When Nona comes to visit:the preparation

This morning I overslept .This morning I can’t absolutely effort to be late on my schedule because nona is coming and there is still a lot to do.”Nona”is How the girls call my mother,their grandmother.I am not exactly sure where it comes from because it is not Italian and it is not English or Irish either.I think it is just the fusion between nonna (grandmother in Italian)and nana.I love my mother and you can indeed say we are close but she is indeed hard work.Nona has zero tolerance for shabby women and unmannered and/or not well looked after kids.Nona is also a cleaning freak and has a over developed sense of smell.When nona comes preparation is everything.The night before her arrival the girls are bathed ,their nails are inspected and clipped if needed.They are also instructed to only wear their good clothes(if only they would own some!lets say the less scrappy ones).I am not exonerated from close scrutiny either so my manicure ,pedicure and haircut must be up to date and I carefully pick the outfit I’m going to wear to collect her at the airport:first impression is essential.What I wear when she is here can be an open war declaration or an offer of peace.For example she hates denim skirts.She hates in particular one that I have with rips and that is also quite short :inappropriate and an unforgivable slip into bad taste considering that I am over 40s.If I wear it when she is here I usually intentionally look for trouble,I am in a rebellious mood.After walking the dogs I get home and I have 3 hours to make the house nona’s proof.Nona has very high standards and a huge house always tidy and immaculate.I will never get even close to that but I still try as hard as I can.I vacuum clean the house top to bottom.I remember to wash behind the toilet as it is the first place she’ll look at so to check if I learned something over the years she spent training me.Once I am done mopping and scrubbing the bathrooms I make the dust EVERYWHERE as nona is asthmatic .I brush the dogs and spray them with perfume as the over developed sense of smell of nona doesn’t get along with dogs smell.The car must be sanitized too.My neighbors always know when my mom comes because I vacuum the car that,lets be brutally honest, is always pretty disgustedly dirty:sand,crumbles,ripped napkins;you name it and you are sure you can find it in there.It never fail to amaze me the amount of junks and dirt a such small car can host.Personal and domestic cleaning is pretty much done.I make sure the laundry basket is empty and that everything that required to be ironed is too.I don’t want nona to iron.She loves ironing and always volunteer herself to do it but I can’t have her ironing my husband panties. Nona irons and sprayed with starch everything from shirt to towel, from knickers to socks to rugs’ fringes.Yes,you read it right,she goes around her house ironing her rugs’ fringes so that they will never take the wrong shape.An other thing that must be taken care of,before she arrives, is the garden.Nona loves gardening and her garden is beautifully maintained all year around.I love my garden too and I have nice flowers but I am not a perfectionist and do not prune my roses or hydrangeas by the manual recommended time but more when I feel like it! it works anyway,and the same for my indoor plants .I have a plant given to me by my grandfather when he came to visit us in the first house we bought,(14 years ago) and it is still alive despite the erratic watering.I am convinced that plants are like dogs and kids….they get used to the education you give them.My plants are educated to be independent and cope well with thirst.Wow,I am exhausted now.I would rather crash on the couch then drive to the airport but as less I stay in the house at this point and as more the house stays tidy and clean.Last more thing:check the supply of Bach’s flower rescue remedy to be sure I keep calm when I will be caught in between nona and her son in law.Nona,is in fact obsessed with respect and as much as she denies it she expects to be treated with”velvet gloves”.The traveling husband does not do “velvet gloves”and he is not trainable,too old now.Over the years he learned to be diplomatic and political at work but at home is totally different.He doesn’t speak much and when he does he says it as it is.Well,according to him he says it as it is; according to his mother in law he says it rudely and disrespectfully.When this happens she goes rigid and uptight.Steam of outrage gets out her nostrils but she won’t say a word to him.She would throw the look and the frown at me and then,when he leaves the room,unleash a big rant all over me.I’m finally driving to the airport and I am mentally ticking out all the boxes of things I was supposed to do.I drive and I think that no matter how old we are but in front of our mothers we will always feel like little girls.We fear their judgement and we are determined to impress them.Mothers:we love them,we fight them ,we blame them but ,we are blessed to have them.I drive and I smile,happy to go to the airport.

How we use our time.

