So last Friday (April 10) was National Sibling Day, officially in the US, but unofficially in the rest of the world, as things that trend tend to go worldwide with the way that social media is making our world smaller and smaller. Last Tuesday, my cousin welcomed her second little girl into the world, welcoming her first born into the ranks of big sisters worldwide. And this morning, at 6 am, my baby sister, now a married woman of 22, hopped on plane eventually headed for Spain to live there for the next three to four years. My brother-in-law is in the Navy and his station is there. If you read this blog, you'll know that they've had whirlwind of a life together. They started dating last January (2014) and boom, now they've been married nearly four months. But I digress.
All of this sibling love combined with all of the "going away" gatherings and finally dropping my sister off at the airport on Sunday made me super emotional and nostalgic and when I'm like that, I tend to write. So write I will.
I don't remember being told I was going to be a big sister and I definitely didn't know I'd be getting a little sister. My parents had decided with both of us that they wanted to be surprised by who showed up in the delivery room. I do, however, remember the day she came home. When she was born, I stayed with my grandparents and I remember my grandma bringing me to the hospital the day we were all going home together. As a three, nearly four, year old, I naturally got bored or distracted and started playing with some other kids. For some reason, they had a stamps and I managed to cover my hands in ink. My grandma cleaned me up, all the while scolding me that I wouldn't be allowed to touch my baby sister if my hands were dirty! I was obviously a great example right from the start.
The day that my cousin brought her newest little home, she posted a bedtime picture of both of her girls, with Big Sister holding Little Sister, with the caption of "Can I hold her for a few minutes before I go to bed?" It is one of the sweetest photos I've seen (and she has a lot of sweet photos) and I got choked up. Because of my sister leaving, we've been watching a lot of home videos and we came across a video of when my sister was just about a week old and it was in the morning. I'm freshly bathed and dressed for the day, wet hair combed back, dressed in a Sesame Street t-shirt and jean shorts. My sister is sleeping peacefully, full cheeks and cute as can be. "Daddy, I think we should wake her up." "Why's that?" "Because I want to hold her." "No, let her sleep." "Nooo, I want to hold my baby sister." - I kill myself with cuteness. I was so in love with her.
Fast forward to pre-teens and teen years when we had screaming matches, cold shoulders, cuddle fests, movie marathons until I left for college up north. Absence truly does make the heart grow fonder, not just in terms of romantic love and we went from sisters who liked spending time together when I was home to actual friends who could truly confide in each other. She's always been wise beyond her years and more mature than those her age (but, oh trust me, she had her moments). We would still get on each other's nerves if we spent too much time in close quarters, but that's what sisters do. For about nine months, we were both living out of the house, me up north in the Bay Area, while she was in college in North Carolina. For the first time since I was born, my parents were empty-nesters. Then we both moved home within a few months of each other and life got thrown back into high school.
Fast forward again to now. Within the last year and a half, my lovely sister met the love of her life, got engaged, got married and has now officially moved to a foreign country. My new brother-in-law, who we've actually known since he was a kid but never really knew, is in the U.S. Navy and is stationed in Spain. They're beginning a new adventure and their married life in a way that I can't even imagine. She's a married woman now and will grow up in more ways than we realize right now and will go on adventures and come back to the states in a few years with so much life experience. I'm so excited for her and slightly jealous of her adventures. That being said, I'm going to miss her so damn much. When we were dropping her off at the airport in the wee hours of Sunday morning, I cried. We were going to walk her as far as security. Well, the airport she flew out of moved their security screening to the ticket lobby and I wasn't ready. When I saw the security line, I said "that's it! No!" and got choked up. We hugged a long time and told each other we loved each other. I was a mess but she was too excited to get going to cry. I don't blame her. I did the same when I left for my summer in Italy. We watched her go through security and through the doors and then, for the first time since she was born nearly 23 years ago, it was just me and my parents again.
Michela, I love you so much. Good luck with everything, see everything you can and tell me all about it.
Wednesday, April 22, 2015
Sunday, March 1, 2015
The Itch to Write
Today is Sunday and its' generally chore day for me. I get a bit lazy when it comes to putting away my laundry, so what usually happens is that I have a hamper of clean clothes and a hamper of dirty clothes. And I eventually run out of clothes in my drawer so I dump all of my clean clothes on my bed and go on a laundry organizing spree. I put my iTunes on shuffle and have a solo dance party.
Also, last fall I was out shopping with a friend and came across this cute black notebook with a detailed hand drawn on the front and on a whim, I bought it. On the inside cover, I wrote, also on a whim, The Art of Random Thoughts. The first page is filled with designs for the seven tattoos I want (yes, truly....) and then the next is titled Quotes. I've been writing down quotes I like whenever I come across one. Incidentally, this notebook is now a permanent fixture in my bag, along with a pen I really like (I'm one of those weirdos who actually has a pen preference.)
So the two came together today, with my listening party going, folding laundry and Anna Nalick's "Breathe" came on. And there's a line in there that's always struck me and I finally made the connection to it. It goes "If I get it all down on paper/it's no longer inside of me/threatening the life it belongs to." THAT is how I feel sometimes. I get something in my head and I just have to write about it. I obsess about it until I get it out. And then I'm better. I've said it before and I'll say it again. Writing is totally therapeutic. It's amazing. I'm not musical by any stretch of the imagination but I kind of know how songwriters must feel in this sense...they have a song in them that needs to get out. But then they record it and if it makes their album or someone's album, they have to hear it constantly. I can just go back and peruse at leisure if I want.
Anyways...that was my itch to write. An itch to write about the itch to write. That must be some sort of meta.
Happy Sunday ! :)
Oh here's that notebook....
Also, last fall I was out shopping with a friend and came across this cute black notebook with a detailed hand drawn on the front and on a whim, I bought it. On the inside cover, I wrote, also on a whim, The Art of Random Thoughts. The first page is filled with designs for the seven tattoos I want (yes, truly....) and then the next is titled Quotes. I've been writing down quotes I like whenever I come across one. Incidentally, this notebook is now a permanent fixture in my bag, along with a pen I really like (I'm one of those weirdos who actually has a pen preference.)
