Category — Practicing Imperfection

You know those reflective vests that road workers and inmates wear?  The orange or green ones?  Italians carry those in their cars like Americans carry tire gages, or toolkits.  Our first day in Italy, we found out why…

My parents had rented a car – a nice alfa romeo sedan.  It had a good amount of trunk space for our luggage, a sleek body style, and a shitty turning radius.

We were lost almost immediately after we picked up the rental car, turning the wrong way on the highway leading away from the airport.  After about an hour of driving, stopping, asking directions, figuring out where we were, where we were going, and driving again, we were back at the airport going the right direction – toward Pisa, toward Lucca and toward Pieve Fosciana.  All we needed to do was get onto the Italian Autobahn, the Autostrada.

Signage in Italy isn’t always that great – especially if you don’t know what the little sign symbols mean.  Somehow, we ended up heading the wrong way – again – this time onto the Autostrada.  We realized this as we were on the on-ramp to the east-bound lanes.  Fortunately, there were no cars anywhere near us, and the off-ramp was right next to us.  We decided to pull a u-turn.  Yes, a u-turn on the on/off-ramp to the Autostrada.  This seemed like a good idea at the time.  Then again, we’d been traveling for about 20 hours at that point, and were pretty desperate not to have to backtrack again.

This is when we discovered several things in quick succession.

1.  The alfa romeo has a shitty turning radius.

2.  It is not that easy to put an alfa romeo into reverse.

3.  Italian motorists are INCREDIBLY patient.

As the car came to a stop about 6 inches from the guard rail, my dad tried to put the car into reverse.  After about 30 seconds of increasingly frantic attempts to force the shifter into reverse, it became clear that there was some kind of release switch.  It also became clear that we weren’t going to figure it out on the on-ramp.

At this point, our car was perpendicular to the ramps, blocking both directions.  Cars on both sides of us were beginning to pile up.  I looked at my mom and aunt in the back of the car who were packed in with our luggage, turned to my dad and said “I guess I’m pushing!”

When I got out, the car was resting on the guard rail.  I put my hands on the hood, my feet on the rail, and pushed.  it must have been an awesome sight to see me suspended between the two like a cartoon figure.  I can’t imagine why my family didn’t have the camera out.  The only way it could have been better is if I’d had the reflective vest on.  After a couple fits of pushing and driving forward, pushing and driving forward (thanks to the shitty turning radius), I was able to waive to the other motorists who were patiently watching us like we were a mildly amusing tv program, jump in the car, and we were on our way.

What was amazing to us was that the entire time, nobody honked.  Nobody flipped us the bird, nobody hollered out the window.  We were on the frickin’ ramp to the Autostrada, blocking both directions.  People calmly queued up and waited with the expression of someone sitting at a rather long traffic light.  If we’d been in the US, I might have been shot, run down, or at least cursed loudly at.  In Italy, I was entertainment.

Before the trip, my dad and sister had done some work to learn the Italian language.  For some reason, my dad had happened across the word for “carbomb” and decided to teach it to all of us.  (Yes, I know it’s totally inapropriate.)  Although he didn’t get it quite right (it’s really” autobomba” I found out later), we still used “autobombo” pretty much constantly in the lead-up to the trip.  We even started calling my mom “automombo,” and my sister convinced her coworker that the Autostrada was really called the “Autobombo.”   But, after our first day in Italy, for the rest of the trip, and beyond, our awesome u-turn on the Autostrada was referred to as the “autobombo.”  I really wish I’d worn the vest.

This week, as I was dressing up as a superhero to pose for a facebook picture, something clicked. This is why people often say to me things like “you’ve got a great job” or “I’d love a job like that.”

Yes, it does seem like it would be fun to dress like a superhero, or ride up and down the freight elevator with inmates.

Sure, it’s enjoyable to spend a day at the golf course.

Here’s the thing I discovered this week right around the time I was crafting my wrist bands from old beer cups and pink duct tape:

There is a direct correlation between the stress level in my job and the amount of illicit fun I engage in at that job.

That means that, when I post a picture of me riding around on a hand truck,

there was probably a crazy stressful 12 hour day immediately preceding it.

For example:

This is a picture of me dressed as a pirate for an event.

Sure, that looks like fun, and it was. That event, however also included my being bit by a parrot named Zeus – hard – and repeatedly – until I was bleeding.

So, when you say “I’d like a job like that!” make sure you know what you’re in for.  And make sure you get a tetanus shot.

I love Harry Potter.  A lot.

