I’m often amazed by the differences between what counts as impolite here compared to back in the states and vice versa. For example, here no one seems to think twice about interrupting someone while they’re in the middle of a conversation. I have to admit, this has always been one of my pet peeves, so it never fails to get my blood boiling. No one here seems to mind much though.

I overheard a conversation at the beach today that illustrates the point. Two women were discussing the one woman’s move from Campobasso. Woman 1 asked Woman 2 about her house and every time Woman 2 would get two words out of her mouth, Woman 1 would ask another question or make a comment. If I were Woman 2, I probably would have just stopped talking and walked away or changed the subject to something that would give Woman 1 lots to talk about. But, Woman 2 didn’t mind, she just kept cheerfully talking away. Sometimes she started the same sentence over 3 or 4 times, but she kept plodding away.

The other strange thing is saying hello to people. It’s not enough to say hello if you catch they’re eye or they’re walking right towards you. No, if you see them standing next to the door to a shop or down the street, you need to shout a greeting to them. It doesn’t matter if they’re in the middle of a conversation or not, you’d better say hello and they’d better respond. I always feel bad distracting them from their conversation, especially if they give me one of those real quick “ciao, ciao” (in other words, I’m too busy to respond) kind of greetings. But I soon learned that just catching their eye and smiling isn’t enough. O would ask me why I didn’t greet someone and if I said I smiled at them he just looked at me funny. No, a smile and a wave only counts if you’re in the car and even then, you should shout ciao out the window if it’s summertime.

One time, at Easter, we went to church and were standing in the back because there were no seats left. A distant relation of O’s also happened to be standing there, not too far away from us. O went up and patted him on the shoulder. I was busy keeping Luigi in line, so I looked at him a couple of times to give him a nod hello and a silent greeting, but he was never looking my way. Afterwards, O seemed upset and wanted to know why I didn’t go and say hello to him. You see, that’s another one of those things. No one seems to care if they’re in church or not. If someone comes in they all have to say hello and may even start up a conversation.

The more time I’m here, the more I’m getting sucked into these new ideals. I find myself yelling ciao out the window and going out of my way just to greet people even though I saw them yesterday, and the day before, and the day before, and…. well, you get the idea. Now I might even get offended if someone doesn’t greet me when they’re walking down the street, but I don’t think I’ll ever get used to interrupting conversations and talking in church.

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Now he’s this little boy.

Watching your children grow is a bittersweet experience. There are days when I wish I could just stop time right now – now, when he’s old enough to start making jokes and play tricks but when he’s young enough to want to still cuddle with Mamma every once in a while.

With every new development I see these sweet days slipping away and I wonder how much longer I have to enjoy him wrapping his arms around my neck and telling me he loves me. How much longer will it be before he starts pushing me away, when he no longer wants hugs and kisses from Mamma and Papà? When he no longer depends on us?

But, even though in some ways I wish he could stay this age forever, on the other hand I can’t wait to see what he’ll become. Every day he shows new abilities and talents. Which ones will he develop? What path will he choose?

As the years unfold he’ll change and grow and while the sweet baby who slept in your arms is enchanting, a mother’s reward is surely in seeing your child grow and mature.

I’m sure I’ll find that he’s just as interesting at 5, 8, 12 and 15 years old.

But I’m really enjoying 3 years old right now.

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Of course, that carried on into my teen years and beyond. Oh, I had friends, but I was just never good at socializing. I’m still not to this day.

Oddly enough for someone who has difficulty communicating, I worked as a manager for years and was actually quite good at it – if I do say so myself. You see, I don’t have too much trouble communicating if there’s a script, so to speak. As a manager, you know what things you have to communicate and when. But, out in real life, that’s a different story.

I’ve always been envious of those people who could strike up a conversation with anyone – the ones who know just what to say and when to say it. Instead, I’m the kind of person who sinks into that awkward silence. My mind races, desperate to come up with something catchy to start a conversation, but by the time I come up with it, the moment has passed because I keep rejecting all my ideas.

