limontella

Brought to you by the letter "P"

Wed, 18 Mar 2026 17:46:24 GMT

The Past, Palm Springs and a place called Paris

I recently wrote some thoughts about the ridiculous interview question, "where do you see yourself in five years , " but this month is all about the number four and the letter, "P." As this endless March begins to wind down, another spring break for the schools in Texas has come to an end. Four years ago, after the two of us met in Palm Springs, John returned home from his break and I went back to my Blue Awning Apartment. It's a testament to how something that may seem so trivial - booking a trip to a favorite destination - can shift the course of your life. One person who needed to decompress and one person convinced to make a last minute change of plans for Southern California instead of Mexico were on a path neither one could have predicted. I've mused over this turn of events so many times these past four years that I sometimes think I'm all out of thoughts on the topic. But something always happens to make me look at life over again.

John and I met this month in 2022. Despite the confines of what he could eat, which made meeting for lunch or ice cream an improbable event, we managed to settle on a cocktail. Because, like Paris, a cocktail is always a good idea.

I wasn't quite sure what to make of him when he exited his uber. He was for sure a pocket, and I was ready to arm myself with excuses on how to extrapolate myself, because, well, in my experience, that was always what was done. Yet somewhere in that first few minutes of our introduction, the thought of cutting things short was never a possibility. Since I vetoed two locations for being either too crowded or too loud to have any sort of conversation, he says the relationship potential was instant, but I say - well, I don't know what I say, so now, I just go along with his assessment. Also, I found it not so funny that one of the places that was too loud then is still too loud now, but there were more of us this time so it all worked out.

At any event, we would have really loved to return to Paris, because among the things John and I talked about that afternoon was our love for that city. Logistically and financially, it was a better option to return this spring break to the scene of the crime - Palm Springs. Just like when I returned to Boston after my initial move to San Francisco, and then to Los Angeles after my relocation to New York City, the cities that I left behind have, besides the inevitable new hotels and/or restaurants - were still the same. As in the past however, it was obvious that I was the one who had changed. I was, at first, hesitant to return to California. I had been single so long there and now being there as part of a couple was a pretty significant shift from the past. An old friend of mine once gave me a photo that said follow your heart even if it leads all the way to California, but sometimes, you just have to listen to more than your heart to discover your destination.

The desert is still a place full of majestic beauty, and never let it be said that the bartenders there don't know how to make a cocktail. Like our time in Paris, we had no set agenda other than, of course, going for coffee. Although one change I did not appreciate was my favorite muffin was no longer baked at any of my favorite kofi locations. I had to make do with a banana walnut and then a blackberry bran. The double chocolate chocolate chip was too rich for morning consumption, but that didn't preclude us from getting some to devour later in the day. I didn't remember the sun and heat being so strong this time of year, which probably contributed to all of us getting more inebriated quicker that evening, but we didn't complain.

Like in Paris, it didn't matter if we went out to a bar. What mattered was the company I was with and the occasion I was there to celebrate. A far cry from our four years, our friends were celebrating 30 years together. The four (!) of us never ran out of conversation and traveling together was as simple and easy as our friendship. Four years ago, I was a stranger to this group. I couldn't tell if I'd be seen as an interloper, a part-time visitor they'd have no interest in getting to know or maybe just seen as a self proclaimed non-dater who had no concern beyond having a good time. To now, be sitting in a restaurant with them, enjoying a cocktail with the lights on the trees illuminating our perfect night was almost too overwhelming for me. I remember a time in the past when I was part of four single people at this very location, and although I could never have imagined it, I couldn't be happier with the change of cast. It was one of the reasons why I was so hesitant to return to the desert. Would I miss the person I was? Would I miss the previous playbill of performers?

The next day, while the temperature was still cool and pleasant, I took a long walk to the airport to pick up our rental car for the rest of the week. As I passed streets where I had previously stayed and bittersweetly remembered great times with friends who are no longer living and adventures with those who were in previous chapters, I realized this was a place I will always enjoy but after this visit, not a place that holds new experiences to discover for a Sadie . Later in the week, as I drove us all by my Blue Awning Apartment, I merely pointed out the building. There was no reason to linger. Its awnings were still a vibrant color, but like all my previous addresses, I don't like to go back. They existed for a specific time in my life and I want to keep them where they remain. Even the house I grew up in - with my mother gone - has no connection left.

Now, four years after that spring break's monumental meeting, as much as I will always love California, this vacation made me fully embrace who I was then and who I am now. The stories of my time in the cities I called home never fail to entertain and they are always good for a laugh over drinks and dinner in this new and future chapters of life. In the past, I don't think I fully stopped to appreciate where I was in life. I don't pine to return to any of the places I called home in the past (see what I did there?). With a ring on my finger, there are so many more places to see. But something tells me, that this time, as Limontella, home base will be that city that starts with "P."

