I live about 25 miles southwest of a big city – such communities were once referred to as “bedroom” communities.  Today, in this community, there is a great amount of traffic, although not as much as some other larger cities.  Still, the amount of traffic has doubled in the twelve years I have lived here. Thank goodness I no longer have to traverse highways to go to work each day (I have, however, done 50 miles each way several times during my work life) – I still, though, do a lot of driving.  Don’t get me wrong, it’s not always the length of the commute, but it is definitely the quality.

So whether or not a short or long distance is traveled, my conclusion is that many drivers are wild!  And, basically, I’m sorry to say, selfish.   I firmly believe that most drivers in my area do not recognize or care about posted road signs, signal lights or what those stripes on the road mean.  In city traffic, few seem to acknowledge the meaning of a double yellow line, much less a double solid white stripe (or, even a single solid line) – I recognize that drivers on two-lane country roads do heed the stripes and dashes – they are conscientious about passing safely most of the time.  However, in town, it is a different story.  Is that center lane, of a five lane road, bordered in a yellow solid line (and sometimes double yellow solid lines) a merge lane, your own private driving lane or a turn lane??????   So what is this with deciding at the last minute that you need to move over so you can get into a turn lane, barge into my lane, then you slow down and brake in front of me?  Thanks.  But what about the one who speeds up in a far right lane (which ends in two blocks) in order to get in front of everyone else merging back into the main lane with inches to spare.   Did you forget that the message on side view mirrors says: “Objects in mirror are closer than they appear?”  Quit cutting people off!  On the reverse side, there are also drivers who go at a snail’s pace in the far left lane, this just may be the cause of many drivers trying to at least go the speed limit and end up having to pass on the right.  I hate passing on the right, I didn’t learn to drive that way, but it seems to be “acceptable” now.

And more on signs, what does that triangular sign mean?  Or, as importantly, what does that octagonal red sign mean – pause, then go?  Better yet, when one is turning right on red, does that mean a slow coast around a corner and beat the person who has the green light into that lane? Oh guess what, it’s a law – “stop” before turning right.  (Stop means the wheels have ceased rotation – the speedometer is at zero.)  Then there’s yellow light roulette, can you make it through before it turns red????  Thank heavens most folks do actually acknowledge red lights!  What about the use of turn signals, or lack thereof.   Should a turn signal be used before or after one enters a turn lane?  Should you use a turn signal at all?   Does using a turn signal mean right of way, or only intention?  (Oh, and then there is the person who forgets to turn off the signal and drives blinkingly for several miles.  Sigh.) Well, there are just too many things to ponder.  And, I really do think most folks do not know how to read – definitely not the road signs!  For one last example, the speed limit sign – is that a suggestion or law?  (Sorry, but posted speed limits are legally binding.)   Would drivers at least do the speed limit – if it’s 45, do that!  But, why are you going 55-60 in a 45? You know, there are reasons for speed limits.

Again, I’m thankful that I only regularly drive a few miles to most of my destinations!  However, I find that drivers are really only interested in getting there before you, and they do it any way they can!  Rules seem to have become lax. I’m sorry, I feel that lack of consideration and general politeness is rampant. My dad taught me to “drive ahead” – by that, he meant observe traffic in front of you and be able to prepare for whatever happens; and, when pulling back into a lane after passing a vehicle, the entire front end of that vehicle should be seen in the rear view mirror.  So, I believe, one should plan ahead, know the route and practice courtesy.  I’m reminded of a statement I would often mention to my daughter on various occasions:  ‘your failure to plan should not result in chaos on my part.’  But, many drivers don’t plan. There are a lot of drivers out there with varying abilities; the more zealous of them need to tone it down.  I’m surprised there aren’t more accidents.  [Thanks for allowing me to rant, and do remember this is just my opinion!]

