But I don't know no love songs. And I can't sing the blues, anymore.

I really was going to blog.

I was going to tell you lots of stories of losing myself in the beauty and finding myself, and finding God and happiness too. And I hope that once I get back, I'll be able to remember clearly enough to articulate how exactly I felt while climbing in the mountains of Cinque Terre or trapsing along the rain-soaked cobblestones of Florence, how good the food and wine were while we enjoyed them for hours high atop a mountain somewhere between Livorno and Ponsacco, and what if felt like to experience Paris for the first time with two of my nearest and dearest. I hope I do, but perhaps I won't and perhaps all we really need to know is that for the past two weeks I've been just plan happy, and full of life and love and too much cheese.

Don't worry. There will at least be pictures. That, I can promise you. Sometimes I think the reason I take so damn many is because they do a much better job of doing justice to things words never can. Of course, the pictures can't come close to the memories, but I at least like the opportunity to try and share something with you.

But for now, I'm off in search of vampires. Yup.

Andiamo!

Before anybody gives me any sort of crap about "wasting" time online while in Italy - let me make something very clear. This is my vacation. So even though it will be spent largely in part by trapsing all over this GORGEOUS country, sometimes I do just want to sit down and veg out and tell you all about my adventures.

It's about 10 AM here in Ponsacco. I'm sitting here with fresh coffee and biscotti and yes, I have just done a tiiiiny bit of work. Taryn and I returned from Rome last night and boy, will there ever be lots to tell you (and show you!) in the coming days.

After 7 hours on a plane across the Atlantic Ocean (and with a rude European's seat fully reclined into my lap), 3 hours in London's Heathrow airport, and 2 more hours on a much much tinier plane, I arrived in Pisa. And luckily, finally engaged my travel instinct and found Taryn. (How in the WORLD did people live before cell phones???) Europeans are funny people. Heathrow was out of control at 6:30 in the morning, full of loud people and a myriad of languages and absolutely and positively NO QUEUES and yet somehow, things get done faster and with more expertise than any American way I've ever seen. I ordered a coffee with milk at Pret a Manger and was immediately corrected "FILTER! WHITE!" before being asked for payment. And yet, somehow, none of this was done in any sort of rude way. Europeans are just generally faster and more passionate in any crowded situation. The gate for my Pisa flight was not even announced until 10 minutes before flight time and, by-george, we still took off on time and landed early. American and their lines and 45 minute boarded processes have nothing on these people.

But I really didn't come here to talk to you about airports and queues. Upon landing in Italy, Taryn treated me to a cafe macchiato which is NOT that very large caramel flavored thing you order at Starbucks. "Cafe" means a shot of espresso, macchiato means steamed milk. Cappucini simply have even more milk than a cafe macchiato and are ONLY to be consumed at breakfast time...to order any time post noon will certainly draw gasps of exasperation. I spent the next few hours volunteering at Girl Scouts North Atlantic Headquarters, where Taryn works. Her darling coworker apologized for welcoming me to Italy and putting me to work. My take? If I have to do something mundane, might as well at least do it in Italy. Taryn drove us home and I marveled over her new Italian driving skills and mastery of traffic circles. She then welcomed me with a lovely little antipasti platter before her friend Rachel joined us. Dinner that night brought "real" pizza (yuuuum!) and a stroll through Ponsacco before limoncello and a pastry. Home again, I gotta say, having not slept in 48 hours, a bed and pajamas have never felt so good.