On a Night Like This

Sun, 04 Jan 2026 22:20:36 GMT

La Luna - La Bella Luna

Now, I know the title of this post is Italian and from one our favorite movies featuring all Italians, but the moon (which is just a tad shy of full) is so gorgeous tonight that I had to use it. Today was our last full day in Paris before we head back home to San Antonio. I'm not sure how to describe it, but at dinner, I told John, how at ease we are in Paris and how well we know it now. As we walked over 17,000 steps today throughout the 3rd and 4th, it was a full day of shopping and, of course, eating. Alas, our goal of coming home with our French knives did not come to fruition, but we do know how to contact the manufacturer, so there's at least that. Instead, there are shoes and more shoes, and an art piece of Notre Dame that took our breath away. Last night, we saw it through the window on our walk home and just like on our last trip on our last day when we found the perfect piece of art, the same thing happened. We had to return today, hoping the gallery was open and my poor husband knew that I would not be deterred. It's a one of a kind by a young Parisian artist.

With most of the day spent walking in the direction of the wind, the day was colder today. It really didn't matter, though as we made several trips back to the hotel to drop off our various purchases throughout the day. Between wine at lunch over a fabulous charcuterie board and several stops in churches, there was so much to reflect upon before we head home. I hope that the love we feel for Paris comes through and that you see Paris, not through the ridiculous eyes of shows like Emily in Paris but through those of two people who know what this city brings to their lives. It has been such a part of us seperately for so long and now it's part of ours together. That makes each step we continue to take here that much sweeter. To make it even more meaningful, we see and feel our mothers in every church we visit and every incredible sight we see. They were part of this city with us and that bond radiates throughout every step we take here.

We've ended our trip at the same restaurant that we had dinner at when we came here during part one of our honeymoon. It is the same eatery where I took my mom back in 2010. And on the way there, seeing the splendor of the moon meant something special to John and the memory of his mother. It's a full circle of events that make each trip to this city much more special that you can imagine. The wine was even more delicious tonight and I thought, why are we searching all over the city for that wine when we can just buy one here? It's wrapped and padded in our luggage. We'll uncork it for something special when we return home. Maybe there will be a full moon when we do.

La Luna - La Bella Luna. It's the same moon that you all are seeing tonight, and it makes you realize that the world is not that big. We all should find time to take in its beauty. I don't take for granted that we are lucky to experience it here, in a city that gives us so much joy. What an incredible end to one year and the start of another. We can only hope that La Bella Luna will continue to shine on us. But, no matter what happens, we'll have each other and....we'll always have Paris.

Hey, Old Friend

Sat, 03 Jan 2026 22:26:01 GMT

Love and other Stories

The second phase of our honeymoon year is coming to a close this weekend, and with the temperatures dropping, we're becoming adept at getting around Paris on the Metro. To avoid any discussion of grumpiness, I made sure to bundle up and walk to our corner patisserie so we could both get our morning fix of caffeine and croissants. We decided, since an old friend of John's postponed meeting (or so we thought...), we decided to finally get to the Marie Rose Cafe. You'll find more about the story behind that cafe from our summer honeymoon . Alas, after we got out of the subway and walked to the restaurant, we discovered that it was closed - AGAIN. Instead of being disappointed, I told John that we're not meant to actually eat in that establishment. The reason we know the cafe exists is because of our mothers. They don't want us to enter it, but I think they wanted to show us a part of the city that we'd never frequent and maybe, this is the neighborhood we're meant to take more of an interest in the future. As we finished our lunch, John got a text from his old friend saying he was on his way! It seems that my husband read the initial text incorrect and his friend John didn't postpone our meet - up after all. We hopped on the the train and were on our way. The underground mall we met in is a sight to behold . You'd never know from walking the streets of Paris that there is a whole bustling world of shops, restaurants and movie theaters under your feet.

We didn't have to wait too long for the two old friends to meet. After thirty years, the newest John I met told me that John is still as ditzy as ever. I'm not afraid to say that I agreed. Once again, as I've learned on trips like this or my friendships in general, no matter how much time has passed, really great friends just pick up where they left off.

Later, John and his partner introduced us to an incredible chocolate shop and distinctly told us how French and Belgium chocolates are NOT the same. Don't confuse the two and don't buy Belgian in France. My friend Serge would probably agree, especially after I sent him a picture of a Belgian waffle shop in Paris. That just isn't right on so many levels. As the temperatures continued to drop, we parted ways and John and I took a quick trip to look at the Wall of Love, and then had another incredible dinner at L'isotto where we had stopped in a week ago just for a glass of wine. Having dinner there, of course, did not disappoint.