So the two came together today, with my listening party going, folding laundry and Anna Nalick's "Breathe" came on. And there's a line in there that's always struck me and I finally made the connection to it. It goes "If I get it all down on paper/it's no longer inside of me/threatening the life it belongs to." THAT is how I feel sometimes. I get something in my head and I just have to write about it. I obsess about it until I get it out. And then I'm better. I've said it before and I'll say it again. Writing is totally therapeutic. It's amazing. I'm not musical by any stretch of the imagination but I kind of know how songwriters must feel in this sense...they have a song in them that needs to get out. But then they record it and if it makes their album or someone's album, they have to hear it constantly. I can just go back and peruse at leisure if I want.
Anyways...that was my itch to write. An itch to write about the itch to write. That must be some sort of meta.
Happy Sunday ! :)
Oh here's that notebook....
Wednesday, February 25, 2015
A Random Thought
"It sounds like a cliche but I also learnt that you’re not going to fall for the right person until you really love yourself and feel good about how you are." - Emma Watson
This is a phrase that I've carried with me for a while, but recently saw it from Ms. Watson on either Pinterest or Tumblr (I'm such a sucker for quotes on there...I go looking when I'm feeling down). It's an important phrase and an important message. It's one that I know a lot of people struggle with. There's no way in hell you can fully fall in love with someone else until you fully fall in love with, and are comfortable with, yourself. I've watched friends and acquaintances alike jump from relationship to relationship, changing and morphing into who they think they should be, without ever truly being happy and just being themself. I think that's why I've been single most of my 26 years on this earth. It's also why my sister is married...she learned to love herself early on and was lucky to find a man who loved her just as much.
I can't say that I am completely at ease with myself but I'm nearly there. I also know when I need to focus on myself and how much level of crap I can deal with. Someone asked me last year why I wasn't dating anyone and I responded "I have enough on my plate with just me...there's no way I can handle someone else." And that's okay. I had a rough few months last year that really made me look at myself and what I was doing. And I think I'm ready for whatever comes now. I got through it myself, with family and friend support of course, but I did it for me, not anyone else.
Anyways, just had some thoughts on this and I've decided to write whatever I want now, no matter how long or short.
Thursday, February 19, 2015
Five Years of Friendship with my TWIN
I have a twin, but we're not related. We're also almost complete opposites of each other but practically the same all at once. We're "twins" because we have the same nickname. I think it was Allie who decided on calling each other Twin. It's gotten to the point that it's almost strange to call each other "Allie/Aly." Even her mom calls me Twin, which I laughed at the first time it happened. She is my best friend, my bodyguard, my confidant, my encourager, my discourager, my give-it-to-me-as-straight-and-blunt-as-you-can go-to girl. She's pretty awesome. And the most awesome thing about her is that she's chosen to make ME the same for her. I've always believed that friends are the family that you choose. I have several girlfriends like her but she's my closest that I've known the longest. It's my true belief that my best girlfriends became that because if we had been born sisters, our parents would have pulled their hair out with all the shenanigans.
Allie and I met five years ago at a PRSSA (Public Relations Student Society of America) mini-conference that my school's chapter was hosting. We connected on Facebook after that and kept in touch. That summer, I went to Italy for my summer abroad and she was one of maybe 5 friends from school that kept in touch with me. It's not that I lacked friends that summer, but it was nice to have a new friend who made the effort across time zones and distance. I'm not even sure when we crossed from acquaintances to friends to best friends. We confided in each other through the rest of college, navigated graduation, and vented about the oh so wonderful job market that greeted us upon our release from college. I worked in San Francisco, going from internship to internship and she got a job with a minor league team. When that didn't pan out, I drove my SUV out to her and helped her move back. It was an adventure to say the least.
Four years on, she asked me to be her maid of honor and I did a happy dance while she laughed at me (we were on Skype). Helping her with her wedding and planning her bachelorette brought us even closer. Her wedding was absolutely amazing and I was so happy for her as she married the love of her life. He's an incredible guy and I know he loves her with all his heart, which is more than I could ask for. We talk on a nearly daily basis and I'm so incredibly lucky to call her my friend and my twin. We're the type of friends who can talk all the time about nothing, go for long stretches without seeing each other and jump back into it when we do see each other. I can't imagine life without her.
Here's to many more years of friendship, all the ups and downs we will endure, one more wedding (mine....at some point), honorary aunties, and eventually being old girlfriends with grey hair who still go to baseball games and cat call the cute players in those fantastic uniforms ;).
Her wedding day
A few before the ceremony
Sharks game in 2011
Halloween 2010
Night before I moved home January 2012
Timing
The older I get, the more I realize that timing is literally everything. Whether it's as small as what time you leave for work in the morning and how much traffic will you hit, to when you meet someone and what's going on in your lives at that moment. Everything is down to timing, and, as some would believe, timing is fate.
It's taken me some time (I swear, no pun intended) to figure out why certain things have happened to me during the course of my life. I will never understand the timing of my grandfather's death, but I do see the timing of my visit to Italy in 2010 that I got to see my great-uncle before he passed. I understand the timing behind my getting into Gonzaga University and then having to withdraw for financials. I was able to take a semester off after two years at a community college, really figure out what I wanted out of my college career, dedicate a good amount of time to co-leading a confirmation retreat and spend time with friends and family. That was the last time I really took a good, long break.
Timing has worked it's ways over me a lot professionally. I had a job as a manager of a shave ice shop in March-July 2010. I had also interviewed at a mobile company at the same time. I didn't hear from them so I took the shave ice managerial spot. It turned out that it wasn't what I wanted to be doing and out of the blue, the mobile company called, called asking me to interview. That set into place my meeting one of my dearest friends, who I'm happy to say is also getting out of that company now. I was with them for 2 years and 2 months. Probably a year too long, but again, timing is everything. I took a personal leave from work after just not being able to handle it anymore. I needed a breather from the company, the day in-day out slog of forceful retail sales, the anxiety of not making numbers and the crappy feeling I got from having to sell something I no longer believed in. Last March (2014), I interviewed at a university and the interview was promising but the position went to an internal candidate. It hurt, but I trudged on.
