Last Train Home.

I feel as if I'm moving around in a dream.  Friday was rather eventful as we rushed out the door of the apartment to make a last-minute doctor's appointment before heading off to Verona.  This special machine at the doc's office showed us little Peanut kicking around and hiccuping in its little fluid-sac.  The lady doing the ultrasound kept rapidly pushing in to try to get Peanut to move.  That made me laugh because it was a funny idea, and she was tickling me.  After the doc gave me my odds of having a genetically normal child (good) we left and headed straight to the train station to catch the last train to Verona, the land of Cazz's childhood.

Italians love the idea of babies.  Ever since I gave the news, I have been met with nothing but excitement and tears of joy from the Italians all around me.  And in Cazz's hometown, among the relatives and friends, I have become a minor celebrity.  All of a sudden everyone wants to meet me, the girl carrying the next generation of Cazzatori.  Of course the fact that nobody gave a hoot when I was going out with Cazz for so long before is a little disheartening, but I have to assume that most of the family at least, didn't know about me due to Cazz's ability to appear uncommitted even while dating someone exclusively.  If I don't keep that in mind I just end up feeling like fancy packaging for a gift- packaging that will be torn apart and tossed in the bin once the big day arrives.  At least everyone seemed to approve of me, so maybe I'll be recycled and reused.

Other than the excitement (stress) of finally meeting all of the relatives and attempting to carry on a conversation in Italian while trying to decipher their cunning dialect, I enjoyed the beauty of the area.  The center was especially lovely, the low foot traffic in direct contrast to Florence's bustling streets.  It was so clean and organized with the standard beautiful fountains and historical gems that overflow in Italy.  There were plenty of tree-lined streets which I love and the colors were changing for Fall.  It was like a post-card.  

The outside of the center reminded me a lot of a standard Central-Californian city.  Farmland, industrial buildings and highway, and a lot of concrete.  Needless to say, it was nothing like I imagined, but I spent a lovely few days hanging out with Cazz and Co.  We arrived back in Florence around 8:00pm and waited for a half hour to forty five minutes for a bus.  We shoved in and a short time later found ourselves back in the comfort of a warm apartment, with congratulatory egg sandwiches in hand.  Next step: California so Cazz can  meet my relatives and friends.  Hope it goes as well.

Food for Thought.

I got home from work last night to a softly lit room and a snuggly Cazz.  After only a few mild pleadings, he went to the kitchen and made me a turkey sandwich and poured a glass of juice.  Served with a little kiss, it was the perfect midnight snack (though it was closer to 1am).  This is one of the few meals that I have been craving lately.  For some strange reason, American-style food sounds really good and I find myself wanting some of those home-cooked meals that only the family can do.  BBQ ribs, mashed potatoes, BLT's, pies, sandwiches, french toast.  The list goes on...

In the meantime, there is a decent substitute for some of these treasures.  When C.R. was here recently, we discovered an American Brunch Diner with real bacon! Canadian bacon! French toast! English muffins!  All forms of delightful breakfast and several lunch options as well.  All served in the "that's too much food for a human body" portion, though with Italian service (read: waiting half an hour and jumping up and down in front of the waitress to get a juice refill).  It was however, worth the wait and the calories to douse my taste buds in the sweet syrupy goodness of the French toast and side of bacon.  Unfortunately, I was unable to do too much damage due to my easily affected nausea-reflex.  I am hoping this unfortunate side effect of housing little Peanut will fade quickly.

My diet mostly consists of bland foods.  Fruits like apples, bananas and grapes.  White meats.  Sandwiches (I've consumed at least six turkey sandwiches in a week) and soup and lots of crackers.  There is not a whole lot that I am able to eat currently, but I am hopeful that when Cazz and I travel to California for Thanksgiving, I will be able to do a fair amount of damage to the List of Food Demands that I have yet to submit to the Fam.  Currently my dreams are bathed in a mashed potato-gravy glow, and I hope that dreams really do come true.

I miss some things already however, and wine, prosciutto and bistecca fiorentina top the list right off.  I do not like being restricted in what I can consume, especially when nobody could utter a peep that I had just demolished an entire bistecca between breaths.  But alas, my glory days must be put on pause while I try to do more good than harm to my body.  At least I can look forward to May, when I will be asking Cazz for a midnight prosciutto and mozzarella panino.  In the meantime, I will content myself with visions of sugarplums (and cherry pie) dancing in my head.