Today, it seemed even colder as we searched the city for our elusive French knives and an incredible pair of shoes we saw earlier in the week in my size. Alas, we found neither, but we did stumble into the most charming independent Italian shop in Montparnasse. We left with two bottles of Limoncello and two flavored jars of sugar. My baked goods will thank me. This evening, we met up with John and his partner for a quick drink before their night out (after they reminded John that we would meet TONIGHT just so there was no confusion this time). We got more information on how we can make living here without being residents work in the future. Surprisingly, it's not as difficult as it seems.

As the night got even colder, we checked out an Indian restaurant close to our hotel and then made our way for wine and dessert at the Mexican restaurant we found on New Year's Eve. Maybe it was the wine, maybe it was the warmth of the restaurant or it being a Paris winter evening, but everything combined for one of those perfect night endings. This year will be four years since John and I met and if you had told either of us that we would be experiencing a night like this then, well - I bet we'd believe you. That surprises me as much as it probably does you. But there was always something different after John got out of his Uber. There was never really a question of what would happen as we made all those trips back and forth until I moved from Los Angeles. He never seems to tire of my adventure tales and the stories of how we both got to this junction in life are as different as Paris and San Antonio and Los Angeles. But the thread that connects them - as corny as it sounds - is love. What could be better than that realization in a city that exudes it on every step you take in it.

Baby, it's Cold Outside

Thu, 01 Jan 2026 20:32:05 GMT

I'm not Grumpy, You're Grumpy

I think all my overwhelming musings have reached their quota on this trip. That was 2025 and this is 2026 - time to fully accept all the signs and full circles that have come to fruition in this second half of our honeymoon. We still have some things we need to accomplish - another pair of shoes, for sure, while we still search for our elusive French knives and of course, we need chocolates. And maybe one or two bottles of wine. So much to do, so little time left it seems. With housekeeping not cleaning our room til late this afternoon, we enjoyed a really lazy start to the first day of the year. The one thing we missed getting up so late was our morning latte and cappuccino. So, if I sounded grumpy at some point today, it was not my fault. I think I was just fine, after all, I had a really big mimosa at lunch, but champagne before caffeine was probably not the best order of beverages.

Once again, we stumbled into an incredible small restaurant. This one was in the 6th after finding the perfect place for our future Paris apartment right across the river in the 1st. What better way to start 2026 than with Italian food? And Paris knows how to do Italian. We have yet to have anything short of spectacular in any of the establishments. The one thing that amazes us is that the Parisians are very strict on tables matching your party. A group of 2 is never seated at a table for four or a table that will accommodate three. And if you're a party of over 6? Well, get prepared to wait a very long time for a place to sit.

I think this is where my husband decided I was grumpy, but I say it was him because it wasn't my fault we didn't go for coffee before we ate. So I chalk up the confusion to the temperature dropping considerably today. The wind has picked up, but with my ears warmly covered, there's no way I was the grumpy one. The streets of Paris were wonderfully quiet today. We have noticed things that during the crowded masses of the summer we hardly were able to appreciate. The side streets are where Paris really shines and even in the colder temperatures, walking them are full of joy and wonder. On the way back, we stopped into a quaint little cafe in the park of our potential future apartment. The young man who waited on us spoke incredible English. When we complimented him on it, he shared that it is part of his studies at university. He spoke better than most Americans, and we would love to see where his future takes him. If he baked the desserts we had, then there's even more power to him. The coffee alone was one of the best we've had here, too.

Overall, the only surprising moment of the day is how comfortable we are in Paris. We know which way to walk - even if it is only one of us who is right - and what streets to avoid, what metro stops to bypass and which pastry shops are better than others. And, with the wind picking up this evening, a simple sandwich and wine dinner at our hotel room was all we needed. We're set for that apartment, for sure. It will more than likely be small, but as long as there's room for an espresso machine to stomp out any potential grumpiness, I think we'll be just fine.

Full Circle

Thu, 01 Jan 2026 11:53:22 GMT

30 Years of Drawing a Circle

It is officially 2026 and we have ended the previous year in one of those full circle moments that I love so much. Until John pointed it out, though, I had no idea that it was happening. Back in 2010, when I came to visit my friend Josh, he took me to my first Parisian restaurant called les philosophes. When John and I started our honeymoon this past June, it was the first one I took him to as we started our time in France, and tonight, quite unexpectedly, it was where we ended our year. I am all about full circle moments, and it seems the universe, once again, had its plans for me - and us. Dinner was - of course - beyond delicious. The wine, the bread (two baskets!), the steak and the dessert all added up to a spectacular night. We had stuck to our original plan of just walking around our favorite arrondissements to find a place to eat and with a very quiet neighborhood in front of us, we turned a corner and there was les philosophes. There was a short line and there was no question we would wait. Armed with our bottle of wine in our bag to be consumed at midnight, we were seated at a great table. At first, there was a straight couple next to us who clearly - at least the man - wanted his partner all to himself. He made a small fuss to be seated in the back and John and I had the space to ourselves for quite some time. The waiters here take such pride in their work. It was fun to see our waiter from this past summer as well. We sat and reflected on our time in Paris - which still has a few days left - and once again, when John left to descend the stairs to the toilettes, I was alone with my thoughts.