Right before I took my personal leave, I had re-applied for a similar position with the university. The day after my leave began, I got a call for an interview. I went on three interviews and had a new job within two weeks of my leave. I was SO relieved and happy and felt like a million tons had been lifted from my shoulders that I sobbed on my bed after hanging up with HR and accepting the offer. Tears of utter joy and relief, that good, whole-body wracking cry that throws everything off. It was cleansing. I walked around on cloud 9 the whole next few days. And guess what? I've been at my new job almost five months and I love it. I love being back on a college campus, but on the other side. I love being around academics and watching people pursue a higher education. I had been going for my MBA through a education allowance with my old job but stopped the classes when I realized I had to get out. Looking back, I have no idea what I was going to do with an MBA. Being back in academia land, I've come to realize that what I wanted as a kid, to be a teacher, might still be a reality that I can achieve. I might think I'm getting too old for things, but one of my parents' best friends went back and got her degree in nursing when she was just a few years away from being a grandma. You're never too old for something new.
So I think I'll go back to school and get a new degree and pursue teaching. I want to teach history, specifically US History. I wrote a paper in my junior year of high school on the role that US women played on the home-front and battlefront in World War II and I don't know that I've seen a class taught about it. I can take classes for free as a full time employee at the university, so it'll take a long time. I'm ok with that.
Timing also has had it's hand in relationships, but not as much as my educational and professional life. I've met people, friends and romantic relationships alike, at times when I needed them, or when I wasn't looking for them but now realize that they were there. I've also fallen out of friendships at times that I still don't understand completely. I still get mad when I think about a certain failed friendship. It ended right before college ended and I guess, in some twisted way, it's poetic. My sister asked me the other day how it could still sting and how I could still react so bitterly at mentions of it after almost 4 years. That friendship was a 21 year friendship. Of COURSE it still stings. Of course I still have a bitter taste in my mouth. It ended for reasons that could have been avoided and the only way I kept my head in it all was to end it. I miss that person, I miss who that person used to be. I have no idea what that person is like anymore. I wonder all the time, but I doubt I'll ever get to know.
I really haven't had that many romantic relationships, and I think I'm okay with that. I've prided myself on the fact that I was never a girl to depend on a guy's approval for personal happiness. I had a conversation with one of my best friends recently about how years of crappy exes made her doubt herself and it took her now forever relationship to undo the damage. I said that I thought that was why I was okay still...I don't have any crappy exes who ever made me doubt myself. If there was even a hint of negativity in that way, they were gone. Out the door. Buh-bye. Don't need you. But I also do wonder if I already know the man I'm going to end up with. It might be a friend that I've known for years that could develop in the future. It could be a casual acquaintance I've seen around. Or someone else. Who knows, I don't.
I'm finally at the point in my life where I have realized that as much as I am in charge, I am most definitely not. I have the power to make decisions on how I spend my time, but who I interact with is up to timing on their parts. It's almost exciting to have this feeling.
This was long and rambling and felt good. Writing is so therapeutic. I think I'll do this more often....again. :)
Tuesday, February 17, 2015
Nostalgic Reflection Time
A few weekends ago, I went on my church's 21st Women's Retreat. It was held for the 21st, and last, time at the gorgeous Saint Mary's Seminary. The seminary is located up on a mountain in Santa Barbara and has an absolutely breathtaking view of the Santa Barbara coast, Pacific Ocean and the Channel Islands. It was my second retreat but the fourth time at the seminary.
The first time I went to the seminary was when I was in the 7th grade and went to a church leadership camp for junior highers, called Camp Big Deal. It was a week long and I was one of 10 pre-teen/teens from my junior high youth group. I only remember bits and pieces but I do remember that it was fun. It was the first time I saw the Silly Sally skit and the Seven Deadly Sins skit. It was also the first time I opened up to complete strangers, which is something that is strangely comforting. My small group leader's name was Tim and we had a relay race that involved spinning on a baseball bat, then running across a wooden beam that was suspended over a mud pit. At the same time as ever other team. It was messy and so much fun.
The second time at the seminary was the second year I was a leader on the confirmation retreat for my church, which was the semester that I took off from school in between junior college and San Jose State. I had been a leader before but this year I was also one of the coordinators for the retreat. It was a great weekend and I felt that the kids realized that going to church and being Catholic didn't have to feel restrictive. That's why I loved being a leader. Being Catholic to me isn't about just going to church every week and worshiping in the confines of a church. For me, my faith is everywhere. It was also my sister's retreat and it was so cool to see her have such a wonderful experience. She became a leader the next year and for a few years after.
Now, my third and fourth times up on the mountain were with the Women's Retreat. It's a wonderful group of women. What's nice is that it's a wide range of faith. We have women who go to Daily mass and Sunday mass and read scripture and go to bible study, all the way down to someone who doesn't go to Mass, save for holidays and follows her Faith in everyday conversations with God.
I'm somewhere on the second woman's end of the spectrum. I go to mass decently often but I haven't actively read the Bible since I had to for confirmation freshman and sophomore year of high school. I talk to God daily but not in a formal setting. It's often in the car and sometimes I yell. I know He has a plan for me, and I assume it now has input from passed on loved ones, but he's been taking his sweet time revealing His plan and path for me and I'm not, nor have I ever been, the most patient person sometimes. But I'm realizing that I don't have to be a Bible reader to be considered a "good Catholic."
This post go slightly off topic. That happens a lot. Maybe it was just meant to be a reflective and reminiscing post. The seminary is shutting down and being put up for sale. No one knows what will become of the property but I hope and pray that the persons organization that buys it keeps the beauty and peacefulness that it exudes. It's one of those places that you can go up to and sit on a bench, stare out at the ocean and feel at peace. You can read a book, you can go for a hike or you can lay on the grass. I love it. It has served us well over the last two-plus decades and it will be dearly missed.
The first time I went to the seminary was when I was in the 7th grade and went to a church leadership camp for junior highers, called Camp Big Deal. It was a week long and I was one of 10 pre-teen/teens from my junior high youth group. I only remember bits and pieces but I do remember that it was fun. It was the first time I saw the Silly Sally skit and the Seven Deadly Sins skit. It was also the first time I opened up to complete strangers, which is something that is strangely comforting. My small group leader's name was Tim and we had a relay race that involved spinning on a baseball bat, then running across a wooden beam that was suspended over a mud pit. At the same time as ever other team. It was messy and so much fun.