All Worked Up.

The sun is streaming through the window, deceptively masking the frigid air outside.  Overnight (mind you this was a few nights ago) the temperature dropped and went from warm to freezing.  Maybe not freezing in the conventional sense, but as I do not do too well with the cold, it is like I am living on an iceberg.  My hands and feet have already started to lose feeling, and I imagine this will last right up until summer starts again.  And since I have moved in with Cazz, I have farther to travel for work, which makes me want to curl up in the blankets with hot chocolate and just forget the whole thing.

Of course, the treatment of my "situation" at work was not admirable, and that also makes me want to forget the whole thing.  They (the managers/owners/accountant) told me not to worry, that I didn't need to stress over the job (since my contract expires in January), and that there wouldn't be any problem with work.  The next day, however, they informed me that they would not be renewing my contract and made sure to tell me that they were not legally obligated to do so.  They also mentioned that they hadn't "planned on renewing it anyway", although it leaves one to wonder about the timing of it all.  If they hadn't planned on renewing it, why did they need to tell me the day after I broke the news?  It is actually more customary to wait until closer to the renewal date to make that decision.  Of course they did say that they would be willing to hire me back afterwards (read: when I didn't need any financial support).  And then they said that if I needed 'help' with anything that I "shouldn't hesitate to ask".  Um, how about a job?

The thing that really burns me about this whole situation is that it would be the government that paid me the percentage of my contracted salary (which is contracted only 20 hours a week).  The company (and I mean family that owns these hostels) led me to believe I could trust them and then screwed me the minute I turned my back, because of money they wouldn't even have to pay.  But since they want me back after "the problem" is sorted out, I guess they do value me right?  Ha.

These things make it very difficult for me to bear the icy air to wait for buses to and from work.  However, I still do like the job, and I love my coworkers.  And the mandatory departure from the house guarantees that I won't be a shut-in, since my energy and nausea levels work against any inclination to go out and get some fresh air.  So I put on layers of sweaters and coats and scarves, board the bus and head down to work to smile and nod at the same people who kicked me while I was down, and wait to see how it all pans out.

Cazz Outta the Bag.

Since Rome there have been a lot of ups and downs in my life.  I have spent a lot of time thinking about what I'm doing and how I want to live, and things I can change in my life.  I was starting to think about making different plans.  And then the universe intervened and made some plans for me.  After a few days of crying and feeling crappy, I finally started to feel okay about the new direction that my life has decided to take me.  I'm afraid and maybe just a little excited.  Because when life gives you what may look like lemons, sometimes you need to look a little further and see that it is just one more ingredient to make something sweet.

And so now there are three.  Cazz, myself and the tiny little Italian-American growing in my belly that will hopefully be the best of us.  So now we all live together, the doctor having told me that I could absolutely not stay in my moldy, humid, sans-heat apartment with smokers any longer, and Cazz persisting that I move in with him.  He has turned an almost complete 180, since I tearfully gave the news.  I met his mom the very same day (as she happened to be in town visiting), and he arrived with my favorite flower (phalaenopsis orchid) and a huge grin.  He has been very supportive almost 100 percent of the time, and has made huge efforts to be a good partner in this.  His mom was very kind, and smart, saying that of course it was my decision to make the choice that left me most serene and he should wait for that before dancing off and announcing it to the world.

I had to look deep in my heart and find out if I truly believe what I always say, that everything happens for a reason, though we may not see it right away.  And I found that I have enough faith in that, and in myself that I can take what I am given and make the best of it.  It was not my plan, or our plan (and I fully believe in a woman's right to choose), but for me, at this point in my life, it seems like it will be okay.  It happened against all odds, and at the very moment that I might have walked away from everything.  The timing was so particular that I have to believe that the universe was conspiring.  Cazz's dad passed away recently and he told me that his mom had said: "Death brings Life".  And I guess Life brings...lemonade.

Eternal City, Temporary Love.

I went to Rome for the weekend a few weeks ago, but I didn’t go alone. I went with Cazz. We have big problems trying to keep apart. The magnetism that pulls us together won’t let up for very long. I won’t pretend any longer that things are different this time. They aren’t. They are always and forever the same- back and forth until one of us falls. And though I feel that I am in a new frame of mind, the overall picture is very much as it always is.

