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ON BECOMING THE SEMI-ITALIAN GRANDMA I'VE SAID I ALWAYS WANTED TO BE

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While at the surgical supply store to rent Jim's crutches and wheelchair after he busted his fibula, I met this beautiful lady who was there to be fitted for some special shoes.  She was adorable, impeccably groomed by her loving daughter, and eager to share some stories. They did not hesitate for a moment when I asked permission to take their photo. It was a lovely interaction. Although to have to deal with the aftermath of a broken leg is no picnic, the opportunity to meet these very dear ladies was an unexpected pleasure.  A friend who has known me for 46 years asked a simple question:"So how does it feel to be the grandmother of such an adorable little person ?"  He realized what I should have:that I have taken hundreds of photos of the baby, but that I hadn't said what it feels like to be able to take them. When we first moved to Italy, I used to only half-joke that I aspired to be one of those Italian grandmas in the black stocking

REVIVAL (OR, HOW TO MOW LIKE THE QUEEN!)

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Looks like an ordinary mower, right? But let's take a closer look. Still doesn't look that special. And what's that white tag on the handle? There's a sad story, here, since the tag says, "return to customer. We can't fix it." Maybe it's defunct, but it still merits attention. After all, it was good enough for the Queen. Not every mower comes with its own royal seal, complete with a coat of arms and French slogan. Even if it can't cut any more, it deserves to be immortalized. REVIVAL The inevitability of endings has been leaving me bereft. But I am beginning to come to terms with them. When approaching the end of our rope, we often hear The end is in sight, Buck up. You are close to the Finish Line. After all the chromatic meanderings, think of the relief that accompanies a resolved chord. And there can be some surprises. Today while mowing with the new mower and lamenting the passing of its predecess

COUNTDOWN!:HERE COME SOME RANDOM MUSINGS AS THIS SUMMER COMES TO A CLOSE

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  1.ON THE RELIEF OF NOT BEING A KNOW-IT-ALL (I see that I have previously written on this topic-- DIFFERENT TEACHING STYLES AND ON BEING THE #1 CHILD-- in a post from August 2011, SOME RANDOM MUSINGS FROM MY "STAY-CATION"   I’m not sure about the significance of my returning to it just prior to heading back to yet another school year, my 30 th at this particular institution, but here goes, anyway.)   As every eldest child knows, it can be exhausting to be a know-it-all. No one got that more right than J.D. Salinger in his "Raise High the Roof Beam, Carpenters, " where #1 son, Seymour Glass's suicide remains unexplained. I'm thinking that the responsibility of being the first of these excessively wise Glass children might have gotten to be too much for him. If he had moved to middle-of-nowhere Italy, things might have turned out differently. When you move to a new country, especially at an advanced age, all the know-it-all

HOW JUST ONE LITTLE FRATTURA TERZO DISTALE PERONE DX CAN RUIN YOUR ENTIRE DAY (AND MORE)

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I'm still trying to figure out how to write this story. It's especially hard since I am still right in the middle of it. Maybe the place to start is with a few photos. Who knows? Perhaps you can even figure out the story from them. Here we go. In keeping with my France /Italy theme, I'm recalling a French film that I found very funny: "The Tall Blond Man With The One Black Shoe." Maybe we could do a remake and call it "The Tall Tanned Man With The One Left Shoe." #1.Check out our shoe mat. Never mind the cute little flowered garden clogs. We're talking about the two giant non-matching clodhoppers on the left. Now why would anyone have two left shoes, and even go to Rome with just one left sandal? #2.If you read the   ON BEING A PRINCIPESSA (OR IMAGINING THAT YOU ARE)... post from August 2011, you know that this Louis Ghost chair belongs in front of the dressi