Caio, bella! (Part 2)

What do you do when you wake up Sunday morning in Rome?

Vatican City, of course!

There is no photo that can convey the atmosphere in Vatican City. It's just breathtaking. To be somewhere so beautiful, so historical, so full of love. Now, I am not Catholic and may have even referred to modern Catholicism as a money-hungry cult once or twice. But you can't deny the beauty and awesome presence of God. More on this later, though. We weren't actually able to tour the Vatican that day - something historical was happening! Inside, Pope Francis was performing the first wedding by a pope in 20 years. And, he was marrying TWENTY couples - some who already had children! Obviously a big deal. I'm no papal expert, but this guy is absolutely my fav. Again, more on that later. After watching the ceremonies for a bit on huge screens set up in St. Peter's Square and generally milling about, we headed to what was probably top on my husband's lists of sights to see - the Colosseum. 

Incredible! The history was impressive - standing on marble that has been in place for thousands of years, where emperors entered to watch the bloodshed. You can't go down to the fighting level of the Colosseum much to Adam's dismay; that's reserved for archeologists alone. Traveling with a tour group like Trafalgar has a lot of positives. We didn't wait in lines to enter any tourist attractions and had our own personal guide explaining every detail. The only real downside is, you don't get a whole lot of time at these attractions. Hubby was bummed we didn't spend more time in the Colosseum; I was satisfied seeing it, snapping some photos and picking something up in the gift shop ;) We popped in a restaurant across the street for seafood risotto (me) and real Italian lasagna (Adam - and he prefers mine!) and a glass of wine, of course.
We stopped near the Trevi Fountain and snagged our first authentic, DELICIOUS gelato.

Unfortunately the fountain  has been under restoration since July 2014 - two months prior to our trip. But, beside the scaffolding there is a small pool where you can toss a coin (backwards, over your left shoulder) to ensure good fortune and a return to Rome. We shall see!
Next up, the Pantheon. 

The Pantheon is a crazy impressive building last rebuilt in 126 A.D. It's this giant circular structure and apparently one of the best-preserved ancient Roman buildings. Again, my husband was in his element - I had no idea he was such a history lover! All the more sad that he never got to meet my dad.
We ended the day with a fabulous dinner in Piazza Navona (a city square).

Guess what accompanied dinner - I hope you guessed tons of wine! After a quick spin by to see the Vatican at night - which is so beautiful I'm near tears just thinking about it - and a few more hours at the hotel bar and a lot of prosecco later we crashed for a few short hours...who needs sleep, anyway?

To be continued...

Now & Then

Thanks to Facebook, high school reunions are no longer the way we catch up with classmates. I already know the name of the class president's son and that so-and-so recently got engaged/married/pregnant/divorced. It's nice, I suppose.
What's nicer is still being best friends with the girl I grew up next door to and regular check-ins with the girl I goofed off with in math class senior year.

Last night, I had dinner with these girls. Laura's parents were watching her two little girls and Kelly was home from NYC for the holiday with her steady boyfriend. Our men talked sports and shared silly stories about us. We jumped from topic to topic like middle schoolers without their Ritalin.

Instead of making me feel like a teenager again, the whole night reminded me how much of an adult I am. 10pm buckets of beer are now 7:30 steakhouse dinner reservations. Shots are now glasses of Malbec. Closing the bar is now heading home at 9:30 because there are kids to put to bed, family to visit, and errands to run in the morning. And I'm thrilled, thrilled with my life and the happiness of my friends. Our lives are in different places now at 30, but when we get together - we're the same girls we've always been. I love that my husband gets to see this side of me.

I've known these women more than fifteen years and I'm thankful to have them in my life, now and then. 