Is that the real me I see,
In the glass reflected so realistically?
Hair frizzy and frazzled this day,
Sadly showing the beginning of gray.
Eyes of hazel flashing youth,
Framed with a wrinkle or two, revealing truth.
Circles obvious against alabaster skin,
Well formed lips above the chin.
Shaped in a smile, they often hide,
The inside fears of aging outside.
Always hoping it will not show,
The less taut skin of the neck below.
Alabaster turning to aged pale,
Before too long I'll need a veil.
Is that the new old me I see,
Or just the lights playing tricks on me?


Written March 13, 1997

There has been a kitty cat in my household for the last forty years or more.  Indeed, I’ve certainly had an affinity for felines.  But, now no lithe, soft footed, pointy-eared mouser roams my halls.  My long time pet, Desdemona, or Desi, went to kitty heaven in December.   Her favorite stool is empty.  It was for the best, early onset kidney problems.  She was an indoor kitty, as all of mine (except one –  Smokey, the family cat I had as a child) have been.  For as long as I can remember, I have favored cats – I adore dogs, yet, the independent nature of cats has always been an intrigue.  For me, they have been easier to “parent”, have fewer demands and can be as loving as dogs.  They are, in my opinion, actually less expensive to keep – most of the time.  Cats are easy to train for a litter box, and if kept clean won’t disappoint you unless a physical problem develops.  I love the way they can make themselves comfortable on nearly any surface, narrow or otherwise.  They are seldom vocal unless they are communicating a specific need.  They eat selectively – I mean, they don’t gobble their food, so are slower to consume their nourishment.  You can leave food out for them, and they will usually eat only when hungry (dry food, I mean, not canned).  I could leave the house for as many as three days, or four, and not worry about having someone check on my pet.  Although I would get a bit of a “talking to” when I returned, my kitty didn’t go hungry or thirsty (feeders are great).   Other than having to put away my plants so they wouldn’t be chewed, Desi was pretty good around the house (once we got through the kitten stage of clawing.)

Desi wasn’t all that affectionate, so I wasn’t that worried about leaving her for a few days – she did well on her own.  She was a rescue kitty; was born in an alley across the street from a library in which I worked.  She was only a kitten roaming the streets near our building when she was hit by a car.  My humane boss and another coworker took her to a vet – after she left the vet, my boss thought I should be the one to make a good home for her – so, Desi came to live with me.  After a couple of corrective surgeries, she began to settle into her new routine.  She loved attacking me, jumping from around corners and scaring the daylights out of me – I wasn’t that pleased about this as my three previous cats hadn’t exhibited this behavior.  She did grow out of it eventually, for which I am grateful.  I’m sure, though, it was just her feral nature that played a big part.  Although a pretty short-haired tortoise shell, she didn’t like me to pick her up or, certainly not to hold her – and would seldom come near me.  But, occasionally, she did let me stroke her.  When she got tired of it, she’d let you know.   She wasn’t fond of guests; few could even get near her.  A kitty carrier was an abomination!  However, during her last few years, she mellowed – she would come near me, and sit at my feet – she’d seek me out and let me pet her.  So, those seventeen years of feeding, watering and cleaning cat boxes were noticed.

I must admit, I didn’t have the same rapport with Desi as I did with my most favorite cat, Winston, who preceded Desi.  Otherwise known as Winnie, he was a handsome bi-color, black and white short-hair.  He looked as if he was wearing a tuxedo. Winnie appeared, with a green ribbon around his neck, at the back door of the library in which I worked (not the one at which Desi appeared.)  No one claimed him, so I took him home.  He was part of my household for over eighteen years, was sick only once in his life and was especially friendly.  Not only friendly, but he was gentle.  He recognized his name, and would come when called.  If I opened a bag of cheese curls (which I no longer eat) he would come running from some secret place in another part of the house.  When my daughter was born, he acted much like a guard dog.  He would sit under the crib as if he was in protection mode – never invading her space, but always alert.  He was most patient with the little creature that was crawling across his floor space, and when she reached for his tail he never flinched or bit.  Winnie did not know a stranger, he loved everyone that came into the house – he made friends with anyone who would pet him.  I feel he would have lived more than eighteen years, but a freak accident took him from me.  He is buried out in the back yard of the home in which we lived, under a beautiful oak tree.

