tonight's blizzard marks the end of this.

the leaves are falling all around...well, except for the palm fronds. they're still as green as ever:



i wonder how they like the snow.

give thanks and praises

my cup runneth over:

rare sunny days
music to dance to
dreams that come true
children
hope
parents that support and love me. always.
i am a child of a loving god.

(from the fourth grade assembly on gratitude. my class is the "itude")

words i will never, ever use because they make my skin crawl.

moist
prego
preggers
hubby
panties
lol

la vita è bella.

i feel the same way, little bird. (ps. wanna share that french fry with me?)

"i'm so excited to take the history test today!"

what a bunch of little nerds.



i love them.

i really do know the difference between a sea and a lake.

but that knowledge apparently lay dormant last weekend when cecilia, a swiss colleague, invited me to "go to the sea and have pesto" i must have gotten stuck on the "pesto" part (because i love that stuff) and didn't process the "sea" part. or blamed it on her imperfect english. i imagined a nice lunch downtown on the lake, sharing our cultures and broadening our minds.

at the italian border, i realized cecilia did, in fact, mean the "sea"...the mediterranean sea. and i went into panic mode. I HAVE NO PASSPORT! (or any euro for that matter...why would i need either for a lovely afternoon at the lake?)

now, i've crossed that border many times and never once had to show my passport and only occasionally even had to stop (and that was only because it was absolutely necessary to flirt with italian border control) but i just knew that THIS would be the time they would do a thorough passport check and i would not only not be allowed to go to the sea, but i would be deported.

my heart was a poundin' as we crept up to the window. there was nobody there. i was so relieved and had forgotten, in my panic, that the italian side of the station is rarely manned. they don't care who comes into their country. but then i thought of the trip home and cecilia voiced my fear, "the swiss side will be a different story."

we had a grand time in torino. (which is actually nowhere near any water at all, but 2 hours into the trip to genova, cecilia changed her mind) the second we got out of the car cecilia flirted with some guy by asking him for a cigarette. we explored torino and saw its winter light display and military parade and outdoor photo exhibit and ate ligurian focaccia, which, although it is only pizza without sauce was the best thing i had eaten in...days. (i will never be a food critic, i don't know the words that will convey the beauty of that cheesy, greasy goodness. how about this? i wanted to lick my paper wrapping.) it was super duper awesome to be in a city that had nothing to offer us tourism wise, and had to rely on its simple charms. and charming it was. a beautiful piazza or stunning architecture carefully hidden around nondescript corners. a weekend market bustling with local shoppers getting started on the holidays. there we bought italian hot chocolate, which is so thick you need a spoon to eat it.

on the way home, my anxiety returned. what if cecilia had to leave me at the border? it was dark and a long walk home and plus, i didn't know the way. we pulled up to the stop and cecilia took charge, "don't talk," she said. i sat like a mute while she nervously talked to the old man, who must have been italian, he was so indifferent about what we were doing there. we made it through and back home by 10 pm.

it was a nice lunch on the lake.

reasons why today is a good day.

i'm wearing my favorite shirt.
it's friday.
my mom sent me mail.
i like my class.
miss j sent me a cake mix.
the sun is finally shining.
i just ate a banana.
i'm going to austria tonight on the train.
the italian class is singing cute italian songs right now to entertain me while i "work".

it's a good day.

i made a vision board.

keepin' it simple.

note to self

driving in italy is so not worth it. take a train. or learn to enjoy the sound of aggressive italian drivers' incessant honking at you.

better luck next time,
sweetpagene

ps. remember to take extra change for all the tolls you have to pay when you get lost and have to turn around.

pps. don't forget that left hand turns are illegal on every single road in milan.

ppps. google directions suck.

pppps. so does your italian.

ppppps. the hyundai doesn't take diesel fuel.

i left my heart in ireland.

i went back there last weekend to try to coax it to join me in switzerland. but when i arrived, i immediately discovered that my heart was still firmly rooted in the streets of dublin and the hills of the irish countryside.