So many memories in this restaurant and this neighborhood. How did I get here? When did fate decide to take me on this path? Did I ever have a choice in which road I took? How did Paris become the city for me and now us? That first trip here on business in 1995 has led me to the second half of our honeymoon in 2025.

It was close to 11 as we finished and, armed with our wine, we made our way to one of the bridges overlooking the seine. For awhile, it was strangely quiet around us and then as it approached midnight there was a small crowd behind us. People counted down the seconds, the fireworks went off in the distance above the Arc de Triomphe, and then it was 2026. I hugged my husband, (I will admit, it also helped that he's always 100 degrees so he warmed me up) and we looked out over the river. I may have said some words out loud, so many of my friends can rest easy and stop asking me. We walked back to our hotel, turned on the French TV and watched a bit of the celebration and then without any trouble, fell asleep in a city that holds so much meaning for us. Boston, San Francisco, Los Angles, New York, Palm Springs, San Antonio, Paris. All of them hold such special moments my life. Tonight, holding my husband's hand (although warmly covered in gloves), I have finally found where I belong - it's only taken me 30 years. And that seems like a great full circle number, n'est-ce pas?

Bonnes Fetes

Wed, 31 Dec 2025 18:22:49 GMT

It's Almost a New Year

So, all day, I have been saying, "Merci, Bon Année," and as we sat in a cafe that we have nicknamed the Goldilocks, I was corrected by the fabulous proprietor. It's not the new year, she told us, you should say, Bonnes Fêtes (Happy end of holidays). Tomorrow, I can greet people with the former. You learn something every day, even in Paris.

What an amazing start to the end of the year. I, of course, got up early to get more pastry from our corner patisserie. What is breakfast if not with a chocolate eclair, that this time, I got to eat! Along our route today, we found some more great cabinet pulls for our house. Even though, we know we'll be back before too long, and since we may - God help me - remodel the master bathroom - we picked up some more designs to keep handy. The wine shopping in this city is insane and we were getting delirious with choices, but we managed to pick up two choices for the night.

And, what's a trip to Paris without meeting new people? At lunch, we met a fabulous ex-Pat who now lives in Switzerland AND grew up outside of Boston. I'm not sure if that's some kind of sign, but it reinforced my outlook on traveling. Why stick to conversation with just the one you came with - no matter who they are. There are people all around you. Smile, make a new friend, you never know where it will lead. It may just be a conversation in the great scheme of the trip, but what an amazing experience to just have that connection.

With one of the most amazing sunsets that we've ever seen, John and I made our way to Notre Dame. John wanted to record the hysterical SILENCE PLEASE recording and we've passed by it so many times this trip, I figured, let's go in now and end the year a bit more holy. And, for a very brief moment, and I mean brief, I thought I should get in line for confession. Now, wouldn't that have been something for that priest? He would never know what to say if I sat across from him on the last day of the year.

There's more ahead tonight. We've gotten our fill of caffeine at our Goldilocks cafe and are ready to greet the new year. I'm not sure how sentimental I may get later or if I will even have the capacity to write it all down tonight. All I know is that this year, I am a Sadie in Paris. Never in my wildest imagination could I have pictured this moment. And who knows, maybe I'll say I love you outloud. As you know, it's been known to happen. So for now, Bonnes Fêtes.

Smile, You're Back on NBC

Tue, 30 Dec 2025 23:54:44 GMT

NBC, Pastries and Wine, oh My!

When you wake up in Paris, you don't expect your old job to meet you in the morning in your favorite patisserie, but that's exactly what happened as we started this day before the last day of 2025. John and I got to the corner bakery and there was some unusual activity going on inside. We figured, since the place has been remodeled, it must be corporate filming a video. Then I heard a voice I recognized and I was unexpectedaly brought back to my days at 30 Rock. It was Kier Simmons, the English journalist who is the chief international correspondent for Today! I said hello and when he found out we were from the States he asked if he could interview us. He was doing a story on our particular patisserie's remodel and the changes of attitude towards Paris bakeries in the age of Ozempic.

"You're fit young men," he said. "How do you feel about this? What brings you back to Paris?"

"We don't pay any attention to calories," John said. "We eat, we walk and then we eat some more."

Overall, we had about a ten minute conversation with him and we were so caught up with the attention that we forgot to get a selfie. It was a good lesson in always looking your best in Paris - one never knows who you'll meet in your local patisserie over a pane au chocolate.

