< Back Biga Prep Time: ten minutes Cook Time: Serves: Level: beginner About the Recipe Many of the recipes for the classic regional breads begin with starter dough made from small amounts of flour, water and yeast allowed to initial fermentation and then used to infuse the actual bread dough. The starter, known as biga in Italy, not only gives strength and force to what in Italy are weak flours but also produces a secondary fermentation from which comes the wonderful aroma, natural flavor and special porosity of the final loaves and wheels of bread. I keep some biga on hand at all times—the contents of our refrigerator and freezer are definitely not the typical American vision with more inedible than edible contents. Still, by having it on hand, I can decide to make pane pugliese or ciabatta in the morning and have it for dinner that night. In Italy, bakers save saltless dough from the previous day’s bake to start a new dough. Because the first biga must come from somewhere, you may make it following the instructions below. This biga is remarkable. It freezes very well and needs only about three hours at room temperature until it is bubbly and active again. It can be refrigerated for about a week; after that it gets a bit strong. When using it in recipes, it is best to weigh it rather than measure it for it expands at room temperature. The bakers I admire most advise ten to eleven hours for the first rise and then another three hours after adding more flour and water, but others are very happy with the twenty-four hours it takes for dough to become truly yesterday’s dough. If you like sour bread, allow your biga to rest for twenty-four to seventy-two hours. The important point about a starter dough is that it is very close to natural yeast and the bread made with it develop a wonderful taste because their risings are long and bring out the flavor of the grain. Another benefit is that the loaves remain fresher and taste sweeter than those made with large amounts of commercial yeast. Ingredients Makes 2 1/3 cups (about 585 grams) ¼ teaspoon active dry yeast or 1/10 small cake (2 grams) fresh yeast ¼ cup warm water ¾ cup plus 1 tablespoon plus 1 teaspoon water, room temperature 2 ½ cups (about 330) unbleached all-purpose flour Makes 3 ½ cups (about 750 grams) ½ teaspoon active dry yeast or 1/5 cakes (3 to 5 grams) fresh yeast ¼ cup warm water 1 ¼ cups plus 2 tablespoons water, room temperature 3 ¾ cups (500 grams) unbleached all-purpose flour Preparation Stir the yeast into the warm water and let stand until creamy, about 10 minutes. Stir in the remaining water and then the flour, 1 cup at a time. By hand Mix with a wooden spoon for 3 to 4 minutes. By mixer Mix with the paddle at the lowest speed for 2 minutes. By processor Mix just until a sticky dough is formed Rising Remove to a lightly oiled bowl, cover with plastic wrap, and let rise at a cool room temperature for 5 to 24 hours. The starter will triple in volume and still be wet and sticky when ready. Cover and refrigerate until ready to use. When needed, scoop out desired amount. Both recipes can easily be cut in half. Previous Next

< Back Grandma's Cinnamon Rolls Prep Time: 30 minutes plus rise time Cook Time: 30 Serves: 24 if your make them as directed Level: easy About the Recipe Ingredients 5 1/2 to 6 cups all-purpose flour 2 pkg Active dry yeast or quick-rise 1/2 cup sugar 1 1/2 tsp salt 1 cup milk 1 cup water 1/4 cup butter 2 eggs 1/3 cup butter, melted filling: 3/4 cup sugar 1/2 cup chopped nuts 1 1/2 tsp cinnamon glaze: 2 cups powdered sugar 3 tbs butter, melted 1/2 teaspoon maple flavor 3 to 4 tbs. hot coffee or maple syrup then I opt the maple flavoring Preparation 1 Preheat oven 375 2 In large mixer bowl, combine 2 cups flour, yeast, 1/2 cup sugar and salt; mix well. In saucepan, heat milk, water and butter until very warm (120-130 butter doesn’t need to melt). Add to flour mixture. Add eggs. Blend at low speed until moistened; beat 3 minutes at medium speed. By hand, gradually stir in enough remaining flour to make a soft dough. Knead on floured surface until smooth and elastic, 5 to 8 minutes. Place in greased bowl, turning to grease top. Cover; let rise in warm place until light and doubled, about 1 hour (30 minutes for quick-rise yeast) 3 Prepare filling: Combine sugar, nuts and cinnamon; set aside. Punch down dough. Divide into 2 parts. On lightly floured surface, roll or pat each half to a 12x9 inch rectangle. Brush each part with half of melted butter; sprinkle half of filling over dough. Starting with shorter side, roll up tightly. Pinch edge to seal. Cut into 12 slices. Place in greased 13x90inch cake pans. Cover; let rise in warm place until almost doubled, about 30 minutes (15 minutes for quick-rise yeast). Bake at 375 for 20 to 25 minutes until golden brown Drizzle glaze over hot rolls; cool. 4 Prepare Glaze: Combine glaze ingredients; blend until smooth. Previous Next

< Back Pane di Como Prep Time: 10 minutes Cook Time: 35 to 40 minutes Serves: 2 loaves Level: medium About the Recipe Ingredients ¾ cup (180 grams) Biga 1 1 ½ cups water, room temperature ½ cup (65 grams) whole-wheat flour 3 to 3 ¼ cups (435 grams) unbleached all-purpose flour 2 teaspoons (10 grams) salt Preparation By Hand Cut the starter into small pieces in a large mixing bowl. Add all but 1 to 2 tablespoons of the water and mix until the starter is in fine shreds and the liquid is chalky white. Stir in the whole-wheat flour and most of the all-0ppurpose flour, 1 cup at a time. When the dough is a fairly rough and shaggy mass, stir in the salt dissolved in the remaining water. Knead on a floured surface, sprinkling with up to ½ cup additional flour and using the dough scraper to scrape up the fine film of dough that will accumulate on the work surface, as well as to turn and lift the dough. After about 5 minutes of kneading, slam the dough down hard several times to help develop the gluten. Continue kneading until the dough is smooth, a total of 8 to 12 minutes. The dough should still be soft, moist, and sticky. By Mixer Mix the starter and all but 1 to 2 tablespoons of the water with the paddle in a large mixer bowl. Mix in the flours and then the salt dissolved in the remaining water. Change to the dough hook and knead at medium speed until soft, moist, and sticky but obviously elastic, and 4 minutes. Finish kneading by hand on a floured surface, sprinkling with additional flour, until smooth but still soft. By Processor Refrigerate the starter until cold. Process the starter and 1 ½ cups of cold water with the steel blade and remove to another bowl. Change to the dough blade and process the flours and salt with 2 or 3 pulses to sift. With the machine running, pour the starter mixture through the feed tube as quickly as the flour can absorb it. Process 30 to 45 seconds longer to knead. The dough will be moist and sticky. Finish kneading by hand on a floured surface, sprinkling with additional flour, until the dough is smooth but still soft. First Rise. Place the dough in a lightly oiled bowl, cover with plastic wrap, and let rise until doubled, 1 ½ to 2 hours. The dough is ready when it has numerous bubbles and blisters under the skin. Shaping and Second Rise. Divide the dough in half on a floured surface without kneading it. Shape into 2 round loaves. Let them relax under a cloth for 20 minutes. Line baking sheets or peels with parchment paper and flour the paper generously. Roll each ball into a fat cylinder and place seam side down on the paper. Dimple the loaves all over with your fingertips or knuckles, as for focaccia, to keep the dough from springing up. The dough should feel delicate but extremely springy. Cover the loaves and let rise until doubled, with many visible air bubbles, 1 ¼ to 1 ½ hours (or put is a cool place or refrigerate overnight.) Baking . If I put it in the refrigerator I take it out and let it come to room temperture and let it rise some more around thirty minutes to an hour. I take my cloth off as soon as I take it out of the fridge and wet it again with warm water then cover the loaves again. Thirty minutes before baking, heat the oven with a baking stone in it to 425 F. Sprinkle the baking stone with cornmeal... Carry the peel or baking sheet to the oven and very gently invert the dough onto the stone, gently remove the parchment paper. Immediately reduce the heat to 400 F and bake until golden, 35 to 40 minutes. (I baked them on the baking sheet) Cool on racks. Variation sometimes I add a teaspoon of Malt Barley to this recipe. It adds a nice flavor. I buy it on Amazon because no one carries it around here. It is used in beer making. Previous Next

The Diner tells the story about a young hard working woman who usually thinks with her head instead of her heart until she meets Dante when she travels to Sicily. Written by Kimberly Caristi Life is hard and worst of all lonely for Sandra. You wouldn't know it because she doesn't let the struggles she has define her. She has a smart and level head on her shoulders. When Dante comes along he tries to make her think with her heart instead of her head. Sitting on a plane with an almost one-year-old on her lap made Sandra nervous. How was she going to manage a day of traveling with Carinu? She thought she had enough food and toys to keep him busy when he wasn’t sleeping. Who knew what would keep a busy one year old occupied on his first trip out of their small town? They rarely got in a car so she wondered if he would sleep in his new car seat. The woman seated on the other side of his car seat seemed to be tickled pink entertaining him. Carinu was used to strangers so he was flirting with her and enjoying the attention he was receiving. Sandra’s life was made of one change after another. She was getting tired of having to readjust her life. Why couldn’t she have a "normal” life? Poor Carinu has had such a sad beginning and to be saddled with a name like Carinu in a small midwestern town, his life was going to be a challenge. Children are mean, Sandra knew that through her own experience. Having a name that children could make fun of was a noose around your neck. Sandra vowed Carinu wouldn’t have her life. She would make sure of that. A New Experience She thought she was crazy taking on this challenge, but she had made a promise and she had put it off long enough. She assumed the money was coming from his father but there was only a bank’s name on the checks. She needed whoever it was to stop sending it. Carinu and her were doing well enough on their own. The woman sitting next to Carinu said, “Excuse me but we are about to take off. Do you have something for your baby to suck on?” Flustered, I said, “Oh, Mrs. Miller told me to make sure he had his pacifier. Thank you for reminding me. I have never flown before and my head is elsewhere.” Sandra dug in his baby bag and pulled out the pacifier. Carinu grabbed it with his chubby little hand quickly and stuck it in his mouth. She had been trying to wean him of his fi, as he called it. Sandra was worried about his teeth. They were a challenge breaking through his gums so she didn’t want to cause anything to go wrong with his teeth now that he had eight little white buds sticking out of his pink gums. They were adorable. Mrs. Miller told me not to take the pacifier totally away until after our trip to Italy. He hadn’t made a fuss being put into his car seat. That action made Sandra have one less thing to worry about. Everything was new to Carinu so he was being entertained just looking around. I was really a nervous wreck. Leshay introduced herself. It was easy talking to her. She was very motherly and pulled out my whole life story on our flight to New York. Lenape, Indiana “Hi, I am Sandra Penny.” That was the only thing I wished I could change out of my young life. Kids were mean when they teased me about my last name. I didn’t have much, so with a last name like Penny they would either joke that I didn’t have two pennies to rub together, or they would find a penny and give it to me telling me now I had a penny to my name. I have no idea what my dad’s name was and I didn’t care unless he had a really cool name. My mom had followed him here with the promise of marriage as soon as he made it big. As soon as he found out my mom was pregnant with me, he left for some cigarettes and never returned. I thought if he didn’t care about us enough to stick around, he wasn’t worth my time to wonder about him. My mom quickly found a job at an insurance company as a secretary when she had moved to Lenape. When she realized that my dad wasn’t coming back she told herself she would raise me on her own. Anytime I would ask about my family my mom would say we were family enough and didn’t need anyone. Once when I was ten, she did admit that this small town of Lenape, Indiana was not enough for my father. The town was not the prettiest place in Indiana, but it was all I ever needed. My mom made sure I felt loved and not alone. On payday we would go to Sanders’ diner three blocks away from our house for a treat. The minute you walked into the diner, the first thing you smelled was cinnamon and vanilla…the smell of cinnamon rolls which had to be their big seller. Nothing smells better in my opinion. If nothing came up that cost money during the month, we would have a real meal there. Mr. and Mrs. Sanders were so sweet to us. On those occasions when we had dinner, they would give us a free dessert. Mr. Sanders often joked that he needed help and looked forward to the day when I would be able to work for them. I always asked, “Would Mrs. Sanders show me how to make those cinnamon rolls then?” One day Mrs. Sanders said, “You know when you are big enough to come here on your own, I will teach you how to make the cinnamon rolls.” I jumped up and with my hands in the praying position, I said, “Do you pinky promise?” My mom and I would always make pinky promises. My mother usually kept those promises. I knew sometimes I had asked too much and before my mom had to break the promise, I would say I didn’t want it anymore. I wasn’t always that good about realizing what our situation was. As time passed, I noticed how worried my mom was when she paid our bills. I didn’t want to add to her burden, so I stopped asking for things that cost money. Truth be told, we were pretty good at having fun without spending money. We started the tradition of going to the library on weekends after Mr. and Mrs. Sanders would ask me what I was reading when we visited. When we got home, we would curl up on the couch together and read our book. When we went back to Sanders, I would tell them all about the book I had picked out at the library. They would ask me questions that made me think. Mom and I were falling in love with the Sanders more each time we saw them. How could we not? They were the nicest people and made mom and me feel like we mattered. Sad to say no one else made us feel that way. My mom’s boss was the worst. Mr. Malcom treated my mom with so much disdain. When I would have to go there if we had a day off from school, he treated me like I was the stupidest child he knew. I was scared of him. He was bald with these big bushy eyebrows that almost connected. The way that he looked at me made me so nervous he would make me stutter when he asked me a question. When he came to our house my mom would tell me to go to my room and lock the door. That didn’t help my being scared of him. Sometimes he would hit my mom while he was there. It was hard for me not to come out and yell at him but my mom made me pinky promise that I wouldn’t come out. When I got older, I asked my mom why she didn’t work somewhere else. Her reply was always the same. “Nobody would want to hire me. I don’t have an education.” That conversation would lead us into talking about me going to college and getting an education so I didn’t have to work with a Mr. Malcom type. Truthfully before I was old enough to legally work Mr. Sanders hired me to bus tables and do light cleaning. It was the highlight of my day. I loved school but going to Sanders I loved the attention of Mr. and Mrs. Sanders. The clientele of the diner were so nice too. They were mainly college people, administrators, professors and students and such a variety of colors and races. I cherished the days that I got to be at the diner. Everyone was welcomed and everyone got along. I couldn’t wait until I got to go to the university so I could belong to something besides my small world; a little home, a couple of friends, and a mom who loved me dearly. My mom loved to give me hugs when I came home from work. “I love you smelling like cinnamon and vanilla. It’s so much better than smelling like copier ink and paper.” She would pull me in and take a deep breath. She hugged me all the time but on workdays she would hold onto me longer. I loved it. I wanted more for my mom than just work and the little life she led. She didn’t get to go to Sanders and listen to people talking about everything in the world. I overheard people talking about where they lived in the world or where they traveled for business. I kept a pad of paper in my pocket and would write down the places I heard about, then I would go to the library to learn all about them. I found it so interesting when I heard about politics and not in the way you do on television. Real debates that were interesting and there were no fights. Once I heard a couple of people talking about the sculptures at the art gallery on campus. I made sure that would be our next trip with my mom. I just had to see what they were talking about. My mom loved walking through the art museum. We would talk about how we would feel if we were walking in a particular painting. It became our favorite game to play and when I started adding money to our income we could visit more often. The museum was free. I had added enough money to our household that my mom didn’t have to bring work home and Mr. Malcom didn’t visit us as often. I started helping manage the house so my mom and I would have more free time when I was in middle school. I would get books at the library to help me know how to clean, cook and organize our little life. We shopped at thrift stores to find bargains galore. My mom made friends with one of the workers at our favorite place to shop and she would call my mom when a particular woman would drop off her business clothes so my mom could get something beautiful to wear. Mom worked very hard to keep them looking lovely. Even though they were dry clean only, mom washed them very carefully and pressed them on her own. Once we even got a new couch for my mom to sleep on. We couldn’t figure out why someone would throw away such a beautiful couch. I knew my mom was sleeping better when she didn’t make such awful sounds when she got up in the morning. When I was old enough to work as a waitress I was in heaven. When I got my first paycheck, I took the bus to the store to buy paint. Our house was in need of painting in the worst way. I learned how to prep the walls, apply the paint and how to clean up or better yet make sure I didn’t make a mess while painting. My mom made sure that I learned about that first. I started with painting the family room. I thought my mom deserved to have her room painted first. She needed to feel better about our place. Mom would make comments all the time about how she wished that our house were nicer. I always commented that we didn’t need anything more than what we had. We had already pulled the carpet out of the house a couple years ago when my mom came home from work all mad. The stain in the middle of the carpet that had been there all the time I could remember pissed her off. She pulled back the corner of the carpet and saw we had hardwood underneath it. She had me pull all the furniture into the kitchen while she got busy pulling out the carpet. When we finished the family room we started in my bedroom. Boy was it dusty in there. Mom made us wear scarves while we did it. I was glad it wasn’t in the middle of summer or the yarn from our winter scarves would have been unbearable. We washed down the walls and the floor when we were done. It looked like we had a whole new place. Yes, the floors needed more work but it made the place look bigger somehow. The next paycheck mom bought stuff to rejuvenate the floors to their former glory. That was how I got the idea that when I had enough money to buy paint I would. I got pretty handy taking care of the house. It impressed my mom. I was getting so good my mom thought we were more like partners instead of mom and daughter. I was preparing myself to take over everything and I didn’t know it. I knew my mom was moving slower my senior year of high school. She wasn’t that old but I could tell something was wrong. A couple of times I took her to work because she thought I should have the clunker that we called our “car.” We had pooled our money for the last couple of years to buy a used car. My mom thought I should learn to drive and you need your own car to do that. Usually, my mom would walk to work but that year she asked if I minded if she drove. My mom’s last day of work I went to pick her up and I had to help her out to the car. I hated that Mr. Malcom made fun of her, “If your worthless mother doesn’t shape up, I am going to have to fire her.” I couldn’t say anything. My mom just mumbled she was sorry. I wanted my mom to go to the doctor and she said they couldn’t help her. While I made her a bowl of chicken soup, we argued about it. She pinky swore that if she didn’t feel better in the morning, she would go see a doctor. When I got up in the morning she was gone. I tried desperately to wake her. It took a minute of shaking her before I gave up and laid my head on her stomach and cried. Finally, I ran down to Sanders, instantly they knew something was wrong. Mrs. Sanders came back with me while Mr. Sanders called 911. It was a sad goodbye. Everyone at Sanders pitched in for the burial. The day of the funeral Mr. and Mrs. Sanders stayed for dinner. There was a knock at the front door and Mr. Sanders brought in Mr. Malcom, he came by to deliver a check. As one of my mom’s perks for working for him he gave her a small life insurance policy. He was a sleaze ball but he was nice enough to give me the policy money. He tried to tell me I should take my mom’s place at his office and Mr. Sanders happily pushed him out the door telling him I was in mourning and thanked him for the check. Mr. Sanders yelled at Mr. Malcolm as he was walking down the stairs to the sidewalk. “Sandra will never work for you as long as I am alive to prevent it!” Mrs. Sanders just laughed. Mr. and Mrs. Sanders were commenting about how cute the inside of my house was. Mom and I never had anyone over. If you walked by the house, you would think it would be a mess on the inside. We just didn’t have the energy to take care of it. We tried our best but it still looked rundown. It was our next project to tackle, we would say. “Okay Sandra what is your next step?” “What do you mean?” I had no idea what Mr. Sanders was talking about. “Can you stay in this house?” “Yes.” “Can you afford the payments? Do you have a landlord?” “Oh, we almost have it paid off. The only thing my mom said that my dad did right beside me.” Just saying those words made me smile for the first time since I found my mom. My mom would give me a hug when we talked about how little we had left to pay off the house. “He had put a large chunk of money down on the house when he moved here. My mom just took over the payments. My mom talked to the bank about it and they took off my dad’s name. We have two payments left and it will be all mine.” I started fiddling with the napkin in my lap. “My mom must have known she was sick because about a year ago she changed the title of the house to my name. She said she didn’t want me to have to worry about having a place to live.” A tear started rolling down my face. “She made me pinky swear that she could live here as long as she wanted when I started asking her about why I have to worry since the house would be hers. She made a joke about it.” I stood up. “Thank you for all that you have done and for all the food you brought me. I don’t know how I will eat it all but knowing me I will give it a good try.” I gave a weak smile, wiped away a tear that had dared to escape from the corner of my eye then I excused myself. When I came out of my room Mrs. Sanders was still in the kitchen organizing the leftovers into storage bags and containers. She must have gone down and got them at the diner. We sat and talked about where I was going from here. Mrs. Sanders made me promise that I would go to the school counselor for help with planning my college career. It was hard to go back to school after my mother died. Everyone knew, somehow. My teachers were all very nice and lenient. I only missed a week. Instead of getting a job I went back to school because Mrs. Sanders reminded me that my mom always talked about me going to college. Yes, I would fulfill my mother’s dream of me graduating from college. Visiting the counselor the day I went back to school was another something I shouldn’t have had to go through. Talk about someone who shouldn’t have this job. She made assumption by the way I was dressed. In her opinion, someone poor shouldn’t be in honors classes or have straight ‘A’s’. The question about who was in charge of me got under my skin and my reply made her stop and call a social worker. I left the counselor’s office with a pamphlet worth of papers for applications for scholarships, financial aid, and an appointment card with sheets I needed to fill out for the social worker. I informed her that there was no better place to go to college than the one in our town, my father was out of the picture or wouldn’t I have moved in with him when my mom died and as I closed the door said she shouldn’t judge people by how they look. I was still filling out all the paperwork my counselor gave me when the social worker arrived to interrogate me. Interrogate might be a strong word for what transpired while she was there, nonetheless that was what it felt like. She was surprised that the inside of my house looked way better than the outside. What can I say? I hate yard work! I liked polishing the woodwork because it brought things back to life. Mowing and trimming did not. I would like to paint the house but we didn’t have a ladder to get to the high places. Seriously, all the scraping to get off the peeling paint seemed too daunting. I have learned from her death that putting things off was not always the best plan of tackling unpleasant tasks, though I still did it. After the social worker looked around the house we sat and talked about my future. Not the distant future but the next few months until I graduate from high school. I was glad I was already eighteen because that kept me from going into foster care. I showed her the few bills I had, our bank account information. She told me that I would get a puny lump sum from the IRS then start to get social security money but she wasn’t sure it would be enough to live on. I saw the concern on her face. It was a little unsettling, nevertheless I thought I had this. When I worked, I got a meal. I got free lunches at school though I knew that would end soon. The more I thought about it I was sure I was going to have no problems. The life insurance policy would pay for the property taxes and any surprise expenses for at least fifteen years. Looking at the paperwork from the school counselor, I was going to have to work harder on getting scholarships. I had to write five scholarship essays. I was glad I could write about myself but one wanted me to write about if all the people in the world were blue and I was green