I awoke Friday morning and again accompanied Taryn to work, as we had planned to catch a train in the afternoon for Rome. Some packet assembly kept me nice and occupied, and then it was off to Livorno to park the car and hop a train. Taryn took some time to explain the Italian train system so that I'll be prepared for this week's solo daytrips. 4 hours later, we arrived in Rome and navigated through Termini (Rome's main train hub) and onto the rainy streets, where I navigated us to our hotel without much fanfare. (Travel tip - Romans apparently consider some streets optional and therefore elect to not put them on maps, leaving dumb tourists to wonder "Am I going the right way?" far too often. Also, this New Yorker CERTAINLY missed her gridded, numbered streets.) We checked into the Hotel Stella, which had offered a nice and low rate and proved to have clean (though tiny) rooms, private baths and ample accomodations for our needs. Being a concierge meant my first instinct was to ask the front desk for a dinner recommendation. We set off (in the rain) for La Famiglia, and were greeted with a multi-lingual menu and grumpy staff. Though the food was tasty, this was clearly a tourist trap, start to finish. Over-priced, and courses were served on top of each other, which is NOT the way it had been promised to me. My gnocchi was divine, but my cut of lamb was a joke and resulted in MAYBE 10 good bites, as the rest was all fat and bone. Also, I got a piece of prosciutto stuck in my throat during the antipasti course, which left me very uncomfortable for the duration of the meal. It's funny now (hey Alison - remember that time you got a piece of ham stuck in your throat??) but seemed a disaster at the time.

We left without bothering with dessert or cafe (a sin in Italy) and headed home to study the map, set the next day's agenda, and fall into bed. And as this entry has grown too long, I'll pause here to allow you to digest this tale's antipasti and pasta courses before I dive into the much heavier secondi pasti and meat courses. (Did I really just compare a blog entry to an Italian meal???) Besides, I'd really like to locate a camera cord so that I may begin to punctuate these stories with pictures!

And, it's high time I showered and started my day, anyhoo. You know, this is my first "grown up vacation" where I didn't just fly to Charlotte or Birmingham or simply head to the beach for the weekend. It still astounds me that I have over a week in this lovely place!

But for now, ciao ciao!

Blessed is the Fruit of the Loom.

I have several halfway witty posts saved in drafts that I never quite finished. Perhaps one day they'll get done. But then a week and a half of work got in the way and now I'm sitting here staring dumbfounded at my suitcase wondering how to place 2 weeks of life into so small a space.

I can pretty much guarantee you there will be no posts until I've returned. Maybe I'll surprise us all, though.

In the meantime, I am off to Italy to see this one.

Hey, T...remember that time you WOULDN'T LET GO OF MY HEAD??

Once I get to Italy and we go to Rome and I go to Florence and Cinque Terre and whatever else I feel like doing, Taryn and I will board a plane together to go to Paris and see this one:
(C'est ma cousine, Lexie!)

Alright, y'all. Back to this packing nonsense. Ciao!

You can fake it for a while, bite your tongue and smile, like every mother does an ugly child.

New year, new layout. If you've visited my blog this week, you've probably seen it change by the second. I think I'm finally happy.
Finally.

Maybe.

We'll see.

So the New Year has been fun. At midnight on the first, I made out with a Scottish dude. Somewhere around 2 AM, there came an Aussie. Seven days later, I bought a plane ticket from Pisa to Paris. Two days after that, a plane ticket from New York to Pisa. (I thought that might help me with the whole Paris to Pisa part.) Basically, I'm trying to tell you it's going to be a very international kind of year. And a fun one, too, with little regard for others' opinions or consequence.
I like it. I'm a fan.

I'm going to try really hard to do two things while in Europe. 1) Not be scared to try new and different things, even when alone and b) Not to be an ugly American or typical tourist. I've been extra nice to all the tourists I deal with daily in an effort to improve my tourist karma. Just in case I mess up, I'd like a little positive jou-jou stored away. I ransacked Barnes and Noble recently and am loaded up with Rick Steves guides and translation tools. I think I'm going to get a real live paper journal and sit at cafes and train stations and write about all the interesting things I'll be sure to learn while traveling. Introspection! Coming soon to an Alison near you!

I'm enjoying doing nothing lately. Except today. I woke up, took down all the Christmas decorations and the Christmas tree, resulting in a floor full of tree needles. With the tree down and an empty void, I decided the living room required rearranging. Apparently, most adults do not rearrange every 6 months. I guess I still have dorm room mentality, cause I do.

I have decided that every Sunday from here on out shall be No Pants Sunday. Sunday is the day you should rest and also the day you should not worry about things like pants. No Pants Sunday. Nice ring, huh?

I didn't make any resolutions this year. I know you're supposed to and all and I usually do but this year I did not. I simply made one life goal - be awesome. I consider it my umbrella for the year. Be awesome and everything underneath will be juuuuuuust fiiiiiine.

