It's official.

First of all, I would like to say that I went straight to the "create new post" button without having to search for it, which, if you read Saturday's post, you would know is a great feat.  At least I accomplished something today, never mind the 3 piles of dirty laundry on my floor. We need not talk about them.

Second, but more imporantly, it's official.  I received my work permit today.  Well, what I really mean by "received" is that I was notified of it's issuance and given a tracking number because the original copy is officially in the mail.  Yep.  That nulla osta is on its sweet little way to my hot little hand in Fort Worth from Milano.  Yeehaw, y'all! 

I'm totally going to say things like "yeehaw" and "y'all come back now, ya hurrrr?" in Italy.  I'm going to milk it for all it's worth.  I'm going to tell them I'm from Dallas and they are going to ask me if I know who shot JR and I'm going to say yes, of course I do, I'm from Dallas.  It is going to be sooo much fun.

I once wore a Texas A&M sweatshirt in London and as soon as I stepped off the bus a man leaned out the window of a car that was driving by and yelled at me, "I love you!" except it was in a British accent so it was more like, "oiay lowve yeuw," and much more charming than I can possibly convey via blog.  And it was sort of the perfect beginning to a wonderful trip, because I'm pretty easy to please like that.

Back to the matter at hand.

The next step is to buy my one-way (eek!) ticket.  The destination: Milan-Malpensa.  The date of departure: October 8.  The time: ...to be determined.  Don't rush me.

I'm trying to decide if I'm going to live in a more rural area, where I could get more bang for my buck and probably have my own private garden where my puppy can run and play and pee on things freely and I won't have to carefully and awkwardly walk behind him at all times with baggie and pooper scooper in hand.  Another pro is that if I live in a smaller town, it is sure to not be as "touristy," and, in my experience, the locals of a small town are much more friendly and interested in getting to know you, which is kind of what I'm going for.  It's also super close to work.

Orrrrrr...

I could live in a quintessential Italian city in a second story apartment with window boxes full of flowers and walk out my front door into the Centro Storico where there are shops on my left and cafes on my right and if I want to go get a pizza, I can walk there, or if I'm more in the mood for a cappucino, I can walk there, too. 

How am I to decide??

Luckily, I have [up to] 2 months in a hotel to figure it out.  Maybe, just maybe, I will have an Italian friend or four by then to give me some advice.  For now, I'll continue to dream of Centro Storico...

44 days left in the US of A

Currently watching "Julie & Julia," which is inspiring me to both write a blog post and master the art (and joy) of french cooking, but since I'm not a huge fan of french food, or the french, for that matter, I'll settle for the former.  Not to mention I couldn't flip a crepe in the air by hand and skillet to save my life.  But I digress.  As I've had this blog for a number of years, and this is only my 25th post, I know as much about blogging as I do about flipping crepes.  In fact, every time I want to create a new post, I have to search for the "create a new post" button (it's at the top left, for all you other forgetful ENFPs).  I'm going to try to blog more regularly, if only to document for my future self the events of my Italian adventure. According to Julia, you've just got to practice, much like cooking.  And playing the piano. 

"You've just got to have the courage of your convictions."

So, only 44 days left in the good ol' US of A.  At least, that's my best guess.  Technically, I haven't received my work permit yet, or applied for my work visa, and no, I haven't yet bought my ticket, but I feel verrry sure that October 8th will be the day of my departure because I want it to be so badly! 

I have a tonnnnn of things to do before the move (read: as an ENFP I don't really know what I have to do because I can't [won't] function with to-do lists so instead I will remain unnecessarily stressed out because I can't possibly get a grip on everything there is to be done if I refuse to identify those things...breathe...somebody get me a brown bag...Meryl Streep is the best actress of all time...Julia Child is a freakin' hoot...what was I stressing out about again?), the most important of them being to secure one of these amazing custom leather luggage tags, and then, of course, win the lottery so that I can afford this $7000 Louis Vuitton piece.

Did you get that, people?

Seven. THOUSAND. Dollars.

For a single suitcase.

I need a minute.

...

Ok.

Since I don't have the lung capacity to hold my breath that long, I did a little searching for some affordable yet fabulous luggage.  And lookie here what I stumbled upon! Purchasing a set of this chic vintage luggage would allow me to travel out of my suitcase instead of being forced to live in it.

Isn't that convenient.

Almost one year ago, I wrote a post about how I should like to live in Cinque Terra.

(sigh)... Italia.  Images from "Under the Tuscan Sun" float through my memory.  Diane Lane in that fabulous white dress on the shores of Positano ("ladybugs, Catherine, ladybugs").  Market day in Cortona, where "the piazza is an ongoing party and everyone is invited. Clichés converge and you almost want to laugh, but you can't help feeling that these Italians know more about having fun than we do." 

And here I am, one year later, anxiously awaiting my Italian work permit.

Eek!

Once upon a time there was a boy who loved a girl, and her laughter was a question he wanted to spend his whole life answering.

I was enchanted to meet you

i am

a manners enthusiast.


a future real housewife of somewhere or another.

trés forgetful.

maryland

i like business travel.
it gives me an excuse to be a loner and not feel bad about it.

not that i don't enjoy people, because i do.  anyone who knows me at all knows this is true.  that's the crux of the matter...i enjoy being with people so much, i get so enthralled with them, so wrapped in their stories, that i forget to notice the scenery.  to just be quiet and observe.  to sit, in the same spot, for as long as i want, and watch.

last night i went to annapolis.  it was perfect.

it was just what you would think an east coast bay town should be.

easter-colored townhomes lined brick roads littered with tenants' vintage bicycles, their window boxes spilling over with pops of bright petunias.  dozens of quaint mom-and-pop shops hid in a maze of crossroads, skillfully navigated by local preppies.  a man with a handle-bar mustache wore a powder blue and white striped seersucker suit, complete with tangerine-colored bowtie. 

seriously.

i walked into a gorgeous boutique that was all of 600 square feet, containing what was, i'm sure, tens-of-thousands of dollars worth of couture.  there was a tv above the counter displaying an old black-and-white motion picture, although i'm not sure which classic it was.  i couldn't afford anything, but i looked at everything.  i watched as a lady in a white collared dress with full skirt rifled through the garments.  she saw me look at her, but i just smiled and didn't look away.  she went back to her search momentarily, only to pull out a fabulous cobalt blue rebecca miller that she held up to me and said would look stunning with my eyes.  i smiled again and waved as i stepped back out onto main street, a runway for floppy, wide brimmed sun hats and navy blue boat shoes.

i crossed the street and stepped onto the old boards of the city dock.  i strolled the length of it slowly, examining the sailboats and yachts along the way, carefully considering which one was my favorite.  i stopped and stared out over the water, watching as a sailor tied his docklines with a coolness that only comes from seasoned experience.  a little girl with blonde pigtails squealed with excitement as seagulls dove in majestic swoops to catch pieces of popcorn she tossed in the water.  i turned my face into the wind and breathed deeply of the cool, salty air, mingled with the aroma of steamed crab from a restaurant across the water.  a bibbed couple sat out on its patio, pounding crab shells with small wooden mallets, flirting and laughing over chardonnay, reminiscing over the days of old and dreaming about the years to come.

and i wish you had been there.