I can remember as a child actually wanting to have contact with people, but being so afraid of being rejected or laughed at that I would automatically shun any attempt that people made to get me to open up. Other kids in school actually used to think I was “stuck up” or being snobby. It’s laughable really.

Oh, I’m a lot better now – as long as someone else gets the conversation going. But, I’m still what I would call “conversationally handicapped”.

As you can imagine, my transition to Italy would have been a lot easier if I had been the free-talking type. As it was, not only could I not think of anything to say in Italian, I couldn’t think of anything to say period. Oh, to have the gift of gab…

So, whenever you’re stuck in an elevator, on an airplane, or in any kind of situation with the silent type, try to strike up a conversation. They may just be “conversationally handicapped” and you might find that they have a lot to say once you get them started.

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Coming to Italy wasn’t just about physically changing locations though. It was an entire life change for me. I left the “treadmill effect” world behind. Yes, my income dropped as did my number of possessions, but life has so much more meaning now.

Although I said I “packed everything up”, I really didn’t. You would be amazed at the number of things I left behind. At that point in my life I decided that I just didn’t need those things anymore – and oh, how liberating it was.

Up to then my life had been full of working and spending. I always wanted the newest thing and every new gadget that came along. So, I had a food dehydrator, a crock pot, a toaster oven, a fancy stainless steel retro toaster, a wine cooler, one of those gadgets for waxing your hands and feet, a foot massager, a nail buffer, various exercise gadgets and, well, the list could go on and on. Did I use them very often? Not really. I could have lived quite well without them. Plus, I had subscriptions to satellite TV and, of course, I had to go see the latest movies. Then there were the car payment and the mortgage on the 3000 square foot house that was full of things to be dusted and/or stored until the day when I might find a use for them. All of these things I purchased were supposed to make me happy. But it comes as no surprise that they didn’t. I was a slave to consumerism and kept getting more things that were supposed to bring me the happiness that I was so desperately seeking.

Then things changed. In 2006 I left most of it behind. I packed up the bare minimum, some things I didn’t want to leave behind for sentimental reasons along with my computer so that I could work, and shipped some books over on the slow boat(although nowhere near the shelves and shelves of them that I had at the house). The closets and drawers full of gadgets were left behind and I learned to live minimally. And you know what? I liked it and I still do. Now when I go to the store I talk myself out of buying things instead of into buying them. OK, to be honest, I would love to have a Kindle. But the important thing is that I don’t base my level of happiness or my own worth as a human being on material goods.

The evenings spent playing together or the days when we get together with family and friends for a few laughs and some conversation, those are the things that make me happy. Walking through town with my son and stopping to talk to the other people who live here, watching him play with his papa or hug his grandparents, singing and dancing along with him and so many of the daily events that we often take for granted are the very things that make me smile and be thankful for where I am today.

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There aren’t many songs about Thanksgiving and, thankfully, it’s one holiday we can enjoy without too much commercialism.

You may not realize it, but there is one famous poem that was written about Thanksgiving and later set to music. It may not immediately come to mind because the words have been somewhat changed and it is often lumped in with all of the Christmas songs today.

The poem was written by Lydia Maria Child and appeared in Flowers for Children Vol. 2 in 1844.

Over the river, and through the wood,
to Grandfather’s house we go;
the horse knows the way to carry the sleigh
through the white and drifted snow.

Over the river, and through the wood,
to Grandfather’s house away!
We would not stop for doll or top,
for ’tis Thanksgiving Day.

Over the river, and through the wood-
oh, how the wind does blow!
It stings the toes and bites the nose,
as over the ground we go.

Over the river, and through the wood
and straight through the barnyard gate.
We seem to go extremely slow-
it is so hard to wait!

