump.
Off the side of a mountain.
From a bridge.
For what?
For one moment of adrenaline, for the rush that comes with the freefall, for that one moment of will I live or will I die?
To mask the sensation of vulnerability and flatline that accompanies the daily grind?
Live in the vulnerability for an extended period of time.
Shake hands with vulnerability.
Standing with two feet planted firmly in the ground may be the greatest adrenaline rush you ever experience.
And it lasts for a comfortable while.
Until life presents you with another opportunity to jump.
It is possible to fly with your feet on the ground.

To heal our wounds, we need courage to face them.- Paulo Coelho

The Italian Line Dance

Walk a straight line.
Go to the mall and window shop.
Drink your coffee while mentally planning the week.
Eat your grilled chicken salad with the same honey mustard dressing that you love because you know the flavor works.
And if you suddenly stop and turn around quick-like?
If you walk the straight line and always look forward, and suddenly side step it to the left with a headswing?
If you skip the salad and go straight for the Reeses Peanut Butter Cup Cheesecake heavy on the whipped cream?
Go off the road.
For a minute.
You may just see a little girl laughing hysterically as her brother desperately tries to find her in a pick up game of hide and go seek between two walls.

Excalibur

So...
I hopped on the train that was an hour late. Strangely, it was the first time I'd ever had a train in Italy that late. I couldn't really complain, the humidity had dropped and the wait was fine.
I read my book.
I made my way to my seat to find a four year old boy sleeping on it next to his Mamma.
I sat down in the seat across from mine and smiled politely. Mamma looked relieved.
Four minutes later an adorable guy of about 20 years of age stuck his head into the compartment and politely asked, "Signora, is that your seat?"
I pointed to the sleeping child and the seat by the window occupied by his Mamma, and replied, "No, that's my seat."
The adorable guy, looked at me and said, "Ok, no problem."
He went to sit in a pull down seat in the corridor.
Amazing to know that there are still polite 20 year olds left in this world.

20 minutes later the angelic sleeping child awoke.
The child sat across from me.
His mother next to him.
Adorable 20 year old took my window seat.

I continued reading.
Over the next twenty-five minute period, Big Mamma's leg stretched into my personal space, leaving me just enough room to receive periodic kicks in the shin from angel child who apparently also loved to scream.
Just as I was tempted to throw the child and his Mamma off the train for being, well, rude, obnoxious, painful and loud....the most incredible thing happened.
There was another beautiful couple (without children) seated in pull-down seats in the corridor.
I glance to the left and as if in slow motion, the girl part of the couple pulled out...
A light-up, music playing
SWORD!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
The devil child's eyes lit up.
I gasped in shock.
And the child was occupied for the rest of the ride.
Yet another miracle in Tuscany...