Family

This was my second Thanksgiving with Adam's family. (We've been together for three, actually, but had been dating about 5 minutes the first year and as such, I politely declined 😳.)  We also spend Christmas Eve and Easter Sunday with his family, plus summer barbecue-worthy holidays at his brother's pool. They have welcomed me with open arms from day one. His mom and brothers were telling him to "hurry up and marry that girl" from the beginning. They interact extremely different than my family and are entirely different type of people, but I love them and they love me. Tonight when I left my brother-in-law's house, there was zero sense of awkwardness or obligation with the goodbye hugs (despite Adam's "go hug your ________" to which my MIL said - Stop saying that, she's not rude and we like hugging her, she's not like that other one. Lol). My niece, who like my nephew is a bit shy, came right up for a hug and without thinking, I gave her a kiss.

That's when I realized - this is my family.  I married into a wonderful group of people and by now, the "married into" part is a non-issue. It's Mom & Dad, brothers & sister, niece & nephew. They are my family.

And for this, I am thankful. 

It's a Boy!

I've always been glad Miss Piggy loves Adam, and vice versa of course! I told you what my dad had to say about men and cats. Piggs is an excellent judge of character as well.

But one cat? Only one? Complete malarkey. Just had to get husband on board. Yada yada yada…fast forward to last Monday. Someone had won something in NASCAR so Outback was giving away Bloomin' Onions (that free $4 appetizer cost us like  $60 so there's a bargain). Right by our closest Outback is a Petsmart. We stopped in to pick up the eco-friendly disposable biodegradable litter boxes we use. And there they were…cages of adorable cats. I'm not sure what Adam thought would happen when he suggested we go in the enclosure to meet some kitties!

I'd wanted to adopt an older cat, a sad case, maybe one who'd been at the shelter a long time. Hobo seemed like just the guy (had to be a male - Miss Piggy is a princess and we all know females rule in the animal world!). He was a goofy boy with what looked like the kitty equivalent of a cleft palate. I loved his little "deformity!" 

But then "Oreo" came out of his cage. He jumped up & purred like a motor immediately. A five month old black & white kitten, he was NOT what I had in mind! Then I saw him in my husband's arms, snuggling & purring. And so we filled out the application. We had to jump through some hoops - like personal and vet references as well as getting Piggs up to date on vaccines (I've never vaccinated indoor cats, what's the point? I BAWLED at the vet when she cried!). Then, Friday night, we brought our little guy home :) 

Adam named him Stache, obviously for his adorable little half-(Hitler)mustache.

It's been an adjustment for all of us especially Miss Piggy, but when he wakes me up at 4am trying to crawl into my skin or Adam laughs "hun you gotta see this!" while playing with him…it's all good. 

Stay tuned for news of our next addition :)

Ciao, bella!

Travel is the only thing you buy that makes you richer.
If you ask me what I'd do if I won the lottery, you'll hear me rattle off a list of dream vacations. I was lucky enough to go on one of those dream vacations, sans jackpot winnings. I'm a creature of habit and as such, I think I'll reserve Mondays on here for rehashing my trip to Italy this past September.
*I also tend to break my own rules constantly so don't be surprised if on any given Monday, a post is completely unrelated or even missing.
On September 12, we piled into a van headed for the Philadelphia airport, fresh passports in hand. 

Please note, my husband is not a good flyer. He was not exactly looking forward to the 7+ hour flight to London followed by a 2 hour jump to Rome. This was made slightly more bearable by the fact that British Airways offers alcohol at no charge on international flights. The wine binge began! 

After all-night travel to London, we hopped our flight to Rome so excited we barely cared about the lack of sleep. I all but burst into tears when we landed - ITALY! I was here! We toured with Trafalgar tour group (highly recommend) and after dropping off two groups at not-so-nice hotels, we pulled up to Cardinal Hotel St. Peter. Gorgeous! Balcony with a perfect view of the Basilica. Lunch in the hotel's courtyard with a few refreshing glasses of prosecco, followed by - well, we were on vacation, use your imagination ;) Trafalgar had arranged a bus tour of the city followed by a welcome dinner. We met some of the other people in our travel group (half weirdos, half really great people). We were served all the pizza, pasta, antipasta, cheeses, desserts, etc. you can imagine complete with opera singers and, you guessed it, endless wine. 

