Three things I did this weekend

1. Country Line Dancing
2. Attended the Theater
3. Made Eggplant Parmigiano

Who knew that there was a country line dancing bar only fifteen minutes from my house! When a friend invited my husband and me to attend her birthday party held at the Saddle Rack for a free dance lesson and all the beer (expensive and not so free) you can drink, we enthusiastically accepted her invitation. Line dancing turned out to be pretty fun, and the two step waltz was kind of nifty, that is, when my husband wasn't treading on my red, high heel backless shoes, causing me to catapult backwards and land on bare feet.

Mental note: High heel, backless shoes, even though they look fabulous, definitely are not the foot gear to wear when you are two stepping at a country western bar.

Who knew Ohlone junior college had a theater only five minutes from my house! Okay, it was an afternoon matinee and the play was "Harry the Dirty Dog". But, still, the sets were fun, the actors animated AND my son received an autograph from "Harry" the dog after the show. Can't beat that.

Mental note: Always keep a pen and paper in purse so that son does not have to use the back of a Target receipt to have autographs signed on.

Who knew I would actually feel like cooking something this weekend! We've been living on Lean Cuisines, Mac & Cheese and Chicken nuggets (the kind with out trans fats, thank you very much!) With all this blogging going on, and between work, the kids and all the other internet chat groups I have to keep up with there just isn't time in my day to cook. The eggplant parmigiano turned out pretty great, despite the fact that the kids held out for a frozen pizza in the end.

Mental note: Kids do not like eggplant.

Voices

Flipping through blogs has become this week's favorite pastime. I get pulled into the the steady, swift, internet current and often find it hard to swim back out again. For fun, sometimes I refresh my browser a couple of times to see the ten most recently updated blogs. The list is continuously changing making me marvel at the amount of activity going on around me, all day, every hour, every minute and every second! Next, I start clicking through the blogs. It is like I am trying to tune in a radio station. I hear so many voices overlaying each other that gradually it becomes steady garbled murmur. I'm not sure what I'm looking for. Nothing and everything. I stop, read passages and move on. Sometimes, I stay longer, enjoying the portal that allows me to peek into that person's life for a few moments.

In my mind, blogging is much more fascinating than reality tv. Here is real humor, longing, insight and passion. It seems that each of us really does have a point of view, a life, a job and each one of us can express it in a distinct and surprising way. After ten minutes of clicking through the blogs I finally realize...I'm never going to reach the end. The stream of consciousness is too vast and too consuming to take it all in. And yet, after I manage to extricate myself from "blogdom", some of the voices stay with me. At night as I am going about my business, putting away dishes or organizing my desk for the next day, I find myself thinking about some of the people I have met in a blog.

I remember the woman who asked "Is a clean house the result of a broken computer?" I think about Seth, the soldier in Iraq who had a street named after him at the newly rebuilt Iraqi airport. I see the woman who had to stop typing her blog for a moment so that she could play air guitar to a song she was listening to. I laugh about a sixteen year's dilemma because her computer privileges have been severely limited because she forgot to clean her bathroom. I marvel at the guy who is documenting a new love relationship and ends each post with "I love you Darla!" in bold type. I participate with the woman who is going through weight reduction surgery. I am lonely and in Costa Rica with a college student who is traveling there for the first time. I share the joy of couples posting pictures of their newborns and I empathize with the couples looking to adopt.

All this, in just ten minutes of flipping through blogs. The voices are astounding.

Where I get my best ideas

I exercise at the gym five or six times a week. At the end of a hard workout I look forward to time alone in the steam room. I love the solitude and the semi-transparent darkness of the steam room. I love how the hot misty air envelopes and blankets me. I love this alone time because it is one time during my day when I take the time to sit down and do NOTHING for a few minutes. It is impossible to multi-task in the steam room. One can not sit in the steam room and fold laundry, while picking up a trail of toys while toasting six english muffins. During the time I am in the steam room I am not sought out or distracted by cries of "Mom...!" Instead, in the steam room, in the quiet diaphanous darkness, I give myself a time out. I let my mind wander. I give myself permission to think, to plan, to ponder, to organize, to invent and to create. I emerge with a direction. Sometimes it is a simple decision about what I plan to make for dinner that night. Other times I envision clearly the design for a new logo in my head. Out of the fog comes vision. It is in the steam room that I get my best ideas.