Over the river, and through the wood-
when Grandmother sees us come,
She will say, “o, dear, the children are here,
bring a pie for every one.”

Over the river, and through the wood-
now Grandmothers cap I spy!
Hurrah for the fun! Is the pudding done?
Hurrah for the pumpkin pie!

Lydia Maria (Francis) Child was an interesting woman. Born in 1802, she was educated as a teacher and taught school for some time.  In 1824 her first novel, Hobomok: A Tale of Early Times, was published. From that point on, she wrote continuously and published several other works. She was a journalist; an anti-slavery, women’s rights and Indian rights activitist and an opponent of American expansionism.

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All this was fine and dandy until shortly after his first birthday. Then the child went crazy for cars. And I don’t mean just that he likes them. No, this child is fascinated by them. He knows the difference between a Porsche (what Papà would like to drive) and a Peugeot (what Papà actually does drive), an Audi and a pickup truck.

But even before he had any toy cars, he pushed things along the floor and made “vroom, vroom” noises. So, of course, we gave into the inevitable and he now has lots of cars. It is also one of the tricks to keeping him quiet – just have a couple of matchbox cars stashed in my purse at all times.

The only things that can possibly trump cars are musical instruments. He’ll gladly put down the cars for the keyboard or drum. And as for girls toys, when he’s at day care he will play with the cooking toys but doesn’t show much interest in the dolls.

If he wanted a doll, I’d buy it for him. Why not? But the child shows absolutely no interest whatsoever. The only dolls he’s interested in are the Barbies that come with a car. It reminds me of that old joke about the guy who put out a personal ad saying “Wanted good woman with boat, please send picture of boat”.

Now, I have made it clear that there are some toys that I would prefer he not have or be given. In fact, if someone gives them to him I will more than likely take them away and hide them. I just don’t like the thought of guns as toys. I figure it this way. If he wants to take a stick or a paper towel tube and point it around and say “bang”, he’s at least using his imagination. Besides, we all played cops and robbers or cowboys and Indians growing up. But, a gun is a gun and has no other purpose but to shoot. Fortunately, he has no interest in such things yet. And, to be honest, I may change my stance at some point, when he’s old enough to understand….maybe…

In the meantime, there’s nothing like a big red car to make him happy.

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As soon as I signed up, friend requests started pouring in, many of them from people I hadn’t seen in years – and I do mean years. Some of them were people that I would have listed as acquaintances since, when we went to high school together, I wasn’t part of their group. But, people change and nostalgia leads to friends that you would never expect.

It’s definitely a mixed group though. I never know what I’ll find when I look at my News Feed. Some of my friends have political views that are completely opposite of mine and some just like to joke around. I see posts in English, Italian, French, Spanish, Swedish and German.

But, I admit, I’ve actually blocked a few friends. It sounds terrible, but there were some people who never had a single positive thing to say. One of the people I blocked was constantly complaining about something negative happening in her life. At first I felt really badly for her, but after a while I just couldn’t take it anymore. Even the silliest little things that to me might have been a mild annoyance or even something to chuckle at were broadcast as if they were major, life-threatening problems. I just couldn’t take the negativity anymore so I blocked her and others like her even though I feel a little guilty about it.

I’m a big believer in the fact that negativity feeds negativity and, obviously the reverse is true. The more positive you are, the more positive things happen in your life.

Did you ever notice how, when one thing goes wrong, everything else seems to go wrong? You wake up in the morning and stub your toe or something else happens and you think automatically that you’re day is going to be rotten because it happened. And, it usually is. Why? I truly believe that it’s because we were expecting bad things to happen from that point on so we attracted them. That’s why I always try to remain positive even when the worst happens.

I’ll admit, for a few months this year I was anything but positive and everything in my life suffered for it. But, I’m back on track and things are looking up. I take a few minutes each day to think about all of the things I’m grateful for.

The glass, once again, is half full.

