Not on my watch you don't

The Army, like most large organizations, loves its acronyms. I learn a new one almost everyday. My most recent favorite is BLUF:Bottom Line Up Front. I use that one every chance I get, which just is not often enough. Last week my boss asked me to review our JSOP, Joint Standard Operating Procedures, document. It's 48 pages detailing how we collaborate with the other agencies on the installation. The very first section defined domestic violence as any use of force or threat of use of force between members of the opposite sex who are married, were married, have a child in common or living together for 30 consecutive days or more. The paragraph continued for another few sentences, but all I could focus on was the phrase about members of the opposite sex. These guys obviously did not get the memo about DADT being over. I promptly removed the offending phrase about members of the opposite sex. This discrimination will not continue on my watch. Same sex couples who are in crisis have the right to all the services mixed couples receive.

I called Jerry's attention to this immediately. I had serious doubts about him when I heard he an older, white gentleman who spent all of his life in a small town in Arkansas accepted the position as the Family Advocacy Program Manager. I was prepared for all manner of culturally and racially insensitive comments. I wish I could say my preparation was unwarranted. He did say things that made me and other women I work with uncomfortable. Perhaps it was my preparation or the combination of how much I love my job and refusal to quit, but I was determined to make it work.

So when he he told my female colleague to hush and asked me about my religion during his first week on the job I was worried but, undeterred. Eventually he and I came to an understanding about each other. He may have some preconceived ideas about black people, women, homosexuality and interracial marriage, but through exposure he's learning more about human nature and the importance of doing the right thing even if we do things differently around here.

He agreed with my decision to remove the phrase about couples of the opposite sex. He was said he was shocked to see it in there, I don't think that's true as it one of the first you lines in the document and I assume he has read at least the first few pages. Nevertheless, he agreed to my changes and at the end of the day I made a significant change to standard operating procedure in the Army. Today was a very good day.

About the knife he bought me

Last season on Dexter Julia Stiles played Lumen, Dexter's love interest. Towards the end of the season Dexter bought Lumen a silver pocketknife. Buying a woman a pocket knife is an eccentric way to say I love you. It expresses a very personal affection. It says I know you understand who I am and what's important to me. It says you are important to me. A man who buys you knife is deeply in love with you. Yes diamonds are nice. Any jewelry is nice to have, but a knife? That's a true expression of love from a former military, outdoorsman, guys-guy like the man I married. Nothing says I love you more than knife. I can't wait for the opportunity to whip this bad boy out with purpose.

Now about the the knife he bought me. It's approximately seven inches when fully extended. The blade is itself is three inches of cold, hard steel. (In case you didn't know, any knife worth having is made of cold, hard steel.) Ryan has the same knife with one major difference. Mine has a pretty rainbow finish. It gives it a very feminine touch. I cannot believe how happy this man makes me. I'm so lucky.

I am so touched by his thoughtful gift. Nothing says I love you like cold hard steel.

The inside track to Italian style

I have had a lot of good Saturdays, but yesterday was terrific in a new way. I have a list of things I want to do with my life. Things that are important for me to look back on with satisfaction. It all started two weeks ago as Ryan and I strolled arm-in-arm down Corso Palladio, Vicenza's main pedestrian artery. I like to look in all the shop windows, but Max Mara is my favorite. I get inspiration on what colors, cuts and lengths will be in for the season. Two weeks ago I saw an exciting array of camel colored, calf-length coats. The window looked like this I went home fantasizing about all the things that would match with a camel coat. My fantasy looked like this On Friday I decided to move out of the fantasy lane.

I have always wanted to find the inside track to Italian style. The Italians have an impeccable sense of style. They pair beautiful things effortlessly, and it costs a lot of money to do that as well as they do. I have suspected that they all don't have that many Euros on hand for shopping. I was still at a loss for how they accomplish so much style with store prices being so high, especially at stores such as Max Mara and Bruschi. Those are the big names on Corso Palladio. (It's a small town. Don't judge me.)

I asked Andreina for help. She is the most stylish Italian I know. I just came right out with it Friday: Nice jacket. Where can I get a nice winter coat? She paused. I approached the border with that question. Now I would have to see if the relationship I built with Andreina over the last year would grant me entry to Italian fashion secrets. She eyed me suspiciously then said: "Max Mara. They have very nice coats there." My heart began to sink as my ears listened for the finality in her voice. It was not there. Then she asked,"Do you know Diffusion Tessile?" This was it. The moment I had been waiting for. I was about to crossover into the heart of Italian style territory. I had to be careful though. I could not be appear too eager or excitable. Casually I responded, "Where is it?" Within minutes she drew me map with three roundabouts off the major highway in Vicenza.

I spent the afternoon at Diffusione Tessile. It's the factory store for wait for it: Max Mara! It is an amazing one room, one floor, freestanding building with boots, bags, coats, underwear, hats, suits, belts and gloves. They have everything. The quality and variety of clothing and accessories housed in there is staggering. The prices were pleasing reasonable. I left Diffusione Tessile with a fabulous camel coat and dark brown gloves to match at less than half the price of the Max Mara options on Corso Palldio. I am beginning to really like it here. Pictures of me and my coat to follow...

What do my fantasies about this place tell me about this place

When I was little I wanted to be Diana Ross. More specifically I wanted to be Diana Ross in Berry Gordy's Mahogany. It's the story of a inner city black girl played by Diana Ross who becomes a top fashion model in Italy. I wanted to be discovered, and be paid copious amounts of money to frolic in Roman fountains while Anthony Perkins took hundreds of pictures of me.

As fate would have it I grew four inches shy of a leggy super model and had to find other ways to get to Italy and frolic. When I turned 20 I got my chance. My semester abroad was my first experience on Italian soil. I don't recall frolicking in fountains, but I certainly had the time of my life. The reality of Rome lived up to to the Italian fantasy. The place has a heartbeat, a vibration that you feel even after you walk away from the subway. Average everyday things are spectacularly beautiful: women, ice cream, architecture, shop windows, everything. All of them treated to Roman touch of glamour and the unexpected. All of my subsequent visits left me with that effervescent feeling you have when you realize the love of your life loves you back.

I expected Rome to change my life, and it did. It was the first time I felt exotic. It was the first time people asked about where came from because of the way I looked. Where I come from there are lots of girls who look like me. Those heady days prepared me well for Vicenza. Although the people here are not as warm and welcoming as they were in 1990s Rome, they are genuine, curious and eager to engage in American customs such toga parties, drinking games, Thanksgiving, Halloween and the Fourth of July.

The funny thing about living abroad is that you learn more about yourself as result of your hosts curiosity about who you are and why you came.