And sometimes, even when you look OK, you're still sick as get-out

Friends, I have spent today hugging the porcelain god and wishing my pajamas didn't feel like sandpaper against my skin or my muscles like a bunch of worn-out punching bags. Unlike yesterday, today has not been a day to gussy oneself up but rather to heed the clarion call of my body.

Today's bit of wisdom, which feels a tad silly to write after yesterday's suggestion to sometimes look mahvelous so as to feel more mahvelous, is to recognize when you're down for the count, rediscover a love for crushed ice smothered in Gatorade or OJ or something fizzy but soothing, and accept all offers of help. 

Thank you, Minal for bringing me supplies and taking Ol for a bit, Mary for painting the spot I was supposed to paint, Katherine for picking Ol up and bringing him home and caring for him until bedtime, and Annie who gave me birthday dress feedback and sent anti-nausea pills via Minal. It takes a village, people. I also really appreciate everyone who sent warm wishes and offers. And thanks to Anne for letting me help her online shop for a good hour via FB messenger, in between reunions with the toilette. Technology is so lovely sometimes. 

A few final photos from Rome as I've been organizing them.

isn't this perspective of the Colosseum cool?!

Wisteria vines along the Roman Forum remains

40 in forty: Write thank you notes and check in

40 in forty bit of wisdom today: write thank you notes! If you have kids/spouses who don't already, make them write thank you notes too.

If you like paper, treat yourself to some beautiful stationery and a pretty pen that isn't terribly prone to smudging. If you couldn't care less about these objets, stick with your basic note pad and ballpoint; the point is the thought behind and appreciation in your words.

A terrific thank you note needn't be overly long. It simply needs to be personal and reflective: why do you like what you've been given or had done for you? How have you enjoyed it, or how do you plan to enjoy it?

In this harried time, connection with others is easier than ever in many ways but often more superficial. Receiving a sincere, well-considered letter of gratitude slows everything down for a moment, allowing the person who thought of you first to both enjoy anew his or her lovely action and know how appreciated that action was. 

Tangentially, if you know or suspect that someone is having a tough time, check in. You never know how much a hug (real or virtual), quick text or call can help and mean.

Extra bonus: sending notes of thanks and reaching out to others will make you feel fabulous!
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Rome is too beautiful not to share, so I'm foisting more photographs upon you. 

in Trastevere

An elderly woman watches out over a Trastevere piazza. I love her pink shawl.

Artichoke crostini; a delicious part of lunch.

artichokes at the campo dei fiori market

I never tire of these colors. Lawd a'mercy.

The power of observation

So often, there is such beauty all around, but we fail to notice because we're hurrying or tired or looking at our phones or thinking about who we are, who we're not, what we should or need to be doing, where we should or shouldn't be. I'm a pretty observant gal, but I fall prey to the busy-need-tos all the time.

One of my favorite things about going on vacation is the immediate shedding of the superfluous crap we carry with us every day back home. In Rome, I really don't care about whether or not the recycling team will mind if I put five OR six boxes out on Thursday. I don't care that my guest rooms lacks lamps, that my pictures aren't all hung, or that multiple boxes of who knows what wait downstairs to be unpacked.  It's as if Donald Trump has never taken to a mic.

On vacation, when I can disengage enough from the noise and wants and needs of the kids, I can simply look and notice and ingest. It's the way I always feel in the garden, or if I have a few truly free hours by my lonesome.

I can notice and also stop and photograph, beautiful doorways, facades, sculptures and real people too. Regular folks resplendent in their gentle every day'ness. A daughter caring for her mother, an elderly couple strolling arm-in arm. A restaurant worker outside on break to finish an obviously important, or seemingly so?, conversation. A sweet Palm Sunday observer who appears lost. Or is he overwhelmed by season or holiday or grief?

I see a Palm Sunday processional, I hear live music playing outside my window. I overhear a fierce quarrel, I taste the depths of tiramisu know-how.

In the same way that understanding fosters empathy and connection, so too does observation. Watching people, becoming familiar with one's surroundings, knowing the natural rhythms of any given place and a sense of its citizens. Noticing that which is beautiful, that which is special, that which is both simply by being.

In every new experience, minute or grand, I can grow, if I pay attention and am open to such evolution. What a gift each is, and I am all the better for them.

Dinner tonight, a la moi. Pasta with Brussels sprouts, salami, pecorino and tomatoes.