Pictures from Rome

Click on the title of this post to go see some pics from my trip to Roma!

My Underhanded Luck

I have spent a lot of time the past couple of days reflecting over my recent travel experience in Italy, I finally realized just this morning that I have what can be considered "Underhanded Luck".  It is somewhat similar to one of those underhanded compliments people can give.  For example "I really like your hair a different way" or "It is so much nicer when you smile than how you normally look" or "Oh you seem really nice, but I actually wanted to talk to your friend".  Yes, I have heard everyone of these "underhanded compliments". 

So when I flew out to Rome last week and landed in London to have a man arrested 7 rows behind me and 2 isles over for having explosive material with him, I thought, this has to be my get out of jail free card.  I realized that it COULD HAVE BEEN WORSE, but they were able to catch him in the act and then much like the Titanic, put him with those in economy so the poorer could go down first and the first class could be saved.  Either way, I was able to walk off the plane and with no harm.  Underhanded luck.

My first night in Italy I was walking through the streets of Rome with my big black tote bag I purchased at DSW (for those that aren't lucky enough to know, this is the Discount Shoe Warehouse) and my strap broke.  What luck, my purse broke in Italy.  I had no choice but to purchase a new Italian leather bag so that I would have something to carry my personal items in home.  Underhanded luck.

I had to fly Iberia airline out of Rome to get home on Monday and our first stop was supposed to be Madrid.  Unfortunately a woman on my row, just 3 seats over started having what I can only assume is a heart attack so we had to make an emergency landing in some random town in Spain....I think, I actually don't even know.  So we were an hour late getting into Madrid of which I of course missed my connecting flight back to the states.  Let me also tell you I always fly Continental, but I chose originally British Airways because the flight was cheaper and I'm all about saving money.  British Airways to Rome (possible terrorist on flight one) switched to Iberia for home (rerouted for emergency medical landing and delayed into Madrid) then of all things the only way Iberia could get me into Houston would be the following day, via Continental.  The lesson is that I should have stuck with old faithful from the beginning.  I was put up in an airport hotel by the airline for the night.  After getting lost in quite possibly the largest airport I had ever been in, Madrid, I finally make my way to this hotel which divided itself into a hostel as well...Perfect.  My meals were comped, this was a plus.  It was a buffet, not exactly a plus.  But no matter who you were, how comped you were, how many people were with you, at whatever table you sat, they opened up a bottle of water and a bottle of wine and left you to your good senses.  Underhanded luck...and a little drunk too.

I arrived safely into Houston late Tuesday evening completely dumbfounded by my previous adventure.  After some solid sleep, I came up with the conclusion that if you stand next to me you will not get struck by lightening, however, I make no promises for the person standing next to you.


Happy Friday!

He Called me Hadalina

So I'm not one who typically falls for lines, but when I stumbled into a cafe on a side street in Rome and asked for the 15th time on my trip for a "table for one" and the waiter responds with "what? no! my beautiful princess", I fully blushed.  An Italian man used the line that any self respecting single woman should know is just that, a line, but I went for it; hook, line and sinker.  Alessandro walks over to me, tells me not to eat much because he was taking me to dinner that night; then asks me if I was married; then asks me what I wanted to order from him.  I'm quite certain this is a good order of business when picking someone up while having this Italian accent!  Now, when he called me Hadalina, there was no turning back.  He couldn't understand my name and gave me a better version of a nickname than I've ever heard!


This waiter had invited me to dinner, this stranger wanted me to meet him when his shift was over.  I figured here I am in the most romantic city I have ever been in, walking around alone, touring alone, riding the subway alone and eating alone and now this Italian man wants to take me to dinner?  Why not!  I thought to myself, I'm in Rome, do as the Romans do.  The issue with Italian men is I'm certain they think the phrase American women use is "When in Rome, do a Roman", so they choose to use lines like this in hopes that at least one out of the 20 women a day they give it to will fall for it.  Here I was.