At first, I refused to read the books, because of all the main-stream hype.  That is until one Christmas break when I was home in Idaho.  I picked up the first book, and didn’t stop reading for the entire trip – until I had finished the first 3 books.

Since then, I’ve been a complete Harry Potter maniac.  It might border on creepy.  I’m not totally sure at this point.

I haven’t dressed as Harry in a couple of years, but I did.  Every year.  In law school.  When I worked at the Oregon Court of Appeals.  I was a good Harry.

This week, with the opening of the 6th movie “Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince,” I considered whether to dig my costume out of storage and wear it to the midnight opening, or to dress as a muggle and wait until Friday afternoon and pay the matinee price.

My recent ex-girlfriend, Leigh,  and I decided to go Friday afternoon, sans costume, though I may have frightened a child dressed as Hermione when I ran up to her to ask whether she liked the movie.  Usually, kids are much more fun to talk with about Harry Potter.  Usually…

Saturday night, though, at a summer BBQ, I was reminded of one of the great things about my ex.  During a story I was telling about answering the door for Jehovah’s Witnesses while reading a freshly-released Harry Potter book, Leigh interrupted me.

“It was the 5th book.”

I had just stated that I was reading the 7th book at the time.

“Are you sure?”

“Yes,”  she said simply.  “We’ve been together for two books.”

Excellent.  Not, we’ve been together for 4 years.  No, “we’ve been together for two books”.

Leigh has asked me before why I love her.  It can be hard to put into words why I love a person.  The why isn’t that important to me.  In that moment, however, I knew this is why.  There are certain people in  my life that share a language – a shorthand – for how the world works.  Measuring our relationship in terms of Harry Potter books was a powerful reminder for me of how important funny little things can be, and how wonderful it is to share that kind of shorthand with someone who isn’t afraid to sit next to you when you have a stuffed bird on your shoulder.

Those are the friends you’ll have forever.

I’ve taught myself a number of things over the years:  guitar, Microsoft Access, html.  Right now I’m learning how to meditate.

Every day I try to take some time with my dog Libby and we sit in the park in our neighborhood.

This is the view from the bench we sit in.  Meditation has a steep learning-curve for me, but ‘m willing to give it time.

Today, on our way to the park, we happened upon the evidence of someone else’s self-training.

These books were scattered next to the sidewalk.  It’s so awesome I had to go back to get my camera…

Along with the “Teach Yourself to Play Guitar” book was another gem:

Yeah, that’s how enlightened I am.  I had to walk back to the house to get the camera to take a picture of the word “orgasm.”

You see what I mean about a steep learning-curve.  I think maybe I should try a little harder with the meditation.

What?!

“We’ll take you voting now, if that’s alright.”

When I walked into the shop with the stools, I never imagined I’d end up in the house of a local political candidate, let alone going to vote with her.

“Yes, that’s alright!”

I’ve actually thought about taking vacations to be an international poll watcher.  Super-geeky political dork, I know.

The day started with visions of visiting the thermal caves of Bagni di Lucca.  When we found those closed, the local who had adopted me decided to take me to see her cousin.  It just so happened that her cousin was running for the city council.

Are you kidding me?  Could this be any cooler?!  No, no it could not.

After spending an hour in Sandra’s home with her lovely partner Deb and their super-cute dogs Hollywinter and Pimpa, I was ready to make camp in the garden and never leave.  If it wasn’t for the worst rainstorm in 30 years, I might have.

As it was, I had a lesson in local Italian politics, the voting process, and was leaving with sample ballots and voters guides tucked into my backpack.

As we walked out the door, Lara, my guide, picked up a political button for Sandra’s slate and handed it to me.  Of course, I proudly pinned it on and walked out ready to see democracy in action!

The next two hours were spent in two different precincts as Sandra and Deb cast their ballots.  Sandra’s mother came to vote for her daughter.  I nearly cried.  Lara showed me her middle school.  And, in a moment of panic, I was told that I would have to remove the political button or risk being arrested by the armed police that were monitoring the site.  Awesome!

Seriously, I could go to Italian jail for wearing a political button?  Yes, and also for the picture I almost took of Sandra casting her ballot.  Good to know!  I did manage to snap a picture of the chart they fill in to determine who has won.  It was divided by political party, precinct and gender of voters.

After voting we headed into Barga for a debrief in Sandra and Deb’s art gallery, where we talked about GLBT politics, religion and art, and the “can generation.”  When I left, these amazing women gave me art to take home.  Yes, in addition to being awesome political operatives, they’re also amazing artists.  I love Italy!

I headed home the next day and wore the button for a week.  Now it lives on the sun visor of my Prius – right next to the Obama button.