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.

On becoming superhuman

As part of my DIY hair journey I have taken a keen interest in how what I put in my body affects what comes out of my body. Unfortunately I have have a plethora of food allergies that result in unsightly skin reactions such as hives, eczema and the occasional welts. This keeps me keenly aware of the ingredients in the foods in my diet. I know what not to eat, but I was not in the habit of researching TO eat. I know fruits and vegetables are part of a balanced diet, and a daily multivitamin helps to fill in the the gaps, but I hadn't bothered to learn about the vitamins and minerals that can improve your skin, nails and hair.

A few years ago, I went to Iquitos, Peru and spent several days in the Amazon. One of those days included a healing ritual with Cesare, a well known local shaman. At the time I didn't realize it, but my life was about to change. I returned to my job in finance a week or so later. Nothing much had changed at the office. What had changed was how I felt about my body. I wanted to make it better.

I began taking Trader Joe's hair, nail and skin vitamins. I didn't pay much attention to the ingredients, but my mom encouraged me because one of the primary ingredients was biotin. She lives by the biotin code. I did no observe any difference other than hair sprouting on my toes after a few weeks, so I stopped taking them.

Fast forward to a few weeks ago. Because I have not honed my DIY hair regimen, I decided that it is necessary to grow more hair than I lose as I experiment with new products and solidify my regimen. Last month I learned about an important mineral called silica. My preliminary research revealed it helps to maintain connective tissue within the body. Further research revealed it also has powerful effects on hair, nails and skin. Ryan already had a multivitamin which contains trace amounts of silica, but silica is most potent when consumed in gel form.

A health obsessed-colleague has joined me on my quest for radiant skin and luscious hair. She placed an order with Vitacost for silica gel. It arrived last week. Within a few days the quality of my complexion improved dramatically. My body felt different in a way that is difficult to describe. I felt spungy/cushioned, more sturdy inside. It feels as if I am infused with moisture inside my bones, and the increase makes me feel stronger. I feel better obviously, and I was not at all sick when I started taking the silica. If these are the effects after a week, I am certainly on my way to becoming superhuman in a month.

We did my hair all day

The weekend was kind of a big deal. There was the dinner party for my friend Ellen at Osteria i Monelli, and there was my hair. Some of us have hobbies. Ryan prefers building model planes and helicopters. Once upon a time a time I was an avid runner, pounding 30 miles a week at the gym but, mostly on the Williamsburg Bridge. I still enjoy running, but the passion for it has diminished since I arrived in Vicenza.

Over the past three months I have taken up a new hobby: my hair. I have always been interested in my hair. I was a weekly blow out girl in New York, entrusting my haircare needs to professionals most of my adult life. That changed drastically when I moved to Italy last year. Getting a Dominican blowout is impossible here. The Italian blowouts leave my strands vibrant, silky and full of body and bounce, but the heat damage and the price tag are deterrents. I was forced to take matters into my own hands, well Ryan's too. I am developing a healthy DIY haircare regimen that is teaching me many things about my health and self sufficiency. I'm not completely self sufficient yet, I still rely on Ryan quite a bit.

Ryan is a meticulous man. He demonstrates this in his work ethic and in his hobbies. This made him an ideal companion for my healthy hair journey. I just just wasn't ready for everyone at Ellen's dinner party to know about it.

We sat across from Becky and her husband James at Osteria i Monelli. There were 13 of us and the the Romanian waitress was overwhelmed just looking at our table. James, originally from Guatemala, tried his Italian. He hoped this would make things easier for her, but she responded to him in English despite all his efforts. Once all of our orders were taken, we settled into getting to know each other better. Becky and James told us about the volksmarch they were going to the next morning. After awhile they asked what we did all day. Ryan said Mickie's hair. I was proud of him, but also a little embarrassed to admit we spent the enitre day doing my hair.

Their hostility was barely contained

When I was in college I almost joined ROTC. Wooed by my father's adventures in the Army, and seeking a sense of belonging I did not find in HS, I thought the Army might be the answer for me. My college roommate's mom found out about our interest in the Army and instilled us with fear and dread so fierce we forgot the whole thing.

My one year anniversary of being in Vicenza will be in here in about a month. I gradually increased my direct exposure to soldiers and all that goes along with that. There have been times that things have gone faster than I expected. Like the time my boss felt confident enough for me to present to 200 hundred soldiers recently back from Afghanistan. Of course I did a great job but, I won't soon forget the terror I felt when all those uniforms stared at me.

These days I don't think twice about standing up in front of a room full of soldiers. Yet new challenges appear that shake me out of my comfort zone often. Challenges that make me silently thank my roommate's mom for talking me out of ROTC.

Today I found myself on the other side of the table in a Chain of Command meeting. I was not providing them with essential information for their unit or company. I was there to advocate for a soldier in their company who wants to move to another base. They want her out of the military. Full Stop. They are bearing down on her with the full force of what I heard female soldiers in infantry units dealt with in the bad old days.

Those guys were on their best behavior. Soldiers guys that intended to chew her out today. That was their plan until I showed up. My presence held them accountable for each word that fell from their lips. Their hostility, however, was barely contained.They don't want her to be there. They didn't want me to be there as they told her how hard it would be for her to stay in the unit and pull her own weight. I shielded her today from what would have been a very unpleasant and unfair experience. Life sucks for her right now, but my actions today made it suck just a little less. I will fall asleep with her on my mind tonight. I will drift off peacefully knowing I helped to get through today.

Steam so thick I could barely breathe

I lead an international multicultural life. I live in Italy and work on an American Military base. Want more proof? Fine. Here's your proof. The girl who does Ryan's Italian, German, Swedish, Irish toes is Serbian. Sandra, the Serbian also does my toes, fingers and bikini. Last week while getting my toes done, she told me, in Italian, that she still didn't know how to operate the Turkish bath. She wrinkled her nose and winked at me when she said it. Wide eyed I leaned over and whispered,"What's a Turkish bath?" I have heard of Turkish bathhouses and the like but, this was not that kind of place. She described a fantasy worthy steam room that left you feeling refreshed, showered even. "I want one.", I said before she finished describing it fully. "When can I get one?" She thought for a moment then asked if I wanted a massage after. Yes, why yes I did want a massage after my Turkish bath.

The date was set and I arrived ten minutes early to prepare for the experience. After a brief wait, Sandra asked me to follow her into a pleasant room with a stand up shower. It sort of looked like one of those futuristic space pods or a disabled person shower. There was just enough room for one person. Sandra told me she would knock on the glass when I had five minutes left. I slid the doors shut and steam rushed in at me. I began to think this might have been a waste of time and money as the steam was not much more then the clothes steamer my family sent me for Christmas. My mind drifted to the female soldier who called me Sergeant Mac today. What a laugh that was. I corrected her but, I think she thought I was just being informal when I told her to call me Mickie. That lady thinks I am a solider. What a hoot! That's when it happened. I opened my eyes and it was white hot everywhere. The little hearts I drew on the glass were gone. The steam was so thick I could barely breathe. I started to panic could I suffocate from steam? Would a die a steamy death? I took several deep breaths and calmed down, enjoying the hot clouds as they entered my lungs and freed my pores from gross toxins. I stood there naked sweating for a long, long time when Sandra gave me the five minute warning. How long had I been in here I wondered an hour, a few days? It was about ten minutes.