This morning a woke up very alerted. The alarm didn’t even finish to ring that I already had my feet out the bed.Very unusual .Not that the other mornings it takes me ages to get up but I might take my time under the cover to perform a big stretch with my legs and arms.The legs stretch is particularly needed as the gigantic dog sleeps on my side of the bed.This morning instead I jumped out the bed and throw myself in the bathroom, I put on my dogs clothes and went downstairs to get breakfast ready and to pack the lunches for school.The traveling husband is home today ,we had coffee together,I waved him off and went to to wake up the girls.I am behind my morning schedule already but it does not bother me and I am not even pretending I am rushing.While the girls are dressing up and having breakfast I go to put some make up on and desperately tried to smile at myself at the mirror as Yoko Ono teaches.I can’t do it.This morning I am failing to perform this little routine of mine.My smile looked more a grin and I can’t understand why,I am not even in a bad mood.If I am honest with myself it is few days that I feel strange,on the edge.I feel like I am running out of time.To do what I am not sure but this is exactly the feeling I have been having lately.I feel overwhelmed.Many things I have to do and not enough time to do them all.Then I wonder: do I really have not enough time or what I am missing is the will?Time is a tricky concept.It follows us since we are born through all our life.Everything we do is punctuated by time.In a way we are its prisoners but we couldn’t exist without it.When I think about “time” I always think at Peter Hoeg,the danish writer.To me he is “the time author”.What I remember the most of his books is in fact the special place reserved for the concept of time and what is beneath it .His books are now a long gone memory as I read them many years ago so may be it is not even quite like that but it is only my interpretation.Even so,anyway,it doesn’t change the fact that in my head “time” and Peter Hoeg will always be associate.(Hope if you decide to read his books after this post you will not be disappointed.).Back to me now:”time”,do I need more of it or do I simply need more structure?Or do I simply need the will to do what I have to and the focus?Is this not the question that,at least once in a lifetime ,we all make to ourselves?If what we need is structure is quite easy:any self help manual about time management can lead us on the right direction to organize our days and get the most out of it.If what we need is the will to do,then,the situation is more complicated.How many times in fact we hide behind the lack of time?How many times we ,indeed have no time but,we don’t even make the effort to find it?”Effort”,the magic word that make the impossible possible.I have a dear friend.We used to live in the same estate until we both moved.She went further south of the city and I went further north.No more knock on the door for a quick hug during a bad day and no more coffee mornings in either mine or hers kitchen.We have to be happy talking on the phone and see each other regularly but not quite often as we used to.We usually meet up halfway.We both have busy life with work,dogs,kids,husbands social engagements and whatever every person had daily on his plate but we try to keep it up with our meetings.It is not always easy of course.Last Saturday for example we met after over three months and nearly risked not to as something unexpected came up .But we did it: late in the afternoon and for less time then usual but we met.A bit stressed out ,a bit rushed but it worth it. We made an effort to meet.We made the effort because we knew that if we didn’t our friendship would have succumbed to our live’s tight schedules and to the tyrannical time.So,May be it is time I am honest with myself: sometimes I don’t find the time to do something or to see someone because I don’t care enough. If I am completely honest with myself many times I have time to do that phone call or to send a replay to that mail or to sweep the leaves in the back garden but I simply chose to sit down have coffee and read a magazine.If I am completely honest with myself those “friends” I don’t see that regularly anymore it is not because I But more because I don’t do the effort,not enough anyway.Of course the lack of time excuse keeps my guilty conscience at bay and mitigates the feeling of letting them down.Of course,also,being time wise selfish is bilateral : It is not only us doing it.Everybody does it.The world is populated by selfish evil persons who like to have coffee and read a magazine instead of talking on the phone with that acquaintance is complains about the same things for the last 10years.The problem is:if we do it we feel kind of guilty and bad,but when we realized that somebody is doing it with us is disappointing.It can be hurtful if it is someone you care about.If it Someone you couldn’t care less you might not even realizing they are doing it.I suppose it is a matter of priorities:sometimes we share them sometimes we don’t.Sometimes they have their way over our sense of duty sometimes they don’t.May be there is a component of laziness as well.This is what my mother would say,but she is a woman who should have days of 35 hours for fitting in every thing.Now it is a bit better as she retired so a 24 hours day most of the time can do.I simply thing that life is anyway full of situations where you must do something weather you want or you like it or not so why impose it to ourself even when we don’t have to?When we can we should give time to what makes us feel good not to what we feel like an obligation.May be this is a form of decluttering from time badly spent,from time deprived to ourself or to what it really matters.Time is precious and we should always use it wisely making it our allay rather then our enemy.