Nothing really topped that exciting start to the day, except for the fact that it was thrilling to be spending another morning in Paris. Again, with no agenda, we wandered our favorite parts of the city - on a simple quest to get John a panini and myself a crepe. Mission accomplished for me, but unfortunately, John was not thrilled with his food. Maybe it looked too much like a wheat pancake for him? I didn't ask and just finished his for him. Strike one.

Strike two happened a few hours later when we looked for a charming street that we had dinner with our friend Sue and her husband this summer. After I led him in the right direction - (you're welcome) - the restaurant we were going to enter had too many people in line so we turned to leave and went inside the restaurant we had dinner this summer. Since one of the restaurants on the street is featured in Emily in Paris , watching the tourist group armed with a guidebook prominently displaying the show was hysterical. It helped lighten the mood, since there was - in my mind - one strike left to round out the culinary adventures of the day.

There was really no ah-had moments today. It was one of the most low-key days we've spent. If anything, I had my moments where I had to stop and take in my surroundings. As we walked back to our hotel to get ready for the ballet tonight, we noticed that the city has become more crowded. It seems people are arriving for the New Year's celebrations. We don't really know what to expect tomorrow, but for sure, we'll stick close to our part of town.

Overall, the musings for today are very slim. With a performance of the Paris ballet an awe-inspiring event, we finished the night at a wine bar near the Louvre and then a late night pizza (and more wine) in The Marais . We've traversed the city up and down, on foot and underground and we still have so much to see and do. Tomorrow is the last day of the year, and one thing for sure is that there won't be anything NBC related happens But for sure there will be pastries and wine and oh my - who knows what else to go along with the musings of a married man.

Did the Gypsies Take You?

Mon, 29 Dec 2025 22:36:17 GMT

Bundle up - it's Cold Out there with the Gypsies

It's a good thing we have cell phones these days since as you may recall, John tends to disappear in the blink of an eye. Whether it's in IKEA, HEB or in Paris, if you aren't paying attention, you'll be left - literally - out in the cold. But before the adventures of the day began, we started the morning in the cellar of the hotel at the charming little breakfast area. It was hardly enough food but the atmosphere makes it worth it, and like this past summer, I can see my mom walking down the stone steps. There's such magical memories in this hotel for me. I will never tire of coming here.

Of course, we had to get more carbs for breakfast and before we started off, we popped into our neighborhood patisserie. Since the summer, it has had a complete make over. Tables outside, brand new interior paint with bar seating and two tables inside and a register where you insert your bills so that bakers can concentrate on never touching the currency. We wound up having two pane au chocolates since the first was an almond chocolate and it was not what John wanted. I knew if I didn't get the proper one, he'd be upset for hours. Of course, with the remodel (did everything get a remodel this year?) now, we need to return in warmer weather so we can sit outside and enjoy the view - which proves my point - there is always a reason to return to Paris.

Our main agenda was still looking for the Paris knives and the elusive red sneakers. We did find our way to the

Galeries Lafayette and upon entering realized we had been there this past summer after all. And, although I didn't find the red sneakers, I did get an amazing pair of Orange ones. What I can't understand is why the United States doesn't have this kind of selection for menswear? Are we that boring? There was so much fashion to choose from it was mind blowing and if we had the money, yes, we would have bought the $3,900 Euro dress shoes.

With purchases in hand, we headed towards Montmartre for a quick lunch, and since we were just down the hill, we decided to go walk up the stairs to Sacré-Cœur. All that leads me to the aforementioned gypsies. The line to get inside was even LONGER than it was in the summer. It snaked around the front of the basilica to three looped lines that started to form toward the left side of the church. I turned around and John was nowhere to be found. I was alone in sea of tourists, so I decided to just walk to the edge and wait it out. Not five minutes later my phone rang and I debated...."do I pick it up or let him wonder where I went?"

"Where are you? Did the gypsies take you?" I heard on the other end of the phone. After proving my point on his Casper the Ghost disappearances, we nixed going into the church to head back to the hotel. We had dinner reservations in the Latin Quarter and I wanted to rest a bit before we had to bundle up once again.

Maneuvering the Metro is so much easier than it was years ago. When John and I first came here on our own, the only way to enter the underground labyrinth was with paper tickets. Coupled with maps on the subway walls, the metro was difficult and nerve wracking. With the advent of apps and cell phones, it is now the easiest form of transportation to manage. Plus, with it being winter and having so much clothing on to keep warm, there is no way anyone could pickpocket us. We can barely maneuver in our scarves and puffy coats as it is.

After a short respite, we changed for a uniquely Parisian date night in the Latin Quarter. On our honeymoon, we had stumbled upon a restaurant not far from the Pantheon that was nice enough to let us sit outside and order dessert and wine without a reservation.