The second time at the seminary was the second year I was a leader on the confirmation retreat for my church, which was the semester that I took off from school in between junior college and San Jose State. I had been a leader before but this year I was also one of the coordinators for the retreat. It was a great weekend and I felt that the kids realized that going to church and being Catholic didn't have to feel restrictive. That's why I loved being a leader. Being Catholic to me isn't about just going to church every week and worshiping in the confines of a church. For me, my faith is everywhere. It was also my sister's retreat and it was so cool to see her have such a wonderful experience. She became a leader the next year and for a few years after.
Now, my third and fourth times up on the mountain were with the Women's Retreat. It's a wonderful group of women. What's nice is that it's a wide range of faith. We have women who go to Daily mass and Sunday mass and read scripture and go to bible study, all the way down to someone who doesn't go to Mass, save for holidays and follows her Faith in everyday conversations with God.
I'm somewhere on the second woman's end of the spectrum. I go to mass decently often but I haven't actively read the Bible since I had to for confirmation freshman and sophomore year of high school. I talk to God daily but not in a formal setting. It's often in the car and sometimes I yell. I know He has a plan for me, and I assume it now has input from passed on loved ones, but he's been taking his sweet time revealing His plan and path for me and I'm not, nor have I ever been, the most patient person sometimes. But I'm realizing that I don't have to be a Bible reader to be considered a "good Catholic."
This post go slightly off topic. That happens a lot. Maybe it was just meant to be a reflective and reminiscing post. The seminary is shutting down and being put up for sale. No one knows what will become of the property but I hope and pray that the persons organization that buys it keeps the beauty and peacefulness that it exudes. It's one of those places that you can go up to and sit on a bench, stare out at the ocean and feel at peace. You can read a book, you can go for a hike or you can lay on the grass. I love it. It has served us well over the last two-plus decades and it will be dearly missed.
Friday, January 23, 2015
An Observation (it's a long one)
So, I started reading through my previous blog posts and realized that I only write when I'm sad, mad or frustrated. I need to change that. And I need to write more, as it's probably the most therapeutic thing you can do. That was the idea behind this blog at the start - to get all of the jumbled thoughts in my head OUT and onto "paper." I was cleaning my room the other day, like really cleaning it and I found old journals that I had written in, dating from 2000-2002. Yeah, I found my junior high diaries. And while I won't go into what they said (silly, pre-teen angsty stuff), I smiled at the fact that my writing style hasn't changed much. But I need to write about happy things again.
So happy things:
May:
My cousin had a baby girl and she's the sweetest thing alive. She looks like a doll and has the name of a warrior princess, Vivienne Athena. My cousin and her husband have wanted a child for so long and she's just perfect. I'm so happy she's here! AND she's getting another cousin. My other cousin, already mommy to the Sass Master Miss Ruby, is having another little girl! YAY babies! They most certainly make the holidays a much better time.
June:
My sister got engaged. I know, weird. My baby sister, aged 21 got engaged to the absolute love of her life. And boy is he a hoot. My new brother-in-law (they got married, but more on that later because I'm nit-picky and trying to go in chronological order) is hilarious, kind, funny, generous, caring, hard working and most of all, a damned saint to spend the rest of his life with my crazy, but amazing, sister. They got engaged the day after their birthdays (two days and two years apart....their Gemini household is going to be something interesting) and his family is now our family and it's all happy :).
July:
My cousin Giusy married her love and we got to back to visit our family in Italy. YAY! It had been four years since I was in Italy, and I don't need to reiterate how much I love that damn country. But family visits are different. They're full of lunch and dinner dates with a different family every day. My dad has a crazy amount of cousins over there and they're all within 5 square miles. We don't eat out when we go there. We don't even cook for ourselves. We'd get yelled at if we did. We, as the four of us, got to spend an amazing 10 days over there and catching up and bonding with our awesome family, language barrier be damned. I finally got to meet my little cousin Giuliana and laugh at her crazy antics. I got to hug my great aunts again, which I treasure SO much because I have no idea what will happen before the next time I get to go back. My heart was bursting so much over there. I didn't want to leave.
September:
I was maid of honor for one of my very best friends and we had an AWESOME bachelorette for her. We headed up to Napa with a party bus and spent the day wine tasting. We went to a gorgeous winery called Castello di Amarosa, which looked a hell of a lot like the medieval castle my cousin in Italy had her reception at. Delicious wine, gorgeous scenery and a fun group of gals. I also got to spend the next day, her birthday, with my friend, doing what we love, watching baseball at a sports bar in Palo Alto. She lives out in Vegas and I don't get to see her much, so it was fun to spend time with her. And gear up for her wedding (more on that later).
October:
I got a new job. FINALLY. I was in the retail mobile tech industry for 2.5 years and that was probably a year too long. It got bad at the end. Like anxiety ridden days where I struggled to get myself to work. BUT happy thoughts...I found a new place. I now work at Cal State Channel Islands, doing administrative work and a teensy bit of event planning for the biology, chemistry and geology programs. Now, if you know me, you'll know that I am downright awful when it comes to science. I was always more english/poli sci/history minded. But I'm happy again. I go to work with a smile on my face again. It had been a long time since I've done that.
November:
My best friend got married and I was her Maid of Honor. I gotta say, for my first time being a bridesmaid, it was crazy fun. We had a great bachelorette in September and she got married at this gorgeous venue in Vegas. The morning of the wedding was probably the most relaxed I've ever seen a bride and it was so much fun getting ready and dressed in the gorgeous suite she had for the day/night. The wedding party was a hoot, the groomsmen wore soccer shoes and the reception was a blast. And the best part was that my best friend married the love of her life. I remember asking him how he was doing at one point and he looked at me and said "I don't like dancing, I hate being the center of attention and I really don't like big parties. But, I love her" with a giant smile on his face.
He's definitely a keeper.
Also in November: A very good friend (I just call him my cousin to make it easier) got married to his amazing wife in a gorgeous wedding up at the Natural History Museum in Santa Barbara. I LOVE outdoor weddings. They're breathtaking. Also, we spent Thanksgiving with more familyfriends and the next day celebrate the marriage of one of their sons as well. It was a really busy weekend.