what would I do. I still used the essay about myself. Working at the diner would keep me afloat and I always got good tips. The Sanders’ other two waitresses, Judy and Gail, had been at the diner since the beginning. Judy kept saying she should retire and move where her grandkids were living. Her husband passed away about ten years ago. Gail was still married to the same man for almost forty years. They talk about retiring in Florida someday. I hope they made it to retirement because they looked old. I would hear all about her resting bitch face when I would take her shift. People at the dinner didn’t complain much except about Gail. She wasn’t a bad waitress - it was just that she had nothing nice to say to anyone. Every time I got a scholarship, I would run down to the diner to tell Mr. and Mrs. Sanders. We would add things up on the chalkboard in the kitchen. When my counselor told me how much aid I would be getting because I was low income, Mrs. Sanders put that amount on the board. At the top was the cost to go to the university and we just kept subtracting. The day I got enough money we celebrated with pie a’ la mode. Mrs. Sanders and I made faces when Mr. Sanders wanted his apple pie with mint chocolate chip ice cream instead of vanilla. Graduation day came and I didn’t have anyone there to cheer me on. I tried not to cry as I sat down after receiving my diploma. Rose was sitting next to me and she handed me a tissue, “Here, I thought I might cry too. I think I surprised my family that I actually graduated.” I took the tissue gratefully as the tears couldn’t be stopped. “Thanks,” squeaked out of me. “What are you going to do now? I haven’t decided. I want to go somewhere other than this stupid town. I might just go to Indianapolis and work in a nice shop so I can get a discount on clothing.” A teacher I didn’t know came over to tell Rose to be quiet. I was glad not to have to answer her. As it was, my classmates weren’t friendly with me and I was afraid to tell Rose I loved our town. I had plans to live out my life here and be buried next to my mom. I never dated. The curse of being teased during my elementary years continued all the way through high school. The only time a guy was nice to me was when I volunteered to answer a question he had on a paper we were assigned. Sometimes I thought a new guy would ask me out but I was too self-conscious to talk to them. My mom told me to stop worrying about what people thought about me but I had to say it was easier said than done. Judy told me that I should reinvent myself when I started college and put myself out there. I needed to date she would say over and over…again, easier said than done. Creative writing? I decided to study creative writing in college. I loved all the books I read and I wanted to transport a child to another world by books like I had been. The problem was I was not a very good writer. I couldn’t come up with ideas unless someone told me what to write about, and it was hard for me to make it to the required number of words or pages. I could talk to strangers but writing about a stranger was difficult. The one thing I learned after halfway through my second year was, I was a very good editor and all the students that sat around me would ask me to check their grammar, tell where they needed to expand on a story or what to cut out. One student told me I should work on the student newspaper. I still wasn’t dating but a couple times at the diner a guy would flirt with me. Judy said I needed to learn to flirt back. I was nice enough I just needed to toss my hair and compliment the guy. Oh, I was bad at it. I could talk about books I had read but having a meaningful conversation was embarrassing. The first time I tried to flirt I ran back to the kitchen and wouldn’t come out until he left. I tried to flirt into the mirror at home and after five minutes of trying I gave up. I was as red as a tomato and glad my mom wasn’t alive to see how sad her daughter was at flirting. A middle-aged man came into the diner often and if I had the time I would sit and talk to him about his travels and the books about traveling I had read. I knew it wasn’t the same but I desperately wanted to share what I had read. Once he thought my conversation was so interesting, he took the trip I planned for him. I really didn’t plan it for him, it was something I read about and told him if I could, I would do this and this and this. He was having a hard time trying to decide what trip to take. It was between Slovakia and Slovenia and I had read a couple books on Slovenia. I wanted to go to a couple of the caves they have plus a couple of lakes I wanted to see. Two lakes that didn’t allow motorized boats on and I wanted to see the clear water of Bohinj. It was at the base of the mountain Triglav, the symbol of Slovenia. Glenn came back all excited. “Sandra, thank you for the most interesting trip I have taken. You should be a travel agent.” Mr. Sanders wasn’t happy with that statement. “Sandra is going to finish college.” I put my hand on Mr. Sanders’ arm hoping to calm him down. “Yes, I am going to finish college. You don’t have to worry. I just think Glenn is happy that I gave him a great idea. Right Glenn?” I looked at him, willing him to agree with me. Glenn didn’t want to upset Mr. Sanders any more than I did. “Yes, Sandra is right. Her knowledge of Slovenia was so dead on, even what food to eat. I guess I should have said that Sandra should share with us travelers all her insights to different cultures. Speaking of which, I brought you back a beehive board.” Glenn handed me a gift-wrapped little package. It was so pretty I didn’t want to destroy the lovely wrapping. “Oh, this is so pretty, do I have to open it?” I said half joking. I really wanted to see the painted board that they put on the beehives but I thought the wrapped package was beautiful. Glenn was a tad upset, “No, you’d better open it. I want to see your expression when you see the painting.” I carefully unwrapped the gift and saw the board and smiled. I had no idea what to say. I wanted to say why did you get it for me but instead said, “Thank you very much. You didn’t have to get me a gift.” “That is you milking the cow. While one guy is saying the cow is mine and pulls the horns, another guy is pulling the tail saying the cow is mine. You are saying I don’t care; I will just milk it. I watch you with the customers fighting over things. Granted you are being nice but they think they are right and you come in and tell them how it is. I saw this and wanted you to have it. Besides, I could get it home without breaking it. I am glad you talked me out of over packing but that didn’t leave me much room for gifts.” “Did you bring old clothes so you could leave them there?” I told him if he weren’t going anywhere nice, he could bring clothes that should be thrown away and just leave them there so he would have room for souvenirs. He looked down, “No, I brought new clothes, and I couldn’t part with them. As I was packing to come home, I thought of your words and wished I had taken your advice.” On my break I looked at his pictures. Oh, how I wish I were the one that took them. Judy and Gail both think he had a crush on me. He always wanted me to wait on him. I thought he was a nice man who liked me as a person. He was over twice my age and I didn’t think I wanted someone that old to date. “You have some beautiful pictures there.” I handed him back his phone. “You should print a couple of them.” “You know I almost got you a panel with two women trying to get their legs into a pair of men’s pants. Whoever got them on got to marry him. I didn’t think you were the type who would fight over a man.” He was looking at his pictures on his phone. I didn’t know what to say. I had no one to fight over. “Yes, that seems silly. I like the one you gave me. It made me feel good when you explained it to me.” “I wanted to get you a dove that was carved out of one piece of wood with his wings splayed out. I couldn’t figure out how to get it back without breaking the wings off. I stood in front of the man who carved it looking at it and thinking that it is beautiful but how could I get it home.” “It sounds beautiful. Again, thank you for thinking of me.” “How is your creative writing class going?” I was glad he changed the subject. “Oh, I must have forgotten to tell you. I changed my major last semester to journalism. I am the assistant editor. I am better at editing than I am at writing.” “Don’t sell yourself short. Your paper about the candle wick was good.” “Thanks, it’s just that it was a short paper. When I have to draft a story, it is like pulling teeth…painful and slow. So far, I am liking journalism. Mrs. Sanders said that it might take me a little time to find my place in this world. Mr. and Mrs. Sanders have faith in me.” “We all have faith in you Sandra. You are a smart woman. You will find your way soon enough. You take all the time you need to find what you love.” He patted my hand. I slipped my hand off the table. “I think my break is over. Thank you so much for the bee panel and for letting me see all your pictures. I am glad you had a good time. I would have felt bad if you didn’t like it.” “I loved it. The country is so beautiful. More than my pictures can convey. I hope you get to go sometime. What new place have you been reading about lately?” “Have you been to Türkiye? I have been reading about Istanbul and Ephesus. Just yesterday I picked up a book on Greece. You want to talk about beautiful! Hey, I have to go or Judy will be mad at me.” Maybe Glenn liked me as a daughter he never had. I didn’t know why he hadn’t married. He was pleasant to look at and had a nice personality. I have no idea what a professor in history made but he had money to travel so to me he made enough. The Newspaper Working on the newspaper was a little more stressful than I thought it would be. Deadlines were real. I thought getting ready for opening the diner was stressful. They didn’t even compare. I wasn’t sure if I was made to be a journalist because of how they write. It’s like the reporter works harder to write less like I worked harder to write more. I spent too much time writing and putting more information into my stories and the editor, my boss, said we had to cut part of the story. No one seemed happy with my style so I was demoted to just checking the spelling and grammar. I walked into the diner and Mrs. Sanders knew there was something wrong. It didn’t take long and I confessed that I wasn’t really happy with journalism. Mrs. Sanders called over Mr. Sanders and the three of us sat at a table to discuss what was going on. “Mr. Sanders,” and he stopped me from going any further. “Don’t you think it’s about time you call me Bob and you can call her Maureen or Mo for short.” My shoulders just sagged. “We can’t do anything about our names, it’s what our parents gave us.” He smiled a brilliant smile. “It’s not that. My mom always called you Mr. and Mrs. I think she would want me to respect you and call you by your titles.” Mr. Sanders elbowed Mrs. Sanders, “Looky here Mo, we have titles.” “You know what I mean.” Mrs. Sanders said, “Sweetheart, you show us respect every day and it’s not by calling us Mr. and Mrs. Bob, here is starting to feel old and he feels that the more people that call him mister the older he feels.” “You feel the same Mo; you can’t deny it. Look Sandra, it’s okay if you call us Mr. and Mrs. or Bob and Maureen. We just worry about you and want you to come to us if you are having trouble. We feel like we are your family. If you want to call us aunt and uncle, we would be happy with that too.” He reached over to pat my hand. I got a little bit glossy eyed. They were my family. I was lucky that they stepped up when my mom died. I knew I could talk to them about anything. It was nice that they felt the same way. “Thank you for being here for me. I have to tell you that you might get frustrated with me.” Both of them said “Never,” and each of them grabbed my hand. I shared with them about getting demoted on the newspaper. I felt so lost and they could tell I was getting frustrated. I had a feeling that they were worried that I was close to quitting. Maureen patted my hand, “Sandra do you know what you want to do with your life?” I had no idea what I wanted. “If you could wave a magic wand and you would have the life you wanted, what would it be?” I sat back in my chair and fiddled with a hangnail. I thought for a minute trying to block out what was going on around me, with little effort. Bob nudged me with his foot and I smiled. I gazed back and forth between the two of them. “If I could wave a wand first, I would wish my mom back then I would wish to be a writer.” Maureen said, “Okay, well, the magic wand doesn’t work that well. Think again.” “I really don’t need to think that much because if I can’t write I want to give kids the experience that I had with the library. I would like to own a bookstore/coffee shop where I could make pastries like you taught me. It would be nice to showcase local writers, too. Do you know where I can get a magic wand?” They both chuckled. Bob stated, “You should take some management classes to see what it takes to run a business. See if you like it,” tapping me with his foot. “It wouldn’t hurt to try it. I know I make it look so easy but it’s not. You don’t see us upstairs trying to balance the budget, ordering supplies, trying to figure out if we have made a profit and what we are going to fix or update in the coming year.” Maureen was nodding her head while Bob was talking. “Yes and buy stock in aspirin for all our headaches and body aches which are superseding the headaches these days.” It was Bob’s turn to nod his head. “I will go visit my advisor. Thanks for being such great sounding boards.” I didn’t know if I would have ever thought about trying business classes. I had managed my life from a very young age. This could be my niche. Sad thing was each area that I tried. I thought that one was my niche. The first classes I took I enjoyed thoroughly. My professor had been in business and wanted a less stressful life so she decided to try teaching. She fell in love with teaching, and she was very good. She made me feel just as important as the other students in the class whose majors were business. She asked for volunteers to work on a project with her. Nobody volunteered and I didn’t know if it was the pressure that no one was raising a hand or I wanted to work on the project with her that made me slide my hand up. “Thank you, Ms. Penny. I appreciate your willingness to collaborate with me. It might lead you to a job down the road.” With that said several more hands went up. We were working on writing business plans for a couple hand-picked businesses in town. I wanted one to be a bookstore. That would help me down the road more than a nonprofit and a soap store. It was fun and nobody knew me and that didn’t matter to them. I was considered a peer. I was eating up my new area like it was chocolate covered cherries, my favorite candy. I was volunteering to the point that my job at the diner was working before the diner opened, making pastries, then doing the early morning shift. I didn’t mind smelling like the cinnamon rolls but when someone in class asked if I had eaten a pound of bacon for breakfast, I realized that I’d rather work with the customers instead of helping Maureen in the kitchen. Plus, I made a little bit more money with tips if I took orders and poured coffee. I made sure I had time to shower before class if I was working in the kitchen. I did bring in more customers when I told them I worked at Sanders Diner. My professor Ester would come in and work on her laptop during my shift. The diner wasn’t far from her office and she loved the cinnamon rolls. I gave her a little more icing because she loved it. At first, I would come back to clear her plate and you wouldn’t have known she had anything on that plate. She must have taken her finger to get all the icing up. One day I introduced her to Glenn who was sitting at the next table. He was sitting alone as usual. During my break I sat down at Esther's table and asked Glenn to join us because Ester and I were talking about Slovenia. I found out from her screensaver on her laptop that she had been to Slovenia. She was talking about Lake Bled. I could tell Glenn was eavesdropping, so I asked him to sit with us. The two of them were enjoying talking about the places that each had been and when they started to talk about different places, I knew I could leave them alone. I wasn’t needed to glue them together; they had the love of a foreign country that took care of it. From then on when one would come into the diner, they would search the tables looking for the other. If one was there a large smile would appear if not you saw the disappointment. Gail said I lost my gravy train. I just thought I connected two people who had a liked interest that they were eager to share with each other. I was not fooling myself. I wasn’t sure if it would lead to a romance but for the time being, they had a new friend. Nobody should be alone. I know I wasn’t a fan of being alone. When I went home to an empty house, I felt like I was the only person in the world. I haven’t gotten the nerve to ask someone out and no one has asked me out. I had hoped college would be better. The problem was I was inept at making anything but small talk. With my older customers I could carry a little more conversation. They helped because they were very free with their life stories. It was easy to ask them about their family, work or pets and they would carry the conversations. Management, the Key I declared my major as management in what should have been my junior year. One day, the diner was pretty empty and I asked Maureen and Bob to sit with me. “I don’t know what to do. I know my mom wanted me to graduate but my scholarships will only last one more year. I would have to dip into my mom’s life insurance policy, and I don’t want to do that. I think I am going to look for a full-time job.” Maureen was upset, “No you can’t do that. You need to graduate.” She called over Suzanne, who was an academic advisor. “Suzanne, can you pull up Sandra’s transcripts and see if she could graduate next year?” Suzanne moved things around to see if I could graduate in Business, Business Management or get a general degree. If I got the college of business to adjust my requirements, I could just take a couple classes this summer and graduate with a business degree. I didn’t have to take more classes for a general degree and have a minor in management. I opted for the general degree. If I wanted to or needed to get my masters in business I could do it. I will graduate with honors since I only have one ‘B’ in creative writing. The only reason I let myself get that ‘B’ was I was tired of rewriting my paper. It still haunts me to this day that I didn’t rewrite it. Suzanne was very impressed with my grades; she tried to get me to stay in college and get my masters. I didn’t know what I wanted to do. Opening a coffee shop and bookstore would take a chunk of money and credit, and I have no credit unless you count my house. I would hate to put my house up for collateral. I would be scared to lose it. My senior year was a breeze, which made me appreciate that I kept what I thought would be easy classes for my last year. My stress was lessened by being on track to graduate on time. I had started calling the Sanders Aunt Maureen and Uncle Bob. I just had a hard time calling them by their given name. Giving them the titles of aunt and uncle made it easier. A couple of times I slipped and called Aunt Maureen Mom; I was embarrassed. Aunt Maureen came over to give me a hug. “I feel honored that you called me mom. Sometimes I feel like I am standing in for your mom. It makes me feel all warm inside when you slip up. You know we were never blessed with children, and you are as close as we got.” I gave her a hug back. “Oh, you are my special mom. You didn’t have to go through the terrible twos with me or the teenage years when my hormones were a little out of whack. You do know that everyone here loves you as a mom, especially me.” We hugged again. I honestly did feel like I was their adopted daughter. They watched out for me, got upset and yelled at me if I screwed up, and most of all I could see they cared about me. At first, when I was feeling like they were my parents I felt melancholy. I thought my mom would have been hurt. I walked around my house talking to her and looking at the three pictures of us together. The more I talked to her, the more I thought my mom would be thrilled to know that someone was looking out for me. I had so many emotions going through me on graduation day. The Sanders had said they would come to my graduation but I didn’t think they would. I knew they would be busy that day. Why would they take the time to walk over to be bored? I was sad that my mom wasn’t there to see I fulfilled the pinky promise I made to graduate. I was proud of myself because I did it in four years and with honors. My biggest emotions were being scared at what I was going to do next. I didn’t do any internships because I had no idea where I would go. I still had our clunker of a car which I took to the store and back. I didn’t think it could have made it to Indianapolis for three months and if I had gotten the internship, would I have the money to pay for gas? I was thrilled to see the Sanders up front. They had to get there early to get those seats. They were wonderful stand-ins for parents. They couldn’t be more supportive than biological parents. In the sea of black gowns and hats they found me too. As Aunt Maureen hugged me, she said “Sandra, do you have any plans now?” “I was just going home until I had to work.” Uncle Bob put his arm around my shoulder, “Then you are coming back to the diner with us and having a meal before you have to work.” “I will go home and change first then I will come over.” “No, you look so pretty, you will add some class to the diner today. Shoot, we all will add some class to the dinner. I don’t think anyone has seen me in a suit before. I look pretty good don’t you think?” Uncle Bob was pulling on his lapels. “Oh, Uncle Bob you look so handsome and Aunt Maureen you look so beautiful in that dress. In all these years I don’t think I have seen you in anything but white clothes.” Not to let Uncle Bob get away with making a joke about their uniforms of white pants and shirt I had to add something. “You both look good in white but seeing you in colors is a lovely change.” I had to try to make them feel that they looked good because both of them were fiddling with their clothes. We were walking over to the diner and I was pleased to see classmates wave or say good luck. I was glad that I was able to say something back instead of just smiling. I thought I didn’t make an impression but I guess I did. I felt pretty good when we got to the diner. I saw that the lights were off at the diner. I felt bad that the Sanders closed on one of the busiest days of the year? They walked in first and when I walked in the lights went on and a large bunch of people yelled “Surprise.” I was in total shock. After the initial jumping back against the door I bent over in what was half laughing and half crying. All the regulars were there with some spouses thrown in. The place was been decorated in my school’s colors. There was a buffet with all kinds of Aunt Maureen’s special treats and sandwiches. I thought I was hugged by everyone there. I was glad I didn’t wear makeup because it would all have down my face from all the laughing and crying I did that afternoon. I was dumbfounded by all the people I saw and all the cards I received. I would put them up around the house to remind me that people did like me and I was not alone. When everyone had left and I was helping clean up the party, Aunt Maureen called me to a table in the back that was all cleared and cleaned. Uncle Bob ushered me back telling me I wasn’t cleaning up the party that was for me. When we were all seated, I could tell that they were a little nervous which made me very nervous. I was afraid they were going to tell me I was fired so I would find my niche in life. Uncle Bob started, “Have you figured out what you are going to do now that you graduated?” I couldn’t look at them, “I thought I would work here while I try to figure out what I want to do.” I could tell that they seemed unhappy with my idea. I could be reflecting my own thoughts on them. I couldn’t look at them. I was nervous about what they were going to say and I started sweating down my back, under my arms and between my legs. I wiped my forehead with my sweaty hand. “Well, your Aunt Maureen and I have a proposition for you.” These words calmed me down. “We would like to retire. Actually, everyone working here, but you, would like to retire.” He gave me a little chuckle. I didn’t understand what was so humorous about that. “We were wondering if you would like the diner?” I just looked at him in disbelief. “You know I don’t have the money for this place. I don’t think if I kept this place running with a couple workers, I could make the payments and keep this place running.” “Your Uncle Bob wasn’t clear. We want to give you the diner.” I looked at them with incredulity. “What! You can’t do that!?!” Uncle Bob sat up straight and with a broad smile said, “We don’t have children, and we desperately want to retire in a cute little bungalow where we have a yard that we can work in. We thought this would be a perfect swap. You sign over your house to us and we sign over the diner. Upstairs is a nice size two-bedroom apartment. It could be a three bedroom if you clean up the place.” “Bob, be honest with her. We have put all our energy these last ten years into the diner. We have kept the dinner and the outside of the building looking great. Our apartment upstairs has been a catch all for everything. Now, the basement would have space again if you cleaned it up. To be honest we are a couple of pack rats and everything but the diner is not that nice. We just haven’t had the energy that it would take to clean everything up. The building is in great condition. The basement is dry, which is a huge deal in this area.” “She is right. I made sure to keep everything that mattered in good condition. Of course, we have paid for the building to be in good condition. I just didn’t want to pay for the rest of it to be in good condition.” I could tell that he was embarrassed with the condition of everything but the diner. I was just as embarrassed about the outside of my place. I really was going to tackle it this year. Without the stress of school, I thought I would have the time and the energy to put into the yard. “You two know how my yard is not in the best of conditions.” I couldn’t look at them. “What am I saying? The yard is a mess but the inside is clean.” I looked up at them with some excitement which faded fast. “You know this is not an equal swap.” “We know that but like we said we have no biological children to leave this to.” Uncle Bob patted Aunt Maureen’s hand. “Mo and I think of you as our child.” Then Uncle Bob started patting my hand. “Sweetheart, we are tired of working here and when we saw your place we thought it would be perfect for us. The yard isn’t too big, and the inside is picture perfect. We will still be close enough to you that we can walk over here to have a pastry and coffee while looking at the books.” He shook my hand trying to get my eye to meet his. I just couldn’t believe it. “We want to see you have your dreams while we are still alive. If you need us, we will be here in a minute, too. Though I did promise