after the passport checker in dublin airport (who is the only unfriendly person in the whole of ireland) cleared me to enter, i gleefully threw my arms up in the air (and sent my passport flying) and exclaimed, "hurray!" the weird thing is, i did it completely involuntarily; i think it was all that pent up excitement finally escaping.

and when sandra picked me up a few minutes later, the first thing she said was, "welcome home, sweetpagene!" which is exactly what it felt like.

thursday i convinced sandra to ride the bus with me into town. (she, like most normal people, hates public transportation, but sandra is a true friend...she's also a bleeding heart: she made change for a 10 euro bill so she would have coins to drop in the beggars' cups) probably, though, you would also be very entertained by riding on the top floor of the two-story bus. and it is still as entertaining as it always was! but really, what is not to like? i sit on the top and enjoy the view of my favorite city ever, get where i need to go, AND i don't have to worry about traffic! (plus, the obnoxious teenagers are a nice bonus. really! i never tire of that brogue!) we spent the day visiting all the old places. we took a few pictures, but i felt weird taking tourist pictures. now, clearly, i have no problem being a tourist, but i don't feel like a tourist in ireland. foreigner, yes. tourist, no. so this is what we ended up with:





and all those cheesy smiles? 100% sincere. i was giddy for 72 hours straight.

that night we went to eddie rocket's, a 50s diner, and met up with some other friends, farris and daniel (so many of the old gang has moved on). we shared a booth with a group of men and women in their 60s who "come every thursday to talk about all the people we know." one old man struck up a conversation with me after hearing that i was a "yank" and we had a jolly good time bantering. put together the wit of an old irish man and the sass of a young american girl and you get some high quality banter.

friday i spent on my own, shopping (not really, i hate that) and enjoying dublin. i went by my old home and stopped at the chipper where i used to eat every day. i ordered the usual: chips with vinegar. oh, mama, they're good.

musical interlude (feel free to tap your toe):







that afternoon, i took the wrong bus into the next county (turns out the bus routes have changed a wee bit since 2004). so i asked the driver of the next bus if his bus was going back to dublin. he said, no, it was heading to the garage, but if i wanted, i could hop in and he'd take me into town. are you kidding me? this guy, who was now off-duty, was offering to take some dodgy foreigner (not tourist) who was too thick to get a bus schedule, back into town on the bus. people ask me why i love ireland. and that is why. because it is full of those kind and generous and cheerful and friendly and witty irish. because when sandra tripped on the curb, three people came rushing to help her. because when i stopped into o'brien's deli and it was closed (why don't you lock the door, yo?) they said, "we're closed, but we'll make you a sandwich anyway, come in." and because i never ever tire of hearing the phrase, "ah, no, yer grand!"

i met up that night with kathy, my former roommate, and spent the night catching up with her. the next day we went to a nice little market in south dublin and enjoyed the fall leaves of the dublin mountains. (they're hills, really, but don't tell the irish i said that.) that afternoon i went to visit the family that i nannied for. those twin baby girls, emily and isabelle, who couldn't even walk are now tall seven-year-old girls who can walk (and talk and feed themselves and use the toilet, they informed me). they didn't remember me, but they loved me immediately (and i them) and they showed me every medal or certificate they had ever received and told me the name of every student in their class pictures. marian, their mother, thinks that on some subconscious level they really do remember me. i like that. so i'm going with it. then i spent the rest of the evening with sandra and some friends and family, watching a rugby match and eating at a weird restaurant that served me bloody chicken. (free meal, baby!)

sunday morning i got up bright and early and headed back to the airport and back to real life. and just like the other times i left ireland, my eyes were a tiny bit moist as i climbed up those stairs and onto that airplane that would take me away from my favorite place on earth. yes, it really is that magical. now, i realize that i may be prone to hyperbole, but trust me when i say it is the most beautiful country filled with the most wonderful people. you should go visit. and when you do, can i come with you? i need to visit my heart, which seems to have taken up permanent residence in the emerald isle.