Gobble gobble from the Adriatic Sea

It is not the first time I've spent a holiday out of the Country. It's an odd feeling...an out of body experience.  

One's  physical being is among people who know little or nothing about Pilgrims and that glorious meal they partook of while the mind and spirit are wrapped around a warm turkey sandwich wrapped in sausage dressing with a glob of cranberry sauce just for added calories.

And then there is family, of course. New sights and sounds are memory-filled and fabulous when you are walking streets never traveled before. But there is something undeniably comforting about sitting down to a place setting of china that only comes out on holidays. Vacation souvenirs dim when compared to Aunt Mary's special pumpkin pie or Mom's request to have Dad carve the turkey.

Venice has the rich smell of garlic, tomatoes and tourists' dollars. But family feuds fade when the aroma of mashed potatoes and gravy waft from the kitchen.

So today, far from home, we will make do. As we Sit down for our first, second, third, fourth, and fifth meal of the day....(and of course  the Midnite  buffet) we will remember those who have none and we will be grateful for our blessings. We will also be praying that the luggage scales at the airport are broken. Chow and Happy Thanksgiving!

In the backyard

     Brisk air has ascended upon us. Surprising us with the realization that Fall and falling back on every clock in the house, is right around the corner.
     There will be a few things I miss about our house but none more so than our window on the world from our backyard. Living on the 'T' of a canal is a triple treat with backyard views all around. Backyards are really families' living rooms. We grill there, we swim, we play ball, we garden - there is a life that goes on there that no one ever sees from our front doors and driveways.
     Squeals of delight drew me outside this evening where a young boy across the canal had a fish on the line of his tiny fishing pole. It was a decent size fish and he had no idea how to pull it in. His sister ran off to the house to presumably get adult help. Mother arrived a few minutes later; looked the situation over and headed back toward the house to presumably get Dad. Dad, Mom and baby sister in her princess costume, soon arrived at the canal's edge to help pull in the big one.
     As the group gathered for the admiration ceremony, Mom hurriedly returned to the house. I knew what she would return with. The camera, of course. Group shots were taken with the fisherman proudly holding up his catch.
     I felt that tightness in my chest that always comes when I am moved by love, or patriotism, or kindness. Or when I lament the passing of my own daughters' childhoods.
     It was a Kodak moment - a short movie with no admission price or jockeying for a good seat. I was blessed to witness it right here from my own backyard. It is one perk I will miss when we move on.

Between the lines,
              later.

Will the real you please stand up.

    Authenticity is a tough one. Oprah makes it sound easy as she proclaims authenticity's profound value. She repeats that each and every one of us has a purpose for being here and that it's our responsibility to seek out that purpose and fulfill it, regardless of how small or seemingly insignificant others may view it.
    Perhaps when we are young, we wear our authentic selves as naturally and visibly as we wear our most comfortable jeans. Our purpose for being here is to have fun, experience the new - basically just to grab life by the balls and keep moving!
    I'm finding this is contrary to the search for one's authentic self in the middle years of life. I think it's called a mid-life crisis. It's like the cataracts my grandma had surgery for.The view for one's genuine self seems a little cloudy after you pass 50. The time clock is tickin' and in moments of self-reflection, panic can set in like dysentery after a bad burrito.
     Like a recent chick flick, where the main character, in fear of a spinster future, takes a second look at all her former boyfriends to see if she might have overlooked a good one, I'm inclined to believe I may have to look back and examine my mammoth inventory of jobs, unfulfilled aspirations, and self-help books. Surely there is a subtle clue among the twisted paths of my past that may dump some enlightenment on me in spite of myself.
     Oprah! I haven't seen you but I know you're out there on that other network. Listen up. You told us to find our authentic selves...that each one of us has a purpose for being here, but I must have missed the show where you gave the instructions for this horrendous challenge! I'm sorry. I've never learned to use my DVR. I'm bad.
    I'll keep searching because I know the real me, is in me, trying to claw it's way out. I wonder if they could see that on my last mammogram?
    Later and probably between the lines, with a red crayon,
                 me.