Mo, here, a vacation to Florida when it gets cold.” Aunt Maureen had the biggest smile on her face. “We haven’t been on vacation since before you were born. That was when we had all the new plumbing and electrical work done, so we took what little money we had left and went to Tennessee to visit my sister, bless her soul.” I looked at her in disbelief. “That was before she moved back here when her health got bad.” I remember her living upstairs and helping her down and up the stairs when I started working here. It was so sad when she passed because I didn’t know how to comfort Aunt Maureen. “What do you say? Do we have a deal?” I looked at Uncle Bob with so much uncertainty. I had no clue what to say. “Shall we look at our books so you can see what you are getting into. I know you want to put a bookstore in here too so you will be losing some seating and income. Maybe you can be more creative with the space than we were. Not having a full meal, you might lose some income that way too.” Then he looked at me with uncertainty. “Really, I am not sure what you are going to want to do.” “Are you sure about all this? I feel like you are losing on this deal. I don’t want to take advantage of you.” It was my turn to pat their hands. Uncle Bob had the stern look of a father, “We have talked to our lawyer and our financial advisor about all this. Both of them say since we were leaving all this to you, this is better for you. Mo and I think this is best for us. We might be able to live longer without the stress on our bodies. Honestly, we are excited to watch you live your dreams.” “Almost as excited as if we could watch you go on a date.” I couldn’t believe Aunt Maureen and her worrying about me dating. “Now, Mo, she might be too busy setting up her new place to date yet.” “You two are too much.” I smiled at them both. “Mo is sorry about saying anything about the date thing.” He patted my hand. I was having a hard time wrapping my head around it. “No, not that. I am talking about giving me this place.” “Remember dear, we are getting your place.” I looked at Aunt Maureen. She seemed so happy about this arrangement. I looked into Uncle Bob’s eyes next. He, too, looked happy. “Are you sure?” I looked at both of them with such gratitude and love. I saw it reflected in their eyes. We looked over their books, seeing them through the eyes of someone who just graduated with a “business” degree. I didn’t care what my diploma said. I thought I had enough credits for a business degree with a minor in management. They told me we would go over the books with their CPA and lawyer on Monday. When we went upstairs, I saw what they were talking about. It did need some cleaning up. Every decoration from years past was stacked or boxed up there. I thought that was true until we went downstairs, and I saw more boxes of decorations. It made sense why employees were not allowed to go downstairs. I thought the staircase in the front of the diner area would be closed off so I would have more floor space. After going downstairs, I could see that space as extra seating. The ceiling was high so I could see it was usable space. Yes, there was work to do, and I was anxious to get started. I went home and drew up a plan and started packing. I decided to donate my mom’s things I didn’t want. I had kept all of her belongings, books, and trinkets since her death. Since I was moving, I thought maybe it was time to get rid of things that I didn’t think I wanted. As for her clothes, I kept the few dresses that I liked. We wore about the same size. I was a little taller than her, but she wore them a little longer than me. My mom dressed like an old maid. All her clothes were baggy, maybe because she didn’t want Mr. Malcom to see her beautiful body. That was beneficial for me because I was bigger all the way around. She had a couple of beautiful classic dresses. The kind that never went out of style. Well, at least in my mind they would never go out of style. I kept all the books that were important to her. She didn’t want to get rid of books for the sake of getting rid of them. I took them down the street to the little library and donate all the paperback books that my mom got at the library on their dollar for a bag of books sale. Our favorite day to go to the library. I would keep all her trinkets and put them in a shadowbox. If anyone knew us, they would know that it was a pun. Of course, no one really knew us so knowing that she said “she would always be my shadow” would be lost on everyone. She didn’t have many trinkets, so I knew they were important to her. Since it was all I had of her, I thought it was the least I could do to showcase them. Boxing up the kitchen was easy because it was a waste of money spending on things we didn’t need. All the baking experience I had was baking at the diner. Aunt Maureen taught me, then let me practice at the diner. Spending money on treats was always at the diner. In high school I was making more of the baked goods that the diner offered. I loved making them and Aunt Maureen was happy to hand over the reins to me. When I had to make pastries at five in the morning after studying for an exam until late at night I began to question my love. Seeing people enjoying my baked goods was all it took to know I was doing the right thing. That was when I started practicing new pastries and adding croissants. I started having a following when I perfected them. Uncle Bob had to order boxes because people would order a dozen or more at a time for meetings or celebrations. After the meeting with the lawyer and the CPA when we signed all the papers, we went back to my house. I showed them all the essential things people wanted to know, where to turn off the water and the electrical box. Aunt Maureen was looking at all my stuff like she was trying to decide if she was going to make an offer to buy them. “You know what Sandra, your furniture is just as nice as ours. Why don’t we leave our furniture in our respective homes since they fit? We have too much to fit in here and yours wouldn’t have enough for our space.” I could not believe her. My stuff isn’t that great though when I saw theirs, they were probably from the same period. Moving day was a breeze for me because everything fit into my car. It was cool that I had a marked parking space in the parking lot behind the diner. When I got out of my car, I had to touch the sign saying Sanders Diner Owner Space. Yes, I owned Sanders’ Diner. It was hard to believe that I owned Sanders. Mr. Travis said he would be happy to stay on as my financial advisor. I thought it was interesting that he has two first names, Ralph Travis. I bet there was confusion when he was introduced to people. I knew I was confused. Mr. Jae Kim was another confusing name when I saw it. Mr. Kim said he would be pleased to stay on as my lawyer. Since both of them were in agreement to stay on I was happy I brought along my business plan for my new place. Both of them thought it was a good plan but were worried about how much business I was going to get with taking a third of my floor space for the bookstore. I told them about cleaning out the basement’s front room for customers to go down there to sit. I was making it a self-serve since I didn’t have people working for me yet. They thought I would have to get a loan for buying the books. That part stressed me out. I had never gotten a loan before. Mr. Travis said that I had collateral in the store so there should be no problem in getting a loan. Since I had the only place where people could get good coffee and a pastry off campus we had a niche. Many people who had gone through the university and stayed in town still came to our side of town to come and get breakfast or lunch. While my aunt and uncle closed at six after they offered a simple menu for dinner and I was forgoing that, I thought I would not stay open that long. Dinner wasn’t a big sell I noticed and thought I could get away with just offering lunch souffles and some kinds of bagel sandwiches. I might add it to the menu later on. I had no idea what my future offerings but at the beginning I thought it would work. I decided I would keep some of the regular items and slowly convert over to what I wanted to do. If my regular customers got upset, I would add stuff back. I had so much to do cleaning out the basement and apartment I might have to hire someone part-time right away. Aunt Maureen and Uncle Bob would stay on for a month to help out. They wanted to help me succeed. I was very appreciative. A New Business I found a large old chalkboard to put the new menu on and some other items upstairs that I wanted to add back into the diner. Going through the boxes was better than any Christmas I had ever had. I was finding all kinds of gems that needed some cleaning up or fixing. It was a big deal going through things, deciding if I wanted them, donated them, try to sell them or throw them away. I had piles everywhere. A couple of times I thought I got the raw end of the deal having to clean out the Sanders’ place then I would see them come in with cuts from all the work they were doing in the yard. We each had our crosses to bear as my mom would say. I had put an ad in the window for some part-time help. A nice Italian young man who had been going to school at the university needed some work because he didn’t want to tell his parents that he needed more money to live on. He would tell me his family had the money, but they didn’t want him to come to America to study because of all the violence we had here. I couldn’t hire him legally so he begged for the job and would take the cash. He convinced me that neither one of us would get caught. He had been coming in for coffee for a while and made a big deal about how good the Sanders’ coffee was compared to the university coffee. He had helped clear tables for me before he even thought about asking for a job. I knew he was a good worker just observing him when Aunt Maureen and Uncle Bob were running the place. We all commented on how nice he was to help out. At the end of the month that Aunt Maureen and Uncle Bob had promised me, I hired Vincenzo and was going to pay him under the table as they say. I didn’t know who “they” were but that was my understanding of our situation. Vincenzo would come over when his classes were over and help me. If he had an hour, he would come over to do some dishes. Anytime he would curse the situation he was having with the dishwasher or cleaning up a mess that people left at their table, he would speak Italian. I have too much curiosity and I kept asking him what he was mumbling about. Apparently, I have a good ear for Italian and was picking up the language to the point he decided to teach me. I loved it when Vincenzo would show up unannounced to help. Anytime he would show up I was filled with joy. I was only a couple years older than him and treated him like my brother. Ester would try to convince me to ask him out since we got along so well. “I couldn’t date my brother” I would say over and over. He treated me like a sister, too. Teasing me to the point of us both laughing about whatever was going on, mostly about me picking the wrong word in Italian. I was learning so fast that I would get words mixed up. I knew I was mixing words up when he would look at me funny then I knew I needed to find the correct word. One day he came in and I was so excited to tell him I had dreamt in Italian. He was just as excited as I was. He remembered the day he dreamt in English and there was no one who understood what that meant. He was understanding English enough and he was surrounded with people who spoke English, he watched television in English plus he had to read in English. His teacher who was assigned to him to work on his English was the only one who understood and all she said was she thought he was ready to go to university full-time. I had been playing Italian music since I had internet. A plus with getting the diner was getting internet because everyone expected it these days. Someday I will celebrate by buying a cellphone. I had a landline phone connected to the internet and was looking forward to making enough money for a cellphone. People were always asking for my cell number and I would have to say sorry, then the dreaded questions would come…why? How can you live without a phone? The other question was would you let me buy you a phone? I knew there would come a day I would get one but for now I didn’t want to spend the money. Some people couldn’t understand why I felt the need to decline their offer when they were offering me a free phone. Until you experience not having much and the joy you get when you buy a new shirt instead of a used shirt, you will never understand. I had other expenses that were looming over me. I was looking into getting my little bookstore set up. I had contacted all the local authors asking if they wanted to have their books on display here for a small percentage of the cost. It was a good partnership. I was looking at some corporations that would let me have the books on consignment. Vincenzo said he would build me bookshelves if I bought him some wood. I found a couple of people willing to lend me some tools. We had cleared out a section of the basement for his little workshop. He was handy at building things, cleaning and teaching me about all things Italian. The favorite section I wanted to set up was travel books. I have been using my knowledge of places to visit to further the travel of the people that came to the diner. I was decorating the diner with the trinkets that people brought back for me as a thank you. The first big item I bought was an “A” to change the name of the diner from Sanders’ to Sandra’s. No one admitted to noticing but I noticed. This place was mine and I wanted to show the world. New people were coming in for my advice on travel, buying books, and my pastries. All were unexpected nevertheless it was exciting to see I had increased my clientele. I was happy my idea of adding books to the diner wasn’t futile. There were still people who liked to hold a book just like me. I was doing so well that I had the place looking like I wanted, and it only took two years. I still was in debt for some of my travel books. They were the only ones that I actually had to buy but I thought they were some of my best sellers. Everyone wanted me to put out a cookbook because they thought my pastries were amazing. I was glad people stuck with me because after all this time I thought I had finally gotten to where I wanted to be. I agreed with everyone that they were amazing. If they weren’t I wouldn’t have people coming from an hour away to buy my “works of art” as someone called them. I have never admitted to anyone that I thought they were amazing because I was afraid that I would get too full of myself. I probably put ten pounds onto my customers. Half of them admitted that to me then said they didn’t care because my pastries were worth the calories. I felt like I could take an evening walk around the neighborhood and not feel guilty that I wasn’t working. Aunt Maureen and Uncle Bob were so pleased by my progress and rarely stopped by because it was hard to find a seat, they said. I think they were just enjoying their retirement by traveling and working on their house. They had made the yard come to life with all kinds of flowers and plants. They put a new roof on the house that came out front farther so they could have a porch. That was where I found them these days in the evening if they weren’t traveling. One day they were so excited to see me. “Sandra, you have to come in to see what we have done lately.” Both of them were talking over each other. They were so animated. I couldn’t wait to see what they had done. I knew that Vincenzo had come over to do some work for them. I noticed the difference right when I walked into the house. “Oh my gosh, you widened the bedroom!” I couldn’t get over the change. “Yes, come in and see. Now more than a full-size bed fits in the room. We knew when we saw your room with the single bed, we would never fit it that.” Uncle Bob laughed. “We were so grateful that you didn’t mind us exchanging with one of our full-size beds. We had lived scooting around the bed long enough. Look, we even got a queen bed to fit in here with a dresser. We have a bigger closet. I think Mo is happiest with that change.” Uncle Bob confessed. Aunt Maureen finally got to talk. She had been about to say something a couple times but Uncle Bob wanted to finish his thoughts. “We haven’t really entertained but thought if we wanted to we should have Vincenzo make us a table with a bench on one side. We thought this size would be enough for us. We just push the table over the bench, so we have more room to walk. That Vincenzo was a real find, he is so handy. Isn’t the table beautiful?” “Aunt Maureen, it is beautiful.” She was so proud of the table as she ran her hand over the top. You could tell they used nicer wood than the pine we used to build the bookshelves. People always talked about how cool they looked. I knew he had gotten a few jobs from our clientele when they found out that he made them. I knew I was underpaying him but he insisted that he was getting more out of our deal than I was. It was hard to believe he felt that way. We didn’t even keep track of his hours. I just paid him a flat rate every week. Sometimes I got more hours and sometimes less. I insisted he had to keep his grades up. He was thinking about getting his master’s here. I hoped he would, but I didn’t want our connection to influence him. I knew we would keep in touch wherever he landed. He was my best friend and if I was honest with myself, he was my first real friend. I could be myself around him. I was running my hand over the table and Aunt Maureen took me out of my thoughts. “Are you okay?” “Yes, I was just thinking that Vincenzo does exquisite work.” “You always come up with the correct word.” She reached over to give me a sideways hug. Oh, how I miss having those daily hugs. “If you like this table you should see the kitchen table he made. Come.” We walked into the kitchen and Aunt Maureen had finally painted the kitchen her favorite color…pink. “OMG, he made this table?” It was just an ordinary table that fit perfectly in their kitchen. It was just perfect for two. He had used several kinds of wood and varnish on the wood and it was so shiny you could see yourself in it. “Yes, Vincenzo is a very talented man. I am sure he told you that his grandfather taught him all he knows.” Uncle Bob sounded proud he knew something about Vincenzo. “Yes, did he tell you that his parents don’t like that he loves to work with his hands. That is why he is here to get a financial degree so he can take over the business that his father started.” I could tell he didn’t divulge that bit of information to them. Aunt Maureen put her arm around my shoulder, “Oh, that is so sad. While he worked here, he seemed so happy. It’s a shame you two don’t have something romantic between you.” There she goes again trying to get me to start dating. When the time was right, I would find my person who completes me…one of my favorite movie quotes. “Oh, Mo how do you know there isn’t something going on between the two of them? They are always together.” Uncle Bob elbowed Aunt Maureen in her ribs and looked at me. Aunt Maureen pushed his arm away. “Because if you watch them together or when they talk about the other you only see respect. Almost like siblings but better because they admire each other. “I wish you two wouldn’t get so caught up in my lack of a love life. I promise you there is someone out there that will make me fall in love with him. I am too busy right now to search for him. I am still young; besides if I am not worried about it, you two shouldn’t be. I have a very fulfilling life. Look at me. I am truly happy.” “We just don’t want you to miss out on being in love.” Uncle Bob put his arm around Aunt Maureen and gave her a squeeze. We finished the evening on the porch eating a bowl of mint chocolate chip ice cream, talking about their trip to Türkiye next month. I told them about the mosque that Sultan Ahmet I’s mother had built for his brother on the Asian side of Istanbul. I would get them the name of the mosque later. I couldn’t think of it at the moment. It was way smaller than the Blue Mosque nevertheless it was very tastefully done. I knew it was not in the touristy area, but I thought they should see what she built for the lesser of her two sons. Also, they could see how Turkish people truly lived. It is hard to believe that the Blue Mosque was finished just a year before Ahmet’s death at 27. I got home just before dark. That was something that bothered me about myself. I didn’t like to come into a dark building. I could work all night in the basement, dining area or my apartment but coming off the street in the dark spooked me. I knew I was silly nonetheless it was one of my many flaws. I had pretty much gone through all the boxes the Sanders left me and labeled the ones I was keeping stored in the basement. Vincenzo and I were ready for people to go downstairs. We had painted the walls a pearl white and had local artists hang their paintings for sale down there. I had had a few books stolen so I thought painting would be a better choice down there and make the room not feel like a dungeon. That was what it looked like when we started cleaning it out. Vincenzo took out the door and opened the walls around the steps so more natural light went down there. I found a good-looking second-hand couch with a couple of overstuffed chairs and some floor lamps to give it a cozier look. We had several dinette tables and a bookshelf full of games and cards that I found at a thrift shop. Down the middle of the room Vincenzo made a long table with benches on each side. Hanging from the ceiling were pendant lights with USB ports so people could charge their phones and computers while working. We were happy with the look. I have to say a few of the paintings I would never buy while others I hoped would never sell. I kind of wanted to put those on the main floor so I could look at them all day. The Day of Eva I had put up a sign in the window that I was looking for a part-time worker. I was going to have to pay that person above board unless they were another international student who couldn’t work. The second day the sign was in the window, a beautiful young woman came in the shop looking for a job. I could tell she was hesitant so I thought I would start with a simple question “What is your name?” I hadn’t seen her in here before. I was very good at remembering faces and names. Quietly she said “Eva.” “And your last name?” She started to stammer then said “Sheboygan.” “Like the city?” I said with a furrowed brow. She made a face then confessed her last name was, “Stanford.” “Like the University?” This kid was confusing me. “No, like the mayor.” “Oh” I let out the word like air let out of a balloon. “That’s okay I will leave.” “Don’t go.” I saw the sadness on Eva’s face. In rushed Mrs. Miller, my favorite customer who bought at least two books a week. She didn’t like eBooks. She loved the feel of the paper as she turned the pages. She wasn’t a fan of the library because so many of the books had been used and didn’t smell like new, another thing she loved. She would help me unpack books when they came in. Her husband was a fan of my chocolate cherry cookies and every week she took home a dozen for him and snickerdoodles for herself. When I made baklava, she would buy half the sheet to take to her dad and mom plus a section for her son and his family. I had quite the following for my baklava. Once a man from Crete cried right in front of me when he took a bite. He said it tasted like the baklava that his mom made. Every Thursday when I made a sheet, he would be the first in line to buy a couple of pieces. Mrs. Miller was all abuzz with excitement, she was carrying a bag of groceries. “Oh, Sandra, do I have something for you and me in this bag. Oh, I love it when I confuse you.” She turned to Eva, “Isn’t she adorable when she looks at me like, what’s going on here?” Eva agreed with her though somewhat reluctantly. Anyone would agree with Mrs. Miller because she was always so enthusiastic you couldn’t help but get excited. “I brought you honey from Greece, actually it came from Rhodes. You were so right; Rhodes was worth going to. It was so lovely. It has such a different feel than so many of the other islands we visited.” Again, she turned to Eva who was backing away. “Anyway, I was told that Rhodes honey is the best in the world and she” Mrs. Miller turned and pointed at me “was right. I am spreading the word that if you don’t know where to go just ask Sandra. You should open a travel agency here, too.” Eva was backing up more and I could see she was leaving. “Please Eva stay and try this honey.” Mrs. Miller turned to her, “Yes, you should try the world’s best honey.” “Mrs. Miller, I am sorry you misunderstood me. I said it was considered one of the best affordable honeys in the world. New Zealand has what is considered the best honey in the world.” “Well, we will just have to see about that on my next trip. Will you help me plan it too?” “Of course. I have some great travel books on New Zealand, and I can check some travel blogs to find what you and Mr. Miller like to do.” “I wish you would call us Mike and Donna. Anyway, I have bought you some treats as well plus,” and she pulled out an evil eye that is probably the most beautiful evil eye I have ever seen. Then she pulled out a beautiful ceramic sailboat. “I thought you could hang these because you have had enough evil in your life, and you need all the luck you can get.” She had one in each hand, and she looked back and forth between them and said. “You don’t think these counteract each other, do you?” She looked at Eva then me. Eva and I both respond “Oh, I wouldn’t think so.” We looked at each other and for the first time I saw Eva smile. I said, “Do you think we should try some good honey?” I could see that Eva was in for tasting some honey. I grabbed a couple of bamboo stirrers and one of the jars that Mrs. Miller had pulled out of the bag. “Sandra, I don’t want you to be hurt that I am asking you to make a baklava with this honey for my family.” She held up the other jar. “Don’t be silly, my mind is already going through what I should bake with this. I thought I could make my baklava and my honey cake. Oh, I have been wanting to try this honey spiced bread that is more like a cake. Now, I have some honey to experiment with. I will make sure you get some of the bread too.” Eva was about to leave with Mrs. Miller. I stopped her and asked her to sit down with me. Eva had been trying to get a job for a couple of months, and no one would hire her when she told them her last name. The mayor hadn’t been popular since he was elected. In three years, he did nothing for the citizens, just did things for his friends and family, which was a huge amount. He was being investigated for some wrongdoing. Vincenzo was handling the few customers in the shop so we had time to chat. Come to find out Eva loved books but was worried about serving people. No, she didn’t have a problem serving people, she was worried that when people found out her name, they would not want her to wait on them. I told her hardly anyone would ask her last name. Sandra looked at Eva, “How about you go without makeup, pull back your hair and braid it so it hides your curls. I bet no one would recognize you.” Eva seemed thrilled. I took pity on her and hoped I hadn’t made a mistake. I knew what it was like to be judged without people knowing who I really was. I wanted to give her a chance.