December:
Holidays, holidays, a little bit of work, and more holidaaaaays! But basically gear up for my sister's wedding. We had a rough start to December with the passing of a very good friend (I mentioned him in a previous post, Alan) and thus spent a lot of time with that part of our familyfriend circle. But it was comforting. I love those people. I have more friends that I can count as family than I do actual family. And I have a LOT of blood related family. But Christmas was spent with my aunt, uncle, cousins and their little families. We're growing! Togetherness is an amazing feeling.
So that was 2014. It was a hell of a year. And thus far, 2015 has been as well and we're only 23 days in. Whew. Here's to more happy times in 2015!
So happy things:
May:
My cousin had a baby girl and she's the sweetest thing alive. She looks like a doll and has the name of a warrior princess, Vivienne Athena. My cousin and her husband have wanted a child for so long and she's just perfect. I'm so happy she's here! AND she's getting another cousin. My other cousin, already mommy to the Sass Master Miss Ruby, is having another little girl! YAY babies! They most certainly make the holidays a much better time.
June:
My sister got engaged. I know, weird. My baby sister, aged 21 got engaged to the absolute love of her life. And boy is he a hoot. My new brother-in-law (they got married, but more on that later because I'm nit-picky and trying to go in chronological order) is hilarious, kind, funny, generous, caring, hard working and most of all, a damned saint to spend the rest of his life with my crazy, but amazing, sister. They got engaged the day after their birthdays (two days and two years apart....their Gemini household is going to be something interesting) and his family is now our family and it's all happy :).
July:
My cousin Giusy married her love and we got to back to visit our family in Italy. YAY! It had been four years since I was in Italy, and I don't need to reiterate how much I love that damn country. But family visits are different. They're full of lunch and dinner dates with a different family every day. My dad has a crazy amount of cousins over there and they're all within 5 square miles. We don't eat out when we go there. We don't even cook for ourselves. We'd get yelled at if we did. We, as the four of us, got to spend an amazing 10 days over there and catching up and bonding with our awesome family, language barrier be damned. I finally got to meet my little cousin Giuliana and laugh at her crazy antics. I got to hug my great aunts again, which I treasure SO much because I have no idea what will happen before the next time I get to go back. My heart was bursting so much over there. I didn't want to leave.
September:
I was maid of honor for one of my very best friends and we had an AWESOME bachelorette for her. We headed up to Napa with a party bus and spent the day wine tasting. We went to a gorgeous winery called Castello di Amarosa, which looked a hell of a lot like the medieval castle my cousin in Italy had her reception at. Delicious wine, gorgeous scenery and a fun group of gals. I also got to spend the next day, her birthday, with my friend, doing what we love, watching baseball at a sports bar in Palo Alto. She lives out in Vegas and I don't get to see her much, so it was fun to spend time with her. And gear up for her wedding (more on that later).
October:
I got a new job. FINALLY. I was in the retail mobile tech industry for 2.5 years and that was probably a year too long. It got bad at the end. Like anxiety ridden days where I struggled to get myself to work. BUT happy thoughts...I found a new place. I now work at Cal State Channel Islands, doing administrative work and a teensy bit of event planning for the biology, chemistry and geology programs. Now, if you know me, you'll know that I am downright awful when it comes to science. I was always more english/poli sci/history minded. But I'm happy again. I go to work with a smile on my face again. It had been a long time since I've done that.
November:
My best friend got married and I was her Maid of Honor. I gotta say, for my first time being a bridesmaid, it was crazy fun. We had a great bachelorette in September and she got married at this gorgeous venue in Vegas. The morning of the wedding was probably the most relaxed I've ever seen a bride and it was so much fun getting ready and dressed in the gorgeous suite she had for the day/night. The wedding party was a hoot, the groomsmen wore soccer shoes and the reception was a blast. And the best part was that my best friend married the love of her life. I remember asking him how he was doing at one point and he looked at me and said "I don't like dancing, I hate being the center of attention and I really don't like big parties. But, I love her" with a giant smile on his face.
He's definitely a keeper.
Also in November: A very good friend (I just call him my cousin to make it easier) got married to his amazing wife in a gorgeous wedding up at the Natural History Museum in Santa Barbara. I LOVE outdoor weddings. They're breathtaking. Also, we spent Thanksgiving with more familyfriends and the next day celebrate the marriage of one of their sons as well. It was a really busy weekend.
December:
Holidays, holidays, a little bit of work, and more holidaaaaays! But basically gear up for my sister's wedding. We had a rough start to December with the passing of a very good friend (I mentioned him in a previous post, Alan) and thus spent a lot of time with that part of our familyfriend circle. But it was comforting. I love those people. I have more friends that I can count as family than I do actual family. And I have a LOT of blood related family. But Christmas was spent with my aunt, uncle, cousins and their little families. We're growing! Togetherness is an amazing feeling.
So that was 2014. It was a hell of a year. And thus far, 2015 has been as well and we're only 23 days in. Whew. Here's to more happy times in 2015!
Wednesday, January 21, 2015
MSA, Alzheimers, Cancer and any other life threatening disease SUCK
I meant to post this a while back but felt I needed to simmer on it. I wrote it from a rambling place of sadness and pain. So I think I wrote this a month ago. Since then, happy events have happened, but the pain of missing those who have passed is still here.
For Christmas, my Aunt Ellie (not blood/legally related in any way but friendship and love), the wonderful, loving, amazing widow of Uncle Alan, gave a select group of women necklaces. The necklace is a simple silver chain with an angel wing. She said the only catch to the necklace was that you think of Alan when you wear it. I've worn it everyday.
A MONTH AGO
A few weekends ago, I went to church for the first time in a long time. I don't have a good excuse for not going, just been lazing about on my Sunday mornings. But today I went and in listening to the second reading, something caught my ear. "The last enemy that shall be destroyed is death" which is 1 Corinthians 15:26. It caught my ear for a few reasons 1) a dear friend was nearing death after beating back so many illnesses in his life and 2) I swear I'd read it in Harry Potter. Mind Blown.
