Fumbling Around Fortune, Fame, and Folly

"Make sure that the fortune that you seek is the fortune that you need." - Ben Harper

Ever seen that slogan, "NO MATTER WHERE YOU GO THERE YOU ARE?" Well, I like it: its simplicity sorta tames any lingering What-If Wonderment out of a person and us back to home base, both figuratively and literally...although I'm not so sure it's literal - that it aims to squelch anyone's (and everyone's) quest for adventure, though - it mostly means, I think, that you ain't gonna find your Fix-It anywhere but [where you are] Here. Go where we may, whether to Tibet, Three Rivers, Texas, or Timbuktu, our exterior quests are more about our interior questions.

Entonces, before I make any more slashing damnations on the Italians or their [lack of] parenting style, the social condition of Sardinians and their servants, or anything else, I am going to take a break and just breathe.

Forgive my laziness; I am just processing the nature of being The Hired Help. What it means, why I signed up for it, why I insisted that I needed this whole long year to prepare for grad school. I'm in the thick of it, and just as surely as the Sardinian mistral's brought swirling sea salt, sweat, and sunblock, I've found myself dizzily disoriented, as though I'm under some sort of spell. From the heat. Or from being beat. Don't know.

Sure, I'm having fun - I feel kinda lucky to fly around this fancy island with all these fancy boats and fancy folks - but ultimately, I can't help but shrivel up that it's just all fancy fiberglass. And it's for fun, right? Fun... I'm not sure I can entirely relate to the kind of leisure licenses these folks flaunt, but even if I could, I'm not sure I'd get it.

Everything we do is a quest for love, no? Just understanding and acceptance and community? So what's it matter? What does any of it matter? Clothes, class, or caste? Forks, knives, nannies, nonsense.

So why the need for all this other stuff. What are we looking for?

. . .

All right. Now that I've laid all my cards out on the table and officially outed my loopiness (!), I have to say: it has been a sweet ride. The colors here, above all, are fantastic; I can't get enough of geranium pink! Also, I've drawn so many (horrible!) pictures of sailboats and Stella Maris and of interiors that maybe my wretched drawing skills are actually improving!

I've also found a way into Brat #1's affection: make-up. The first night we went out, his eyes goggled as he belted, "Ctee-eesty-eh, Wow-a! You-eh Look-eh Niiiiice-eh!" He proceeded to hold my hand the entire night and sit next to me and parade me around the restaurant. I felt like a showdog. No: a show-eh-dog-eh.

My days are spent trying to squeeze in morning walks or runs before the crack of dawn, sneaking back onto the cul-de-sac compound, gate and all, and tip-toeing into the family's quarters without so much as a peep. This means taking off my Chacos (with my big old boats, they are the topics of many conversations, i.e. "Een-teresting shoos-eh," etc.!) and stealthily stealing corners and spending five minutes on a single turnkey, so as not to make a sound. Let me insert, here, that Brat #2 has invited herself into my showers on more than one morning - the kids have NO concept of boundaries. The rest of my day is spent following the children around, since they certainly don't follow anyone's orders, least of all mine. More doggie-ness; only during these six-day work weeks, I'm no show-dog; I'm more like an ugly, unkempt mutt. I work from dawn 'til past dusk, when, at 9 p.m., I finally get to drag the kiddos to brush their teeth, wash their faces and feet, warm their BOTTLES (yes, they still drink from bottles at 2 and 5), and then I can eat dinner. At 9:30 p.m. And then, after dinner, even though I'm pooped pooped pooped, I like to help Rami (their 'house-man,' which in real people language means 'servant') with the dishes. Then I get to listen to my pod-casts as I fall asleep.

So yeah, it's been a riot. Can't wait to get back to Rome with Claudia and Company and The King-eh of-eh the Blues-eh...let's hope it's not longer than a coupla' weeks in comin'. :)