I've seen enough, I'm not giving up on a miracle drug

I love infomercials.

I love infomercials because they tell me about things I never knew I needed. I mean, take the one that came on 5 minutes ago. Until that faithful moment, I had no idea that making brownies was such a bother, SUCH A CHORE. But now, I'm absolutely convinced that I cannot bake one more chocolate treat until I own...THE PERFECT BROWNIE.

I mean, not only does PERFECT BROWNIE make...THE PERFECT BROWNIE...but it also comes packed with ideas on how to make everyone's favorite treat even better. I swear, I NEVER thought about making a marble brownie, or M&M coated brownies or a Christmas tree stenciled brownie until PERFECT BROWNIE came along.

I simply cannot go one more day without one.

And my favorite part of any and absolutely ALL infomercials is the part where amazing announcer guy shouts AND WAIT! and then proceeds to tell you about how they're going to double your order for free (plus shipping and handling) and throw in something not at all related to what you're ordering in the first place. I am truly lucky that my bright pink Snuggie came complete with a magnifying book light. I'd be lost without them both.

Now, if you'll excuse me, I need to go order Miss Maggie an EmeryCat.

This is over my head, but underneath my feet

Sign of the times: I'm an adult and I know it because there's a good foot of snow on the ground and I have not once been outside to play in it. Snowball fight and snow angels were hindered by the fact that Megan has tonsillitis and I am in the mood to be lazy and sit warm and snuggly on the couch with my space heater and cat nearby.

I've been terribly MIA because the last 3 weeks have been long and ridiculous and dramatic. We had some housing drama that likened our living room to the set of Jerry Springer one week ago. Hint: housing drama NOT caused by either person pictured here:
To pile more to the drama, I was all busy acting. Note to self: do not EVER audition for a show or sign up for more stuff to do in the middle of busy season at work and right when a new property is opening. Bad judgment call, Alison. Whatever, it was fun. And Crissie and Jenn were in town too, so that just added to it all. Last Saturday night, 12 friends came to sit in the audience and cheer me along and find more reasons to make fun of me. Afterwords, we tumbled into a nearby bar and proceeded to be awesome. I loved it.
Once again, I am overwhelmed by the friendship, grace and laughter God has placed in my life. Due to aforementioned housing drama, I will not make it home for Christmas. That's ok. Megan and her parents are taking me in for the holiday, so that I will not spend it alone. And since friends are the family you choose, I will still consider the day spent with family. It's a happy ending in a sticky situation. I know now who I can count on, and who I cannot. (And who I can is a sum considerably greater than that which I feel I have lost.)

The next two weeks will be difficult, but I'll make it through. And then the "Noughties" will be over and I'll welcome a new decade and somewhere around January 6, life will slow to a crawl and I will catch up on sleep and blogs and money matters and another important things.

Twenty-four.

A couple of weeks ago, I was asked to write about home.
At the time, I rather liked my entry but now it just seems a mis-shaped mis-match of other people's words strung together with my ramblings, never quite reaching a point. The point I was trying to make is that the concept of home still completely escapes me and that suits me just fine.

But here I am in Georgia and suddenly home is everywhere. This isn't even my real home, but rather the home I've chosen for myself. And here I've been, watching my best friend in her day-to-day and holding Baby Caroline and chopping celery and driving through the suburbs and marveling over the things like the matching furniture, an adoring husband, lack of landlords, and in-house washer and dryer. This IS a home and not because of these tangible things. But because somehow, Lori found a way to still exist through it all. She's still there, behind the sterilized baby bottles and clean dishes and brand new dining room furniture.

And I think maybe THAT is my new perception of home. The place where you can exist simultaneously as best and worst case scenario you. The place that smells your morning breath and dirty clothes and produces the good hair days and positive life choices. It's what you both strive for and maintain. It's what you want, and what you've got.

I rent a room and I fill the spaces with
wood in places to make it feel like home
but all I feel's alone
It might be a quarter life crisis
or just the stirring in my soul

Either way, I wonder sometimes
about the outcome
of a still verdict-less life

Am I living it right?
Am I living it right?
Am I living it right?
Why, Georgia, why?
(John Mayer)

to be continued...