Well, did you ever!

Recently I have been enjoying a Cole Porter music revival. During the days following New Year's, I took advantage of some well deserved down time and watched all three of the Netflix movies I had on hand, practically back to back. I have this particularly bad habit of holding onto my Netflix movies for an embarrassingly long time before I get around to viewing them. But at the start of the New Year, I was pleased to overindulge myself.

One of the movies that comprised my New Year's film festival was De-Lovely, the Life of Cole Porter, staring Kevin Kline and Ashley Judd. After watching the film I couldn't get Cole Porter's music out of my head. So, in typical fashion, I ordered up the music CD and the songbook from Amazon, so that not only could I could listen to Porter's music but I could also serenade the family with Porter's tunes on the piano.

Cole Porter's music is beautiful, but his lyrics are what have me pausing in my tracks. How lovely is this: "Just one of those fabulous flights/a trip to the moon on gossamer wings." Or, "In love with the night mysterious/the night when you were first there." Or better yet, "You're the purple light of a summer night in Spain/You're the National Gallery/You're Garbo's salary/You're cellophane."

Listen to Cole Porter and you will also find audacious depths and a racy edge to his lyrics. "Electric eels do it although it shocks them I know/Let's do it!", or "Every night the set the smartest intruding on nudist parties/Anything goes!" "Bears have love affairs and even camels too/we'll mimic mammals/let's misbehave!" "Be Curious/Experiment!"

I get the feeling that Porter is ever so gleefully winking back at us, the seduced audience.

Challenges and Possibilities

It amazes me, when I slow down long enough to consider it, how spur-of-the moment decisions can sometimes change the course of your life and invite new people into your world.

Six years ago, I was cruising along, happily raising a family and successfully running a design business, when out of the blue came the niggling thought. "Is this enough?". I pondered on this a bit, and then challenged myself with another question. "If I had the time and knew I couldn't fail at something, what would I do."

Being an Art History major in college, I had spent a fabulous fall semester in Florence, Italy studying frescos by Masaccio and domes built by Brunelleschi. I came away from my study abroad program enamored with Italy, but with only a smattering of the language. When my mom sent me a copy of 'Under the Tuscan Sun' for my birthday several years ago, it reawakened my joy of all things Italian. I reveled in the descriptions of the countryside and people and let the Italian phrases that peppered Mayes' writing, roll around in my head. I savored the sounds, but could only guess at their meaning.

Then, just like that, I knew what it was that I regretted and what I was missing. In that moment was born the decision that would bring change into my life. In that moment, I decided to learn a language. In that moment I picked up the car keys and headed to the local bookstore to buy an Italian grammar book.

My journey to learn the Italian language started out as a singular endeavor. In the beginning it was just me, a book and a tape recorder. Soon however, it became the bridge that allowed me to cross over and touch a much bigger world. As knowledge and confidence increased, I set full sail out onto the internet to find native speakers with whom I could converse. Sitting at my computer in California, I could converse in Italian with Natalie in Lyon, France, Marco in Rome and Elizabeth in Brighton, England. In my very own community I have found Italian neighbors with whom I can speak the language. My world is enriched by my friends, Roberta & Paolo Dalla Ricca, Barbara Ferdico, Aracelli Alvarez, Pia La Rocca and Sabina Bertini. Friends, who I never would have met, had I not challenged myself or set new goals, that introspective day six years ago.