Romance books written by Kimberly Caristi. They are stories about romance, travel and food. If you love Italy you will love the pictures, stories and food. Unpublished Books: A Club I Never Wanted to Join My Summer A dventure My Mother Ruined my Life My Daughter thinks I ruined her life Crows Nest Life is... so many things The Winds of Wyoming Possibilities (Dart) The Diner

Tanzi is a level headed chef who travels to Italy with her father. She meets best friends. One who is well breed and the other who annoys her. When she comes between these two she leave to travel around Italy only to find out what and who is important to her. Written by Kimberly Caristi Tanzi is a passionate chef who waits tables more than she cooks. After losing her boyfriend and the restaurant she is working in closed she travels to Italy with her dad and meets Kyle and Phillip. She falls for one then realizes that she loves the other. She comes to the conclusion that she needs to straighten out her life before she gets into another failed relationship. “The two most important days in your life are the day you are born and the day you find out why.” – Mark Twain I found out very early on why. My parents were in love. What am I saying: they are in love! The kind of love that makes a young child gag, a young adult desperately want, and an old person cherish. I heard the story my whole life. On every anniversary my dad would start with a toast to my mom. She would blush, putting her hand on his and say, “You don’t have to tell our story every year.” My dad’s response, “How else will she learn what love truly is and what it takes to stay in love?” Yes, I was a part of their anniversary every year. I had to be because I was their cherished jewel that came out of their union. It was hard enough to be told that but they told everyone we met through my high school years. I so wanted to be the hidden jewel when that story was told. Secretly, I did like the story and maybe loved the story. I think that was why it hurt when they stopped for a couple of months. But I digress. This is their story that they told. My dad would start his story about how they ended up at the same fraternity party. My dad said it was love at first sight, my mom said, it was my dad’s perseverance. To hear my mom tell the story, my dad was your typical math guy. His personality was kind of boring. He wasn’t an outdoor person at all. He wasn’t the most outgoing person. My mom thought she wanted the life-of-the-party kind of guy. Mom was very outgoing and probably has never met a stranger. She thought she needed someone as open as her. Once I asked my mom why she thought he was kind of boring because I thought he was funny. Her response, “I think your dad and I have melded together after all these years. He became more open and I have settled down. I think in a good marriage you balance each other or you become one. Your dad and I became one.” What brought my mom around to start dating my dad was he wouldn’t give up on her. When he found out she was a landscape major he would show up at her dorm with a plant each week. He would tell her he found this plant that needed some love and thought of her. By the fifth week she was waiting to see what plant he would bring her. He never asked her out. He would just talk about how she would care for this plant. Ask her how her week went? Did she have any exams yet? Simple things like that. By week ten my mom’s roommate was tired of all the plants and made my mom ask my dad out. My mom didn’t think they would have things to talk about but dad proved her wrong. My dad loved to read so he started reading about landscape architecture the day after he met her. On their first date dad took mom to Volunteer Park on Capitol Hill not far from their campus at the University of Washington. There are so many parks in Seattle to pick from, but dad chose this one because it was designed by John Olmstead. His father, Frederick Olmstead was the man who designed Central Park. Since dad was from New York City he thought it was the perfect place for their first date. Their date didn’t start off well because dad was walking around telling mom all the details of the place that he had read. Dad could see mom was bored so he changed tactics. He started asking her questions about the plants they were seeing. They could actually have a conversation about everything. They both agreed that they thought the conservatory was the highlight of the park. The greenhouse was the perfect place to stroll through on a cold and damp afternoon. Because of all my dad’s reading it led my mom into a whole different area of studies. He asked her all kinds of questions that made her look up the answers. Her own research led her down a new path. She was still in landscape architecture; it was the area of concentration that changed. She had grown up on a farm and thought she would move back and help her brother and his family run the farm. Her brother had already taken over the farm from their dad. The Christmas break after meeting my dad, my mom talked to her brother about changing her idea of coming home and working with him on the farm. Uncle Bob just wanted her to be happy and he liked the idea of her study of the ecological landscape. He was all about trying to help the environment. He was in the process of changing the way he farmed. Now Uncle Bob has an organic farm that has little impact on the environment. It was more work but the whole family felt better about leaving this place, better than when they got here. My grandpa didn’t totally understand it, but my grandma said she loved what they had done with the farm. She said grandpa was an old man who hated change, but deep down he knew it was the right thing to do. My mom realized that my dad was quiet though he was really funny and so smart he could do anything he wanted. He retained everything he read. He was like a walking encyclopedia. You never wanted to play a trivia game with him unless you were on his team. This was one of their activities they did with a few friends. Whoever had the time for a game they would look around town to find a place to play. They have traveled over an hour to play a trivia game at some pub. This was the only time mom would eat out at a restaurant. It had to be a very conventional restaurant. She was a meat and potatoes kind of gal. Dad grew up trying all kinds of foods and loved them all. Life is a series of punches. It presents a lot of challenges. It presents a lot of hardship, but the people who are able to take those punches and are able to move forward are the ones that really do have a lot of success and have a lot of joy in their life and have a lot of stories to tell, too. — Josh Turner My dad had picked the Conservatory to have their wedding the day they saw it for the first time. He knew he was going to marry my mom after that first night, she just didn’t know it until two years after they started dating. They got married before mom graduated. It only took my dad three and a half years to get his degree in Data Analytics. He was hired right away by a large corporation. As soon as mom graduated, they started trying to have a baby. They thought they would have their four children right away, then mom could start on her masters before entering the workforce. They had given up on having any children after trying for five years. They went through a bunch of tests and nothing really showed up that would prevent them from having a baby. Mom decided to go back and get her masters then got pregnant that first semester back in school. She lost the baby after a couple of months. A year later she got pregnant again but lost that baby, too, after three months. She got pregnant after she graduated with her masters and they decided she wouldn’t go into the workforce and she was very careful but still she lost the baby. They decided that they wouldn’t try anymore and mom was hired at the university as an instructor and started consulting on the side. When my dad turned 30 my mom took a pregnancy test. That night they talked for hours about what they should do. They decided not to tell anyone until she was seven months pregnant. They thought both sides of the family would go through just as much grieving as they did and wanted to spare their feelings. Seven months later I was born two weeks premature. It was perfect, my mom said. She was able to get her final grades in for the spring term and had off the rest of the summer to care for me. They named me Tanzima because it means “A wonderful gift that has landed on earth from the heavens.” My parents are not Hindu. As I have already said, my dad reads all the time. Both of my parents were so happy to finally have a child and they really felt like I was a wonderful gift. I apparently was a very good baby that turned into a very gifted child to hear my parents talk about me. I was the only girl on both sides of the family so I was showered with attention and gifts from both sets of grandparents. My aunts loved to buy me dresses because they never got to shop in a section with so many options. Apparently, the boys’ clothes section in most stores are so small and not as cute as girls’ dresses. Sad to say there were no more babies after them. I was an only child with wonderful parents and an extended family. Life sometimes seems strange when two people who loved each other to the moon and back who wanted a huge family could only have one child. Plus, you would think they would have given their only child a name that wouldn’t confuse the whole world that wasn’t Hindu. I just went by Tanzi most of the time though it still confused people. Life is a lively process of becoming— Douglas MacArthur Uncle Kenny said that he was responsible for mom and dad getting together. When my dad was a teenager, he visited Uncle Kenny while he was stationed here. My dad fell in love with the area and applied at all the universities in the area. He took the one that gave him the best scholarship. Grandpa said that the base was calling all the Lewis men to town. He would go so far as to tell people that it was named after us. Dad’s parents moved out to Seattle after Grandpa retired from the fire department. Uncle Kenny was stationed out here at Lewis McChord and both he and his wife Louise fell in love with the area. When he got out of the air force they moved back and now he was a civilian working at the base. They lived in the beautiful little town of Dupont not far from Seattle. Mom’s parents lived about three and a half hours away. Mom says they lived the perfect distance away from us– close enough so that it was an easy drive but not close enough that they could drop in unannounced. We did a lot of cleaning before my grandma Thompson came to town. My mom loved my dad’s parents and they loved her. She didn’t care if they dropped in unannounced. They lived about twenty minutes away. They babysat me most of my life. Grandpa took me fishing and grandma taught me how to bake the best butter cookies ever. They would play any card game and most board games with me. Once a month grandma and sometimes grandpa would take me to an art museum. Grandma missed the art museums she went to in New York. She wanted me to have an appreciation for art. Grandpa wanted me to have an appreciation of fun. He was always cracking jokes, especially when grandma was getting too serious. When I was younger, he made going to museums fun because he would make fun of paintings. Grandma would get on grandpa when he was being ridiculous, though she would always laugh. I pretty much did whatever I was told and when I was told to do it. I never went through the terrible twos or threes. I never talked back. You could say that our life was pretty perfect. Both of my parents had great jobs. They loved each other to the point of making me sick. I could not handle the love talk or the hugs and kisses in front of me. I was always telling them to get a room. We were a family that exercised together, much to dad’s dismay. He thought he was doing enough work in the lavish garden that we had in the backyard, then mom got us all new bikes for Christmas when I was nine and we started biking all over the town. Then we started biking in the mountains when I was thirteen. Dad was the one who suggested biking in the mountains, which surprised my mom. He was liking this biking thing after all and he was feeling so much better, plus his clothes were getting baggy on him. He liked his new look. I didn’t notice that he was overweight. I think his suits must have hidden things. Mom liked that she felt more fit biking, too. I just liked biking and running. In junior high I signed up for Cross Country and was pretty good at long distance running. Mom and dad started running too. We would run before work and school three days a week. My dad wanted to make sure that I was well rounded so I attended math and science camps in the summer. He just knew that I was going to be this math wizard because I could do fractions when I was five. I loved figuring out fractions. Especially in orange season, I loved dividing them up and figuring out what was a half, fourth, eighth and if I was lucky twelfths. My mom wanted me to help her in the garden and she would tell people that I got my green thumb from her. I really didn’t understand the green thumb until I was a teenager. I thought, well all my fingers were green from working in the garden. What was she talking about? It was not just my thumbs that were green. One day dad and I were listening to “A Way with Words” on the radio and I heard them talking about the origin of green thumbs. I did like working alongside my parents in the garden or house. I truly just loved being with them. Life is a travelling to the edge of knowledge, then a leap taken — D.H. Lawrence When I became a teenager, I was trying to decide what I was going to study in college. I had so many interests and my grades were straight A’s. My dad said I could write my ticket anywhere I wanted to go. One day my friend Emily and I were watching the movie Julie and Julia. I thought it was so cool that this woman took a cookbook and blogged about a recipe every day. Emily and I thought it would be fun to do just that, plus we both loved Meryl Streep and thought she did a really good job portraying Julia Child. We took one of my mom’s cookbooks and decided to try making everything in the cookbook though we didn’t blog about it. We put the finished dishes on our social media account. We did more than one recipe a day. Some days we would make a whole dinner for our family. It was really fun. Emily got tired of doing it after a couple of weeks. I didn’t, I started making dinner for my family every night. I already had a love of food from my dad. Going out to dinner with my dad had been our thing. Once a week we played roulette with restaurants we wanted to try. Dad made a roulette wheel that we put names on a posted note and stick them on the spaces then we would spin the wheel. When we landed on a space, we pulled the note off and added a new one. If we really liked the restaurant, we put the name back in the rotation after a couple of months. If we happen to want to try out a steak place, we invited mom. Both of my parents loved that I started making dinner because I essentially made their lives easier. I started to experiment with what dad bought at the store. He had started to buy unique items to see what I would come up with. Mom would even try the food I made and say she liked it. I knew she loved her steak and potatoes so I didn’t experiment every day. We were all having fun with my culinary excursions until the beginning of my senior year when I started to tell them I thought I might go to culinary school instead of college. This was the first time I heard my dad yell at me. He had never raised his voice to me, ever. My mom didn’t intercede on my behalf, which really upset me. She was always telling me as long as I was happy it didn’t matter what I wanted to study. Dad said he wasn’t going to pay for my culinary education if that's what I was going into. The next day I got a job as a waitress in a really nice restaurant. I was going to pay for my schooling on my own if they wouldn’t. I loved the idea of becoming a chef even more while working that year. I would be in the kitchen before my shift watching and helping if they would let me. I learned a lot from the sous-chef. She was so nice, letting me help. She told me what school to apply to and encouraged me along the way. Jess told me to get a four-year degree so I would know the business part as well as how to cook. She was told by her mentor to do just that. Jess thought you would become a better chef in the long run with a four-year degree. Jess also suggested that I work in different restaurants to get a feel of what kind of food I wanted to cook. There are so many levels between Haute meaning traditional, to nouvelle, to fusion or going the molecular gastronomy route. What ethnic food did I want to cook? I had no idea so I quit that job and started working at a Chinese restaurant since I loved Chinese food. That lasted a few months because I wasn’t allowed to help in the kitchen. I still talked to Jess every time I moved to a new restaurant. I loved working in the Greek Restaurant because I loved the people and the food. I hated to leave them but I found a small restaurant willing to let me work in the kitchen. I loved the German food but I knew if I made this food a steady diet I might not fit into my jeans for long. I also learned I was not going to make much money working in the kitchen to cover the cost of culinary school. I went back to waiting tables and hanging out in the kitchens. My parents were both disappointed that I did not change my mind by the time I graduated from high school. I graduated with a 4.0 and had a bunch of colleges sending me information that I didn’t request. I wasn’t sure if it was my parents that sent away for the information or the colleges just sent it. I didn’t care. Our idyllic life was no longer. My parents still refused to pay for my college education even though I told them I was going to go to a four-year program that would earn a Bachelor of Science degree. They wouldn’t listen to me. It was like a switch went off in their head if I tried to talk to them about it. I could see it in their eyes the far off look they gave me. It was like they were looking through me instead of at me. I had enough of the fighting and moved out one summer afternoon when they were at work. That went over like a lead balloon. They texted me repeatedly to come home so we could talk. I left a lengthy letter explaining why I moved out. I didn’t want to discuss this anymore. Life is a matter of really tough choices — Joe Biden This was the beginning of me living out of a suitcase. Whatever fit into my car was all I accumulated. If I couldn’t fit it in my car, I didn’t want it. Yes, I took the car my parents gave me for my sixteenth birthday. It was my present after all. As soon as I could, I took over the insurance for it. I decided I was going to be independent and I needed to pay for everything. My parents told me that I still was covered under their plan for my health insurance but I paid for the stitches that I needed to get. A health hazard when working in a kitchen with sharp knives. I knew health insurance was expensive and I was thankful that I was covered. Otherwise, I would have gone without insurance. I couch surfed for a couple of months until I found a few people who needed someone to rent a small bedroom. I was not a fan of sharing a bathroom, a first for me. I was a pretty neat person and two of the guys were always getting in trouble for leaving the seat up and leaving the bathroom a mess. When we females started throwing the trash in their beds, they got the hint that they’d better clean up their act. I was the youngest but they called me grandma because I was so careful how I spent my free time. I was always studying or working. I ran early in the morning, sometimes a couple of hours after they went to bed. I made the decision to work the first year out of high school to earn my independence so college would be cheaper. It took a few months and grandpa and grandma Lewis had to intervene on my parents’ behalf for me to talk to them again. My grandparents and I went out to an art show to be followed up with dinner at our favorite restaurant. They had started going to the Greek restaurant that I had worked in and we continued to eat there after I left. The Greek family still considered me family and was happy that we still came to their restaurant. We usually had dessert on the house. They made the best baklava I have ever eaten. My grandma agreed with me that it was the best. We walked into the restaurant and I couldn’t believe my eyes – there sat my parents. The look on their sheepish faces told me that they knew all about this. I felt like I had been betrayed by my grandparents. What was worse, I couldn't leave because my grandparents had picked me up. My grandma took me aside when she saw me hesitate. “Tanzi, you are going to have to talk to them sometime. This has been going on too long. We are going to sit here like five adults that we are and we are going to hash this dispute out.” She made me look her in the eyes. “Do you understand me?” I knew she meant business. “Yes, ma’am.” I looked into her eyes to see if my next statement would connect. “Did you say the same thing to them because they were not listening to what I had to say? That is why I left.” “Oh, honey, they got a very long lecture from me when you left and last night when I stopped by their house.” She gave me a huge smile and then one of the best hugs I have had in months. Well, we sat down with my parents and things were a little strained at first. Then my grandpa Lewis started making really bad jokes and the mood changed. We had a very nice dinner, even mom enjoyed the food. I told her what to order and she really liked it. Even though it was chicken she thought maybe I could cook it for them some night when I moved back. I could tell that I hurt them again when I told them that I wasn’t moving home. This brought on a whole discussion about what it meant to be independent and I was prepared for it. When I told them I had met with our insurance guy about taking over the insurance for the car the other day, they were shocked. When my dad recovered from the shock he was impressed. He turned to my mom and said our little girl has grown up. They were happy to keep paying for the car, which I was happy about. My life is a struggle — Voltaire I was working my fingers to the bones taking any overtime when I could get, sometimes working two jobs and taking classes at a community college. I knew I wanted this four-year degree but it was going to be expensive. The only help I was getting was verbal advice from Jess and every once in a while, a chef would make a comment to me about what I should be doing. I took everything that was told to me and made a diagram to my end goal of getting a BS in a culinary school. I knew I was going to be in debt for a long time. I really didn’t care, though I had no idea what I was really getting into. Everyone was in debt, right? It was nothing new. I just knew I wanted a BS