Although Winnie and Desi are the cats that lived with me the longest, I did have two other cats that had individual characteristics.  Elkie, a white, soft, long-haired cat came to live me shortly after my first husband and I were married.  The little kitten appeared at my back door, grease spot on her side and hungry.  She allowed me to pick her up and provide her with a bit of milk.  From then on she lived in our home.  We named her Elkie because she liked playing with electric cords.  She was a bit cautious of strangers and would hide whenever anyone else came into the house.  She was affectionate to those who fed her, allowed us to hold and stroke her, but again, was leery of those she didn’t know.  Winnie came to live with us a couple of years later and she accepted him – they became quite friendly.  To this mix, another stray came to be with us.  After we had moved into our new house, one day I heard a car stop rather abruptly at the corner, then quickly drive off.  My curious nature led me to explore, and I discovered a black short-haired kitten had been dumped at the stop sign.  Well, that was unsatisfactory – but, he now had a home.  We named this rambunctious youngster Randolph.  This little bundle of energy “talked” all of the time and seemed to complete the triangular dynamics of the family of one white cat, one black and white and, now, one black cat.  When my husband and I divorced, Winston came with me and Elkie and Randolph went to live with their dad.  I am guessing they are also in kitty heaven now.

Even though my cohabitation with cats has ceased for the time being, I will admit that I do enjoy the feelings of independence and not having to worry whether or not there is adequate provisions and care.  I still, though, do look to see if that stool is occupied.

If I could be where I wanted to be,
Where would that be?
Here at the crossroads, looking left,
Looking right, looking behind,
Waiting for the signal to go?
Would I rather be in the future,
Or, would I rather be where I am today?
Shouldn't I be glad for today?
Grateful for crossroads, grateful for opportunities.
I could turn left, I could turn right, then,
Where would I be?
Where I am, I am here now, always at crossroads.
Living, loving, hoping, learning, moving,
At different crossroads every day.
Choosing freely, always the right path,
Enjoying the trip.
That is where I want to be,
If I could be where I wanted to be.

Written, October 8, 1996

(Or the first of, what I have lovingly begun to call, self-guided walking tours of Europe!)

As a high school graduation present for my amazing daughter, she, a girlfriend and I embarked on our first trip to Italy.  Fabulous, another dream comes true.  And, it was so much fun to plan!  During spring break in March of 2002, we left Houston IAH, to arrive at Rome’s Fumiciano Airport (via Philadelphia).  Forgetting we only spoke English – although I had studied a wee bit of Italian - it was a challenge to find a taxi, and then give proper instructions to the Roma Termini!  We had train tickets to Florence.  Once all of that was solved, we ended up with another challenge.  The stazione!  So many tracks, and (dah!) all instructions in Italian.  But of course!  We were such novices.  Upon asking a few stilted questions of  patient attendant in broken Italian and deciphering the information, we determined the correct track from which our train would depart.  The girls had a snack, their first Panini, I just waited.

The train arrived and we stumbled on with our luggage.  This two hour trip was memorable to me because of the change in air pressure each time we went through a tunnel.  And, we went through lots of tunnels!  Firenze (Florence) at last.  Magnifico!  Again at a stazione, we finally make our way to Hotel Sempione via taxi.  Funny, but it seemed like it took us forever to get to the hotel, and I later discovered how close we actually were to the stazione.  Tourist!  It was after 2:00 p.m. when we arrived, about eighteen hours from launch.  The first thing I did was take a shower!  The rooms were clean, small and a bit noisy.  But really, I didn’t care, I was in Firenze!  Fatigue didn’t hold us back, we went exploring – up the Via to the Duomo.  I was speechless, such beauty.  The Cathedral of Florence took almost 200 years to complete and was consecrated in 1436 – the current façade, though, was added between 1871 and 1887. It was truly amazing. Because hunger struck after this discovery, we managed to find a self-serve café and enjoyed a simple dinner on a piazza near the Duomo.