Scarlett O'Hara and friends

When I was thirteen, I had my first and final encounter with the book "Gone with the Wind." I quickly became enthralled by the story and its' heroine Scarlett O'Hara. How I loved that book! How can you beat the drama and the colorful characters that described a doomed lifestyle going down in flames. However, I also remember my sheer disappointment when I reached the end of Margaret Mitchell's story. I distinctly recall the moment. It was a golden fall day. I was lying on my stomach, on top of the four poster bed I had inherited from my grandmother. With tears streaming down my face, I finally reached Rhett Butler's fateful and final declaration. I remember sitting up abruptly and snapping the book closed. I instantly refused to believe that those two dynamic characters couldn't get over their differences and work things out. I remember arguing the point with my sister later that day. All Rhett and Scarlett really needed, I reasoned, was some R&R inorder for them to regain their senses. After all the war had been emotionally draining on everybody! I didn't read the book a second time.

After Rhett and Scarlett, I suffered through the disappointments of Natasha and Prince Andre. Another wonderful book, "War and Peace", although I must confess, I spent most of my time reading about life back in Moscow and skipped over the the battles on the cold Russian steppes. I used to pour over passages describing Natasha's love and longing for Andre, pining away vicariously for her moody, complex prince. I was always a little miffed when Andrè decided to charge off into battle, only to come face to face with a canon ball. Back on the bookshelf went that book.

Things got decidedly better when I discovered Elizabeth Bennet and Mr. Darcy, living in Jane Austin's novel "Pride and Prejudice". Now there is a couple you can stand up and cheer. They got it right. Their relationship had it all, humor and longing. I love the moment, when Elizabeth, finally realizing her true feelings for Darcy, runs into him unexpectedly on his estate. What a splendid, thrilling, awkward moment. The attraction between the two is palpable. I can read that passage over and over again. I like these two, because in the end they respected each other and knew how to conduct their relationship with a healthy helping of humor. I read this book about once a year. Way to go Jane!

Climbing Mission Peak

Every Sunday morning I get up before dawn to climb Mission Peak. It is a six mile hike, up very steep terrain, to reach the pinnacle. In my opinion, there is no finer way to start a day than standing at roughly 2,500 hundred feet above sea level looking down at San Francisco Bay. The feeling of accomplishment is profound. The rest of my day, for that matter the rest of my week, seems like a piece of cake. No task is too big to accomplish, no html programming can get the better of me! I have scaled the peak and viewed the world with clarity and from a new perspective.

Mission Peak is practically in my back yard. I have contemplated the mountain from its' base for nearly four years, frequently wondering what it would be like to stand at the top of it's crest. When I discovered that a group of my friends had started to tackle the hill every weekend on a routine basis, I was truly amazed. That these friends, all of them mothers and working women, would willing choose to rise out of their warm beds at 6:30 in the morning to go hiking up a wickedly steep mountain was incredible to me. I needed to join them to find out if I could do it too. Once would be enough, I told myself, to prove to that I too had the stamina for the rigorous climb. I did it once, and then was hooked. Since then, I have climbed the peak for nine consecutive weeks in a row and have no plans for stopping.

We climb in the dark. We climb in the rain. We climb in the face of gale winds. We even climb despite the happy California cows that sometimes block our way. (I have a whole new appreciation for the cow population these days!)

Often times I start my hike in dense fog. As I ascend the steep slope I begin to rise above the mist, until the rays of the sun illuminate the tops of the clouds. I feel like I am in heaven. I feel strong and validated. This is a gift I give myself everyweek. A tough climb, but the reward is well worth the effort.

Where is Vernazza?