A little girl gender tales

When i picked up the girls from school I immediately saw that there was something wrong with the eldest one.Since we had problems with a couple of particularly mean girls last year I now have my antenna always up and ready to detect .I asked what was wrong and as usual she said she would tell me in the car.Once in the car, driving home, I asked again and she started to talk about secondary school;about witch school she would go(she is in fifth class so this year we are making applications);the mixed school or the only girls one and can she decide herself and bla bla bla.To be honest I was totally lost because everything she was saying had not much sense and I could not get the point until her younger sister,in her extremely concise pragmatic way, said: “She doesn’t want to go to an only girls school because she doesn’t want to become a lesbian .”. Wow,at first I was not sure if to break in a big laugh or bang my head on the steering wheel .In the meantime I was trying to decide for the most appropriate reaction I nearly crashed into the van in front of me that,cleverly,slowed down because of the ramp on the road.Ramp that I totally missed and probably left half of my under car on it.Too bad,I had far more important things to deal !Very calmly I explained that the fact that you go to an only girls school doesn’t make you become a lesbian.You are born like that and I brought the example of a cousin of ours who is a lesbian and their own uncle who is gay.They know these people and their partners forever so I couldn’t understand really where all this was coming from but then I realized that I never used the words lesbian or homosexual or gay with my daughters.I never really used them because I didn’t want them to label people :they must like or not like people for how they behave and for what they are as persons,not for their sexual orientation.May be it was a mistake,I don’t know.I only know that once questioned I simply answered that you can love someone of your same sex or the opposite one and that is it!There was no need of labels.Anyway,that was clarified.They were both relieved they could go to either a mixed or not mixed school without worrying about their sexual orientation development.They now also know that who loves someone of their same sex is called homosexual;who loves someone from the opposite sex is called heterosexual;who loves them both is a bisexual.Lots of information for a Monday afternoon but it had to be done!Everything was clear except I still didn’t know where this all lesbian thing came from and so I asked.It All came from “A”. “A” (whose name I can’t say for the privacy)is a school mate and seems to know a lot of this things and her mom even more as apparently said that you recognize lesbians by their horrible flat shoes.I know the woman,She is the one who fell depressed when turning 30 and didn’t want to celebrate her birthday.I rememeber at the time,when i was told ,I was not quite sure how to feel:extremely old or extremely depressed as apparently I already celebrated my birtday 13 times too many after the threshold to stop feeling good about your age.To make it even worst ,there is then the fact that I actually keep enjoying my birthday:it is my day and I never let it pass without a party.What is wrong with me!!??!What does this make of me?A fool or a dinosaur?Today I know,I am a pissed dinousaur because,for God sake,who just talks like that in front of a 10 years old who registers everything and filters nothing? Can we not just be careful with the words we use in front of our kids?Last year we had a similar problem:one day,always my eldest daughter,came home from school asking if I knew what a transgender was and saying she thought she was one of them.Beside the initial shock I had,even only for the fact that she knew the word “transgender”,I might be honest I thought it could make sense with her very boyish personality and style but I have never really seen any signs of discomfort on her so I went a bit deeper and asked where did she hear about transgender.Ah ah,”A”,again!!! “A”,allegedly ,saw some documentary on the television and her mom explained her a transgender is a boy who dresses like a girl and other way around.The logic of a 10 years old then wanted that my daughter was told to be a transgender because she always wears boyish clothes,and being my daughter a 10years old too sharing the same logic,believed it.I explained with simple understandable words what a transgender is and that what her school friend described is more a cross dresser. At the end of my explanation she looked puzzled and with a slight hint of disappointment in her tone eventually said:”But I love to be a girl .I just prefer to wear comfortable clothes.”. “Here you go honey”,I said “I am afraid you are just an ordinary girl”….”and A and her mom should stop watching u-tube and start check wikipedia instead.”!