With the two fire places blazing, we were shown to a perfect table. The wine, coupled with the duck, the pork, the cheese and the dessert all combined for the perfect dinner for two. Just when you think you'll never find things to talk about, the night surprises you. Maybe it was the wine, maybe it was Paris, or maybe it was just being with someone you never expected to meet that makes Paris so magical. We are on honeymoon part deux. In our wildest dreams, did either one of us expect this? I suppose we can thank the endless remodel and the destruction of our walls this summer for bringing us here this month.

At one point, when John maneuvered the long and winding stone steps to the toilettes, I was left alone at the table. Not taken by gypsies mind you - but just alone with my thoughts. I was in Paris, at a gorgeous restaurant with someone who wanted to marry me and come with me to my favorite city. I still don't understand how it happened - maybe it was my mom deciding to give up the fight and then she led John to me as way to say she was sorry. Whatever the reason is, I'm just thankful the gypsies never found me along my former trips to this city.

Christmas on the Champs-Élysées

Sun, 28 Dec 2025 23:17:58 GMT

Sunday Funday - Paris Style

Last week, John and I had our first real Sunday Funday in forever at our favorite Mexican restaurant not far from our house. One week later, we're across the globe having a very different kind of day. I woke up thinking that we'd just go downstairs to the hotel's cellar cafe for breakfast. After all, it's served til 11am. Well, once I looked at the time, I just gave up completely on that plan since it was.....11:30 am. So much for getting Sunday off to a relatively early start. Instead, we decided to have a really lazy day and just see where the day took us. It was lunch at another of our favorite cafes and then a walk down one of the side streets to try and find some Paris knives. We know the brand that we want and our search took us to Place de Voges.

Once we reached there, memories for me came flooding back. This was the park where I worked out on my summer 2012 trip to Paris. I had recently found a dead body on the floor of my apartment - I will leave it there for now, there's a blog post somewhere else on that - and escaped to Paris to visit one of my friends who had relocated here temporarily for work. John had also been here years ago and was trying to remember where the location was and once we saw the park, it was another reclaiming moment for us. There was such sorrow the last time we were in this park and today, bundled up from the cold winter temperatures, there was a whole new feeling. Alas, the knives we wanted were not in the shop so our quest for those continues. The temperature has dropped but we've come prepared. I'm still on the hunt for some red sneakers that I saw online but it seems not finding what we want in stores is the main theme of Sunday Funday in Paris.

Eventually, we came back to the hotel for a quick respite from the cold and decided to head to the 16th for a charcuterie board dinner at a place we found this past summer. The temperatures dropped some so we took the metro - saving our energy for the walk back. (Mind you - we needed more energy since the walk was 2.5 hours.)

To borrow a phrase, the cold didn't bother us as walked down the Champs-Élysées. The lights were spectacular - and it seems this is where the Christmas crowds gathered, so we maneuvered to the side streets and turning a corner, were face to face with the Eiffel Tower.

Now, I told John, we've been here so much that we aren't even impressed with landmarks anymore. Case in point, we have walked right by Notre Dame so many times this trip and never once stopped and admired it in all its glory. However, the tower is a different tale. Whatever hold it has on this city, it also has on me. We watched its majestic prescence for what seemed an eternity until we decided it was time to walk back towards the hotel to find some more wine.

Overall, there were no ah- ha moments to this Sunday Funday. It was just two people enjoying their favorite city and being with each other. I'm sure at some point I made jokes at my husband's expense, but that's just the way it goes I told him. Tomorrow, we have dinner at a restaurant we passed this summer in the Latin Quarter that is set in one of the old houses of Paris - Le Coupe-Chou. It will be a true date night in one of our favorite areas of the city. I don't know how many more memories we can make here, but just when you think Paris can't give you more than it has, you have a Sunday Funday that reminds you no matter how low key a day it is, there's always something here that puts the fun in any day.

Getting Lost

Sat, 27 Dec 2025 23:14:26 GMT

Just Get Lost

Since John and I have been to Paris so many times, we've found people ask us that if they come here, what would we suggest they do? Our answer is simple. Just get lost. We mean that in the most helpful way possible. Put your phone away and wander the city. Go up and down the side streets - away from the tourist streets and attraction sites and instagrammable influencer spots. Have a destination in mind, and wander in that direction and you'll discover amazing cafes and shops, along with your own instagramable sites.