Twenty-one, two and three.

I'm in Atlanta, snuggling with Baby Caroline.
24 hours ago, I was hanging out in Charlotte with my girls.
6 hours ago, I was all alone and behind the wheel of a car, singing at the top of my lungs
I'm paying limited attention to my blackberry.
There will be pictures and grandiose explanations at some point later this week, I am sure.
But for right now, I'm totally content. (And full! Mama Diane and BJ cooked us one hell of a supper. WITH SWEET TEA.)
Now, all the adults in the room are sipping cocktails and preparing to dominate in Phase 10.
Oh, Dirty South. You will always be home sweet home to me. One day, I am sure I'll come back for good. But if one more person asks me "when??" on this trip why, I just don't know what I'll do.
It'll happen when it does.

Nineteen Twenty

Yesterday was very busy.
Today looks much the same.
Tonight will bring New Moon.
And tomorrow brings a plane.

(I didn't set out to write a poem, but I accidentally just wrote a bad one so deal with it.)

Whole lotta stuff going on in my life right now. This is the point in NABLOPOMO where I thought I might falter. So, if I go AWOL over the next week it pretty much means I'm enjoying my vacation and don't really feel like hopping online.

Here's hoping I can write you a doozy tomorrow from the airport though. In the meantime, I'm off to another full day of work! Think I can shave the 1000+ emails in my inbox down to under 200? Or make a schedule that will actually work for everyone? Or make sure all my guests are set up and ready to go and none of their plans will go awry? Or still have a full head of hair by the end of today.

We shall see. We shall see.

Seventeen Eighteen.

I did it.

I failed.

Yesterday came and went and not once did it cross my mind that I should blog. Well, not entirely true. It crossed my mind while I was at work and blocked from the site. But then work rolled into the after work party which turned out to be ENTIRELY too much food and a few too many delicous martinis (seriously - have I ever mentioned I LOVE MY JOB?!) so that by the time I got home, it was too late and I was far too woozy. (I said woozy. Not drunk. Thankyouverymuch.) It didn't even dawn on me till halfway through today as I was thinking up what I wanted to tell y'all tonight that I hadn't yapped atchya yesterday. Whoops.

What I wanted to tell you about today is that I spent it staring at these people.
Apparently, this should impress me. At the risk of sounding jaded and, well, old, it does not. You've heard me rave about Twilight (and I already have my tickets for New Moon). I've seen Kelly Clarkson in concert. (And David Cook and New Kids on the Block, too.) I've dialed into American Idol and So You Think You Can Dance voting lines more times than you should know about. There may have even been a brief obsession with Bachelor/Bachelorette recently, something I hope ceases by the time Jake takes over the selection process. I've supported, enjoyed, tuned into and fawned over countless other things associated with tweens, or poor taste in general. But Gossip Girl just isn't one of them. Nothing about this show draws me in, not even the fact that it's filmed all over my fair city and especially not even the fact that it's been filmed in 2 locations where I work. (With one of them becoming a regularly occurring spot.)

All that being said, it sure is fun to be on a set all day and watch the PAs scramble and scream "QUIET ON THE SET. ROLLING. CUUUUUUUUT!" and watch the magic of tv and film unfold right in front of my very eyes. (And MAN, every member of the production team of Gossip Girl is a tween themself. I swear. Youngest staff EVER, but at least they appear to know what they're doing, in their unwashed hair and simultaneously baggy skinny jeans and hoodies and beanies with belts securing goodness knows what 'round their hips.) Being on set also affirms another key belief: I never was and never will be cut out for film. All those takes and re-grouping and details and screeching. Nope. No thank you. Give me a stage and one shot to get it done any day of the week. I wouldn't last a day on this kind of set.

I say that with an enormous amount of respect for the actors who can do it, by the by. Despite my snarky undertones, I am positive the members of this cast and crew are actually extraordinarily talented. You'll just never see me chomping at the bit to extra for this, or any other show/movie.

And that's how I feel about that.