"THE LAST ENEMY THAT SHALL BE DESTROYED IS DEATH"
In the last week, since Friday, December 5th, three people that my family were close with have passed away, one from each of the aforementioned (in the title) ugly diseases. And frankly, I'm mad. I'm mad that these wonderful, kind, sweet people had to endure such injustice. Further, since before Thanksgiving, a few more have passed. I know people die every day and it comes in waves as far as who you know, but sitting here, all I feel is anger. And sadness for the families. And a tiny bit of relief for their loved ones. As much as the deceased suffered, their families had to watch them suffer. Their passing has given a relief. Life will never, ever, EVER be the same, or go back to "normal" but at least now they know that the pain and suffering is over.
I'm rambling. I have a thousand thoughts running through my mind right now. I don't want to come off as insensitive so I'm just going to write.
Uncle Alan, you were one of the best humans to ever walk this planet. You were one of my parents very best friends and you made them better through your friendship. The crazy in love relationship you had with your wife, the lovely Elinor, was evident until the very end. I'm sorry I didn't spend more time with you. Thank you for letting me call you "uncle" even though I had no relation to you besides friendship. You were a brother-in-law to my godfather, but you were more than that. I could see the sadness in his eyes. My dad and John are two of the strongest men I know and to see them sad and near tears at times cut through me. To see you suffering after everything else you'd been through cut through me. We love you so much.
Sandra, you were a light in this world. I haven't seen you in year and years, since your family moved away, but the power of Facebook kept our worlds connected, if only through posts and pictures and status updates from your family. I know my mom's been praying for you since your diagnosis and I'm so sad that you're gone. But like your husband said, I'm happy that you got to witness your two daughters getting married and hold your sweet grandchild, if only for a short time. He will know who you are.
Grandpa Phil, another family friend who we adopted as just plain family. It's been some time since I saw you before you got sick, but I always referred to you as grandpa. Your mind was stolen away by a vile disease, but your family will never forget your warmth and love. Grandma Ginger holds you in her heart and I know I have a few fond memories to look back on. We'll take care of everyone down here.
For Christmas, my Aunt Ellie (not blood/legally related in any way but friendship and love), the wonderful, loving, amazing widow of Uncle Alan, gave a select group of women necklaces. The necklace is a simple silver chain with an angel wing. She said the only catch to the necklace was that you think of Alan when you wear it. I've worn it everyday.
A MONTH AGO
A few weekends ago, I went to church for the first time in a long time. I don't have a good excuse for not going, just been lazing about on my Sunday mornings. But today I went and in listening to the second reading, something caught my ear. "The last enemy that shall be destroyed is death" which is 1 Corinthians 15:26. It caught my ear for a few reasons 1) a dear friend was nearing death after beating back so many illnesses in his life and 2) I swear I'd read it in Harry Potter. Mind Blown.
"THE LAST ENEMY THAT SHALL BE DESTROYED IS DEATH"
In the last week, since Friday, December 5th, three people that my family were close with have passed away, one from each of the aforementioned (in the title) ugly diseases. And frankly, I'm mad. I'm mad that these wonderful, kind, sweet people had to endure such injustice. Further, since before Thanksgiving, a few more have passed. I know people die every day and it comes in waves as far as who you know, but sitting here, all I feel is anger. And sadness for the families. And a tiny bit of relief for their loved ones. As much as the deceased suffered, their families had to watch them suffer. Their passing has given a relief. Life will never, ever, EVER be the same, or go back to "normal" but at least now they know that the pain and suffering is over.
I'm rambling. I have a thousand thoughts running through my mind right now. I don't want to come off as insensitive so I'm just going to write.
Uncle Alan, you were one of the best humans to ever walk this planet. You were one of my parents very best friends and you made them better through your friendship. The crazy in love relationship you had with your wife, the lovely Elinor, was evident until the very end. I'm sorry I didn't spend more time with you. Thank you for letting me call you "uncle" even though I had no relation to you besides friendship. You were a brother-in-law to my godfather, but you were more than that. I could see the sadness in his eyes. My dad and John are two of the strongest men I know and to see them sad and near tears at times cut through me. To see you suffering after everything else you'd been through cut through me. We love you so much.
Sandra, you were a light in this world. I haven't seen you in year and years, since your family moved away, but the power of Facebook kept our worlds connected, if only through posts and pictures and status updates from your family. I know my mom's been praying for you since your diagnosis and I'm so sad that you're gone. But like your husband said, I'm happy that you got to witness your two daughters getting married and hold your sweet grandchild, if only for a short time. He will know who you are.
Grandpa Phil, another family friend who we adopted as just plain family. It's been some time since I saw you before you got sick, but I always referred to you as grandpa. Your mind was stolen away by a vile disease, but your family will never forget your warmth and love. Grandma Ginger holds you in her heart and I know I have a few fond memories to look back on. We'll take care of everyone down here.
Tuesday, January 20, 2015
Dreaming of Florence
Last night, I dreamt of Florence. Again. I do this often, but last night's dreamworld wanderings felt so real and vivid that I woke up and wondered where I was for a moment. Then, I remembered that it's been nearly 5 years since that summer and I'm waking up for work in my room back in California.
It was like most dreams I've had, just wandering the streets after dark. I suppose I dream of this because I did it often while I lived there. I swear I could still walk the city with my eyes closed. My apartment was on Via Il Prato, across from the Grand Hotel Villa Medici, on the outskirts of the city center, so most of the time it didn't make sense for anyone to walk me home just for them to turn around and walk clear across the city again. I liked those nights, walking home after an evening of drinking, dancing, laughing and memory making. The city that summer was something magical. Of course, in my waking hours, I tend to let my mind wander again, but focusing on things I want it to. I had an internship in the more suburban part of town, so I would go and catch a bus at the Santa Maria Novella transport center, where a myriad of taxis and buses rushed through and tourists and locals alike hurried to catch the train on the inside of the center. There was a McDonald's right across the street and I would literally scoff at it daily, thinking "what kind of blasphemy is this?!" There was a perfectly good pasticceria across the street that you could pick up a cappuccino and pastry for breakfast.