And, this morning, John and I did just that. After picking him up a breakfast that would not be acceptable back home, and one where my husband decided to eat one of my favorite pastries after only letting me have one tiny bite of the chocolate eclair, we set out on our second day. Our initial destination was the Tuileries Garden Christmas Market. We stopped into the BHV, one of Paris' largest department stores and eventually got to the market. We immediately nixed Angelina's. No amount of fabulous hot chocolate could justify the ridiculous line to get into the establishment. It only proved our point to forgo any restaurant or cafe that is all over the internet. Instead, after deciding the Christmas Market was over hyped and really meant for families and those not looking for the best cuisine Paris could offer, we meandered through the exterior of the gardens, stopped into some amazing stores and a cafe that we found during our honeymoon in June. (Take it from me, mulled wine is something no one needs to clamor for during any holiday.) In any cafe, though, the vino is beyond even my descriptions. To say that we were both a little light headed finding our way to Les Deux Magots was just a tad comical. The punch line to it all was the adventure of ordering their famous hot chocolate. For that experience, you'll have to follow me on - what else - Instagram.

I find it hard to keep track of my husband when I'm sober and to try and do that after an afternoon glass of wine is probably next to impossible. He either forgets where I am or I can't find him, and then when I do, all I can do is make him feel guilty for leaving me. It's a game that I will probably never get tired of playing.

When we finally got back to our hotel, we had a spare hour or two to relax before we met up again with my friend Michael. Taking him to what has become our favorite Italian restaurant for pizza and wine was another night of wondrous memories. And to top it off, we found a neighborhood gay bar on the way home. As it turned out, it was John's first time in a Parisian bar and my first time in one as a couple. We'll leave the stories of my time in bars in Europe for another time and another stream of consciousness. The other myth that we'll destroy is that the French are stand-offish and rude. Nothing could be further from the reality. Everyone has been amazing and in this tiny neighborhood bar, the patrons all talked to us and since they heard me saying how I was craving ice cream, the bartender went next door to the restaurant to get me a dish of the creamiest pistachio and vanilla bean topped by strawberry drizzled chantilly cream.

As we bid goodnight again to our friend Michael, I walked back to the hotel with John. This time, I didn't lose sight of him. He being bundled up with a scarf, gloves, and ear muffs also helped. After all, it's pretty late - I didn't want to take the chance of getting lost.

Requiem for a Requiem

Sat, 27 Dec 2025 09:27:56 GMT

The First Paris Night

"Oh it’s going to be amazing. What a setting! And would you have ever imagined, when we sang that [Mozart's Requiem] in the 80s, that you’d someday be in PARIS with your husband listening to a choir sing it?"

That is the text message I got from one of my best friends who I met in college and who was not only at John and my wedding, but met us in Paris this summer. College, without Sue would have been lonely and given me a much different path in life. When I joined the Chorale, I was hoping for camaraderie and I got it tenfold. We sang Mozart's Requiem for my very first concert with the group and the composition blew me away. I could never have imagined being part of a chorus that sound like that. Led by our eclectic conductor, Dr. Alexander Peloquin who was an American composer of liturgical music, pianist, teacher, cathedral organist and director of music ministries. Inspired by the Second Vatican Council reforms, he was known for composing the first Roman Catholic Mass sung in English. He led our chorale with the force of a Holy Army and we sang with such passion and force that it shook the rafters of the church. It was a magical experience that I remember to this very day. So when I discovered that the masterpiece was being performed in Paris when we arrived, I was beyond excited.

Before the show, John and I were thrilled that my friend from LA, Michael was also in Paris! How very lucky are we that we were able to meet Sue and her husband on our honeymoon in June and now we get to meet up with Michael on our second Parisian adventure. The amount of emotion that was running through me last night was so overwhelming and I tried to keep it from bubbling over, even after we all shared the most amazing bottle of red wine before the concert. The wine went down as smoothly as the conversation between the three of us. John had met Michael on his first visit to Los Angeles back in 2022. We talked about so many things and I sat there in wonder and drinking a second - or was it third glass of wine - as my husband and my friend chatted away. What a journey I have had in my life, what an absolute thrill to be back in Paris and experience this night.

We bundled up from the cold and started off to Eglise San Sulpice. I could hear the choir warming up from the street and the memories of my time in the Boston College Chorale came flooding back. The church, John googled, is as tall as Nortre Dame, though not as old but equally stunning. The acoustics would be amazing - or so I thought. Although I enjoyed the show and it started well - it unfortunately lacked the passion that we had back then in 1984 ! Isn't that crazy? The conductor was nowhere near our insane Dr. Pelquin and parts that should have been exploding in full power were not a massive fire of sound. The featured alto, however, who was a man, was absolutely stunning. As we ran to find a bathroom after the show, I kept thinking what a sound the Boston College Chorale of 1984 could have created in such a setting.

The cold of the Paris night was getting colder and after another glass of wine as a nightcap, John and I made our way back to our hotel as we pointed Michael in the direction of the bars on a very quiet night after Christmas. As morning broke today, I made my way to our favorite corner pattisserie. A new day has begun in this stunning setting of a city. If I get overwhelmed again, maybe I should opt for a hot chocolate before we order another bottle of wine.