Oh, the wine! It was everywhere. And CHEAP! Obviously I was in heaven.
After being awake basically over 24 hours, you'd think we crashed after all that...nope. Rooftop drinks until way too late, of course. Still up early the next day to see some major Roman sites - who needs sleep anyway! See ya next week... :)

Tis The Season

Thanksgiving: the expression of gratitude.

I'm one of the lucky ones. I have much to be thankful for. Born to an amazingly hardworking mother, I had everything material a kid could want. I was given the intelligence to understand people and the world at an age most kids don't. I learned the concepts of grace, humility, and friendship - or so I like to think! As an adult, a very tumultuous few years in my 20s managed to teach me incredibly valuable lessons while leaving me and my loved ones relatively unscathed. And then, after the most devastating blow, I met Adam. Adam persistently pursued me and was patient with me - I was what one might call emotionally unavailable. The ultimate cynic.
Now here I am, married! I was born to be married, to be someone's wife. I adore my husband and am thankful every day that HE picked ME. We are building a wonderful life together. He showers me with affection and puts up with my crabby moods and curious quirks. I'm appreciate for our past, I'm grateful our present, and I'm so looking forward to our future.

As an aside, I had a bit of trouble getting to this post and finishing it. Why? Well…

Stay tuned!

Peace Love & Rescue

 Everyone has a platform, a passion, a cause they truly believe in that moves them and breaks their heart.
At least, they should.

Mine is animal rescue. It's easy to love animals, of course. They're cuddly and cute and helpless and lovable. If you have a heart, the love and affection of a furry friend instantly warms it. Rescuers, however, devote their time, money, resources, and sanity to giving animals a voice.

We'd had cats in the family home ever since Frank became a part of things. First was Booger, a chubby calico with a big black spot by her nose. Next was Genga, ruler of them all, rescued when he was left in a motel room to starve by what I can only assume were heartless terrible people. Then came Smoky, a ginger tabby taken in when a coworker fell too ill to care for him. Tigger was a grey striped boy who was headed to the dreaded SPCA. Zuzu, taken in when she was left with her littermates on the vet's doorstep. Lastly, Blizzard, adopted after a frantic phone call during, you guessed it, a snowstorm.
*Frank always said, a man who doesn't like cats, doesn't like women. Cats are finicky, demanding, spoiled, selfish, and demand attention on their terms while returning affection only when they please. He was pretty spot-on with that analogy - did I mention he was the smartest man I've known?

My friend Grace is the founder of Finding Shelter Animal Rescue (www.findingshelter.org) and in the winter of 2010, she asked if I would foster a kitty named Sheila. She'd been found running the streets of West Chester on the day of Grace's sister's wedding. Being allergic to cats, Grace kept Sheila on the third floor of her house away from her and the 6-10 permanent and foster dogs taking up residence. So one Saturday, I picked up a sweet grey kitty and brought her home. You'd think she'd been starved...she became Miss Piggy. hehehe :) The following week, we heard some bad news from Frank's doctors - whatever was making him feel bad was in fact, very bad. I came home from school every night and cried in my big easy chair. This kitty cuddled up in my lap every night, all night, then slept spooned next to me in my big bed.

After two weeks, I let Grace know "Sheila" could be taken off the adoption list.

I believe my dad sent me this beautiful kitty when I needed her most. For four years, she's been my friend, my sidekick, my best girl. Not that she met a lot of men in her time with me, but when she snuggled up to Adam right away after hissing at others - I, too, trusted him.


"I may have rescued you...but it was you who saved me."

Death Is Easy; It's This Dying Shit That Sucks

Warning: this is a ridiculously long post. There is nothing that can be edited out and quite honestly, this doesn't even begin to tell the story in my heart.