The one time I had a cappuccino (I have never enjoyed coffee, but, hey, I was in Italy) was a misty weekday morning during my second week. I had been up late the night before with some new friends from my language class and thought I could use a pick me up. My god, I was not prepared for the reaction. All I had was a small cappuccino, not a large coffee like they serve it here. In Italy, you order your drink standing at the bar and the barista (a true one) gives you a little plastic cup of water to drink to cleanse your palette. Then you get served your shot of cappuccino and you take it like a shot. No sipping, no swirling, just take the shot. Then more water and maybe a bite of pastry. It was strong, as is all European coffee, and you could smell the shop from down the street. I had added a little sugar to take the edge off of the bitterness, so it was a nice mix of sweet and how I imagined coffee would taste after the smell alone could wake me. All was well and good until an hour later, back in class, when my entire body was shaking so much that I thought I was having heart palpitations. I had NOT anticipated the caffeine to have such an affect on me, but in retrospect, I hadn't had caffeine since I stopped drinking soda when I was 14.
I was jittery the rest of the day, even after eating a full meal and walking around after class let out. Never again, I swore. And I haven't. But any whiff of coffee sends me back to that moment. A lot of smells do that. That summer, and I'm sure most summers, they were doing construction and restoration on parts of the city. Florence is a walking city, with a bustling city center. During the summer, there are traffic pylons blocking off access on the main roads so that cars can't travel beyond a certain point. It's for the throngs of tourists that clog the city center but luckily, it's not so bad if you know where to go at what times.
Anyways, there was a route that went from my friend Ali's apartment near the Mercato San Lorenzo that took us down a quiet back street that was also being worked on. The Mercato itself was a big building with food stands inside and all around it outside was tent city, jam packed with pop up shops selling their wares, but hot because of the crush of all of the bodies. Once you got away from it, the buildings were tall, so it was mostly shaded. They had broken up the sidewalks and were pouring fresh concrete. I'm not sure why, but the smell of fresh concrete, mixed with the dust, is something of a comfort smell to me. And it was cool down there, so we had some relief. I'm not sure if you've ever been to Italy during the summer, but it's hot as hell. Tuscany is in a valley and it gets upwards of 100 F and practically 100% humidity. My outfit usually consisted of sandals, a cotton skirt and a tank top, with my hair up somehow. It was too hot otherwise.
I liked it best at night, when the sun went down and the heat just sat there, except along the river, where the stone grew cool enough that you could trail your hand on it as you walked for a little relief. The Arno was gorgeous at night, shimmering with the lights from the buildings on either side. My walk home on Tuesday nights was along the river, as the lounge that my friends played at each Tuesday was right on the river. We would spill out of the lounge in the wee hours and yell and hug our goodbyes and good-nights, and I would take off opposite of everyone else. I was careful, never in danger, staying where there were lights. I also had pepper spray in my small purse that I gripped with white knuckles, just in case. Walking home allowed me to clear my head from the day and night. Mornings were good too. I had a Israeli roommate who would roll his own cigarettes each morning while brewing the strongest smelling coffee I have ever smelled. He was a total sweetheart and has this rough voice, thickly accented but spoke perfect English and Italian, but it smoothed out when he sang, and he was teaching himself to play that guitar that summer. He would sing anytime he was home and I could hear him singing Journey songs through the walls. I normally hate the smell of cigarette, but there was something about freshly rolled ones that didn't seem so bad.
I could ramble on for ages about the nooks and crannies of Florence...maybe I will. My most favorite thing about how small of a city center Florence is is that you could peek down any side street and look up and most likely catch a glimpse of the Duomo, Santa Maria del Fiore. I don't remember specific street names, but I know the way from the Duomo to Il Gato e La Volpe, one of my favorite restaurants, just as if I had walked it yesterday. You sit at a big wooden table on a bench, and eat Florentine bread, which can't be eaten without their amaaaazing balsamic dip. I can practically taste it now. (Note to self: next time I'm in Florence, buy a case of it and ship back home). I can also tell you how to get to a restaurant that serves the most delicious pear and pecorino ravioli you'll ever come across. If you are standing looking at the front of the Duomo, look to your right, where the wide street leads down the La Piazza della Repubblica, but only go past 3 sides streets and turn to your left. It has a green awning and a tree in a bucket and only seats about 20 people, but my GOD the food is amazing. I can also tell you to go behind the Duomo and past the Bargello (a towering building that was once Florence's prison but is now a museum) and a little bar that gets crowded too fast but the proprietor is so happy to see you. My god, how we wandered those streets.
Do you know the feeling of missing someone so much that it physically hurts? That's how I feel about Florence. It's like my bones ache to be back there. But I know that once I go back, I'll be faced with the reality that it will never feel like it did that summer. But I can go back with fresh eyes and a knowledge of the city that I didn't have before. I'll climb the Duomo again, but make sure to keep my camera extra safe (it was pickpocketed shortly after returning to street level and with it all of my gorgeous photos of the red roofs spread as far as the eye could see). I would actually go INTO L'Accademi and gawk at the real David, not the imitation they have out in La Piazza Signoria.
I would take a whole two days to wander the Uffizi and somehow swing a tour of the upper compartments of Il Ponte Vecchio. If that doesn't work, I'll just wander in and out of the gold shops on the bridge. Fun fact: the shops on Il Ponte Vecchio used to be butcher shops, because it was easier to tip the waste into the river instead of hauling it from a shop more inland. Gross, I know, but now it's shining bright with gold shops and alive with live music sung by musicians asking for a few Euro coins. I would also go back to the Palazzo Pitti and spend a whole day IN the palace and then go back the next day to walk around the Biboli gardens. Now, don't let the name confuse you - the Biboli Gardens is actually an 11 acre park, built for the pleasure of the wife of Cosimo I de Medici, the Grand Duke of Tuscany. She wanted something to remind her of her home in Spain, so she got 11 acres worth.
Ahh, I would do so many things. I miss it so much. For now, I'll just dream.
It was like most dreams I've had, just wandering the streets after dark. I suppose I dream of this because I did it often while I lived there. I swear I could still walk the city with my eyes closed. My apartment was on Via Il Prato, across from the Grand Hotel Villa Medici, on the outskirts of the city center, so most of the time it didn't make sense for anyone to walk me home just for them to turn around and walk clear across the city again. I liked those nights, walking home after an evening of drinking, dancing, laughing and memory making. The city that summer was something magical. Of course, in my waking hours, I tend to let my mind wander again, but focusing on things I want it to. I had an internship in the more suburban part of town, so I would go and catch a bus at the Santa Maria Novella transport center, where a myriad of taxis and buses rushed through and tourists and locals alike hurried to catch the train on the inside of the center. There was a McDonald's right across the street and I would literally scoff at it daily, thinking "what kind of blasphemy is this?!" There was a perfectly good pasticceria across the street that you could pick up a cappuccino and pastry for breakfast.