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When I started the blog, my goals were to talk about things that were happening in Abruzzo, places to see, festivals, sagre and the things that were unique about the region. I also wanted to give those who were interested in my town a view of what was going on and hopefully get others interested. It also meant that I would be out and about visiting places – and I had a whole list of places to visit and report on.

Then I became pregnant with my son and, as you can imagine, my priorities shifted drastically. It also made me unable to visit a lot of those places because doing so with a baby or toddler in tow is not very conducive for taking pictures and gathering information. As he gets older I’d like to continue to do this, but it will be a little while before I can get into that mode.

One of the other things I wanted to talk about on the blog was adjusting to life in Italy as an Expat. While I still have those days when I say “I can’t believe they do things that way”, for the most part, Italy is now my home, warts and all, and I’m familiar with how it works. Of course, I’m sure there will be times when I’ll be shocked by something new.

The blog turned into my ramblings about pregnancy and then motherhood, with some recipes and info about festivals thrown in, along with some other things that interested me. But, I’m still trying to decide what direction to go in. Do I just let myself ramble and talk about any topic that comes to mind or do I let it go? I wouldn’t mind it becoming a conversational point, where readers would get involved in whatever discussion popped up.

I’m working through all of these ideas and hope to come up with a new direction for this blog. In the meantime, any input is always welcome. we bloggers always like to get feedback.

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Did you know that Italians have the cleanest homes in Europe?

That’s rather daunting for a slacker like me. Yes, I admit it, I don’t have the cleanest house around and I definitely don’t measure up to the rest of the Italians. So, it’s no surprise when I say that I feel rather self-conscious when we have company. If it’s a planned visit, I try to go around beforehand and clean as much as possible to give the impression that the place is spotless, but a 2 year old toddler usually ruins all of my preparations anyway.

Before you get the wrong idea though, my house is not a virtual pigsty either. I just don’t spend my entire life cleaning which is what a lot of Italian women seem to do. I don’t have the time to get up on a ladder or a chair and polish the light fixtures every few days. No, I’m not exaggerating.

It may sound incredible, but there are quite a few Italian women who start cleaning their houses from top to bottom on Monday – and when I say top to bottom I mean top to bottom, what we would call spring cleaning – then when they finish, they start all over again. That’s all they do. So, what else do they do besides work and clean? Beats me.

I can’t do it. I would go crazy. Besides the fact that I need to work and the fact that I have a toddler who I would rather spend time with than clean, I also need to have some intellectual pursuits or I will dissolve.

So, my stainless steel sink doesn’t shine like a mirror, instead it has lots of water spots on it. My oven door and kitchen cabinets have toddler fingerprints, there are toys scattered here and there and my “office” is the catch-all for everything that doesn’t have it’s own place, the ironing that I don’t have time to do and all of the things I have to keep out of sight of Luigi. Enter at your own risk.

I may not have the cleanest house in the world, but I made my son giggle today, read him a story, read some information that I found interesting on the internet, wrote a blog post and did some other work. Now, I just have to remember to tell myself that, the next time I have a surprise visit and notice that there are some crumbs on the floor. Horrors!

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There’s something soothing about working with nature’s bounty so, I was able to focus my thoughts on the important things in life as I set about canning my bread and butter pickles.

Later I pondered the various obstacles in my way as I cleaned and trimmed green beans and set them to boil for green bean salad.

Then I was able to contemplate the future as I cleaned and chopped some basil in order to freeze it for the winter.

I’m sure I’ll have plenty of opportunities in the coming weeks to do some more thinking and pondering as I prepare other garden goodies. And while I don’t often have the time to putter around in the garden, I really do enjoy it and, if you could make a living at it, I’d love to do something that was tied to the earth. Unfortunately, in this day and age, only large agricultural companies are able to make any money in the farming business.

Of course, while I was working the land, I’d also have to have other intellectual pursuits because otherwise I would be lost.

Still, the simple life is very appealing.

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