Let me tell you about the man who asked me to call him Alex, but I refused to give up Alessandro.   We had a few things get lost in translation and struggled sometimes in conversation, however, I was so intrigued with this fully tattooed fellow with one dirty brown tooth.  He speaks 4 languages, he lived in Paris for 4 years, he is a lifer as a waiter, he gives compliments that would make anyone melt and in all this worldly knowledge and experience of all the restaurants in all of Rome, he took me to the only restaurant owned by a guy from New Jersey and our waiter, his friend, was from Massachusetts.  Here is a guy who could have shown me any part of Rome, and his favorite tucked away hideaway was from the Jersey Shore.  It didn't matter, I still adored the attention, I loved that he ordered for me in Italian and had a conversation half the patio over with a table of Italians what I was imagining was about how he was out with this blonde American girl, but in actuality he was talking about soccer and the marathon that was going on in Rome the next morning.


So to my dear Alessandro, though we will never speak again, thank you for showing me a nice evening in Rome, not alone and changing my stay for one evening, into a Romantic Roman holiday!  With blushing, Hadalina

I am Drawn to Couples

Here I am on my NRomantic NRoman holiday secretly hoping it will turn into the two days of a blissful romance with some amazing Italian man and where do I find myself?  Walking through the brick roads of Rome with an American couple I struck up a conversation with at my hotel.  Now I'm not complaining, they were quite lovely and so kind to take me under their wing for the evening.  But I'm curious how I surround myself with couples in my every day life at home and I come to travel alone in one of the most romantic cities in the world (sounds a bit like an oxy-moron thing, I know) and I am spending my Friday evening with a couple from Canada who live in DC.

I feel comfortable with couples I guess, I feel more at ease striking a conversation up with a couple than I do with a man I don't know.  I'm curious to find out why.  Funny thing was while we were walking along by the Trevi fountain and I declined their offer to take a picture of me, just me, by the fountain, I passed by no less than 5 guys walking alone, clearly traveling and I'm walking with two people who could have been my parents.  Okay, maybe I'm giving myself a little too much credit here and thinking I look much younger than 30, but I digress.  I am still the tourist with the camera bag so big strapped to my shoulders and the patagonia wrapped around my waist because it was just warm enough not to wear it walking with the nicest couple, but clearly I looked like nothing short of a doofus.  I don't know another way to explain it.

I saw couples in love tonight; I saw families exploring new and exciting things together for the first time; I saw friends laughing together throwing coins into the fountain hoping each other was the only one watching...I missed my family and I missed my friends.  I had the great luck to find the nicest couple to take pity on me for an evening and let me interrupt their first time away from the kids in 13...THIRTEEN years.  They listened to me tell stories about the people in my life who's stories I love to tell because I believe they are worth hearing.   I was reminded tonight about compassion.  But let's be honest here, after realizing where I was, in this romantic city...ALONE, I look forward to one day being reminded of Passion.

Thank you to the lovely couple, Brook and Jan who let me tag along and showed me not only Rome, but kindness and also a feeling of being home in a far away country...with a friendly couple.

My NRomantic NRoman Holiday

Well I'm not exactly on Holiday in Rome and it is certainly Not Romantic, hence my joining of the word No with Romantic and Rome... I'm here for work. I arrived in Rome yesterday, weary of traveling all this way alone, but hopeful I could handle the job at hand. Let me first tell you, I have a fear of flying, but have never let that stop me actually from traveling, however the way I do it internationally is by taking an anti-anxiety pill that actually intensifies positively with alcohol. It's a win-win, Really. So about two hours left of my first leg of which I was anticipating a 4 hour layover in London, I decided it was time to pop the second of my anti-anxiety, just to get me through the next hick-up, which would be landing.  As we were taxiing to the gate the captain comes over the loudspeaker with the following announcement "Ladies and gentleman, you will not be able to de-board the plane once we land at the gate because the authorities will be boarding the plane". I'm thinking to myself, maybe this is normal for an international Houston to London flight. I have NO IDEA. 