The Dentist

Today is the day.I am going to the dentist.Only thing I can think of,it is what is going to happen…As consequence my mood is not my usual “happy Friday mood “and it seems that the whole household is affected:girls didn’t want to get up and took ages to get ready,the giant dog didn’t want to get in the car (it took me 10 minutes to convince him ,while the other dog was already in the boot looking at us and probably thinking “what an couple of idiots you both are .Are we going or not?”.).Friday is trash day so of course we got stack behind,not one but three,bin tracks.Nearly at 9 we made it to school:two out four dropped.I keep going toward the beach so to let the other two to steam out some energy in order to save my house later.The usual dogs gang is there .Weather wise,at least,is a very pleasant morning and I enjoy my walk and the chip chats with the other dogs owners.I find my friend and we start walking together trying to avoid our dogs to eat too many seaweeds but it is a lost battle…..I only hope they will have the decency to puke them in the garden and not on my good rug.Friday is usually coffee morning after the dogs walk.The dentist appointment is not untill 1230 so there is plenty of time for a stop at the coffe shop and a treat.Today more then any other day I can have my Danish pastry guilt free,in fact ,God only knows what the dentist will do to me:I might not be able to eat for hours or days!The cake,the cappuccino and SJ made me forget about the dentist for a while. Brief clean to the house ,a bit deeper clean to my self and I am ready to go.Quick check if I have everything and it seems so,even my underwear matches.You might wonder what that has to do with the dentist.Well my mother has a real obsession for not leaving the house with mismatch underwear in case something happens and you end up at the hospital.Frankly ,by experience, I know that if you are involved in a accident they just strip you out of your clothes and doctors surely don’t give a crap about what you are wearing but the imprinting she left on me is hard to erase. My dentist is not there because she injured her arm and “I will be done”by the other doctor…I honestly don’t mind I just want this tooth business over.I am in the waiting room enjoying trash magazines as it is a must do at doctors and hairdresser.The nurse comes out to call me and I am in.I can’t go back .The “new dentist” introduced himself.He is German,a characteristic that would only be a good thing.I always had a thing for Germany and germans(not their political history of course) and I love the sound of their language.In normal circumstances I would be very prone to a German dentist ,I mean ,the fact that he is German should be a warranty of professionalism and precision right?!Except,unfortunately,the only experience I had with German doctors was not great..For months I suffered of what at the beginning I thought it was a cut on my finger that,obviously ,it was not as it was there for over 5months and growing and hurting .After I tried everything (included learning to do everything without the use of my right index finger) and it started to bleed open flash I went to my GP. My GP was out sick and there was a substitute doctor from Germany who diagnosed it was a wart and gave me two possible option of treatment:cryotherapy or trying a group of prayer:”You know sometimes faith helps healing more then we think.It happened to my brother with a terrible back ache he had”.I wanted to run!With his disappointment and despite the fact I consider myself ,not very religious, but sure spiritual,I went for cryotherapy.Bloody painfully but effective.Back to the dentist I took my place on the patient chair strongly hoping he wouldn’t suggest anything too weird.He didn’t! He is a nice man and a traditional dentist.He explained me what he was going to do with his lovely German accent and started the procedure.I can’t deny I was tense.My full body was rigid and my hands sore because I was squeezing the chair ‘s armrests.The dentist kept asking me question to witch I couldn’t possibly answer with my mouth wide open and the suction tube in it .Through frowns and hand gesture I managed to say something but not much.Discouraged by my lack of response,He gave up on the conversation.I was not much reactive even when he was talking about of last movie with Harrison Ford and Ryan Gosling.Then, I suppose,It was when he threw the line:What kind of woman wouldn’t show interest for such sex symbols of the movie industry?He drills and fills and says something about whatever I have no idea because by then I gave up resistance,physically and mentally.My whole body muscles hurt for the tension;my jaws were on the verge of collapsing because it was over 40 minutes I was keeping my mouth open.I couldn’t hold it anymore.I let the anesthetic do its work .I relaxed and I waited to be finished ,feeling “comfortable numb”.It is over ow.I still feel numb and I have three other fillings to do😬🙄.I have half an hour to kill before school pick up and can’t even go for a coffee .

Blood ties or not blood ties?