and I was going to do it on my own. I told my parents that I applied to the CIA and was accepted. I was excited to report that I got a scholarship. My parents were in disbelief. They sat there with their mouths hanging open. “What about cooking? I thought you wanted to be a chef.” I started laughing, “The CIA is the Culinary Institute of America. Did you really think I was going to be a spy?” It was a good laugh until they found out it was in California. They had hoped I would stay up here in Seattle. I assured them that Seattle was my home. I would be back because there were so many good restaurants around here that I knew I could get a job back here when I finished. I said my goodbyes to everyone and drove my Prius down to Napa. My scholarship did not cover all expenses and really quickly my credit card bills started to pile up. I didn’t know how it happened that I was getting into so much debt. I was working while going to school. I wasn’t into clothes. I didn’t eat out much: between work and school, food was pretty much covered. After a year I told the school I couldn’t afford it anymore and moved back home. I missed my family anyway. I was glad I did. My grandpa Lewis died about six months after I moved back home. He was the light to everyone. He was so smart and quick-witted. Even though some of his jokes were lame we still laughed. He was so full of wisdom that everyone sought him out when they had a problem. We were all like lemmings. We followed him around. He gave the best hugs and the twinkle in his eye would make you feel better in an instant. Dad, Grandma and Uncle Kenny were so heartbroken it was difficult to watch. I busied myself in the kitchen making food for everyone who stopped by. Grandpa had so many friends here and I don’t know how many flew in from New York. We almost needed a traffic cop for all the people stopping by. Since Grandpa moved here, he and Grandma still helped out at the fireman picnics and brought dinner to the stations. We had no idea how involved my grandparents had gotten since moving here. I think they have more friends than my parents. Grandpa was buried with some Firefighter honors. He was a true hero saving so many lives. The evening before his funeral we read through some of the thank you letters that he received after a save. It really warmed my heart to read some of those letters. We picked out a few of the letters to read at the funeral. Grandpa thought it was funny that he wanted to be cremated and would make bad jokes about it all the time. It turned out to be really funny when the fire truck was our escort to the crematorium where he was going to be cremated. Uncle Kenny said that was our last joke that grandpa would play on us. We were laughing and crying at the same time. I assume for all different reasons. Grandma Lewis was so confused the whole time. She just went where we told her to go and sit when we told her to sit. Since I was the only girl child I stayed with Grandma and helped her dress and undress. For being an old lady, she still had a figure in a dress but seeing her almost naked was a real eye opener. I didn’t understand why she was so out of it until my mom took me aside and told me she heard you can only think about ten percent of your ability after a death. Grandma and grandpa had been married sixty years and had known each other their whole lives, having grown up on the same block in New York City. The death was a total shock so grandma was probably unable to think at all. After the funeral I was spending more time at grandma’s than I was in my own apartment. Grandma finally talked me into moving into her spare bedroom. I told her I would pay her rent or I wouldn’t move in. She agreed though she made sure I knew she wasn’t happy about it. She knew my schedule was very tight between going to school and work so she made no demands on me. When we were together and I wasn’t studying we would play cards or she would show me a movie she thought I would like. We were ideal roommates. We were both clean, well-mannered and quiet. Grandma worried about me because I wasn’t dating. I told her I didn’t have time to date. Besides, all I met were restaurant people and I knew I would never marry any of the guys I met at work. They were either poor, worked all the time, drank too much or did drugs. None of these things made a man attractive to me. I didn’t mind going out on group dates with the guys from the restaurants. There was a clear understanding of where I drew the line on what I was willing to do or go when I was with them. I didn’t want to be around drugs which they understood and if they did them while we were together, they did a pretty good job of not letting me see it. Because of my reluctance to date men in my field, grandma would try to set me up with sons of firefighters she met. Grandma would pull me to this or that function if my schedule would allow. She wasn’t very smooth about it either, which was so embarrassing for me. I just wanted to dig a hole in the ground and hide. Sometimes I would agree to go on a date, sometimes both the guy and I would feel the pressure to say yes. A few of the guys I went on more than one date, but what guy wants to go out on a date with a woman that needs her sleep and works forty hours a week and goes to school part time? Our hours of free time rarely worked out. I did find a running partner on one of the dates, but this was all we did together. We met in a group on Saturday mornings around seven and ran, then went to a cute little coffee shop and had breakfast afterwards. I have met some really nice people in this group. Life is a bunch of ups and downs. It's how you handle it —Baker Mayfield My mom and dad lived a very healthy life running, biking and eating healthily. They only drank on weekends and it was the night they went to trivia. Dad had one drink and mom had two. Dad was the designated driver. When we went out to dinner, we each had a glass of wine that complimented the meal. I was getting pretty good at pairing wine with dinner now through my education in the classroom and the restaurants I worked in. Dad was having more trouble keeping up with my mom when they were exercising and one day dad just didn’t have the energy to run. Mom made him go to the doctor as soon as he could get in, which was a couple of weeks. Mom went with him, which I knew was a sign that she was scared. I begged her to text me as soon as they were finished with the doctor. When I didn’t hear from her, I knew something was up. When I got home from school their car was in the driveway. Instantly I had a sick feeling in the pit of my stomach, the kind that makes you afraid to move because you might throw up. I sat there in my car in the driveway, not moving. My mom finally came out of the house to get me. She helped me out of the car and I clung to her afraid to let go. “Tanzi, it is going to be alright. There is a good chance he will beat this.” That was all I remember from that night. Oh, I also remember the words Hodgkin's lymphoma. Two words I had never heard before and wished they were never a part of my vocabulary. My head was spinning all night. After I held onto my dad for what seemed like hours listening to them talk about the cancer and the plans to get dad cancer free, I had to go to work. I was messing up left and right at work and they sent me home. I asked if I was fired and they laughed. Apparently, I was their best worker. I thanked them and went home and did my own research on Hodgkin's lymphoma. I had gotten into the Washington State University culinary program and was happy there. Doing this research on cancer I came across Bastyr University and saw that I could get a bachelor of science degree in nutrition and culinary arts. I liked the idea of the holistic approach I could take there. I applied that night. I was hoping I wrote coherently because it was after two a.m. and I am not great after midnight. I didn’t know what I was doing, letting myself go deeper and deeper into debt. I just knew what my passion was and it was cooking and my family. My scare with my dad showed me I needed to be around my parents more. Okay, now I was spreading myself thin as could be with work, school and seeing my parents more. I finished out the semester at WSU and started at Bastyr the next semester. Now I would be learning about all the holistic approaches to eating. I was making my dad eat better. I didn’t have to change much but I was feeling better that I was making food he could take to work for lunch so no more eating out at whatever restaurant that fit into his schedule. Since I moved out my dad would put money into my savings account, when he saw the amount drop below a thousand dollars. He thought he was sneaking money to me without me knowing. They set up my account when I was ten and our savings accounts were connected. If I wanted to, I could have put money into their account as well. I thought about putting the money back that he was transferring but instead I would transfer that amount into another savings account. This saving was increasing by leaps and bounds while I was in school. I couldn’t wait until I was out of school, then I could start paying off my debt and I would feel better about my situation. It was hard not to take this money and pay off some of my debt but I was bound and determined to do this on my own. Besides, I had plans for this money that I was saving. I wanted to take dad on a trip to Italy. I didn’t know this when I started to put it in a new savings account, I just knew I wanted to take him on a trip. During my dad’s chemo I made him food that would help with the sickness from the treatments. At least, I hoped it was helpful. He always had a brave face for us. One day dad caught a cold which scared mom and me. We were so afraid of any sickness. We were right to be scared because the cold went into his chest and he ended up in the hospital for a few days. This was when I decided we were going to Italy. While we sat with him in his hospital room, he talked about wishing he had gone to Italy. Mom told him she was sorry she kept him from traveling. She promised she would make it up to him when he got better. During this time, I felt so bad for my mom. She was so full of guilt. My grandma Thompson was sick on the other side of the state and with my dad going through chemo she didn’t feel like she could go home. I finally talked her into going home when dad was finished with his last chemo. Well, we were hoping it would be his last one. He still had many doctor appointments and scans to have, so we were keeping our fingers crossed. I stayed with dad while she went home. Dad said he didn’t need a babysitter but mom said she wouldn’t go unless someone was here with him. He was happy to have me stay with him if she would finally go see her mom. Mom ended up staying a couple of weeks because grandma was worse off than her family let mom know. Grandma Thompson passed away with all of her family by her side. A couple of days before her death mom called to say grandma was bad. Dad and I both called work to tell them we wouldn’t be in. We drove through the night to be with mom and of course to see grandma. Grandma was in and out of consciousness. On one occasion when grandma was coherent, she took her wedding ring off her finger and gave it to me. She whispered, “I want you to have all my jewelry but this one is the most important piece. When a man wants to replace this ring, you make sure he is worthy of it. Make sure he is as good as your grandfather. If he was half the man your dad is, you have a keeper.” I didn’t know what to say. I looked up at my dad and he was crying, which made me cry. I just laid my head on grandma’s chest and told her how much I loved her and I would make sure that I got a good man. We were all in grandma’s room telling stories about growing up and laughing when my mom turned to grandma and noticed she wasn’t breathing anymore. She had a smile on her face. When I say she passed away she really did just pass away. I had heard stories about people dying and some of them were terrifying. If I had a choice, I wanted to be surrounded by family telling funny stories and just pass away like she did. I drove mom’s car back the day after the funeral. Dad and mom stayed for another week. I got home and opened up my suitcase to find my grandma’s jewelry box in there. I hadn’t taken anything but her wedding ring which I still had on my finger. My mom must have put it in my suitcase. The jewelry box wasn’t big because, let’s face it, grandma was a farmer. You can’t wear a lot of jewelry around the farm, just like a cook can’t wear jewelry when working with knives and flames. The pieces of jewelry she did have were nice pieces. I really liked her wedding ring plus what she called her cocktail ring. The cocktail ring had a huge black onyx with little diamonds all around it. She had a couple other rings and when I put them on my fingers, I thought they looked funny. Don’t get me wrong, I loved them. I just wasn’t used to seeing rings on my fingers. She had a beautiful tennis bracelet that Grandpa Thompson had given her on their sixtieth wedding anniversary last year. She wore it every day since she wasn’t working on the farm anymore. She loved showing it off. Life is a series of experiences, each one of which makes us bigger, even though sometimes it is hard to realize this. For the world was built to develop character, and we must learn that the setbacks and grieves which we endure help us in our marching onward. —Henry Ford I sat there looking at my grandma Thompson’s jewelry thinking I probably could sell it all and pay a huge chunk if not all of my debt off. I flopped down on my bed to really think about it. This really was grandma’s jewelry, not mine. I couldn’t sell it. I took a deep breath. My family would disown me if I did something like that. My cousins had girlfriends that they would probably marry since they had been together forever. They probably wouldn’t have minded having grandma’s wedding ring to give to their girlfriends. I guess I was stuck with them. I didn’t know when I would wear them. I put everything back in the box and put the box in my underwear drawer. I kept getting bill after bill and I kept working hard. I had one semester left and I would graduate from college. It had only taken me ten years to graduate. I didn’t know what to do now. Dad was doing great. He only had to go to the doctor once a year now. Mom and dad have taken a couple of trips since he was feeling better. It drove me nuts when they came home. It was like they weren’t on the same trip. Their stories were so different. What hurt was they didn’t see that I would have given anything for a vacation or even just a long weekend away. I just kept plugging away at work and studying pretending everything was alright. Grandma Lewis had stopped setting me up, which thrilled me to death. I didn’t have time for anything right now. My parents decided to plan a graduation party for me which I thought was stupid but I didn’t want to cause any waves so I went along with it. Graduating was such a relief: no more paying money out of pocket to get an education unless I decided to go for a master’s or doctorate. Sometimes I thought about it because I was not sure where I wanted my life direction to go. Did I get a job at a hospital, work as a private chef, or keep working in a restaurant? I could throw in some more options but I got overwhelmed when I started looking for a job. I made the decision to keep working at the restaurant right now. I had a job on the line in a boutique restaurant that offered local food and craft beer. I made more as a server. This was frustrating for me. Something unexpected happened at my graduation party. I met a friend of my dad’s son. He had just moved back from the east coast. We hit it off right away. He liked my sense of humor, which I knew was an acquired taste. Grandma was happy to see that I was dating more than once every couple of months. Because of my hours at work, we had to get creative with his work schedule so we could go out on a date. At first, we were doing great, making time for each other, then Tim started to complain about my work schedule. I started to look around for a job that would fit a normal work schedule. Really a job that would fit his work schedule. When I found a day job and put in my two-week notice, my boss said he was going to offer me the sous chef job when Sandy, our sous chef got her head chef job at his new restaurant. It was hard for me to pass that up. I knew it would be only a few more months but I didn’t think Tim would be able to handle much more of me working there. It broke my heart that I had to give it up. Grandma Lewis wasn’t happy when I told her about it. “Why are you changing your life for this guy? You worked hard to get where you are. Do you think he would change his job to suit you?” All I could tell her was I was trying to live a normal life whatever that was. My new job was not as great as my old job. The people were not as fun to work with. It really felt like a job not a passion. After a couple of months, I was looking for a new job. Tim was putting more demands on me, too, like expecting me to always cook for him instead of taking me out to eat. He didn’t understand when I complained about not getting any time off of work. I got a new job where I got to be on the line prepping food and serving part-time. It was a new hip restaurant that was just starting up. The people I met were very nice and were joking with me right from the start. They didn’t know if I was a real chef because I didn’t have any tattoos they could see. I said I was starting a new look for chefs. I was going back to the Julia Child era. I said this in my perfect Julia Child imitation. Only a couple of people knew who Julia Child was but I wasn’t going to hold it against them. I was looking forward to this new endeavor. I wasn’t always free when Tim wanted me to be but I told him to get used to it. I had this new opportunity and I was taking it. The job and Tim were starting to fail after six months. I didn’t know which one was going to end first. I didn’t know which failure was going to hurt me more. I had pretty much had it with Tim and his demands. He was taking way more than giving and I was tired of it. It pissed me off that he broke up with me before I had a chance to break it off with him. He went on a vacation without me and never told me he was going. I got a text from him telling me he left for Colorado on a ski trip. That was it. I couldn’t believe he went on a trip without me! When he came back, I was going to end it. He had the gall to send me a selfie of him and another woman on a mountain telling me it was over between us. I scared Grandma to death when I let out a blood curdling scream. She came running to my room ready to find an intruder or me bleeding to death. I have never heard my grandma cuss before when she opened my door to see me pacing back and forth. “Damn you Tanzi. What the hell is the matter with you?” I couldn’t say a word, I was fuming. I finally showed her the picture Tim sent. “Can you believe him? After all I did for him!” “Well, he can go to hell then.” I started to laugh, “Grandma I never heard you cuss before. Have you been hanging around my people too much?” “I guess I have. Your grandfather would have been proud of me cursing. He said I was too prim and proper for too much of the time.” I gave her a hug. “You are just the right amount of everything Grandma.” I think our life is a journey, and we make mistakes, and it’s how we learn from those mistakes and rebound from those mistakes that sets us on the path that we’re meant to be on. — Jay Ellis The restaurant only lasted another couple of months after my break up with Tim. I went down with the ship. I couldn’t leave. The people were so nice but they were in a bad location, but most of all they were ill equipped to run a restaurant. I tried to help and I thought the pride they had prevented them from taking help or suggestions from anyone. The failure of the restaurant happened at the same time Dad was coming up on his five-year check on being cancer free. I was turning thirty in a month. I really had no money in my savings account but I did in the savings account that I set up with his money he had given me, I had enough to give my dad and me a wonderful trip. I talked to my mom about it and she really didn’t want to go. Besides, she had a big project she was finishing up and couldn’t leave. I thought she was just saying this so I would go with my dad alone. She thought it would be a wonderful gift to give dad. Just the two of us going somewhere. I talked to grandma about it, too. I said when I came back. I would look for a job and would she mind if I didn’t pay her rent this month and maybe next month. She was fine if I didn’t pay any more rent at all. I assured her while I was gone, I was going to decide how to use my degree the best I could and find a real job that I could see a future in. She was so happy that I was planning a trip with dad. I told her she could come along if she wanted. No, she wanted dad and me to have a special trip. Dad came home with great news. No more cancer! I made a special dinner for all of us. I even invited Uncle Kenny and Aunt Louise. Grandma Lewis was my date for the evening. I wished all my dates were as understanding as her. During the dessert of tiramisu, I made a toast. “To Dad, may he never have cancer again. For that matter may none of us ever have to say cancer again.” Everyone cheered to that toast. “Dad, I have a gift for you to celebrate.” I handed him an envelope. “What’s this?” He was looking around at everyone. “Do you know all that money you thought you were sneaking into my account? Well, I put it in another account then into CDs. I have a great teacher.” I patted his hand. “We are using this to take a trip to Italy…just you and me with a lot of Italian food and wine for two weeks.” “No, you should have used that money for school.” “You told me that you weren’t paying for my schooling.” “Well, I was wrong. You should take this money and pay off your debt.” “Too late, you already have two weeks off. Mom and I talked to your boss. You have a few days to tighten up loose ends then it is me and you flying off to beautiful Italy.” Dad looked around the room at everyone smiling so big and he shook his head and said, “Buon viaggio everyone.” Then he raised his glass in a toast. “I don’t know how I got so lucky to have you as a daughter.” I got out of my chair and went over to give him a huge hug and a kiss. Life is a song - sing it. Life is a game - play it. Life is a challenge - meet it. Life is a dream - realize it. Life is a sacrifice - offer it. Life is love - enjoy it. — Sai Baba This trip was to be a special vacation with my dad. A celebration of life though it turned out way more than that. In many ways it was the beginning of my story. A whole new world opened to me the minute we stepped off the plane. I rented a car with a manual transmission. I had learned how to use a stick when I learned how to drive, then my parents bought me a Prius that was automatic. It was a little shaky pulling out of the parking lot but I never stalled. Dad wanted me to drive