The one time I had a cappuccino (I have never enjoyed coffee, but, hey, I was in Italy) was a misty weekday morning during my second week. I had been up late the night before with some new friends from my language class and thought I could use a pick me up. My god, I was not prepared for the reaction. All I had was a small cappuccino, not a large coffee like they serve it here. In Italy, you order your drink standing at the bar and the barista (a true one) gives you a little plastic cup of water to drink to cleanse your palette. Then you get served your shot of cappuccino and you take it like a shot. No sipping, no swirling, just take the shot. Then more water and maybe a bite of pastry. It was strong, as is all European coffee, and you could smell the shop from down the street. I had added a little sugar to take the edge off of the bitterness, so it was a nice mix of sweet and how I imagined coffee would taste after the smell alone could wake me. All was well and good until an hour later, back in class, when my entire body was shaking so much that I thought I was having heart palpitations. I had NOT anticipated the caffeine to have such an affect on me, but in retrospect, I hadn't had caffeine since I stopped drinking soda when I was 14.
I was jittery the rest of the day, even after eating a full meal and walking around after class let out. Never again, I swore. And I haven't. But any whiff of coffee sends me back to that moment. A lot of smells do that. That summer, and I'm sure most summers, they were doing construction and restoration on parts of the city. Florence is a walking city, with a bustling city center. During the summer, there are traffic pylons blocking off access on the main roads so that cars can't travel beyond a certain point. It's for the throngs of tourists that clog the city center but luckily, it's not so bad if you know where to go at what times.
Anyways, there was a route that went from my friend Ali's apartment near the Mercato San Lorenzo that took us down a quiet back street that was also being worked on. The Mercato itself was a big building with food stands inside and all around it outside was tent city, jam packed with pop up shops selling their wares, but hot because of the crush of all of the bodies. Once you got away from it, the buildings were tall, so it was mostly shaded. They had broken up the sidewalks and were pouring fresh concrete. I'm not sure why, but the smell of fresh concrete, mixed with the dust, is something of a comfort smell to me. And it was cool down there, so we had some relief. I'm not sure if you've ever been to Italy during the summer, but it's hot as hell. Tuscany is in a valley and it gets upwards of 100 F and practically 100% humidity. My outfit usually consisted of sandals, a cotton skirt and a tank top, with my hair up somehow. It was too hot otherwise.
I liked it best at night, when the sun went down and the heat just sat there, except along the river, where the stone grew cool enough that you could trail your hand on it as you walked for a little relief. The Arno was gorgeous at night, shimmering with the lights from the buildings on either side. My walk home on Tuesday nights was along the river, as the lounge that my friends played at each Tuesday was right on the river. We would spill out of the lounge in the wee hours and yell and hug our goodbyes and good-nights, and I would take off opposite of everyone else. I was careful, never in danger, staying where there were lights. I also had pepper spray in my small purse that I gripped with white knuckles, just in case. Walking home allowed me to clear my head from the day and night. Mornings were good too. I had a Israeli roommate who would roll his own cigarettes each morning while brewing the strongest smelling coffee I have ever smelled. He was a total sweetheart and has this rough voice, thickly accented but spoke perfect English and Italian, but it smoothed out when he sang, and he was teaching himself to play that guitar that summer. He would sing anytime he was home and I could hear him singing Journey songs through the walls. I normally hate the smell of cigarette, but there was something about freshly rolled ones that didn't seem so bad.
I could ramble on for ages about the nooks and crannies of Florence...maybe I will. My most favorite thing about how small of a city center Florence is is that you could peek down any side street and look up and most likely catch a glimpse of the Duomo, Santa Maria del Fiore. I don't remember specific street names, but I know the way from the Duomo to Il Gato e La Volpe, one of my favorite restaurants, just as if I had walked it yesterday. You sit at a big wooden table on a bench, and eat Florentine bread, which can't be eaten without their amaaaazing balsamic dip. I can practically taste it now. (Note to self: next time I'm in Florence, buy a case of it and ship back home). I can also tell you how to get to a restaurant that serves the most delicious pear and pecorino ravioli you'll ever come across. If you are standing looking at the front of the Duomo, look to your right, where the wide street leads down the La Piazza della Repubblica, but only go past 3 sides streets and turn to your left. It has a green awning and a tree in a bucket and only seats about 20 people, but my GOD the food is amazing. I can also tell you to go behind the Duomo and past the Bargello (a towering building that was once Florence's prison but is now a museum) and a little bar that gets crowded too fast but the proprietor is so happy to see you. My god, how we wandered those streets.
Do you know the feeling of missing someone so much that it physically hurts? That's how I feel about Florence. It's like my bones ache to be back there. But I know that once I go back, I'll be faced with the reality that it will never feel like it did that summer. But I can go back with fresh eyes and a knowledge of the city that I didn't have before. I'll climb the Duomo again, but make sure to keep my camera extra safe (it was pickpocketed shortly after returning to street level and with it all of my gorgeous photos of the red roofs spread as far as the eye could see). I would actually go INTO L'Accademi and gawk at the real David, not the imitation they have out in La Piazza Signoria.
I would take a whole two days to wander the Uffizi and somehow swing a tour of the upper compartments of Il Ponte Vecchio. If that doesn't work, I'll just wander in and out of the gold shops on the bridge. Fun fact: the shops on Il Ponte Vecchio used to be butcher shops, because it was easier to tip the waste into the river instead of hauling it from a shop more inland. Gross, I know, but now it's shining bright with gold shops and alive with live music sung by musicians asking for a few Euro coins. I would also go back to the Palazzo Pitti and spend a whole day IN the palace and then go back the next day to walk around the Biboli gardens. Now, don't let the name confuse you - the Biboli Gardens is actually an 11 acre park, built for the pleasure of the wife of Cosimo I de Medici, the Grand Duke of Tuscany. She wanted something to remind her of her home in Spain, so she got 11 acres worth.
Ahh, I would do so many things. I miss it so much. For now, I'll just dream.
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