So we went to the Eternal City to look at the past, to look toward the future and to interpret the present. And I was of a mind that this outing would very possibly be, our last. We traveled around the city, awestruck by the beauty, immersed in the ruins. We touched and were touched. The hot sun was fearless and unrepentant. We sweated rivers and oceans and hardly noticed at all. Something new. At least if we were the same, we could bask in the joy of the one tiny difference. Sometimes and for some people, when a problem seems unsolvable, it is wise to change environments and get some perspective brought on by a different atmosphere.

There was some stress on the trip, as my stomach would not settle for the life of me. But in the midst of that, we found some peace. The greatness of the city made us humble. I realized how small we are, and how temporary this life. How fear and war can get us from one century to the next, but how much more lasting is hope and love. With these thoughts swirling around my head, we found a bit of grass in a park overlooking the city and took a nap, while the sun made its way towards the other side of the world.

I won’t say that we were different after, or spectacularly changed. I don’t pretend that a weekend can resolve the deep issues that we continue to trudge through. And I can’t even say that I know what to do next. But since I don’t know what to do, I’m not going to do anything for the moment. I’m going to stop, reflect and let the waves that ebb and flow in the ocean of my life, continue to ebb and flow, while the sun continues to fearlessly cast shadows on an Eternal City somewhere in the middle of a boot.

Pull Me Under.

I spent one of the most painful nights in my life staring up at the face of the Santa Croce church while tears poured down my face and I tried to understand why Cazz didn't love me.  Things have been ended again, only there is that ring of finality this time that cuts through every sinew of my heart right into my soul and creates such an unpleasant emptiness that I don't know what to do with myself.  I need something, anything, to hold onto that will keep my head above water.  I want to close my eyes and forget everything, but memories the magnitude of my previous happiness are impossible to quell.  They overshadow every waking thought, and some non-waking thoughts as well.  They choke out every ability I have to hold my head up and keep moving forward.  I am completely lost and the pain rolls over me in waves.

I lost my love and my best friend.  I lost every thought of future happiness.  I should try to pick up the pieces and hold myself together, but there are some missing.  I don't know that I will ever be able to love again because I lost something so essential that it seems impossible.  I don't know that I want to love again.  I don't know if I believe in it.  But there is one thing I have to believe in and hold on to: myself.  I believe in myself and this time I chose me.  I stood up for myself, confessed my love and allowed him to let me go.  And now I'm all I have to hold on to.  So I hold tightly, rocking back and forth and telling myself that I will be okay someday.  I'm broken and maybe I will always be broken, but I am here and I will have to hold my own hand through this when there is nothing else to hold.

Thoughts on Love.

A small lifetime has happened in the span of this month.  I celebrated my 26th birthday among friends, meeting new people and basking in the glory of sushi and books during the day.  I have been immersed in contented happiness and occasional fearful sadness.  The passage of time, the inability to change the course of nature.  Longing to express myself, and fear of where that will take me.  Work, work and more work, punctuated with moments of laughter, and tears.  And watching my usual faith that things will work out battle with the fear that it's all random.

 I woke up in an intense and difficult mood today.  My good friend is here visiting and last night, after work, we went out to my favorite karaoke place to spend time with friends and belt out to the chorus lines of our favorite songs.  I tried to get out of the pensive and brooding mindset that I was in.  The funk.  I laughed and sang along, and my friend, who is very intuitive, looked at me with worried eyes and asked why I was staring off into space.  But he knew.  Because it was the subject that dominated our conversation for most of the evening.  Love, and the lack thereof.  

Life is fleeting.  It is beautiful and painful and it cannot be controlled.  We are as light as leaves, thrown about in Life's winds.  We are taken to the edges of earth and back, to the edges of ourselves and farther.  And the only thing, the most eloquent of all, is Love.  We would be barbarians to deny it, fools to try to control it.  And yet we seek to reign it in, to capture it, to evade it and destroy it.  We become barbarians in it.  It overwhelms us and we no longer recognize ourselves, a mere whisper of the shadows that we used to recognize.  We love and love and love until we are sucked dry and sobbing and smiling and remembering.  It's all love, every moment of it.  It is impossible.  Impossible and as necessary as air.  And I want it.  I want to devour it like candy, because it's all that's left when all else is gone.  And when it's gone, it feels like nothing else is left.  

If not now, when?