After we stop and I look out my window to find the British Armed Brigade made up of 6 men waiting for what I am assuming is the either plane in front of us, to escort some celebrity in first class off the plane (oh how I wish) or on the 1 in 200 thousandths of a chance I have actually one of those travelers on my flight who has caused some havoc. Can you guess which of these was the final scenario? Yep, and this possible terrorist was sitting 7 rows behind me, 2 isles over. After getting no information from the flight crew or the very handsome british brigade of which my anti-anxietied head was secretly wishing I could flirt with, I just sat back and watched them escort a man with plastic bags over his hands off the plane only later to find out he may have had explosive material on the plane and was moved to my section of the aircraft because (we were poor) or because there were fewer people to surround him. This is the start to my NRomantic NRoman holiday!

I arrived in Rome tired but full steam ahead with meetings and deadlines to make. After a few hours, I went around the town with my very own Italian tour guide and historian, my company's Italian sales rep. Do not get any ideas, we spent much of the conversation talking about his wife and children and my dog.

Before I left for this trip I kept hearing about blonds getting special treatment, cat calls and whistles in Italy. So far I've gotten a possible terrorist, a father figure, an Irish Fed asking me where I was from and a waiter feeling pity for me.

I have been reading the book by Elizabeth Gilbert, Committed, she is the same author who wrote Eat, Pray, Love of which I obsessed over 2 years ago.  This book now is about she finding out the reason and/or the concept of Marriage.  Eat, Pray, Love was her journey of becoming single again and coming through a divorce and spending 4 months in Italy, 4 months in India and 4 months in Indonesia.  So far I have realized that though her words are moving, funny and worth reading over and over again to learn about life's complexities and intricacies, the only thing Elizabeth Gilbert's life and my life have in common is that we have now both eaten in Italy and we were both born.  Of course because of her time in India, she has been born and born again.  

I don't have the tenacity to meet strangers, I shy from flirtatious looks and I am completely ignorant of attention.  Or is it that I look so utterly unapproachable because of my natural scour that the attention isn't curious, it is more pity?  I have 3 more days in this romantic city, 3 days to try to build up this inner "hi there, how are you?" verbal part of me that now I only try to show by merely turning my seat in the direction of introduction, but putting my face into a book, computer, cell phone or magazine.  Where did this shy part of me come from?  Anyway, this is just the start to my NRomantic NRoman holiday.  I don't know that I will fall in love with a NRoman Gawd while I'm here, but I sure hope I can at least turn this paid working adventure into something more than the Eat part of my journey!  Until then...

My new favorite match

Well I got a "request for communication" on Saturday from a guy we will call, Biff.  I hadn't yet looked at Biff's profile when I got this request, but was sitting with my sister when I decided to read it which was good for a laugh.  First let me say, if you do not have a single picture that is not you holding the camera phone, camera or sitting in front of your computer camera, then that makes me sad.  Your friends don't even want to take a picture of you or with you?  That can't be good.  So, below is part of Biff's eharmony profile (included with a bit of my own commentary):

The one thing Biff is most passionate about:

New York and beach cities  (now I love NYC and I love the beach, but when you live in Houston, you would think your passion may reflect something of which is appropriate for your living situation)

The most important thing Biff is looking for in a person is:

Long-Term Friendship! Nothing is more fantastic than wanting to go out to a cafe or movie and really enjoying the time. This might sound silly, but being able to call that special person and feel like you are not bothering them is a great.  (I am feeling sad for Biff now.  The fact that there are people in his life that he bothers when he calls, or asks them to take his picture?) and by the way, the grammatical error was his, I kept it in for emphasis.