The next day, I joyfully realized I had awakened in Florence.   I meandered down to the breakfast area and partook of the continental breakfast provided.  Certainly adequate.  I am really looking forward to the day, yet I needed to get the girls going.  Fortunately they have their own room on a separate floor from mine, and I try to diplomatically build a fire under them.  They do finally get going after some harassing (not so diplomatic) and they get a bite to eat.  I felt a little bit like an ogre.   The Galleria dell’ Academia, where The David is located, is on the agenda.  Since it was only a semi-short walk, we arrived there in due time and waited in the short queue.  Once inside the Academia, we find the magnificent statue of David by Michelangelo.  Breathtaking, stupendous, indescribable!  No words are truly adequate.  I could have stayed there all day!

Florence was fabulous – we walked as much as we could, ate in small cafes and tried to absorb the local feeling.  We shopped (finding fantastic leather goods), we sipped wine in piazzas.  One special memory was enjoying a glass of Blanco Toscano at the Kaffehaus in the hillside Boboli Gardens behind the Palazzo Pitti.  Then there’s the Ponte Vecchio built in 1345, a bridge which spans across the Arno River containing shops abundant with gorgeous jewelry.  (Originally there were food and other merchants long, long ago.  But, a ruling Medici didn’t like the “plebian” atmosphere, so only allowed goldsmiths and jewelers.)  Oh, and I must not forget the Uffizi – the marvelous museum full of pre-Renaissance art.  There were way too many astounding places to visit – but we picked some wonderful ones, the Cappelle Medici with more of Michelangelo’s works – monuments to the Medici nobles. 

One day we took a train over to Pisa.  Not being too sure how far the Duomo was from the train station, we decided to follow our noses and walk the distance.  Almost a disaster – boy, were we exhausted by the time we found the piazza.  But, once inside the compound, who cared how far we had walked!  There, in front of our eyes, was one of the most famous buildings – Torre di Pisa, the free standing campanile.  After exploring the Duomo, although we did not go into the tower, we took a respite and I sipped some wine in the Caffe Duomo overlooking the Leaning Tower.  What more could one want?  We managed to find a bus back to the train station – the wait for our train back to Florence was longer than expected and it proved to be crowded.  We managed to jump on along with many others, and as the train started to move, the doors began to close, we quickly jerked my daughter inside just in the nick of time!  Back in Florence, we continued to enjoy the ambiance and had a very nice dinner at the Brunelleschi Restaurant overlooking the roofs of Florence and the Duomo in the distance.  Time to rest – for on the morrow we take a special tour.

In the morning, we walk to the tour office and arrive by 8:50 – the girls did not get breakfast.  Two other people join us and we embark in a white van to the hills of Tuscany.  Winding roads take us through the hillside town of Fiesole.  We arrive at a small castle where the owners make their own wine and olive oil from the surrounding vineyard and olive groove.  The castle was built in 1850, still family held, and has a phenomenal view of Florence.  We partake of the traditional dipping of bread in olive oil along with slices of pecorino cheese.  In addition to this small feast, we taste some of the spectacular wine made there at the estate.  Our first formal wine tasting!

Back in Florence we have the afternoon for the Uffizi.  Excitedly we wait in the queue for about an hour.  To our delight there is room after room of pre-Renaissance art.  My daughter is our guide, as she enjoyed this aspect of Art History in school.  Many of Botticelli’s works are here – and we were able to view one of her favorites: The Birth of Venus.  After the Uffizi, we return to our hotel to freshen up then go out for dinner down the street at Fontciane – wonderful!  This is our last night in Florence.

I wake early, pack some things, have breakfast and get the girls going.  By mid-morning they are ready and we check out of the Sempione.  At the stazione we await a train, which is late, to Roma.  And, of course when the train finally does come, we find that our car is way at the other end!  As I make the girls dash for it dragging our luggage behind us, we finally reach our car.  Probably didn’t need to rush so, but I’ve seen how fast the trains pull out!  The trip is pleasant, although I still can’t get used to all the pressure changes.  The girls have lunch in the dining car and report that their choices were horrible.  Oh well.