because he was afraid he would drive too slow for the Italians. He knew they drove fast. He had done his research before leaving Seattle, plus he read most of the flight. We were both tired and the drive to Lake Como was a little difficult. It had taken us the better part of a day of travel to get to this point. We tried all the tricks we knew to have a successful flight. We ate very healthy the week before and kept hydrated. On the plane we drank a lot of water, too. I was glad we traveled first class so we were not climbing over people to go to the bathroom. We took a sleeping aid to make sure we slept. Still, we both were tired. I think we should have gone for a run before we got in the car. Instead, we went for a run when we got to our hotel. “Okay, Dad I will meet you downstairs when you are ready. I am going to stretch out front until you get there. It is such a beautiful day I don’t want to miss any of it.” “I will race you downstairs because I was thinking the same thing coming up in the elevator.” I walked into my room and I couldn’t get over how beautiful it was. Dad insisted that I get the room with a view of the lake. I have a little balcony that we could sit and have a coffee on in the morning. I walked around the room and touched everything. The room was filled with antique furniture. The wood was honey brown and with the walls a dusty rose, it is hard not to wish I could just stay in the room. The silk comforter was just a beautiful maroon with pearl color roses throughout. I ran my hand across the comforter and thought what it was going to feel like to lie down on it. I knew tonight would probably be an early night, then we would get on schedule. I was looking forward to going to sleep tonight. I beat dad downstairs by seconds. I ran down the stairs and he took the elevator. I told him he cheated and he reminded me this whole trip would be a cheating experience. He was only running because I was making him or he would be lying down on his beautiful bed. He told me I would have to check out his room. He might not see the lake, nevertheless the view was breathtaking. We took a lovely run down by the lake. Both of us kept pointing out things and it was hard to run and sightsee at the same time. We had to go off the trail once when dad saw a gelateria. We sat there looking at the mountains and the water, eating two dips of gelato. My new favorite flavor is amarena. I had never had anything like it. I loved sour cherries and chocolate together. The woman serving asked if I wanted an amarena with the chocolate swirled through it. Oh, I was in heaven. It would be hard to try a different flavor. Dad loved it, too. I thought his pistachio was good though two dips would have been too much for me. He didn’t have any trouble getting them down. We both couldn’t wait until the next time we got to have gelato. Dad suggested my flavor would be good in coffee. My dad and I made perfect travel partners. We loved trying what the other ordered. When we finished the run, we went back to the hotel to shower and dress for the day. We both felt better after the run. I thought the gelato helped, though now we were off to find a restaurant for lunch. Dad said he planned to eat his way through Italy and worry about it later. He would run each morning with me but I was to plan on eating a lot while we were here. I set up a cooking class for tourists in Bologna as a surprise for him. I wouldn’t mind taking a class in making Italian food. I was just excited about going to Bologna for the food. We were stopping in Modena and Parma on the way down there next week. I knew dad has wanted to come to Lake Como since he read a couple of books that take place here. I was the one that wanted to go to the Emilia Romana region. I had to be careful not to wish my time away while here. I really needed to be in the moment. We had asked the desk manager at the hotel where to go for lunch. He was more than happy to tell me about this little hole in the wall restaurant. He thought we would like it. We almost missed it because we were gawking at everything in sight. It was so beautiful here. I was thinking I could move here in a minute. I thought my dad felt the same way. We walked into the restaurant and the whole place was wood paneling and the table and chairs matched the paneling. I wouldn’t have decorated this restaurant like this but it must work for them. It has been a restaurant for over a hundred years. We were seated where we couldn’t even see out the one window. I was a little nervous because neither of us really spoke Italian. Dad had two years of it in college, which was a long time ago. You could smell the grease from the kitchen so I thought we were going to have something fried. Dad asked for the specialty of the house and something else for her…pointing to me. I gave dad’s toe a kick and thought the next time I was ordering for him. When the waitress left, I said, “You have no idea what we will get. We could end up with tripe. I knew I was supposed to be adventurous, nevertheless the lining of a cow’s stomach didn’t sound like something I wanted to be my first dish in Italy.” “Do you really think we will get tripe?” “I know they eat it here.” “Should I call her back?” Now, he looked a little worried. “No, but if we get tripe, you are eating most of it.” “I will give it a try. I think your mom would because it comes from the cow. What do you think?” “I don’t think you know mom at all. She would never eat it.” I just shook my head at him. Sweetheart, I have never seen you with jewelry on. Is that all from your grandma Thompson?” “I never get to wear rings so I decided that I would wear them all,” smiling so brightly. It made me feel closer to her and a little more ladylike. She would always talk about being more ladylike. I needed to wear more dresses and jewelry, she would say. I was fingering my locket when I realized that I didn’t show him what I did with it. Opening it up, “Dad, mom is with us on this trip.” I had taken one of my favorite pictures of them and put mom on one side and dad on the other. “Oh, honey, that is so sweet. I love that picture. Mom looks so beautiful. I think that was taken before I got cancer. My hair in that picture is my real hair.” “Dad, you still have hair. Yes, it might be curlier than it used to be and a lot grayer. You should be happy you still have hair. Several of my friends' dads have lost their hair, and they didn’t have cancer.” The woman brought us a little plate of fried fish that she called Shad. We will have to look that one up. She spelled it for my dad. I knew he would remember it. It was a little salty. Even so it was delicious on the bread. I thought they made their bread. It was so fresh and tasty. When the woman set a plate of creamy polenta with another kind of lake fish in front of my dad, he had the biggest smile. We were able to figure out that dad had perch on the polenta. I got a pork cutlet pounded out perfectly with roasted potatoes. We had made the deal to switch after we had eaten half and both of us were a little reluctant. We both were pleasantly surprised that we enjoyed the other dish as well, even though it wasn’t as hot. Next time we agreed we would just split the dish right away. Both of us were happy that we asked where to eat. We would have never seen this place. We were lucky to stumble onto it.. I knew we wouldn’t have stepped foot in it if the clerk hadn’t suggested it. When we stepped out of the restaurant, we were hit by a cold breeze coming off the lake. No wonder why they only had one window and a small door. I was sure when it was winter there were fewer cracks for the wind to rush through. The winter pictures I had seen in the hotel and the restaurant made me think I would love this place just as much in the winter. I might just have to come back here to ski in the alps. I knew my credit card company would like that idea. A person could dream, couldn’t they? We were reluctant to get in the car and drive somewhere so we just walked around the town and enjoyed the sights. We stepped foot into a few galleries, a couple of shops and we just had to stop in a gelateria for an afternoon snack. Okay I found my new favorite flavor: fruit of the woods. Dad got lemon. We agreed we wouldn’t get the same flavor twice if we could help it. We were in heaven. Everything we saw, we couldn’t get over how beautiful it was. We were in overload mode now because we just wanted to sit and enjoy the view. After seeing a couple of churches and one cathedral dad said he would have stayed a Catholic if he had been able to go to church here. We still have a couple of Basilicas to walk through and he was ready to go back to church. There were times like these when I wished I was raised in a church. I had nothing to connect to like Grandma Lewis and Grandma Thompson. They went to church every Sunday. Maybe when I went back home, I would go to church with Grandma Lewis. She might be surprised when I accept her offer to go. She had asked me every week since I moved in with her over five years ago. I couldn’t believe it had been that long. Maybe I should look for a place of my own. I knew I would never beat the price and I had someone who would cook for me. I loved cooking but I did enjoy a day off sometimes. It was dinner time and dad wanted to try pizza. I thought I could have done a better job though the simplicity of the pizza made it very enjoyable. I did like more herbs in my sauce. That said, the dough was what makes the pizza and the toppings did not subtract from the star of the dish, the crust. It was an early night for the two of us. Before we went to bed, we checked out each other’s room. I could barely tell he had a view because it was so dark on his side of the hotel. My room you could still see the lake. His furniture was darker than mine and they didn't match. Mine all matched, which I thought gave the room a more put together look. His bed looked just as nice as mine though his comforter was lemon yellow with swirls of blue and green. It looked to me like waves crashing into the sun. On my beautiful dresser I placed all six rings I brought with me and took off my necklace. I had to stretch my fingers out after taking them off. My hands were not used to wearing all those rings. It was kind of cool to be able to wear them. I didn’t care if one of them was a wedding ring. I was going to switch them around each day and see if I liked one ring better on a certain finger. I stood there looking at grandma’s wedding ring. I picked it up and played with it, thinking about my life. There wasn’t much to think about. I was too busy to date much in high school. I had a group of friends I did things with on weekends. It was a mixture of guys and gals. We only had one couple, who ended up together, out of the whole group. They got married in college and had everyone over a few times a year. They have me cook for the group once a year. It was fun but I was the only one who was still single this year. I couldn’t believe I was thirty, no job, no partner and a big debt. I set down the ring. I vowed that I would be married by forty and have a child. I hoped I could have children. I hoped my mom hadn’t passed down her problem. I slid into my bed and thought how nice it was to have satin sheets. I woke up to my alarm going off on my phone. I lied there thinking, do I really want to get up to run? I threw back the cover and slid off the bed. Yes, I wanted to run because I wanted to eat anything and everything. I hoped we could top yesterday’s food or at least have food just as good. Dad was waiting for me outside. “You wanted to have lots of food, too?” I laughed, “You are so right. My bed was so comfortable. Was yours?” “Oh, yes, I am going to have to look at the mattress because your mom and I could use a new one and I think it will be that bed. By the way, I don’t think the hotel people like my running gear. You should have seen the look I got.” “Oh, I meant to say something to you yesterday when you were coming out of the elevator. I saw the owner look at you and shake her head. I am not sure if it is that we are runners or that we wear skimpy clothes. I didn’t see any runners yesterday but they have such nice pathways around here.” I looked around, “It looks like we will be running in Seattle today.” This was very disappointing. I thought Italy would be sunnier than Seattle. There would be no sightseeing while running today, even though running through the streets still gives me chills that I was actually running in ITALY! After the run we thought it would be best if we showered and dressed before we went down to breakfast. By the time I got to breakfast dad was already on his second cup of cappuccino. He was sitting there with a plate filled with half eaten pastries and fruit. When I sat down, he was all smiles. “Please don’t tell your mom how I have eaten while we are here, please.” He was actually begging me. “Dad I won’t as long as you continue to run with me and when you get back you don’t cheat for a month.” “Okay, you drive a hard bargain,” frowning. “I mean no fatty foods or alcohol. You have to eat more spinach, raspberries and all the antioxidant foods I have taped to your refrigerator.” “If I eat some of that food while here, can I have a glass of red wine on Fridays?” He smiled that smile I couldn’t resist. “Okay, though I don’t want you counting gelato as one of those foods unless it is low in sugar and fat. I think the fruit of the woods sorbet I had yesterday would count.” I got the biggest smile from him. “I can handle that.” “You know if you keep eating like this you are going to get sick.” “Oh, but it is so wonderful going down.” I leaned in, “Dad! Seriously, what should I waste my calories on?” “That is easy…everything! These croissants are just as good as yours.” My dad knew the right things to say. I remember going through croissant week, month, year in school. It started out just wanting to learn how to make puff pastries then I added on more pastries until I had a minor in pastries. Working in the Greek restaurants helped when it came to learning how to make baklava. I learned how to stretch that dough or the owner’s mother would smack my hand with a wooden spoon. When I told my grandparents about this, Grandpa Lewis told me that the nuns at his school used to hit him with a ruler. After gorging ourselves with pastries, yogurt, fruits and topping them off with cappuccinos we decided to drive up into the mountains hoping to get out of the fog. I have to admit I was driving too slow for the locals. I had high beams flashed at me too many times to count. I saw a sign for a parking lot and took it. I told dad I have had enough of driving in the fog and that if he wanted to take over, I would be more than happy to hand over the keys. He wanted nothing to do with driving in this soup. Dad had read you always wanted to go to the center of the town. He said there were two reasons for this, the first reason is most of the action was in the center. The other was the tourist information was usually located there so you knew what to see in the town. We saw signs for the center and started walking. We could feel we were walking up a steep hill that had those cobble stones but that was all we could see. We were walking up a road that we thought was just a walkway when all of a sudden, a motorcycle came roaring around the corner. Dad and I jumped to the opposite side of the road and put our backs up against the walls. I hated to admit it but I screamed. As soon as the motorcycle passed us dad came running over to me and locked arms. “I could hardly see you on the other side of the road. Let’s keep together until we get in the middle of town.” I was comfortable with that. The higher we went the better we could see. There was more foot traffic and cars as we got closer to the center. We got to this bridge that went over rushing water – not that you could see the water, you just heard it. I could see this as an eerie scene in a murder mystery movie from long ago. I realized I had been watching too many movies with Grandma Lewis at this point. I expected to see a bunch of people in trench coats and Fedora hats whispering to each other. The sound of the rushing water echoed through the mountain passes and added to my overactive imagination. When we got to the top, we were still in fog, but you could see for probably a mile into the mountains. Looking out over the river that we couldn’t see, the fog was so dense along its path through the mountains. It looked like a river of floating white clouds. It was a very cool sight. I tried taking pictures of it, but they didn’t come out as cool as it looked. We milled around town looking in the shops for a gift for mom and grandma. We stopped in a jewelry shop and bought mom, grandma and my two aunts silver earrings. Apparently, Italy has a lot of silver. The earrings were so beautiful and they weren’t that expensive. I contemplated buying myself a pair. I kept coming back to these blue sapphire studs. They were very simple and I could wear them to work. I told myself I didn’t need to spend any money on me. I could have spent longer in this store. There were so many things to look at and they were all gorgeous. Dad on the other hand got tired of exploring after he found what he was looking for. “Honey, it’s after one. Don’t you think it’s time to go have lunch? All this shopping has made me hungry.” “Let’s go to that little bistro we saw by the river. We can sit outside and look up at the mountains.” “Sounds like a plan.” We were happy to sit outside even though you were sitting on top of each other. Seriously, the waitress had to turn sideways to get through the tables to wait on people. The tables were so small, really only two people could fit at them. I could see that this place would be more suitable for having drinks and looking at the mountains with a few friends. We were seated next to two handsome men in the corner of the patio area. It was hard not to stare at them when we were being seated. If we were back in Seattle, I would have enjoyed being seated this close to a couple of really good-looking men. I would have rather it not be with my dad seated across from me but rather one of my girlfriends. Though with my luck they would be gay and on a romantic date. We would have a great time chatting then go our separate ways. Since we were in Italy, I knew we would be going our separate ways after lunch. Dad was driving me nuts with his head bobbing towards the guys trying to get me to notice them. First of all, like I didn’t notice them. I could reach out and touch one of them without stretching and probably touch the other guy’s knee. Second, I could barely handle my dad being my wingman. Third, we were in Italy. What were the chances we would see them again? Finally, I got my dad to stop trying to get me to notice them by acknowledging them. “This is a beautiful restaurant. Have you eaten here before? We could use some help on what to order here.” The one man that I was facing had a sweet smile and responded as sweetly, “No, this is our first time. The fog was too heavy to continue on so we stopped here hoping by the time we finished I wouldn’t mind driving in the fog that was left.” This appeased my dad and he was happy to just look at the menu for the time being. I reached out to touch my dad’s hand to get his attention. “Are you in any hurry to get out of this town?” “No, why?” He looked at me with so much concern. I loved the way my dad could be so concerned about me with just a few words said. “Oh, I just wanted to have risotto. It takes time to make a proper risotto. You can’t make it ahead of time or it is mush and gloopy. “That sounds good but I see they have grilled pork chops and that is what I am having.” “Let’s get the house white if that is okay with you.” “Hey, having any wine is okay with me. Such a treat to have wine with lunch.” I heard the guy next to me make a grunting noise. I wanted to say something but I left it alone. I was not happy that he was finding humor in a simple statement my dad made. The waitress took our order and theirs at the same time. The man facing me ordered the risotto and smiled at me. They each ordered a glass of wine while dad and I ordered a half a liter of the house white. The waitress brought us our wine and a plate of bread. I was a little surprised that nothing came with the bread. The disappointment started to seep into my thoughts when I tasted the bread. It was definitely not made in house or even today’s bread. Dad and I agreed that it was not worth the calories after our first bite. While we were waiting for our food dad slipped a box over to me. “What’s this?” “Don’t think I didn’t notice you looking at these,” He pushed the box closer to me. I picked up the box and hoped they were the ones I truly wanted. Yes, they were the blue sapphire earrings. I jumped out of my chair and gave my dad a hug and a kiss. “You are too good to me.” I heard a noise coming from the guy sitting next to me. They had been talking about this renovation they were doing but when I hugged dad the conversation stopped and he tsked. I wanted to ask him what his problem was but reframed myself again. Sitting this close it was hard not to have a conversation with the people sitting right next to you. I had waited tables where people were at the same table and they were farther apart than the four of us. We were planning our next destination when the food arrived. I could tell when she set down my dish, I was not going to be happy. First, our food should have taken longer to make and second it looked undercooked. I could tell the color of the rice was not right. I was glad it was a mushroom risotto so I knew the mushrooms would be cooked enough. “Honey, what is wrong?” “This doesn’t look cooked enough.” “Try it, it might be deceiving you.” I took a bite and I felt the chalkiness in my molars as I chewed. “This is awful.” I looked over to the guy who ordered risotto but he got osso buco. His looked like overcooked or yesterday’s risotto. I wasn’t going to say anything to him though it wasn’t long and he was saying something to me. “How is your risotto?” “I am afraid it isn’t very good. I am fighting the urge to send it back. How is yours?” “Well, it isn’t the best I have ever had. Well, actually it tastes blah. I don’t know if I am being too picky.” His friend piped up, “He is the pickiest person when it comes to food.” My dad had to add his two cents worth in on this conversation, “Well, my daughter is a chef and she knows food. So, I trust her opinion.” The guy next to me said, “She’s your daughter? I thought she was your wife.” Now, I knew why all the noise was coming out of him. He was judging us. What a jerk! The guy I was facing started the introductions, “Hi, I am Phillip and this is my friend Kyle. Are you two traveling around Italy or camped out around here?” “Nice to meet you. This is my daughter Tanzi and I am Edward. We are up here for a week traveling around Lake Como then we are heading south to Bologna. After my readings I thought, I might want to pop over to Florence too. My daughter gave me this present after my five-year cancer free checkup.” “Okay dad, enough. I am sure these gentlemen don’t want our history as well.”