The three things which Biff is most thankful for:  (I'm not kidding, in this exact order)

•             pizza

•             Houston Heights  (for those of you who don't know, this is a neighborhood.  I love my neighborhood, but I wouldn't say it is on one of my most thankful lists)

•             family (his poor family, they ranked behind junk food and a newly renovated neighborhood, I think my family would have something to say about this)

The things Biff can't live without are:  (CANNOT LIVE WITH OUT, the following 5 items are things that keep Biff alive)

•             pizza (okay, this obsession with pizza is a little odd, however, it is food, it is the closest thing on this list that would actually be good in a near death starving situation)

•             Guitar Hero (really?? Guitar Hero?  Unless he has been burglarized while playing said Guitar Hero and in turn nabbed the burglar on the head with plastic guitar, I don't see how this qualifies)

•             New York  (again, he lives in Houston, yet NY keeps his heart beating)

•             River Oaks Theater (it shows movies, now I have never been there myself, but I'm quite certain this isn't a theater that lets you travel time and fix previous life mistakes which otherwise would have turned you certain for death)

•             Agora Cafe (it is a cafe.)

Dear Biff...first, figure out exactly where you live, AND THEN, let's communicate and maybe, go grab a pizza.

A Peril of not Being a Plural

I'm sitting on my couch full on Chinese Food and muscle relaxers with a cold pack on my neck...This is the peril of NOT being A plural.  A few weeks ago I had the urge to purchase myself a new headboard and footboard for my bed.  So I went to my favorite website www.overstock.com and purchased it!  I bragged for a week that this new purchase was 5% off the regular price and I only paid $1 for the delivery of the 67 & 32 lbs boxes the bed was coming in.  I had not taken into consideration the fact this bed wouldn't come to my door already put together.  I came home on a Friday night to find these awkwardly shaped boxes leaning up against my front door.  I was so excited!!  Then I decided it was a wise decision for me to finagle these boxes upstairs...by myself.  I straddled, I pushed with my feet, I lifted with my knees, I rested them on my legs, I tried to even balance them on my head like those women in Africa who carry the buckets of water on their heads.  Finally, not on my head, but I was able to get the boxes upstairs.  Because I live alone, I have the pleasure of leaving things until I want to get them done.  The issue is sometimes I'd rather get things done before anyone has a chance to help, even if they offered I would probably say no...because I am an idiot.  Well when I opened these boxes and discovered a 4, count them FOUR page front and back instruction manual I was...concerned.  However, I channeled my dad and all he has taught me about home improvement and reading instructions thoroughly.  I was able to put it together, all by myself.  It only took me two and a half hours, but I actually finished it.  

Now here comes the bad part.  Putting a bed together where a bed once stood means there is lifting and shifting and moving that has to occur.  A girl with a back issue should really refrain from this type of activity.  Well here I am two weeks later with lower back pain, keeping me from my beloved Bikram Yoga and now I have a crick so painful in my neck I can't actually move my head to the left or back, hence my current use of muscle relaxers.

My current peril of not being a part of an "us" has actually crippled me.  Who would have thought that being single would send a person into back spasms and neck cricks.  I think I need to add to what I am looking for in my eharmony profile "A Good HandyMan and good at killing bugs" because let's face it, I need someone willing to hang a picture and kill a spider all at the same time.

Here are some pictures:

The Pieces 

The 4 page instruction manual

Lifting, Shifting and Moving

Channeling Dad's Words of Home Improvement

Finished Product!

My trusty helper...

The Woman Whose Glass is Half Full

Today I had the privilege to meet an old friend of mine from my Dallas days for lunch.  She's who I call "The Woman whose Glass is Half Full".  I've never met anyone quite like her.  Susan was the sales manager at a venue I would hold events at in Dallas and I always enjoyed working with her and over time developed a friendship with her.  She has a zest for life and loves to not only tell stories but to listen to them as well.  In a time in my life when being single was somewhat of a shame, she made me laugh out loud at stories that wouldn't otherwise be funny.  Getting dumped over the phone, getting stood-up, spending night after night at home alone...she helped me laugh at life instead of cry over it.

