Happy Thanksgiving

The table is set. The candles are lit. Walter, our 15 pound Thanksgiving turkey, is resting quietly in the oven. The only things missing are my American family and our friends. My family is here with me, deep inside my heart and in my thoughts. Our friends will be arriving any minute now.

Where ever you are, how ever you celebrate..

wishing you a wonderful Thanksgiving filled with love and laughter.

Buona festa!

Searching for Turkey

I walked into the local butcher shop feeling sightly nervous. Several years ago, at this same shop, I had asked for a seven pound turkey and walked away with a bird that has become the stuff of expatriate folklore . I was worried about history repeating itself, but I had no other choice.

"It is too late to order a small turkey for Thursday?" I asked almost certain that he would tell me it was too late, as the other butchers had.

"What size turkey do you need?," he asked.

"Six kilos. Seven at the absolute most," I said while experiencing deja vu. I had told him the same thing several years ago and ended up with a 42 pound bird.

The butcher picked up the phone and made a call. I was prepared to serve turkey breast at our Thanksgiving feast, but now it seemed that there might be hope for an entire bird.

After chatting in dialect for a few minutes, the butcher hung up the phone.

"At this time on Thursday, your bird will be ready," he told me with a smile.

I thanked him and left the shop, happy to have found a turkey at last. However I know too well, that just because I asked for a 13 pound turkey doesn't necessarily mean that I will get a 13 pound turkey.

All I can do is hope that Carlos doesn't have a son. I guess I will find out tomorrow if he does.

Carlos (18 kilos)

42 pounds of manly, Italian, Thanksgiving turkey

More about Carlos here and here

Window Peepers

I have been a terrible blogger. When I first started my blog, I filled my days with writing posts and reading other blogs. But in this past year I have been failing miserably at my blogging ditties. Perhaps it is because my time has been filled with other things. Or Perhaps it it because I just haven't felt like writing.

I assure you that things are well and that my happy-ever-after is still happy. I am still traveling around Italy, meeting interesting people, experiencing wonderful things, and loving living here. The Italian is well. We are happy and healthy. And other than the loss of Roscoe, life has been kind to us.

While absent from the blog world it seems I have missed a lot. Just the other day I opened up Niki's blog, an expatriate living along the Amafli coast, to see what she has been up to. I was shocked when I saw that her blog "The Life I Chose" had been deleted. In it's place was the simple the title "Not the Life I Chose". I was shocked. What had happened to Niki? Was she okay? Did she return to the UK? Was her love affair with Italy over? Was her family alright?

It got me thinking about this whole blog thing and how much we really know, or don't know, about the people who write.

As a reader, I felt concerned and disappointed all in one. It was if the writer had closed the book before finishing the story. I wanted a conclusion, an explanation, or at least to know that Nicki and her family are okay.

As a writer I understood. Something had happened that was so big Nicki had closed the blog which she so enjoyed writing. A million reasons for what might have happened swirled around in my head, none of them would I have cared to write about had it happened to me. And this is what got me thinking...

By writing about what is going on in our lives gives readers the impression that they know us personally. But I can assure you that most of us do not reveal everything to our readers; I can tell you that I surely don't. No one wants to read about the terrible things that happen in our lives. They don't want to hear about illness, tragedy or death. No one is interested in the arguments that rise from time to time in a marriage, the boring hum drum of every day (like going to the grocery store, cleaning the house or shoveling cat poo) or the minute details that make up life.

When we write on our blogs, we reveal only what we wish our readers to see. For the reader it may be a bit like window peeping except that we, the writers, leave the curtains open and lights on in only in the rooms which we wish you see. The rest of our house is closed to the public. And though there are a few Bloggers out there who seem to share everything with the world, I would be willing to bet that there are always window of the house that are kept closed to readers.

Through a little Blogger research, I was able to find out that thankfully Nicki and her family are indeed well. I won't write about her reasons for leaving the blog world because I feel that when and if she wants the world to know, she will write about it.