< Back Garlic-Glazed Chicken Pizza Prep Time: 30 minutes Cook Time: 10 to 12 minutes Serves: Serves 4 to 6 as a main course, or 8 to 10 as a starter Level: easy About the Recipe This pizza is a family favorite and anyone who likes garlic will go crazy for it. I got this recipe from my brother who was my hero...not just because he gave me this recipe. It is wonderful hot or cold though I might be the only person who likes cold pizza :-) Ingredients ¼ cup sesame seeds 1 head garlic, peeled, and coarsely chopped * 2 teas crushed dried red chili peppers ½ cup soy sauce 1-½ cups rice wine vinegar * ¾ cup vegetable oil ¼ cup chopped green onions 5 Tabls honey 5 boned and skinned chicken breast halves, cut into bit sized pieces 2 cups (about 8 oz) grated Gruyere cheese 1 cup (about 4 oz) shredded mozzarella cheese Your favorite pizza dough Preparation Put the sesame seeds in a small skillet over medium heat. Toast the seeds, stirring or shaking the pan, until golden, about 4 minutes. Empty onto a plate to cool. Reserve. Combine the garlic, crushed red pepper, soy sauce, honey, and vinegar in a bowl, reserve. Heat ¼ cup of the vegetable oil in a large skillet over medium-high heat and sauté chicken until opaque on all sides, about 3 minutes. Remove with slotted spoon and reserve. Pour the garlic mixture into the skillet and cook over med-high–heat, stirring frequently, until the sauce is reduced to a consistency of syrup, about 15 minutes. Return the chicken to the pan and cook, stirring constantly, until the pieces are lightly glazed, about 2 minutes. Remove from the heat and reserve. Brush your dough with vegetable oil, then top with a layer of each of the cheeses and the glazed chicken, leaving a ½-inch border around the edges. Sprinkle with the green onions. Pour a little of the liquid on the pizza. Bake in Preheated oven (500) for 10 to 12 minutes. Sprinkle with the toasted sesame seeds, slice and serve immediately. *You can substitute half the amount balsamic or red wine vinegar (3/4 cup) and the other half water (3/4 cup) plus provolone for the gruyere *I have used as little as ½ head but no less. You need that garlic to make the dish Previous Next

A fifteen-year-old girl thinks her mother ruins her life when the mother keeps changing their life situation, being a scatter brain, and too busy with her work.  It takes a grandmother figure to help her figure out her mother did everything to give her a life she wanted. Written by Kimberly Caristi A fifteen-year-old girl thinks her mother ruins her life when the mother keeps changing their life situation, being a scatter brain, and too busy with her work. It takes a grandmother figure to help her figure out her mother did everything to give her a life she wanted. #1 My mother ruined my life…again No computer games I couldn’t believe how many times my mother ruined my life. The last one was the worst and the best thing to happen to me. Well, all of them were the best thing and the worst thing to happen to me. I might be a drama queen but my mother does some really deplorable things when it comes to dealing with me and my life. The first time I remember my mom ruining my life was when she wouldn’t buy me Furby Zoom. My best friend had this game and we had so much fun playing it. I received a flat no from my mom. My dad didn’t even get to have any input into the subject. When mom had said no, I went to him and begged him to talk to her. He tried with no such luck. My mom just kept saying they looked stupid and she didn’t like the sound it made. I promised I would only play with it in my room. She didn’t like me playing video games, especially if I had to play them in my room. My dad and mom argued about me getting a tablet in the first place. My mom didn’t like computers. My dad was of the twenty-first century and he was all about computers. My parents met in college. Dad was studying finance and mom was studying art. I was told people thought they were an odd pair. When I asked my mom why they got together she would always say that opposites attract. I heard someone say my dad had such a type A personality so I looked it up on Wikipedia. What I found out was my dad was so type A personality through and through. It said they are outgoing, ambitious, rigidly organized, highly status-conscious, impatient, anxious, proactive, and concerned with time management. People with Type A personalities are often high-achieving workaholics. That described my dad to the letter “T.” They really should have put a picture of my dad next to the description of a type A personality. On the other hand, my mom is totally a type B personality, she is very carefree and relaxed. I would never understand why that meant she failed at understanding the concept of time. I felt like she really didn’t know how to tell time. Another thing that grated on my nerves was that she was so carefree she didn’t mind living in a mess. She was so relaxed about it she didn’t care who saw it. When it comes to my trait I am a totally a type C personality. I am a very detail-oriented individual who likes to be involved in things that are controlled and stable. I am interested in accuracy, rationality, and logic. No wonder my mom and I were always battling it out until I learned to control and stabilize our way of living. Of course, now I have to admit, my mother had a bit of a realization that I needed to control our lives. I really hate to admit that. I was told by my dad’s mom that she couldn’t see what my dad saw in my mom and grandma tried to talk my dad out of marrying mom. My grandma Wright was thrilled that my mom had found someone stable who might put some order in mom’s life. It wasn’t until I had it pointed out to me that I realized she was driven as well, though I didn’t see it that way until I was sixteen and living a life totally different to what I thought it should be. My mom knew she had talent, she just had to hone her craft and prove herself, though in doing so she let everything else in her life except me fall to the wayside. She was always very good at making me feel like I was as important as her art. I just didn’t see it until I saw it myself in other people’s eyes. My dad tried to put order in mom’s life, but they fought all the time about it. As I stated before, my mom had no concept of time. Dad would want mom to be ready at six to go to dinner and mom might be home by six though she would be covered in paint. Time was a constant battle with them. The other battles were how messy the house was and how we didn’t eat as a family half the time. Mom would be so engrossed in a project that she was working on she would forget to fix dinner or not show up at all. She did make sure she was home when it was my bedtime. I loved our bedtime ritual. To be fair, sometimes my dad would work late and mom would have had dinner ready an hour before he got home. A fight would ensue because dad said he told her he wouldn’t be home until seven and she just forgot it. My mom would say, “You always blame me.” They tried to hide their fight from me but I could here my dad yelling all the way to my bedroom. Sometimes I would go downstairs to try to interrupt the fighting. The fighting I blamed on my mom. I was on my dad’s side because she was the one who always ruined my plans. I was on my dad side of things until it was time for bed then everything that went on during the day would fall away. My mom and I would cuddle and talk about what was good in our lives. I needed my mom to go to sleep to feel safe. #2 My mother ruined my life…again My parents’ divorce and my mom and I move to New York City One day mom said she was tired of the fighting and was taking a job at the New York School of the Arts. That was the second time my mom ruined my life. My parents were divorcing and my mom was taking me to New York to live with her. We left my beautiful three-bedroom home with three bathrooms and a pool in Liberty, Missouri, for a rundown loft apartment in New York, New York. I really didn’t even have a bedroom. My mom put up a partition in the corner of the loft so I could have a space of my own. I was eight years old. My dad promised me that he would see me every summer and holidays. He wanted to make sure that I took care of mom. I think he still loved her but just couldn’t live with her anymore. I think my mom still loved my dad because she would cry herself to sleep for the first month we lived in New York. We each had our own partitioned room though you could hear everything that went on in that loft. The Loft in Chinatown was all my mom could afford at the time. The first six months we ate a lot of Chinese food from the little restaurant on the ground floor. When we moved away, we would go back to the little restaurant at least every month. They had the best dumplings and when they made dumpling soup it was over the moon good. Living in New York City was an education in itself. One of the first things I learned to do was to identify what a rat looked like. One day I chased what I thought was a cat down an alleyway. I was hoping my mom would let me keep it. I knew we had a mouse in our apartment because I asked my mom, “What are these little black beads?” She said, “They are little presents from our friendly mouse we were sharing our little apartment. Though, we shouldn’t touch them.” Anyway, when I finally cornered the rat, my mom had caught up with me. She screamed “Rat,” she grabbed my hand and she pulled me down the alleyway back to the road. She kept making involuntary shivers as we walked the rest of the way home. She promised me as soon as I was old enough to clean the litter box, I could get a cat. I started to learn what it was like to be a parent at eight years old. I could see why my dad would get so frustrated with my mom. My mother’s problem with having no concept of time at all, drove me crazy. I had witnessed it since I was little but it went to an whole other level when we got to New York. I was left at school so much the teachers had my mom’s phone number on automatic speed dial. After the first week of fourth-grade my teacher would call my mom before school was out every day to remind her to pick me up. I wanted to crawl in a hole and die every time my teacher called her because she looked straight at me. I thought if I weren’t a good student, she might have been mean to me during the school day. Instead, she would just look at me like, “why do I have to do this every day.” By fifth-grade I was starting my third school and we were in our third apartment. We could afford to live near mom’s school. The best part was I had real walls that went all the way up to the ceiling. Mom was having so much success in selling her art we were moving up in the world. Mom taught by day and worked at night; sometimes it was the other way around. She realized she was having so much success selling that she could tell the school what classes she wanted to teach. The students loved her and her classes filled up first no matter what time she was teaching. I have to admit I was proud of my mom when we would meet one of her students while we walked around the city. They would gush all over her. In turn my mom would gush all over the student telling him or her they were doing a great job on the piece they were working on. I knew we were staying in that apartment when my mom started to make friends with the people who lived there. When she would let me go down the hall to my friend’s apartment, I knew I was in a safe place. We even had a doorman that my mom would ask how he was doing and how his family was. He was adorable. He looked like Santa Claus. She started to pay my friend Leah’s mom to take me to school and bring me home about halfway through fifth-grade. That made my teacher very happy. Actually, I was happy. That ended my days of me starting the morning trying to get my mom to get up and dressed, which always ended up in a fight. Now I was being dropped off at school on time, which was fifteen minutes before I was supposed to be there. Leah’s mom liked to be early. She was always waiting outside the door of our classroom when the bell rang at the end of school. Leah and I would do our homework together while her mom would make dinner. Oh, the smells that came out of her kitchen would make my stomach growl. I wished my mom would learn to cook. By the end of the school year Leah’s mom was packaging up a little food for me before I went home. This was how I learned all about Indian cuisine. I learned I loved their food. My mother ruined my life…again #3 my mom can’t cook like other moms I complained to my mom that she didn’t know how to cook and should take lessons from Leah’s mom. On my birthday that spring my mom gave me cooking lessons from Leah’s mom. I learned how to make all kinds of things but Naan was my favorite. There is nothing like smelling fresh bread baking in your house. Don’t get me wrong, the smell of Dal Tadka (a lentil dish), Butter Chicken (has the same profile as tikka masala though different), Matar Paneer (a fresh cheese and pea stew that has an explosion of flavor) makes both my mom’s and my stomach growl. When my mom smelled samosas, she would usually be standing behind me as I was taking them out of the oven. The delicate pastry filled with spiced potatoes, onions and peas make for a mouthful of goodness. My mom told friends that was the best gift she had ever given me. I found my first love, cooking Indian food. Living in New York City was exciting and fun. I would downplay it when I was with my dad because I didn’t want him to know I loved living in NYC. Once a week my mom and I would do some kind of excursion in Manhattan. Central Park was a regular occurrence. There was so much to do in Central Park from age 8 until I left, it never got old. We went from seeing puppet shows and playgrounds to seeing concerts in the summertime where we saw new bands. I loved it when my mom and I would get dressed up to eat lunch or brunch at the Boat House. My favorite was when we would get a table at the railing looking out onto the lake. These trips made our time together more special. The things we did from day one until we left were go to Central Park Zoo and walk through the butterfly gardens. Both of these things we did with so much enjoyment. Much later than it should have been I stopped chasing the butterflies. I had so much joy seeing them fly around, it was magic. My mom painted a huge butterfly on my bedroom wall in each apartment. I was so excited watching the butterfly emerge from the white wall as my mother painted it. Each time the painting was different. I didn’t care, I just couldn’t wait until it was finished. I was always sad when we had to paint over the butterfly when we were leaving. I have to say sometimes I cried. I wasn’t sure why I did it because each move was to a better place and my mom would paint another beautiful butterfly on my wall. I might have a problem with change. Moving was always an ordeal, having to paint all the walls white and usually removing paint from the floors. Mom didn’t care for white walls at first but learned they were great canvases or backgrounds for her paintings. Another of our pastimes on the weekend was finding a new place to eat. Both of us enjoy our food. We went to all the international festivals around us. Sometimes we even left Manhattan to go to festivals in the other boroughs. We could tell you all the best places to eat. My mom was always drawn to festivals that had color and art. I felt like she was always in a search of the next inspiration while we were together. The funny thing was most of what inspired her was in our own backyard, Central Park. She painted a series of me on the merry-go-round that hung in our living room. My favorite one she gave to my dad as a present from me. He has it hanging in his living room. Sometimes my mom is the best until she ruins my life…again. My mother ruined my life…again #4 My mom can’t even pay the bills In sixth grade my mom was doing so well selling her art people started to recognize her when we were out in public. Her life got busier trying to meet the demand for her art. My life got busier because I had to start looking around our house for checks when bills were coming in past due. When the cable went dead and I couldn’t watch the cooking shows that really pissed me off. It was the straw that broke the camel’s back, as my grandma would say. I had to confront my mother when she walked into the apartment. My mom said, “I know we have the money somewhere.” The next morning, we both spent the day going through everything in our messy house looking for checks. We found checks in the most absurd places: in the coffee container, under a package of deli meat in the refrigerator, in a magazine from a month ago. When I found one in the place where we keep the toilet paper, I made fun of her. This was when mom decided that we should clean as we looked. I wasn’t thrilled with the cleaning part. My room was already cleaned. I liked living in an orderly home but my mom was a slob and I didn’t want to clean up her mess. I thought after a while she would clean it up. I didn’t realize I would be cleaning it up after all. When my mom found one of my books next to the couch, she walked it to my room to put it away. I had been reading it there when I was waiting for her to come home for dinner the night before. I forgot I had set it down when I went to get dinner on the table. She called me to my room. I remember this conversation like it was yesterday. “Emma, Emma come here now.” I thought she had found something terrible in my room. I came running. “What’s wrong?” “Look at your room,” she said with such excitement. “Again, mom, what’s wrong with it?” “It’s clean.” “I know.” I didn’t understand what was the problem here. “Do you always keep it this clean?” “Are you just noticing that my room is clean? Mom, you are unreal.” I couldn’t believe my mom and her observation. I thought being an artist made you observe everything. Well, her observation of how clean my room was gave me the job of cleaning the whole apartment. It took some negotiations but I got a new laptop that I wanted, my allowance was doubled, and my favorite thing was I got a clothing allowance. My mom got someone to clean her house. This was when I decided that I should take control of her finances as well. The first thing I did was easy. I just started to make deposits. On my new computer I set up her on-line banking and put as many bills on autopay as possible. After a show, my mom would hand me all of her checks. I had to ask her weekly if she sold anything so I could collect the checks. I would deposit them using my new phone – something else I got in the deal. I had to call my dad to ask him how to do most of this and he started to put his child support checks in automatic deposit. My math skills got so much better after learning how to balance a checkbook. My dad said I had to balance the books every month. I thought that step was unnecessary but I did it to please him. I soon realized that mom was making a pretty good income. She was making more money selling her art than she was teaching. We were spending way less than what mom was making. Dad told me about buying a certificate of deposit with the extra money. I tried to have her meet with someone to invest in stocks but my mom wouldn’t make the time. Knowing our finances put me in a good position to negotiate for the high school I wanted to attend. I was so excited when my mom agreed to one of the better high schools. I met so many kids from all over the world that I was in heaven. I was getting just as much of an education out of school as in school. I was making friends that had moms that really knew how to cook. I didn’t go around asking if their moms knew how to cook. It was just a happy coincidence. These moms were happy to show me how to cook their national food. Sometimes my friends and I would learn together, which made their moms happy I had come along. I was becoming an international cook. My mom and I were enjoying food from Thailand, France, Spain and Russia. My dad was afraid I was spending too much time cooking and not enough time studying. He searched for a bunch of workshops and summer programs that were in math and science for me. I agreed to attend them when I visited him in Kansas City. He had moved closer to work the summer before. I liked that he was living in Kansas City because I could still visit my friends in Liberty. I enjoyed my summer programs that I took after my freshman year in high school. I showed my dad that I was still smart even though I learned how to cook. He enjoyed my fresh French baguettes just as much as my mom. He couldn’t wait until it was cool enough to eat. He also enjoyed the milder Indian food I would make for him. He didn’t like the spiciness of the Thai food that my mom and I thrived on. My sophomore year in high school I learned all about love. I met who I thought was the love of my life, Nathan. We didn’t live far apart so we saw each other all the time. My mom liked Nathan and didn’t mind him spending time over at our house. He became a valuable person in her life when she realized that he could move her sculptures or canvases with so much ease. My mother ruined my life…again #5 My parents can’t stay in one place My dad threw me for a loop one day. At the end of the school day, he called to tell me he was moving to San Francisco, California, in a couple of weeks. I didn’t know what to say. All I could think about was no more seeing my friends in Missouri and no more seeing my favorite little big town of Kansas City, Missouri. It was such a reprieve from the noise of New York. I was so mad at him I ended the call. He called me right back and I wouldn’t answer. He started to text me thinking I would read them. I read them, but I wouldn’t – I couldn’t answer them. I just needed time to think about it and I knew that it wasn’t very nice. I just wanted to punish him for ruining my summers. What was I going to do in San Francisco? I wouldn’t know anybody. Mom got home in time for dinner. I was a little surprised because she was on time. I had texted her that dinner would be ready at six. I didn’t get a reply though to be honest I usually don’t. As I have stated before my mom was not very computer savvy and she thought her phone was a computer. I made the mistake of telling her the phone could do most things a computer could do so now she was more afraid of it. She does answer it when I call most of the time…if she can find it. We sat down to dinner with Nathan. He has been here all afternoon listening to me whine about my dad moving. Once he asked me if I was crying because I was unhappy or because of the onions I was chopping. I made my favorite Indian dish, butter chicken. It is my comfort food. It was the first dish I learned to cook and it comforts me to make it. I saw a lot of Indian dishes in our future. “Mom, did you know about dad moving to San Francisco?” She is trying to get the spicy potato samosa all in her mouth. I tried a new recipe I saw online that makes them into cone shapes. After seeing her try to eat it I thought I would go back to my standard way of making them. I did like the flavor of them and would make that filling again. “Yes, he told me he was going to call you today.” At least, she had the decency to cover her mouth as she talked. Well, that kind of pissed me off. “Why didn’t you tell me?” “Don’t get mad at me young lady. It is not my place telling you what your dad is doing. Would you like it if I told Nathan something about you before you had the chance?” “Ms. Shaw, don't bring me into this discussion. I am a simple guy getting a free meal,” Nathan said with a big smile. “Okay, Mom, I get your point. I am still not going to talk to him for a while. I was going to have him teach me how to drive this summer. There is no way I want to learn how to drive in a big city.” “Honey, why do you want to learn how to drive? We don’t even own a car. You don’t want to drive around here, do you?” “No, I want to be able to drive out to see my friends in Liberty.” “Oh,” mom’s tone was sad, at least. Mom took a bite of butter chicken and smiled. “Just think of all the new things you will see in California. Just think about all the different kinds of food you will be able to try. I have always wanted to go to San Francisco. Let’s go see where he is moving to together.” I have heard about going on vacations before with mom and they never happened. I was wondering if this was one more of her dreams that wouldn’t come true. It would be nice to go on a vacation with her. Dad wasn’t into food as much as mom was so going to a restaurant with him lacked excitement. When mom and I went to a restaurant, it was an experience. Every day my dad texted me and I ignored them. It had been two weeks since dad had told me that he was moving. I wish I could control my parents. It was so frustrating when they did unexpected things. I thought my mom was trying to lift my spirits by taking me to the Boathouse for brunch. Little did I know it was another thing that would happen that would ruin my life. Mom and I were walking to the Boathouse for brunch. They had only been open for the season for a few weeks. We usually didn’t go there for the first couple of weeks because everyone who misses it would be there. It was a beautiful spring day and we were enjoying the walk. My mom seemed a little more preoccupied than normal. I just chalked it up to her show next week. We shared everything we ordered. The waiter didn’t seem happy that we were sharing the appetizer of a lump crab cake. When he brought us the crab cake, we were ready to put in the rest of our order. We decided on a Greek salad, followed by the scallops with cauliflower risotto and for dessert cheesecake with macerated strawberries plus we were getting two apple turnovers to go. Mom suggested the turnovers would be good for a snack tonight. We could heat them up and serve them with vanilla ice cream that we had in the freezer. I have not made pastries yet. I thought pastries were hard to make. I did make some cookies but that was as far as I had delved into the pastry world. We were working on the cheesecake when my mom stopped and just stared at the lake. I couldn’t tell if she was wanting to quit or lost in thought. I finished my half and she was still staring out though she had become fidgety in her seat. That was a sign that I knew something was up. “Mom, what is the matter? I know there is something you want to tell me I am