Anyway, after knowing my friend for a while and hearing stories about her dreamy french husband who pursued her over a few years and won her over and they had a wonderful life together, was actually now in a hospice with a neurological disorder that made him not able to fully communicate and no longer was mobile.  I asked her when she told me this story over lunch one day "wow, how do you do it? how are you okay? how are you working? how did I have no idea you are going through this right now?  Your attitude is always on top of the world." Her response was "How can I be upset? I am sorry for him, that he can no longer do all that he loves to do, but I was lucky enough to have 9 amazing years with the love of my life, I'm thankful for that." Then she became, The Woman Whose Glass is Half Full.  Over the next year in Dallas, she told me tales of her life about trials and tribulations that I would think would cripple someone, well it would cripple me, but she continued to show me there is a life out there to be lived, you should honor your life, be thankful of what you have and be ready for new beginnings.  This is how she lives her life, this is how I try to live mine.

Today when I got lost trying to get to where she was for lunch, I was driving to what should be 30 minutes away and was in the car for an hour and forty five minutes.  I kept calling her apologizing and getting so frustrated and she just kept saying "Don't worry about it, just relax, I'm surrounded by good company".  I was two minutes from giving up when I finally stumbled upon this restaurant.  She was surrounded with what were mere strangers when she arrived and who were already new friends and perhaps a potential new love interest.  We sat together for nearly two hours and talked about our lives now, laughed about the dating world, which nearly 4 years after her husband passed, she had started to get out there again and finding the same speed bumps that I have.  It's good to learn that at 30 and at 60, the single life still has its complications, and the stories are just as funny no matter the age.

Today I got to retell some funny stories, I got to listen to some amazing ones and I had two hours with an inspiration.  I drove home still not sure if my GPS would steer me in the right direction, but realizing that my cup isn't just half full, my cup runneth over.  I may be single, but like my friend, I've been blessed for 30 years with the most amazing people who have come into my life, a few who have left, but all who have inspired me to be more.  I realize this isn't one of the funnier entries, but I can't let anyone go without knowing there is someone like that in this world, who can inspire anyone to get up and get going, complain less and laugh more, cry as much as you want but make sure you aren't alone and someone is handing you a tissue.

I hope you all have a wonderful week and that your cup too, runneth over.

A Project

I've got a project. I didn't know it was going to be a project until my sister and I were texting Wednesday night and she sent me a text that said "Say buh bye to him" and I found myself saying with emphasis, "I'm not ready to sign him off.  I think there is more to his story" and she said "Oh great...cheapy is ur lil project" and then I realized...he is!

Let's call him Cheapy Auditor Missionary Man.  He's shy, real shy, he has long pauses on the phone that would even make my mother uncomfortable (trust me when I tell you, she is the queen of "I'm disappointed in you silences"...so this is huge).  Well, remember back when I said I was going out with him a few weeks ago?  Well, he invited me to meet for a cup coffee...ahem, he only drinks a few times a year...When I got to Starbucks he was waiting.  I ordered a cup of tea, he ordered some sort of white hot chocolate (oh what those non-drinkers can come up with these days is amazing) and when the barista said not once, but twice "That'll be five dollars and forty cents" - I pulled out my cash (shocked by the fact I even had cash) paid for our beverages and Cheapy Auditor Missionary Man didn't flinch for his wallet, I knew this date would be interesting.

Well I did have a pleasant conversation with him.  But after an hour and a half of sipping some sort of terrible Chamomile Green Tea...blegh...I decided to excuse myself.  I said I needed to go to the grocery store.  I realize this is a terrible way to get out of a date, but I honestly needed food at my house.  When he responded with "Good thing grocery stores stay open until midnight" I was thinking to myself "Oh CRAP, he's stalling me leaving", but actually, mine closes at 9 and it was quickly approaching 8:00, so I had to find my way out.  He struggled with a few more questions about I actually don't even remember, I was concentrating so hard on what I needed from the store...wine was definitely at the top of the list.  So I finally excused myself and ended the date that left me short $5.40, but since I didn't think to myself "I'll never get that hour and a half back" and thought he was kind, I decided if he was interested, I would go out with him again.  This would be my project: I was going to bring him out of his shell.