I dont believe in blood ties.I will explain myself better,i don’t believe that they necessarily and naturally come with family.An aunt of mine once said:”i am a teacher for too long to believe in blood ties”.I totally agreed and still do.What does infuriate me is when my opinion is dismissed on the base that i am an only child and will never be able to understand the tie between siblings, for example.I apologise in advance to impose this opinion of mine and to sound may be too harsh but i strongly believe that blood ties exist only where there is fertile ground,a sensible nurturing personality able to develop them.They don’t come automatically only because there is a genetical connection.Giving birth doesn’t make a woman a mother necessarily,otherwise there wouldn’t be neglected,abused kids or abandoned babies.How many estranged brothers and sisters we know?!!where is their blood tie ?.How many sons or daughters turning their back to their elderly parents we see?Where is their blood tie?The fact that we might feel the connection with our siblings,our parents or our offspring cannot cloud our judgement.We have it .It is inside us but this is us.We are only a part of humanity,there is a big other part who doesn’t have it.Not only this but,if an universal innate blood tie would exist,then there would always be a “category A love” and a “category B love”.Brotherly or sisterly friendship would lose their value and even worst all the adopted children would never be loved like a blood child.Children who grew up with stepfathers or stepmothers will never find their way to totally connect to these persons .My personal experience sure affects my point of view.Arrogantly i believe my personal experience throw more light on the subject actually.Even if I am an only child,in fact,i am a mother and a daughter too,a biological and adopted daughter.As a mother i honestly never really question if the love I feel for my kids is due to blood or not.I love them,that is it.Would i love them the same if I didn’t give them birth myself?Instinctively I would say yes,but i can’t be sure as i never been in the situation. I might actually love them even more as I wouldn’t have had to go to weight watcher for 6 months after both.Now you all know because I didn’t have a third child:the only idea of another 6 months of weight watcher was unbearable for me and for my husband,passive victim of 6 months of bad mood due to hanger.Bottom line,I can’t say if my love would be different with an adopted child but I can say that I don’t see any difference between the way I love my kids and the way some of my friends, who are adoptive parents, love their ones.Once ,I heard someone saying that blood ties are undisputable and a kid who is not born from you will never be completely like your own .Now,beside the lack of sensitiveness of this person who didn’t even bother to check if among her audience there was some adoptive parent or adopted kid;what captured my attention was the words that she used”your/our own”.What does it mean exactly?We all use it daily to refer to someone close to us or related in some way to us and that is ok but, the way she empathized those words,the use of the possessive adjective was wrong.We don’t own our kids ,in the same way they don’t own us.We love them but we don’t own them,not even if they come from us.we can be ready to give our life for them but we dont live our life for them.We are separate entities forever united by the love we feel for each other. I remember i thought that a big confusion was made between love and need ,love and possession,love and control.Too often I have seen parents hiding behind their love for their offspring only a impulse to control it,to not let it go.This ,I am afraid ,happens when we consider our kids our property,”our own”kids.May be, if we accept that they are a “persona”,independent individuals,(whether they are blood related or not),then we will be ready to accept the idea of an unconditional love that has nothing to do with blood ties .Of course there is a genetic heritage but that it is only a starter point.At the end it is the surrounding environment where we live and the experiences we make that shape our personality.Summing up, as a mother I can only say i think my love for an adopted child would be exactly the same then the one I feel for the children i born but as a daughter,things change.I can speak by personal experience.Usually when this subject is brought up I always say that even if i wanted it, considering my experience I couldn’t believe in blood ties.A parent is the one who raise you not the one who conceived you.Overrated populistic statement that, is also deeply true.Despite the fact my “real” father has always been in the picture,my stepfather was the one always there for me,he still is and will always be,i know it.He is the paternal figure i look at.He is the grandfather of my daughters.My father was not estranged but we never really did bond.He was not born to be a father. The blood call never arrived to him.IT is possible ,it was nobody’s fault.It sacked when i was little but i am also been extremely lucky that someone, who was instead cut out to be a father,arrived in my life.I proudly share with this man an history of happenings and feelings,without any blood tie.I proudly let him adopt me in adult age.Families don’t necessarily needs blood ties.Blood ties don’t necessarily come with families.