And for you other bloggers out there, I am interested in hearing your thoughts. Do you leave all the lights on for your readers? Or do you keep some of the rooms of your life private?

*Niki, if you happen to read this send me an email. I would love to keep in touch with you!

Four Years On

Two months ago the Italian and I headed to the Cinedream theater in the outskirts of Faenza to catch a movie. As we walked our usual path through the parking lot, I noticed something I had never seen before. Something so beautiful, something so amazing, that it stopped me dead in my tracks. It was a sign which read "Mc Donald's 2 minuti". Its brilliant white background and golden arches sparkled in the light of the moon.

"Mc Donald's? Two minutes ahead?" I said out loud, not believing what I was seeing. Never had I lived so close to Mc Donald's, not since moving to Italy. Could Christmas have come early this year?

But then a funny thing happened. We saw the movie and left Faenza without ever checking out the new Mc Donald's. A week later we drove by it on our way into town, only to see the brand new Mc Donald's complete with a packed parking lot and a line at the drive through longer than the Mississippi River. We didn't stop.

Weeks turned into months and still I hadn't dragged the Italian to Mc Donald's. At last one night a group of our friends, who were meeting us for a movie, suggested we meet at Mc Donald's for a quick meal before the show. Knowing they were "sacrificing" themselves for my happiness, I told them that I would be just as content with plate a pasta if they would prefer to go elsewhere. But their minds were set on taking me to Mc Donald's and so we went.

I giggled to myself as we sat on the new stools covered with fake leather. As I munched on my chicken sandwich and french fries I couldn't help but think how much I have changed in the years since my move to Italy. The old Cyndi would have jumped at the chance to eat greasy, American comfort food as she struggled to over come her culture shock. The old Cyndi would have pleaded for the Italian to take her to the new Mc Donald's until the Italian would have begged her "no more"! But in the years I have been here, I have found myself adapting well to my Italian life and needing the things from America less.

My kitchen is empty of marshmallows, peanut butter and Kraft Mac n' Cheese; things I imported (or begged my family to send) in those first few years in Italy. And though I still enjoy the occasional peanut butter cup, I no longer find myself pining away for them when I have none.

Toady marks the four year anniversary of when I touched down in Italy and started my new life here. Four years which have been filled with endless happiness and a touch of sorrow. I have been heartbroken since Roscoe's death, but today I miss him even more. I keep thinking about the journey that the three of us (Roscoe, Opus and I) made together. How we left our lives in America for a new one in Italy. I can still remember how much I worried about the boys as we traveled across an ocean to be with the man I love. And I still remember how happy and relived I was when I found them next to the luggage carousal after landing in Milan. Roscoe had some sort of goop on his nose that looked like harden toothpaste, though I am sure he didn't brush his teeth during the trip. I never did figure out what it was, not even when I lovingly washed off his little pink nose.

(Me, Opus and Roscoe leaving America
at Chicago's O'Hare International Airport)

Last week I met an American tourist who was amazed to learn that I live in Italy. "How can you stand living here?" she kept repeating over and over, referring to the bureaucratic red tape and slower Italian life style. For me now, the question will never be "how can I live here". The question for me now is "how can I not"?

I will always love and miss America, but Italy is home.

The Big Day

After what feel like ten years of election coverage, the big election day is almost here. This blog has never been (nor will ever be) a political blog, so I won't share my thoughts with you on who I think is right for the job (or less wrong is more like it). What I can tell you is that the American election has been big news over here in Italy with many of my friends asking about the election process or wanting to know my views on the candidates. It has been fun seeing everyone so excited about what is going on in my home country.

Today happens to be the fourth anniversary of when I left America and moved to Italy. As if I weren't feeling homesick enough, watching the excitement over election day has made me wish even more that I could back in America to be a part of it.

No matter who wins or looses, this has been a historical election with either the first African American as the president or the first woman as the vice predident. I can't wait to see how it all turns out.

Now get out there and vote America! And remember, the world is watching....

All Souls Day

"No heaven will not ever Heaven be;
Unless my cats are there to welcome me." ~ Anonymous