He has called twice now.  The conversations have been awkward, so much struggle and each time he asked me what I had planned for the week.  Well, I'm a girl about town and I have plans sometimes.  He has still yet to ask me out again, so I'm not sure where this is leading to next, but I'm not asking him on a date.  I've already covered the coffee and carried much of the conversation, so I'm making my project to get Cheapy Auditor Missionary Man to come into his own and ask a girl on a date, in person...err, Over the phone.  Shoot, at this point, just to help him with baby steps, I may even say yes to a text!

I'll keep you posted.  Happy Friday!

Blog Followers part deux

Sorry guys, it took a while, but i have figured it out!!  Now I have it fixed. You actually can subscribe via email in the new link added just above the About me section titled, Subscribe to the Plural of Me via Email. 

New Age Dating

Coming from a girl who is trying dating online, I am still very old fashioned when it comes to dates.  I have a few rules for example, from clothing to proper etiquette.

Deal breakers:

1. No Jorts.  Not in your recent history (meaning since you were 10) (unless purchased purely in the interest of Halloween or WT party)

2. No breached visors (this is for my PFLAG ladies).  Unless you are looking through binoculars at a state park...no actually, there is no reason for your hat to be upside down AND backwards.

3. Do not talk to me about your weight and diet issues before we even order.  I have no interest in your chrone's disease, your acid reflux, your poor obese genes nor your excuses for the number of beers you can drink on a weekend because of your intense workout regiment.    I like my french fries, I drink beers slower than water but quicker than a milkshake and I have a soft spot for reese's peanut butter cups.

4. I don't care if we met online, at a bar, over the phone or through a friend, do not ask me out on a date via a text message unless you are one of the following:  

     a. Stuck in a meeting at work and can only think of asking me out.

     b. Lost your voice and therefore can't wait until you find it

  If you do ask me out via text message, rest assured I will tell you I'm not interested in dating you...via text message and if necessary, an emoticon.

5. Do not refer to your mother without a possessive pronoun.  If I do not know her, if I am not your sister nor your best friend from the early stages of life and therefore your mother is like my mother, she is not nor will she be to me: "Mom".  (sidenote - nobody applies)

6. Don't tweet or status update about our date.  You can secretly blog about it, like I do here, but if you tweet our minute by minute date, rest assured by the time you look up from your 4th tweet, your 5th tweet will read "oh, she left".  Need not 140 characters for that.

7. I'm not the sharpest tool in the shed, so don't outsmart me with your legal jargon or accounting equations. I promise you, I'd already stopped listening to you.

8. If you comment on my look, The Face, in a negative way i.e. "You look tired" "You look upset" "You look like someone just kicked your best friend" "You look like you want to kick your best friend" "Do you need to be tickled in order to smile?" - The answer to all of these comments is "Walk Away" - that's the only look you will get from me from now on.

So tell Mom, your dietitian, your blind stylist and your idiot dating coach if any of the above applies, need not move forward.

Now they may have deal breakers too, so I'm just going to lay it all out there:

1. My dog sleeps on a sheet on top of my comforter

2. I sometimes drink wine alone because I like it

3. I have on occasion picked up McDonald's chicken mcnuggets and french fries

4. I do not wash my hair every day

5. I hate folding clothes so much that I sometimes dress out of my dryer

6. I have cried, more than once, watching reality television 

Well, just some tid bits to new age dating, you learn your deal breakers the more dates you go on.  I have unsuccessfully been matched up with over 500 guys on eharmony, I have gone on a date with about 20 of them.  I have learned...A LOT.  I wanted to pass this knowledge on so you too don't get blindsided between a dud and a stud.