It is around 2:30 when we arrive in Roma; get a taxi to our hotel.  This hotel is in the financial area not too far from the Stazione Centrale Roma Termini.  The hotel building is old, truly characteristic, and the main door is recessed down a short walkway from the street.  We take an old-fashioned caged elevator to the second floor where the reception desk is located.  We check-in, settle in, and relax a bit.  Then, after an hour or so we head out – walking.  We try to navigate the streets and hills of Rome referring to our small fold-out map – I quickly lose my sense of direction.  Our destination is Piazza de Spagna.  Down a hill, up a hill – via some narrow streets and past a tremendous amount of architectural wonders. 

We find the Spanish steps – lots of folks!  Of course, we must traverse the steps, and so we do.  At the top of the steps, we enter a church for a brief glance - Santissima Trinità dei Monti.  Going back down the Via, we are in the fashion district and walk past many famous designer shops (Prada, for one).  We stumble on the Pantheon, and then in our wonderings we come across the Trevi Fountain.  Many, many folks here also.  But the girls do throw some coins in – tradition!  Lots of vendors willing to share their goods approach each new visitor to the Trevi.  We stay for only a little while, and then head back to the hotel.  Taking a wrong turn, we end up near the Roman Forum!  Finally, though we do find our way back, ask our desk attendant about a place to eat and he recommends a fabulous place not too far from the hotel.  A little wine and we unwind!

On Thursday we are up and out by 10:00.  Wish it had been sooner, but oh well.  We take a Taxi over to the Vatican.  As I step out of the taxi, I am awed, speechless.  St. Peter’s Square is stupendous, compelling.  We spot a group of people and find they are in a queue to gain entrance to Basilica di San Pietro.  While we wait in the queue, we manage to attach ourselves to a tour.  A little eavesdropping and we learn some things about Michelangelo’s Pieta – which we are indeed fortunate to see (behind its protective glass) – and St. Peter’s.  I touch the foot of St. Peter’s statue – said to bring good luck.  The foot has an indentation because of those who have come before me and touched that very same spot.

St. Peter’s is just the appetizer – we then head toward the entrance of the Vatican museum. It’s a long way around from the exit of the cathedral (500m) and I feel as if we will never find the entrance.  Yet, we do.  As we pay an admission fee, I am overwhelmed by the size of the place, but am anxious to find my ultimate destination.  Security is tight here as well, and we go through two checkpoints.  We pass through hall, after hall of amazing antiquities, precious and valuable.  Painting after sculpture, after artifact (challises, bibles, things used in past services).  So amazing.  It is said that if one stops at each display it could take 10 years to go through the Vatican Museum.  I hardly want to stop at anything because I want to see just one thing.  We get closer and closer until we are finally in another queue for Cappella Sistine.  The chapel is beyond description – the restoration work so worth it. Hundreds of people walking around with heads leaning back and eyes on one thing:  Michelangelo’s master piece! The guard occasionally tells the crowd to be quiet – and in hushed tones we continue to gawk

When we exit the Cappella, we end up in another maze of hallways – after purchasing a few memorabilia, we make our exit from a most wonderful building.  Finding a taxi, we return to the hotel.  After a bit of rest we find a small deli in the neighborhood and have some delicious sandwiches.  Then we are off again, this time to the Coliseum.  Once again, I am awestruck.  So much history, so much toil, so much agony, so much romance has been handed down over the centuries – and, here I am walking under the arches and through this magnificent building whose walls hold secrets no one will ever discover. We meet up with some folks the girls met in Florence.  But, I am so tired I want to sit – we find a trattoria across from the Coliseum at the entrance to the Metro.  So, we cross the busy street (the road that circles the Coliseum is buzzing with traffic) and finally get to enjoy some wine.  The girls and their friends head off for a shopping excursion and I make my way back to the hotel (via taxi – there are taxis everywhere).  Our five days in stunning Italy are at an end.  This is the last night of my first trip to Italy – and now, I await the girls for the return to our Texas home on the morrow.