My dad was truly a hell of a guy. I will forever be saddened that my husband never had the pleasure of meeting him - they would have absolutely loved each other. Frank didn't have the best background - we won't get into that. People change, and love changes people. And, ah, the love between him and my mother was something out of a movie, only better. He literally turned his life around for her and accepted, actually LOVED, her two daughters. He came into my life when I was 8 years old and I was not thrilled to have him there. Unbothered, he coached my soccer teams, umpired my softball games, attended every holiday concert, cheered on the sidelines of every field hockey and lacrosse game, and interrogated every boyfriend. He filled the Father role in a way my uninterested biological male parent never could. I learned later that upon meeting me, over a year into their courtship, he simply told my mother, "That girl needs a lot of love." And so he loved.

Frank made friends with everyone. Delivery men, friends' parents, other kids, anyone he came across was made to feel important. If you said you liked hot air balloons, Frank read every book about hot air balloons he could find so he could talk to you about it. That's another thing - Frank read EVERYTHING. Preferred history, but would read the back of a cereal box if that's all he had. Crazy because he also remembered everything he read. He was the smartest man I ever knew.
And oh man, did he love my mom. Truly, madly, deeply, passionately, unconditionally, with every fiber of his being did he love my mother. They made Noah and Allie look mildly interested in each other. They set the most amazing example of what marriage should be and that is the reason I ended each unfulfilling relationship. My mom would always tell me, I hope you find your Frank. She cried tears of joy the day I told her I did find my Frank and I was going to marry him one day.
In the summer of 2010, Frank began experiencing back pain. At age 65, this was pretty normal! Especially considering he took care of a 5,000 square foot house and kept the in-ground pool and surrounding area meticulously perfect. His family doctor tried painkillers, shots, all the routine stuff. Nothing helped. Desperate, my mother  begged the doctor, Please do something, he's dying and I know it.

She was right. When a wonderful surgeon at Jefferson University Hospital did exploratory diagnostic surgery on January 12, 2011, she found a cancer that had metastasized throughout his entire gastrointestinal tract and progressed into his blood. After hours of removing as much disease as she could, she took us into a small room to give it to us straight: it was bad, Stage 4 Pancreatic, radiation was not an option and chemotherapy would maybe buy him some time, but she predicted 6 months at the most.

Talk about devastating. Unless you've heard a diagnosis like that about someone you love, you can't understand.

The next three months are a blur. Visits to Jeff. Medications. Home nurse. All-day chemo treatments. And then the big one: calling hospice. He had two or three chemo treatments, one of which landed him back in the hospital for a week. He deteriorated rapidly before our eyes. This jolly, vibrant man wasted away. The living room became a hospital. I spent those days spending time with him, watching the Phillies, talking, drinking tea, pretending this wasn't happening. I didn't accept it in my heart. One Sunday, my sister and I sat down to tell him: It will be ok, we will take care of mom. We were 27 and 32 at the time. Heartbroken and defeated he asked us, But who will take care of you?

 On Saturday, April 9, 2011, Frank moved out of his hospital bed to sit on the couch and watch a ball game with me. He slept through most of it, missing catcher Carlos Ruiz's grand slam. It was the last time he would leave that bed. Sunday, his pain worsened. I drove to the only pharmacy that had the morphine he needed and cried to the pharmacist - after raging at her for asking if I really needed that medicine right away. We asked and Nancy, the angel hospice nurse, told us the truth: it would be a few days. Monday morning, I went on a job interview I have no recollection of...then straight to my parents' house. In a complete fog, we went to the funeral home and made arrangements knowing we'd need them soon. Friends and family visited and Frank mostly slept. I'll spare you the truly ugly, undignified details. A pump was installed to his port that gave continuous IV painkillers as he was unable to swallow. I layed on an air mattress in the living room, watching him breathe.