not going to like. Just spit it out so I can deal with it.” Mom looked at me with so much apprehension it scared me. What she had to tell me was really going to upset me. It was my turn to get all fidgety. I couldn’t sit still and my mom reached out and took a hold of my hand. “I have some news that is exciting; nevertheless, you are probably not going to like it at first.” I pulled my hand away. “Please don’t shut down until I tell you everything. This is a huge honor for me and I think this will be good for you too.” “Mom, please just tell me.” Her drawing it out was making me nervous. “Okay,” she took a deep breath and I prepared myself. “I have been given a Fellowship to the Academy of Art in Florence.” “How long will you be gone? I can stay with Maria.” I didn’t understand why she was so nervous. “It is for two years,” she said looking down into her lap. “I am sorry but we both are moving to Florence, Italy. I will be working on my MFA in studio art at the Academy of Art.” Mom tried to reach for my hand and I scooted my chair back. “I can’t believe this!” I was almost shouting. “I can’t believe you are ruining my life again! Do you ever think about me and my life? I have a great school. I can’t leave my friends. What about Nathan? You ruin everything.” With that said I pushed my chair back so fast that it fell over. I didn’t even pick it up. I just walked out of the restaurant. I saw a few people who were staring at me, but I didn’t care. I didn’t understand why she needed a degree when she was making so much money selling her art. She had an art exhibit a couple of times a year. She was very prolific in her art. She had no life besides art and having dinner with me most days. Our dinners had become a regular thing since she made a studio in our apartment. She would paint while I made dinner. It was like we were working on our own art together. We sat and talked for an hour or two about what I was doing or what Nathan was doing. His parents let him eat dinner with us three days a week. I really liked that time of day and I thought she did too. I knew she liked it because sometimes she was working on a painting or a sculpture for a show and she would still sit with me for a couple of hours. Our excursions around town were limited since I had a boyfriend. I thought the dinners were making up for the time we would have spent going around town. Sometimes I would talk Nathan into joining us on an excursion that my mom said we just had to go on. Mom didn’t seem to mind that Nathan would come with us. My mom caught up with me just as I got to our street. How could she leave this place? So many people would give anything to live in Manhattan. All the museums, theaters, restaurants, cultural events and if you like sports we have that, too. “Emma, let’s talk about this. You will love Italy.” She was out of breath. She still had to wait for the bill and the apple turnovers. I would not talk to her. She had ruined my life again. It had been a couple of weeks since dad told me he was moving and now this. I wouldn’t want to live in San Francisco, but did I really want to live in Italy? “Emma,” my mom touched my arm and I yanked it away from her. “Emma, you have always wanted to learn how to cook Italian. Now is your chance to learn in Italy.” Shoot what do I say to that? I really liked this idea of learning to cook Italian in Italy. How cool would that be? I decided to give my mom the cold shoulder for a while until I could figure things out. That was the worst day ever. I didn’t want to leave my school or Nathan. How was I going to tell Nathan the news that I was leaving for two years? I baked his favorite chocolate chip cookies and took them over to his house the next day. I was in pretty good spirits after sleeping on moving to Italy. It could be a cool experience. I felt lucky that I was finishing out the school year so I had about a month to say goodbye to everything I loved. Nathan knew I had bad news as soon as he opened the door. I had a huge bag of cookies for him. I had never given him that huge of a bag of cookies before. We discussed our situation for an hour while eating a large portion of the cookies. We decided to give the long-distance relationship a try but he didn’t seem thrilled about it. Nathan never really said he loved me but I knew I loved him. In getting ready for Italy, Mom had asked Peter, our neighbor, if he would give us Italian lessons. Peter told us all the places we should go for a good gelato. He had lived in Florence for a couple of years and assured me I was going to love it. When we weren’t taking lessons, Italian music was being played in the apartment. I had taken Spanish for six year and was pretty good at speaking Spanish with my friend Maria’s family. Her mom was the one who taught me how to cook Spanish food. She didn’t speak English very well so I really picked up what I had missed in school. My freshman Spanish grade went from a C+ to and A+ after the first semester. Learning Italian was much easier than I thought it would be since I had a great concept of the Spanish language. I actually was liking the thought of moving to Italy more. Was I going to tell my mother that?...no way! My mom on the other hand was having a terrible time picking up the language. She was combining English and Italian half the time. Another reason why I had a short fuse with her was I couldn’t deal with her attention span when we were having the lesson. I just knew she was not trying. I didn’t have patience with people who didn’t try their best. She tried to compliment me by saying my attention to detail was what made me a great cook at sixteen. The week before we left for Italy my mom and I flew out to California to see my dad. I thought my mom wanted to see where my dad was living. It was nice to play like we were a family again. We did all kinds of touristy things San Francisco had to offer. We took a boat to Alcatraz, toured Chinatown, went to Fisherman’s wharf, rode the cable car, and went to the zoo. It was hard not to compare the two Chinatowns nevertheless I thought both of us liked San Francisco better. Even though New York’s was bigger and we are more familiar with it, there is something special about San Francisco’s Chinatown. It was the first time we had spent this much time together since before the divorce. What was I saying: I didn’t ever remember spending this much time together. Neither of them were working and there was no fighting, it was a very pleasant time together. It was the only time since my mom made the decision to move that my behavior was pleasant. Yes, I was being a drama queen. I was thankful that I had parents that understood me enough to let me work out what I was dealing with before they intervened. My mother ruined my life…again #6 Moving to Florence Italy The day before we left for Italy Nathan’s parents threw us a going away party. It was very nice of them. They had been letting Nathan spend as much time as he wanted at my house. Saying goodbye to Nathan was the hardest thing I have ever done. I just knew my life was over. I cried myself to sleep that night. Nothing my mom said or did would make up for her moving us again. I had made sure my mom knew that over and over. In the morning when we got on the plane my mom was surprised that I had bought us first-class tickets. I knew the finances better than she did. Besides, I made the reservations and I didn’t feel like flying to Florence sandwiched between a bunch of people. I thought a little of me wanted to make my mom pay for moving us to Italy. I knew I should have been nicer; I just couldn’t make myself. On the flight I made us practice our Italian. I had my mom ask for her drinks and her dinner order in Italian. The flight attendant complimented her on her pronunciation but I knew he was being nice. When I ordered you could see he thought my pronunciation was so much better with how he nodded his head and smiled at me. Mom patted my hand and told me that I was going to have to do all the shopping when we got to Florence. I thought, what was the difference? I did all the shopping when we lived in New York, well that was the way I felt. Funny thing was when we were moving to New York from Missouri I told my mom I was never going to forgive her for moving us to New York. While I was sitting on the plane, I was feeling I would never forgive my mom for moving us from New York. I loved New York, it had so much to offer. We were moving from one of the best cities in the world to a small town in Italy. What was I going to do with my time? My mom assured me that Florence wasn’t that small; it had over 300,000 people. It couldn’t be that small, right? I had made hotel reservations near the Uffizi Gallery. Again, my mom was surprised that we were spending over $200 euros for a hotel room. She reminded me that our money would have to last us for a couple of years. I told her that we weren’t staying at the hotel I picked out first, that one cost over $600 so she should be happy. I also told her that I knew she would be selling her paintings over here so I was not worried. I was not sure if it was that I complimented her on her ability to sell her paintings or that I said something nice to her. She got all teary eyed and gave me one of her hugs that I had declined since it came out that we were moving. She didn’t let go until minutes after I started hugging her back. I had not said two nice words to her for a month and I was missing our daily night time hugs. I had never gone to bed in my life without a huge bear hug until a month ago. I have a dilemma going on in my head; do I forgive my mom for moving us here or do I keep giving her the cold shoulder? I missed my hug at night. I missed our talks; I missed Nathan right now probably more. I would have to think about how long it will be before I give in and forgive her. Florence wasn’t as crowded as New York, nevertheless it was a noisy city. The street our hotel was on was relatively quiet but when we walked in Piazzale degli Uffizi the noise got louder. I ordered tickets for us to tour the Uffizi tomorrow. I told my mom the reason we were staying in that hotel was because I knew she would spend all day in the Uffizi and I wanted to be close to our hotel. I knew I wouldn’t be able to spend all day at a boring museum. I had been to many art museums and art shows to know I couldn’t handle an all-day event. The truth was I didn’t mind museums. It was the lectures I received about how important the piece of art that was before us. I might have looked at it for a few minutes but with mom we would stand for a half hour while she lectured me. On our first day we just walked around until we got tired. We stopped for a snack from a bakery or got a gelato and sat in some piazza and people watched. Just walking around town, I felt like I was walking in a museum. I was beginning to melt just like my gelato on this warm summer day. I was beginning to like that we were in Italy. I knew my New York friends were jealous that I was going to live in Italy. They said it wouldn’t be long and I would have an Italian boyfriend. I have been told over and over how pretty I was by mom but when my friends started telling me I was pretty I started wanting to believe it. I knew my mom was beautiful because I noticed all of the men staring after her as she walked down the street. She didn’t notice men. Her art was her love. I didn’t know how she could stand being alone all the time. I enjoyed kissing Nathan. You couldn’t kiss a painting. Well, you could kiss a painting but it wouldn’t kiss you back or touch you. Sometimes when Nathan would touched me, I would get all tingly. I liked that feeling. You could tell mom and I were mother and daughter but I got my dad’s brown eyes while my mom had striking green eyes. They were so much prettier than mine. My hair was curly brown. The same color as my dad’s but curly like my mom’s. My mom’s hair was a coppery auburn and it was long. At least she took care of it now so it wasn’t covered in paint or worse, clay. When I started using a conditioner, she started using it too. Both of us needed a conditioner to have nice hair. Yes, I was influenced by commercials. We were always changing what we had in the house when I started taking care of things. I made up the grocery list so that was what we bought. I wonder if TV will influence me here. With the help of Peter, our New York neighbor, and his connections here I was able to set up a realtor to show us places to rent the day after we saw Uffizi. I was giving my mom and me time to adjust to the time change and making sure I wouldn’t have to pull her out of the Uffizi to look for places to live. I was surprised that she didn’t want to go there the minute we got off the plane. I thought she was doing pretty good just walking around the town. My stubbornness was making it difficult for me not to talk to my mom. My curiosity won out. I had to talk to my mom because I wanted to know where she wanted to live. “I thought it would be nice to live close to the school but I don’t know if we can afford to live in that neighborhood. What do you think?” Before I could answer she added, “I could come home when you have dinner ready very easily if we lived close to the school. Maybe even having lunch together” Before she went any further trying to make me want her around I said, “What I found online; I think we can afford to live here way cheaper than we lived in New York.” “You and your computer. One of these days you will have to show me how to use it.” I couldn’t believe my mom still didn’t have a computer. It was crazy. I kept telling her to join the 21st century. I finally got her to use a cell phone just a couple of years ago. Over and over I told her she could use her phone as a computer and search for all kinds of things but I was just lucky that she managed to call me on it. I couldn’t tell you how many times she had swiped down to ignore my call instead of swiping up to answer my call. I had to call her back sometimes two more times before she remembered to swipe up. I started to text her to tell her to swipe up when she had swiped down more than twice. Yes, she has learned to text though she wasn’t great at that either. Lately, she has been texting me more. Thank God for that. “Mom, I am sure you will be selling your paintings here so I don’t think we will have to worry about expenses. Plus, you still have quite a few paintings and a couple of sculptures in the gallery back in New York. They will automatically deposit the checks into our account.” My mom linked our arms together. “Have I told you lately, how I am so lucky you are in my life?” “Yes, but it’s always nice to hear it over and over again,” I smiled at her and leaned into her. “I don’t know what I would do without you. You are my joy and my life. Without you I would be nothing.” My mom gave me a kiss on the cheek. “You haven’t let me paint you in a long time. You should let me do a sketch of you in one of these piazzas.” “Mom it would be piazze,” frustrated that she was butchering the language. “Sorry, they are going to hate me here.” “You have to concentrate or you will never learn the language.” I had said that more than once. “I can say pasta so why don’t we find a quaint trattorias and get something to eat.” I just cringed when she said trattorias. “Sorry, I will try harder.” My mother ruined my life…again #7 My mother has tunnel vision We were walking down a beautiful little street that not many tourists were on. I had heard so much English walking in the streets I wondered if we were in Italy. Mom and I loved the touristy areas but we were trying to see where people who lived here walked and ate. I saw ahead of us this little trattoria with a few tables outside. “Here is a place, do you want to eat outside or inside?” “It’s so cute out here but isn’t it a little too hot to sit in the sun? I think this place would be perfect to sit outside when the weather is a little cooler. I have no idea when that will be.” We walked in and as usual all the heads turned to look at my mom. I was used to it but every once in a while, I wished we could go somewhere where she wasn’t the most beautiful woman in the room. We were seated at a table close to the door and close to the counter that looked like a little deli was set up. I watched as people waited in line at the counter for layers of meat so thinly sliced and layered on waxed paper. Then they were packaged up so neatly. I wondered what the meat was. The man behind the counter had run out of the meat he was slicing and pulled a big hunk of meat off a hook hanging from the ceiling. Hanging from the ceiling all along the wall behind the counter were what looked like pigs’ legs. I had to ask the walking us to our table what do you call that meat the man was slicing. I learned they called it prosciutto. I have had prosciutto in Italian restaurants but had never seen that it came from the leg of the pig. Our waiter came up to our table and asked in Italian if we wanted a glass of Chianti. I responded in Italian that it was too hot for red wine. We would like the house white. The man behind the counter burst out laughing. My mom was kind of lost in what was going on. She politely laughed. The man came out from behind the counter and brought my mom and me a cold glass of his white wine. When he set a glass in front of me my mom got all flustered. “She is too young to drink.” I was kind of thinking I was really going to like living in Italy if they were going to let me drink wine. The man seemed a little apologetic putting his hand on his chest, “I am sorry ma’am. Here in Italy, we start drinking wine at a very young age. I can add some water to it if you like. Though your friend here looks old enough to drink to me. Especially when she orders it correctly in perfect Italian.” He looked at me and winked. I thought I found my first friend in Italy. “I guess it’s okay if it’s not illegal to serve her. Emma, do you want to try it? Please tell me this is your first-time trying alcohol.” “Yes, mom, I haven't had any alcohol before.” I winked at the man still standing there. We exchanged smiles…my heart fluttered. “Well, this is a special occasion. It is our first meal of many in Italy. Thank you, sir.” I thought my mom was wondering why the guy was still standing at our table. I thought she was trying to dismiss him with the thank you, sir. “Oh, I am Lorenzo. This is my place. May I make a suggestion for your lunch?” His English was perfect and I could listen to him all day long. His accent sent goose bumps up my arms, it was so intoxicating. I didn’t know if my mom noticed that he was as dreamy as Doctor McDreamy. She was too busy looking around the place. I was sure that she would paint a picture that would make this place look better than it does at this minute. “Yes, sir. I would like a suggestion.” I thought I should say something since my mom was too busy taking in the room and drawing it in her head. No wonder she didn’t date. She never saw the guys gawking at her. “Oh, yes, please help us decide.” Good, my mom was back with us. “We make the best pappardelle with wild boar in Tuscany. Although it doesn’t quite go with your wine choice, it is delicious if I say so myself.” My mom started to say, “Well..” letting it hang in the air. You could tell she was trying to think of how to word her next sentence. I have seen that face many times in my life. Lorenzo interrupted her. “Please don’t tell me you two don’t eat carbs. You Americans come to Italy and you don’t want to eat carbs. Italy is made up of carbs. We are known for bread and pasta.” He would have continued on his tirade but my mom was tired of it. “Excuse me, sir, I was just worried you wouldn’t want to serve us your pasta because we were drinking white wine.” My mom sounded as huffy as he just did. You could see Lorenzo went pale in a flash. He started to stammer when my mom cut him off. “Well, we don’t want to cause an international incident so are we allowed to have pappardelle al cinghiale con vino bianco?” “Si, Si, of course,” as he bowed his way from the table. “Mom, I can’t believe you.” “Did I say it correctly? I just love that word.” “Mom, you said it beautifully. I was very impressed. When Peter told us to order cinghiale I wasn’t sure if I wanted to try wild boar. I can’t become a chef if I don’t try everything, right?” “Are you sure you want to be a chef?” She saw my look and she made up for it with the comment. “Honey, you are the best chef I know but you will have to work when everyone is off. Everyone wants to go out on holidays, weekends, and nights. It’s hard work. Plus, your dad will go ballistic when he finds out you want to do something creative instead of finance.” She gave me the biggest smile. I was not sure if my mom was smiling because my dad would go crazy or if she liked that I was creative. “Mom, right now I think this is what I want. I like languages too. So, you never know. What I do know is I have to learn how to cook Italian now. When do you think I can take classes?” “I am sure you will be able to find a class somewhere soon. Have you looked on your computer?” Oh my God, she has no idea about the internet. I really wonder if she thinks my computer has all the answers. I keep telling her I have to have internet to look something up but she doesn’t get it. How could this woman not have used a computer in school? Okay, I saw I had lost my mom again. She had pulled a pad out of her purse and was drawing the restaurant. Well, I was glad I had my phone my dad gave me before I left. I was so excited that I could call my friends and text them whenever I wanted. My dad made sure that I knew that he was connected to the internet and his phone, day and night and would answer any calls I made to him. I just had to remember that there was a nine-hour difference in our time. I thought that was his way of telling me not to call him too many times in the middle of the night. I started looking at Instagram to see what my friends did yesterday. Our pasta was placed in front of us by the waiter. Lorenzo watched as we each took our hand and waved them over the pasta to take in the smell. I heard my mom’s stomach growl at the same time mine did. She must have heard mine because we both burst out laughing. Lorenzo came running out from behind the counter. “Is there something wrong?” “No, it smells so delicious. We both are excited to try it.” I looked at my mom and she gave me a smile. I knew she was pleased with my answer. “Can I put this on Instagram?” I looked at Lorenzo. “Sure, go ahead.” “Can I put you on to show my friends?” I thought I embarrassed him. “Well, I just made the sauce. Do you want the woman that made the pasta to come out? I can get her for you.” He was about to walk away. “No, this is cool. You made the sauce and you own this place! My friends will be so jealous.” I started the video with the camera on me. “I am here at Lorenzo’s and he made these pappardelle al cinghiale. We are having it with white wine but next time we will have Chianti.” I turned the camera so you could see our plates, then tilted up to show Lorenzo. He was so cute, he waved. Our attention changed when my mom said, “Oh, my God, Emma put the phone away, this is delicious.” I turned the camera on her with her mouth stuffed with the pasta. At least, she had the decency to have her hand over her mouth when she spoke. “You are going to have to learn how to make this.” I looked up at Lorenzo and he seemed very pleased with himself. I put my phone down and I twirled the pasta around my fork and took a lady size amount and put it in my mouth. I just swooned and I looked up at Lorenzo. “This is probably the best pasta I have ever had. Can you buy wild boar in the store or do you have to go out and shoot it?” He laughed. “I take it, you like the sauce too?” “The pasta is nothing like I have had before but the sauce is what makes it taste so good.” I told him. My mom had to interject her opinion too. “Sir, you are talking to a real chef here. If she is complimenting you, you should feel honored. I am not a cook. That said, this is the best pasta I have ever eaten too.” “Well, thank you ladies.” He turned to me and asked, “So you are a chef? What do you cook?” My mom didn’t let me answer. “Emma, here, can cook Indian, Thai, Spanish, French and some Russian. She has really mastered Indian, and Thai. You say Italy is known for bread though you haven’t tried Emma’s French baguette. I would put it up against all of Italy’s bread.” “Mom.” I was so embarrassed with her bragging about me. “Well, Emma, I would love to try your food sometime.” He was looking at me, not my mom. Maybe I have made a friend here. “I am not a chef yet.” I felt like I should clarify the situation though I was guessing he didn’t think I was old enough to cook. “Well, I was younger than you when I started to cook. My dad had to pull a stool up to the stove so I could reach the top to stir the pots. Don’t underestimate yourself. Obviously, your mother has good taste in food.” He turned to look at my mom and smiled at her. She was back to eating. Seriously, I was going to have to teach her manners. My dad’s mom made sure I had manners. More importantly, I was going to have to teach my mom to pay attention to men. Who was going to take care of her when I went away to college? Maybe I will have to get her a personal assistant. Lorenzo brought me out of my thoughts. “I should let you get back to your dinner,” as he walked away. I said in a low voice. “Mom, did you see him?” My mom looked up from her plate. “What?” She glanced over at Lorenzo. He was busy with a customer, slicing the ham so thinly I wondered if you could read through the slice. “He is gorgeous and you didn’t give him a minute’s thought, did you?” She looked back at Lorenzo. This time he looked up to see her looking at him. He gave her the most dazzling smile. His teeth are so white and straight. He has the perfect mouth. I bet he was a great kisser. My mom smiled back at him and raised her wine glass to him. Oh, he just bowed. He was Mr. McDreamy or, I know, I should call him Chef McDreamy. My friends were going to be so jealous when they saw my post. “Yes, I guess he is good looking but I bet he is married. Wasn’t he going to get the woman who made the pasta? I bet she is his wife.” Mom took a piece of bread from the plate and swiped it through the ragu and took a bite. “Well, that wasn’t worth the calories. This bread is blah. I don’t think there is any salt in it. What do you think?”