The diy doctor

First of all I have to come clean and confess my adversity to doctors.It is nothing personal, really,it just annoys me to waist time and money at the GP.If it is not an emergency I usually go diy.With the kids I use my knowledge as a mother and,I have to say,quite sucefully most of the time.I am a mother of 2 who did born and raise her kids well far away from any form of relatives and their advices(except for their father of course) and I have seen it all .What I didn’t see myself,my dear friend Toni,whose kids are older then mine, did for sure.She can always dispensate good advise and remedies.With the dogs is pretty much the same:after 15 years that we have dogs in the house,once again we saw it all ,plus the fact that the travelling husband is an hunter leaves him with few tricks up his sleeve.When it comes to me, it is even easier: I can pretend I am fine,I can just believe it is nothing,I can try various remedies that every good housewife and mother should know or,I can turn to my other half.No,he is not a doctor.He actually works in finance ,thing that makes him absolutely unqualified to deal with any health issue( physical and mental) but,when in the army ,he was briefly trained as a nurse and this,believe me,can be very handy.He can do injections,he can stitch,(if really needed),etc etc.I have many friends that are the exact opposite of me and seem to spend more time at their GP then at home.That I don’t get it,probably in the same way they don’t get my pathological resistance to go to the doctor.I don’t do sickness in general.I am fine and very regular with annual routine check ups.It is being sick or having family members sick,that upsets me.It is a waist.First rule:always minimise!Despite my will to stay away from doctors and hospitals,sometime it is not possible.Last spring ,for example,in my kitchen there has been a bad fight between some frozen sausages and a big chopping knife.Unfortunately a third part was involved too: my hand.The palm of my hand,in fact,was caught in the middle .At first I thought it was only a little cut .I also had to go out that night and sure I didn’t have time for this stupid kind of incidents.When after two hours the bleeding didn’t stop yet and I already changed five plaster,I started to think that may be it was a bit more serious then I thought.My housewife/mum skills were not enough,but it was ok,the travelling husband was due home soon .Once home,as expected,he fixed it.He put an elastic band on my wrist and stopped the blood flow.I went upstairs to get change for my night out.I have just stepped into the bathroom for the last touch of make up when the plaster exploded and blood started to squirt everywhere……..It looked like a scene from a horror pulp movie and,of course,I was wearing a silk white blouse!I shouted and called for my husband but, still,I didn’t lose the hope that we could avoid the trip to the emergency room.I then have been given two choices: I could go with my own free will to the clinic or he had to cauterise the cut with a scolded knife.I hate doctors and hospital but I am not Mrs Mcgiver .I rang SJ to say I couldn’t go out but promised I didn’t do it on purpose and kept her updated for the rest of the evening with the. developments.I came to spend my Friday evening at the emergency room.While in the waiting room,I realised that my daughters looked like two trumps as we had to put them in the car already in their pjs.As opposite,I was totally overdressed for the place.Thanks God I had blood stain a bit all over me so that the doctors and the nurses wouldn’t think I was wearing fancy clothes and stiletto for their benefit.If someone is wondering,it was a recessed artery and I had three stitches .Much better then last time when I went to the emergency room with the tip of my index finger dangling still attached to rest of the finger only by a little thin stripe of skin.That time the hand was caught in the middle of a fight between a tomato and a chopping knife.They managed to stitch the finger back but the nerves were totally recessed and I can’t feel anything since on that finger.The only health business related category that I hate more then Gps are dentists.The reluctance I have toward them has a proper explainable origins due to bad experiences.When I was a kid I wore braces for what it felt forever.Name a type of braces and I got to wear it,even the ugly external one,but only at night…..I never really understood if my dentist considered that a punishment or a favour: true if you wear it at night nobody sees you and teases you but, have you ever tried to sleep with that thing inside and out your mouth?The orthodontist I was going was supposed to be one of the best in the area.He had an excellent reputation built up in years and years of practice.I am afraid by the time I became his patient,the years of impeccable and successful practice were too many and he was getting old and forgetful.The prove is that he perfectly fixed the right side of my teeth but forgot to do anything on the left one with the result that I still have my left vampire tooth.Fair enough I only have one and not two as I used to but,seriously?Years and years of braces and still crock teeth??!!?As a young adult my dentist was an old friend of my parents .Every time I was in his surgery,he told me over and over again about when he used to hang out with my parents,about when they were all young and,in particular, about that party during witch he was sure I was conceived.Now, I know it was the early seventies and they were very liberal and keen to fun but hearing it from him it was gross.Even more ,considering I was lying open mouth over salivating and drooling.Eventually I moved,changed dentist and managed to keep my encounters with her as few as possible….nearly none I would say………until this week.This week I had to call the dentist and make an appointment.It has been ten days that I have a persistent pain that is torturing me.At beginning I thought it was just the jaw bone hurting because I was grinding my teeth.Days passed and I tried to convince myself it was may be due to the cold wind…….More days passed and I am very aware that,as the pain is not going away,I need to see a dentist.Yesterday morning then,I was on the phone with my friend who had three route canals done and her symptoms were exactly like mine.Coincidence?I will find out on Friday…..and so will you!