Tuesday, April 12, 2011 around 8:30 am, I was lying on the couch watching the morning news next to my dad's hospital bed. My mom came over and asked me to please check because she was pretty sure he was gone. So I did...and he was. I called the funeral home as I'd been instructed..."Hi you told me to call...my dad died. What do I do now." The worst phone call to ever make! We sat around his bed talking to him until it was time to say goodbye.

In those three months, my dad accepted his fate. He knew this one had him beat. He discussed his wishes with my mom. I'm not sure what if anything transpired between him and my sister. The night I cried on his shoulder, silently mourning, he said "Buck up kiddo. You're going to be great." He loved me when I was unlovable and gave me the greatest gift.

"Death is easy...it's this dying shit that sucks."

RIP Frank M. Sellers, 2.1.45 - 4.12.11

you're stardust now

7 Seconds

It only takes seven seconds to score a goal. 

I don't know if that's actually true or how accurate it is in the world of ice hockey, but it's a phrase that's been repeated umpteen times since my husband said it on our first date. Hockey is a big part of our life to the extent our living room is Flyers-themed complete with an orange accent wall and we frequently drive across the state from where we now live to attend AHL games.

Seven seconds. It's not really a long time at all. We're kind of experts on short time spans. One month after our first date, my then brand-new boyfriend blurted out the "I love you" (my response? "Take if off the table!" Yeah). Two months later we were talking marriage. Eight months after our first date, he was down on one knee and four short weeks after that, we said "I do" on the same beach. We celebrated the one-year mark as a married couple in our new home together. Yeah, we know about short time spans.

In January 2011, my dad (stepdad if you want to be technical, but the man who raised me) was diagnosed with pancreatic cancer. Three months - to the day - after that, he passed away at home, next to me.
Seven seconds.

I have enjoyed every second of every day with my husband. He has brought a joy and peace into my life that is indescribable. It's easy to get caught up in the daily routines of life, grocery shopping and paying bills and buying cars and houses and all the stuff adults have to do. I intend to fill the years with love, happiness, family, goodwill, and all the things we're truly here for.

In the next seven seconds, I plan to tell my husband I love and cherish him more than I could express in seven lifetimes. And, that, Hey babe, did ya know it only takes seven seconds to score a goal? ;)

Gotta start somewhere...

Well it's the oldest story in the book, coworkers fall in love. It's only interesting because we met in prison.

Oh, and, it's fabulously interesting to me because it's about me.

Anywho…in the spring of 2012 I took a job in the medical department of a county prison. There were some bad guys there, but mostly junkies and parole violators. I was 28 years old, a small blonde girl who smiled too much. At first - the inmates intimidated the heck out of me. Thank goodness for the officers there to protect me! …yeah. The officers. Half of me was as equally intimidated by the stares of the uniformed men who spent 40 hours a week surrounded by other men, as I was by the stares of the inmates themselves. The other half of me loved it, duh! (I did not make any female friends at this job. Shocking.) Lots of other nurses and female staff dated officers - a lot of them. I avoided that (of course I was labeled "easy" and a "slut" anyway 😒). One officer seemed to be working my shift every time it was my weekend on, being assigned to whatever part of the department I was in, answering calls when I needed an escort…he was around, a lot. I knew he had a crush and I gotta tell ya, I wasn't interested.


I left my job and only then exchanged phone numbers. When he point-blank asked me out, a real date on a specific day, I just…said yes. I assumed he'd see we had nothing in common & that would be that, but boy was I wrong! I had an absolute blast despite being mortified (he took me to a hockey game and I wound up on that big jumbotron screen winning a prize - just shoot me!), conversation flowed and he had this way of making me feel at ease. Didn't hurt that he was obviously nervous and that was completely adorable! At the end of the night, we stood by my car and I just thought, "Well may as well see if this is anything" so after beating around the bush & NOT saying goodnight, I asked if he was "gonna kiss me or what."

He kissed me, and yadda yadda yadda…two years later I'm blogging(!) about my husband(!!).




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