OMG, I suck!

I've been informed I suck at this. LOL Like I didn't know that one!

My computer has been giving me so much hell of late, I just have had no tolerance for anything extra on line.

We had one of those odd weekends. Love of my life is leaving for another big one. I hate these, but they've served their purpose to train me to accept the longer periods of absence. I can remember a time when I wondered how Navy wives handled the 6 month cruises. Now it's all a cake walk.

We've had a couple breakthroughs this weekend, and found we could end up going to Italy, if we can get a replacement. I can't begin to think about it, because I'll get my heart set on it, and my heart broken over it. Italy would be such a blast! When I lived there as a teen, I saw quite a bit. I loved Germany, but Italy has a special point of light for me. I kind of came into my own there. It was really a special place. We were very far south, so quality of life was vastly different from the North. But the speed and quality of life were awesome for us as a family.

I watched Under the Tuscan Sun last month and realized, while watching it, how much I missed Bella Italia. For days after I'd watched it, I visited different places in Italy in my dreams. It was so awesome. Each place is special for different reasons, Italy will always be my special place.

I was 12 when I moved there, I actually turned 12 on the flight down. I'd been badly burnt at the start of the summer. (Petrol can blew up behind me) I'd spent months in a British Hospital that was located near our little base in (then-West) Germany. My parents had been forced to PCS or lose their orders, so I stayed behind, with a base full of people to come care for me and visit. I was never lonely in the month that they were gone. Just hurt that I'd been left behind. My adoptive Uncle and my Adoptive German Aunt came every other day. Nurses on staff took me in like a little sister. They called me PiPi Longstocking. I was always off having her adventures, and getting into trouble. For a kid in a wheelchair, I was never slowed down.

So I went to Italy, via Medivac. My parents picked me up at the hospital/clinic on base and we went to our new villa on the economy. It was such a neat old place. Our neighbor was a Mafia man, who's family hid there, and he showed up every few weeks. His teams of body guards in every direction. (This would also be the birth of my fascination with the Mafioso!)

We had a huge property, comparatively to others out there. Tons of fig trees on the property. (I still hate figs!) I made friends very fast. I needed to. I was a crime wave with no future if I didn't. I picked up with this gorgeous boy named Michelle (pr. Mick-kelly). OMG, to this day, in my head, he is an Adonis! DeeDee B. and her beau, Vito, and me and my Michelle. We ran the streets of San Vito like we owned it. Inside of months I was speaking Italian like a native. (it's all gone now...I can hear it and get some of it, but it's long gone!) My mom (God, don't ever let her read this...) was so impressed with my Italian, she'd drag me to market and make me translate. What she never knew was, I rarely told them what she was saying. LOL (BUSTED!)

Because of my burns and the lack of medical help that could really be given there. I was FORBIDDEN from riding my bike. Because if I fell and was scrapped up, I would ruin months of skin grafting. So DeeDee B. would come to my house and ask if she could borrow my bike and I'd be elsewhere playing. My mom would loan it, because "that just keeps you off of it!" Then I'd meet DeeDee B. at the park and off we'd go to play with the boys.

I spent a couple months playing this little scam on my parents. I was after all, so much smarter than them. :) One day, on our way home from an extremely gruesome find, we were cutting through town and traffic. Cars packed in all directions. We were cutting between the cars and they all were honking at each other and us. The car I was next to, blasted me with an air horn shrill and I slapped the car to let the driver know I was pissed at being honked at. In the same moment I realized that horn was American (trust me, they are different!) I turned to see my dad watching me get smartassed and ON MY BIKE. I dropped my bike and ran into the park to hide. He jumped from the car and gave chase. (He caught me, I was smart not fast.) He dragged me home kicking and screaming.

After that, we were restricted to the house and yard. By then, we had a whole gang running, so it was no big deal. We set up our base of operations in our garage. We lived mostly on the roof, because it was a great vantage point and we made any house near ours a "mission." It was flat and surrounded by a 2.5 foot wall. It was perfect to hide behind. One day, while on the roof, DeeDee B. and I had a fight, I can't remember what it was about. Likely it was over our boys. Seems to me Georgio was honing in on Vito's action or something...anyway, we were on the roof, which was about 20 feet high and she said something smartassed about telling on me to my parents and I shoved her. She was standing in a very wrong spot and fell right over the edge down onto the lower roof of 15 feet, and then fell right through the asbestos shingle roof. She landed in our garage which was packed with boxes and household items. It nearly killed her. I remember looking down at her and seeing her "die." Or so I thought. I ran all the way to the police station (2 miles) to get the carabenari. She broke both arms and fractured her back and skull. Two weeks later, we were best friends again. The roof just wasn't the hang out anymore.
We moved onto the base some months later and life changed. A whole other life. I went back to regular old military brat, who occasionally did bad things! Friendship with DeeDee B. changed and suddenly I was stalked by "Daddy Longlegs, Marie P." and Bobby replaced replaced Michelle.

Man, I loved Italy!!

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