Archive for the ‘love’ Category
secrets to my success
The lovely Emma at How to Italy has tagged me to share five things I do nearly every day to be successful. I love this idea. For me, it’s inspiring to read about others’ good, productive habits especially since we so often hear the harmful, destructive ones (which we all have as well).
But first a word on success–a slippery word that can and should be defined by each of us individually. I consider myself successful if I can end the day with a smile and the feeling that I did what I could as well as I could’ve. Does it happen everyday? Hardly. But I like to think the following habits make it more likely:
1. After I wake up, I spend fifteen minutes sitting on the balcony with Luna and my beverage of choice, usually coffee but sometimes fresh-squeezed orange juice (season-permitting). When I say “sitting on the balcony,” I mean literally. I plop my bum down on Luna level, and we have our own pettie and snuggle time in the sunshine if the weather cooperates, and if the weather doesn’t cooperate, we share our moments inside in the kitchen. These quiet, relaxed moments before the day kicks up are important for me.
Here are some photos from a recent pettie and snuggle session:
2. While we’re on the subject of Luna, we take at least 3 walks per day (usually more). I probably wouldn’t do this on my own without a canine companion, so thank goodness she’s with us. Being in touch with nature gives me inspiration, thinking time, and an overall calm feeling that everything around me is exactly as it should be for one reason or another. It also gives me an excuse to take even more photos despite the fact that the locals think I’m a tad wacky getting so close to trees and whatnot.
3. I tell someone I love them. Always P, but if I’ve spoken to my mom or dad that day, I’ve told them too. For as long as I can remember, my mom has always told me she loves me at the end of every phone call–and this was when we lived just a town apart. It’s something I’ve continued with my family members over the phone and with P in person, daily. I don’t think you can ever say “I love you” too much.
4. I go on the Internet (when Telecom cooperates). This may sound odd, but since I’ve had the Internet installed in the house about a year ago, I’ve felt so much more in touch with the world and comfortable with my life here. Whether it’s the news, celebrity gossip, other blogs, or personal emails, I need and crave this contact with civilization outside of southern Italy. It makes me feel more alive and part of something larger, and that’s a good feeling.
5. I write. Could just be a blog entry (no offense readers!) or an email or thirty, but every day I write something, which they say is good for a writer. In fact, blogging has increased my “other” writing productivity as ideas spring up at every turn–finding the time and discipline to follow all of them through is the more difficult part. Back to number 4, though, and reading other writers’ blogs inspires me to continue.
So there are my five things. I won’t tag anyone, but I do hope you’ll make such a list even if it’s just for your own eyes. A lot of times we focus on what we’re doing wrong because finding flaws is so easy (many of us even have people to help us if we can’t find them!), but it’s also useful to see what we’re doing right.
If you do post a list, please leave the link in the comments for others to find you.
Buon weekend!
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[tags]secrets of success, dogs, sunrises, trees[/tags]
Love Thursday: Helping Hands
In case you hadn’t guessed by now, I like my P an awful lot. He’s quite thoughtful and sweet and handsome and lovable, and yes, I think I’ll keep him.
But I’m not going to lie to you. He’s not the hugest help around the house.
Now even that’s an unfair statement because he does cook half the time, but see, I don’t mind cooking, so if he didn’t do that, it probably wouldn’t bother me. Cleaning though? I *hate* cleaning of any kind (except organizing — me likey organization!), and unfortunately, apparently so does he.
Sometimes I get overwhelmed, particularly during the middle of the week when I’m out of the house for two full (10 a.m.-8 p.m.) days — especially if, heaven forbid, it has been raining, which means the laundry has piled up.
But I really hate doing the dishes. A lot. So the other day I casually mentioned that maybe when I cook, he could do the dishes. I’m not even sure the sentiment successfully traveled the short distance between my mouth and his ears — a new record for the Things P Didn’t Want To Hear Game.
[Such a fun game, by the way, fully adaptable to any partner and free to play!]
Or at least I thought he didn’t hear me.
Last night when I came home from teaching, I gave LuLu some LuLove, and then I went to the sink to wash my hands. When I reached for a tea towel to dry them, I was greeted by this:
This scene may not mean a lot to you, but let’s just say that when P uses hand towels, they never end up Martha Stewart pretty back on the rack. But this time? I was duly impressed.
And then I grabbed a yogurt from the fridge and a spoon from the silverware drawer. I noticed that the spoon I picked up was one of our oddball ones with a design unlike the others — not strange until I realized I had used the same one in the morning for my coffee and had left it in the sink.
I flipped around to see this:
This had been half-full of dirty dishes when I left the house, and surely P had eaten something when he got home from work and added to the pile.
But then…he…washed them? And dried them? And put them away?
I kid you not, my eyes swelled with tears. And I didn’t even mind that some of the silverware was out of place.
Who needs a big fancy ring when you’ve got an empty sink and folded dish towels?
I love my P.
Happy Love Thursday everyone!
Birthday Post Fall-Out (Plus Mention of a Wedding)
That last part got your attention, didn’t it?
Well, we’ll get there eventually, but you have to hang with me a bit.
The other day I posted about my mom for her birthday. I didn’t even tell her that I had posted it because she can only read the blog from my brother’s house occasionally, *and* she’s in the process of moving, so I figured I would wait until things settled down a bit to let her know.