This was a question I was recently asked by my Aunt Dottie. A surprising question, seeing as my aunt is a seasoned world traveler and I had expected her to have already sampled the charms of Vernazza. Not so surprising, her thirst to know about foreign points of interest. My aunt, more formally known as Dorothea, is my mother's older sister by roughly nine years. That puts her around eighty-eight years old. I was always inspired and thrilled that in the 30's she actually trained to be a TWA airlines hostess. Traveling is her passion. After marrying she traveled the world with her husband, sometimes four or five times a year, visiting far-off places like Bosnia and Borneo. Unfortunately my aunt's wandering spirit has been weighed down with tragedy, recent and past. She has suffered the loss of two daughters and a husband. Yet despite this, her traveling spirit is bouyant and alive. When I sent her a beautiful photo my friend Charlene and her husband had taken of my husband and me in Vernazza last year during our two-week trip to Italy, she responded to me with an e-mail economically captioned "Geography". When I opened the email I found her question. "Where is Vernazza?". So I told her.

Vernazza is a small village nestled along the northwestern coast of Italy, in the province of Liguria, in an area known as the Cinque Terre. Genoa is to its north, and Pisa is to it's south. Before the train lines were completed at the turn of the century, the Cinque Terre, or five lands, were inaccessible by car or bus and one could only reach the remote villages by boat. Today the Italians continue to shake their heads and complain about crazy tourists that try to reach the cinque terre by car! Che pazzo! What craziness! There are walking paths that connect the five villages that comprise the cinque terre and visiting each on foot is a wonderful way to realize each village's unique personality. Today the train line connects the towns, and if you don't feel like hiking the trails you can easily hop the local train and be in the next village in minutes. Walking some of the trails can be arduous and take up to 2 hours!

The towns are a collection of buildings that start right at the edge of the sea and back up into the hills that rise steeply from the ocean. The houses are placed on top of each other and the hills are terraced and provide a wealth of vegetables, grapes and flowers. In fact there was a funny, one-seat cable car, on a track that ran right past our window. When we arrived we were told by our host Juliano, that the vendemmia (grape harvest) would start the next day, and not to be overly concerned if we heard the whirring and churning of the ancient trolley starting up at 6am!

Our accomodations in Vernazza were high up in the hill above the train station. Rather than a hotel room, it was more of a rustic cabin which we had all to ourselves. The roof was flat and served as our patio. Every morning I would climb up and watch the sun come up over the hill and illuminate the village as I wrote in my journal. I would wave to le signore as they pulled weeds in their gardens and passed by with baskets full of the day's vegetable harvest. In the evening, after a full day of exploring, we would gather our fellow travelers, who were housed above us on the hill, onto our rooftop terrace for a glass of wine and some cheese and watch the sun go down over the ocean. Then we would walk down our narrow, steep path into the village for dinner.

During our stay we went on a boat excursion and snorkeled the waters around the Cinque Terre. Today the waters and reefs around this area of Italy are a National Park, as are the hiking trails, and as such are protected by the Italian government. We sailed all the way down to Porta Venere and back up along the coast in order to view all the five villages from the sea. In all they are: Manarola, Corniglia, Vernazza, Riomaggiore, Monterosso.

Not surprisingly, my eighty-eight year old aunt is thinking about visiting Vernazza next year.

Blueberries and green tea

Ever since I heard on the Oprah show that eating blueberries and drinking green tea were the optimal way to prevent disease and maintain beauty, I have been consuming buckets of berries and drinking gallons of steaming green tea. The result, yes I do feel good inside and out, thank you very much! But now I have blue teeth and green skin. Just kidding about the green skin...not so much about the blue teeth. Yours-in-health and longevity.

Melissa's First Blog

Well, after being inspired by a group of wonderfully creative women, I have decided to set up my very own blog. I anticipate that this blog will allow me to ramble on about things that I ponder and think about throughout my day. I realize that these thoughts may be of no interest to anyone but me. None-the-less, it will be a cathartic exercise to send random messages into the cosmic void. Kind of like feng shui for my brain. Who knows, I may even find a sympathetic reader who can relate to my words. Ciao per adesso...(In Italian that means goodbye for now. Did I mention that I am a fan of the Italian language? If not, read on and it will become glaringly apparent!) Melissa