Life as a labyrinth or a maze?

It is one of those ” soul wondering” Sundays.My body is clearly telling me to slow down and take it easy but my brain needs activity.I know I should be working on my story but first I need to take out of my mind these variegation of thoughts that are crowding my head.I was zapping looking for the news channel when I saw Patty Smith talking about labyrinths and mythology.At first I thought it was an interview for one of those programs they show in sky arts and similar so I stopped there.I like Patty Smith.I find her music and poetry powerful and her persona fascinating .Her way to be annoyed by her hair and hating taking care of it;her way to be so masculine in the way she present herself. She is the opposite of what I could be but at the same time I can get it and what it counts, it is that every time I hear her saying something I find myself agreeing with her.Now,closed this little parenthesis about me and Patty,let’s go back to this morning.After few second I was watching,I realised it was not an interview or a documentary but she simply was playing a cameo part in episode of “Law and Order”.I kept zapping but the concept of labyrinth stayed in my mind.You know that game when you are asked to say the first word crossing your mind and then start making connection with other words?I suppose that is what happened to me.For some unknown reason the word “labyrinth ” grew inside me and I couldn’t stop making connection with whatever else.Good old Patty Smith,while reciting in a flipping episode of “Law and Order”,opened the Pandora ‘s box I have in my head.To be honest ,since I was a child,I never particulate liked labyrinths.With age I grew even more uncomfortable and kept to stay away from them.If you think about the very same Daedalus couldn’t escape his own creation.I never liked them,they make me claustrophobic (despite the fact they are open air).If the ancient considered the labyrinths a trap for evil souls,I always considered them more a rat trap.As far as my adversity for labyrinths goes they were never a phobia;cons fields were.They always terrified me.Every time I used to see a cobs field I replayed in my mind an horror movie that I saw when I was a kid…….that was when me and my friends realised there is a reason why movies are age rated……..it was too late!Very much surprisingly,to me and to those who knows well me and my phobias,a couple of summers ago,while on holidays,I went to an event in a cobs field labyrinth.The theme of the night was Star Wars.The travelling husband haven’t joined us on holidays yet and so it was just me and the girls to go,along with a couple of friends and their son.Pitch dark it was,only way to see through was our phone torches.There was a lot of people so really no fear to get lost or trapped in there all night.Stars Wars characters wondering around everywhere and engaging themselves in fights .It was a lovely experience.Great fun and neither my fear of cobs fields nor my adversity for labyrinths crossed my mind for the entire night.Probably I was too busy giggling and fighting giant mosquitoes thirsty for fresh blood.More probably,that night came at the right time.That was in fact the summer I eventually closed behind me few doors and opening a big hallway door leading to a much mentally healthier place.Walking in that labyrinth and making my way through those cobs it was natural,not a second thought about it. As much as the cobs fields are concerned I can’t link the vanishing of my fear to anything else then being too old to still think that someone armed with an electric saw can jump out and attack me.The overcome aversion for labyrinths is an other story.It is not totally overcome, but my way to look at them changed.I suppose that the fact that they always made me feel claustrophobic and afraid of getting lost had more to do with the association between labyrinth and life.I used to see life like a labyrinth you have to navigate to get to your destination.This was trapping me in a unicursal reality with one way in,one way out and a single through-route with twist and turns but no branches.I was walking through a complex path that,at the same time,it was also not difficult at all as it was only offering a single extremely unambiguous route.Fortunately or unfortunately life is multicursal.Life is not a labyrinth ,it is a maze: a complex,branching puzzle that includes choices of path and direction.Once we ascend and descend the centre of the labyrinth or the maze the result is the same:we reborn,we meet our feminine or masculine side,we kill our demons and free our souls from the mean side.It is the journey that is different.The maze that is in my head,the maze I am living in,has various level of difficulty and complexity.There are multiple points of entrance and exit or just one entrance and one exit but definitely with a complex of paths between them.