And then I got this email this morning:
*****
Dear Aunt Shell,
Nana says thanks for the blog. I feel the same way about that song. You made Nana cry, but you knew I would. I am almost moved into the apartment the fellow that bought kitty’s stuff moved the furniture to my apartment today. My phone is disconnected and so is my tv- at the house everything is hooked up at the apartment. I am working night shift. I call you tomorrow. Michael typed this for me. We both send our love.
Love Mom, Michael
your favorite nephew Mia is out of the picture.
She’s still in school.
*****
OK, so it’s a little confusing with the shifting point of view, but Nana is my mom, of course, and I’m guessing she’s the one that feels the same about the song (I doubt my 10-year-old nephew is big into Bette–no snide comments!) and also was the one I knew I would make cry (true). Kitty is my mom’s mother-like figure who has recently moved to a care facility, and for some reason my nephew refers to my niece as a nephew (wouldn’t be a problem in Italy since “nipote” covers everyone, even grandchildren!).
That last one may be partly explained by the next email I received–from my niece (who, thank goodness is not literally “out of the picture”).
*****
Dear Aunt shell. Michael said he is your favorite niece. I don’t believe him. I sent you a post card when we went to Disney at Epcot. We might go to Italy to see you get married.
Love,
Mia
*****
Whoa Nelly!Aside from the utter cuteness of my niece and nephew, let’s go back and make some sense of all this.
My brother and his family recently went to Disney World on their first real family trip; everyone had such a blast, so it was casually mentioned that perhaps the next trip it to Italy. So I casually mentioned, well, hey, if everyone will be here, P and I could get married while you’re here.
Going back further. P asked me to marry him, oh, on about the second day we knew each other. So it’s always just kind of been there. Besides, the whole engagement process in Italy isn’t like it is in the States–here it doesn’t even really exist.
About the big day, though, neither of us are religious or want a big to-do, so a church wedding/typical southern Italian 500 guest extravaganza simply isn’t happening. We’re in no rush anyway since we already live together, and well, someday, when everything’s right, the stars align and whatnot, it’ll happen. I’m not concerned, and neither is P.
But when I heard that my family might be planning a trip, I thought, hey, why not?
Even better is that when I told P my family was talking about visiting, *he* suggested getting married while they’re here. So nice when we’re on the same page.
And I then received another email from my nephew which included the following:
*****
. . . Mom said on the way home [from Disney] next vacation is to Italy. Then I asked are we going to stay at Aunt Shells she said yes.
*****
Sounds serious, huh?
So, cara famiglia, the pressure is on.
Blog friends, feel free to leave comments hassling encouraging them to make reservations so P can make an honest woman of me. Only if you feel so inclined, of course.
Oh, and Happy Labour Day/May Day to those celebrating–why yes, it’s another holiday in Italy! Normally around here people go up into the mountains, but as P put it, we’re already in the hills. Hah! That’s Italian humor in case you didn’t catch it.
We will be having a lovely late lunch of Florentine steaks on the grill, baked potatoes, spinach, corn, salad, and (I’m guessing) lots of wine.
And, if you’re wondering, yes, I will also celebrate America’s Labor Day in September–being an expat has many hidden advantages.
Picking Truffles in Calabria: Another Homeless Smurf
On Saturday afternoon, P and his friends went hunting tartufi (truffles) in the mountains that surround us. Other than a ton of rainbows, the sprouting of delicious mushrooms is another great side effect to all the rain we’ve been getting. While normal funghi hunting, e.g., for porcini, occurs in the fall and winter, our black truffles are just getting good around this time.
Ah, yes, I should point out that we only have black truffles down here as the white, expensive, sacred ones are further north in more famous white truffle country.
So how did we do? Well, no luck on the tartufi this time, but P did find a rather unique ‘shroom that he brought home for me. Have I mentioned he’s always bringing me something?
This is actually a porcino, well out of season, and just cute as a button (about that small as well). So if you want to start up a collection or something, it would seem that we’ve just created another homeless Smurf*.
And you thought Gargamel was nasty.
*In Italian, the Smurfs are called “I Puffi.”
From Wikipedia: Italian: puffi (singular: puffo), the name has been reinvented from scratch because in Italian language the “schtroumpf” or (in Italian spelling strumpf) reminds speakers of the Italian word “stronzo,” literally meaning ‘piece of excrement.’ Note that the dialect word ‘strunz‘ is even closer to ‘strumpf.’ The fantasy name “puffi” is derived from the word “buffi” (singular: buffo, as in opera buffo) a word meaning at same time “funny” and “strange.”
conversations with p
When I set off for the Calabrian Women’s Summit 2007, it marked the first time that P and I would be apart overnight. I knew I’d be OK since I’d be in the company of wonderful funny women, but P was left with some alone time–and he used it to be alone, only leaving the house to walk Luna.
So over the weekend, P got some serious thinking in, and here’s the transcript to prove it.
During our first embrace, the following transpired (translated into English–mostly):
P: You know I was thinking…
M: About what?
P: About us.
M: Uh huh. What about us?
P: That we’re like a lamp.
M: Oh? How so?
P: Well, in order for a lamp to work, you need two wires, two forces working together.
M: Continue.
P: A positive (*points to me*) and a negative (*points to himself and smiles*).
M: Right.
P: And when they’re together, they can make something beautiful, like light.
M: *blushes and squeezes him tighter*
P: Or, you know, in our case, like a baby…una famiglia.
M: *double blushes and tears up*
(Just to be clear, no announcements are forthcoming at this point.)
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[tags]love, amore[/tags]
Michelle Kaminsky is an American attorney-turned-freelance writer who lived in her family's ancestral village in Calabria, Italy for 15 years. This blog is now archived.
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