The Holiday Begins

Fri, 26 Dec 2025 15:48:40 GMT

A New Christmas Story

There's a whole different feeling to traveling on Christmas. Over the years, I've had a lot of different celebrations but this year, with our return to Paris, I can safely say it's one of the most magical. Getting John up early is never fun - or easy - but knowing the destination made it easier. The airport was busy but wonderfully civilized and our flight to Dallas was the complete opposite from our summer leg. Well, save for the woman who couldn't find her seat in first class it was uneventful. Though I did want to just jump up and say that there were two seats open, pick one and sit in it! I would have added, "please," it being a holiday and all. And, since it is Christmas, I really wanted to find some ravioli, and as luck would have it, DFW had a Maggiano's, so a win for both of us since they offered gluten free pasta. I couldn't wait to get to Paris so the menu at any restaurant will never be an issue.

Returning to Hôtel Beaubourg is like coming home. We know the neighborhood so well, and since the room wasn't ready, after checking our bags we went right out for lunch. I've said it before, but there is nothing like Paris and especially there is nothing like it with someone you love. At times, I lose track of my husband. He's either disappearing behind tall people or stopping to look at something without telling me. I've lost track of how many times today alone that I have turned to say something only to find a stranger next to me.

We can already feel the difference between Paris in the summer and the city in the winter. Surprisingly, there are still people outside the cafes, but we're chalking that up to the pull of being able to sit at the cafe tables and smoke. We've already done some shopping and finally unpacked. Tonight, we're meeting a friend from LA who is in town for a few days and going to a concert featuring Mozart's Requiem at St. Sulpice. When I was at Boston College, that masterpiece was the first concert I had the pleasure of performing. The memory of those rehearsals and the final concert have stayed with me for over 40 years. What an emotional night it will be to hear it in John's favorite Paris church. It's going to bring me back to a special time in my life, and I'll marry that memory with the new ones made on this trip.

I recently told a friend of mine that I am beyond lucky to be able to return to Paris a second time this year. I don't take that for granted. If there's a lesson in this for anyone, it's to savor every special moment in your life. There's going to be sadness and disappointment in life but when the good times come again and again, they help dull whatever tries to put out their brightness. And from the looks of it so far, there's no stopping the lights in this Christmas City of Lights to do just that.

Joyeux Noël

Wed, 10 Dec 2025 00:35:13 GMT

Retour à Paris

I've been listening to Christmas music since Thanksgiving ended, and one of my favorites on repeat is "What Christmas Means to Me." And, as the holiday approaches, I find myself looking back on this season and the many changes in my life over the last few years. When I was a kid, Christmas was always magical. My parents always made my brother and me feel beyond special. The amount of gifts under the tree were staggering, but it wasn't just the gifts that made the day. Eating my grandmother's dinner and then years later enjoying my mom's pasta sauce served over our ravioli dinner are just some of the memories that flood my mind (and taste buds!). Some years, the holiday was chaotic. With icy travel on the roads between this cousin and that one's home, or sitting with my eyes half closed through midnight mass, or trying to stay up as late as I could when I believed in Santa to try and catch him in the house - the season was full of Christmas adventures. My mom cleverly told me she kept the door unlocked for the fat man in red when I so smartly asked how he got in the house since we had no chimney and a fake fireplace mural. No matter what though, those years always ended with my grandmother waddling up the front stairs holding a pot of her chicken cacciatore that filled the house with its aroma. My early Christmases were truly memorable.

Over the years, the season morphed into different celebrations. When I was living in California, though I never went back to Boston, I would always call my mom on my drive to Palm Springs. And though I missed our ravioli dinners, I always texted her a picture of my cocktail and dinner wherever I wound up on that day. I recently, very suddenly and unexpectadly, lost a good friend with whom I spent many Christmas dinners with in Los Angeles. I know that his sudden passing, and all the memories of the ones I've lost has been leaving me with pangs of sadness this year. The feeling comes for just a split second because each of those memories hold something special for me that make me smile and remember the good times. And, for the last three years, I've spent great times writing a whole new chapter in Texas and to bookend an amazing honeymoon year, John and I will compose more pages to our story back in Paris. Our summer honeymoon was more magical and amazing than I could have ever imagined, and this fall, on a particularly stressful day during our endless remodel, we decided to treat ourselves once again to our favorite city this Christmas. On our last week in the City of Lights, the temperatures kept climbing and it got almost as hot as Texas. That, coupled with San Antonio weather refusing to match the calendar combined with the constant drilling and demolition of walls in our home made booking the trip that much more relevant to our sanity.

I've always wanted to see Paris at Christmas, and after taking my mom to Europe, it was something I wanted to share with her. But, I knew that she was getting older and traveling, especially in winter would not have been a good idea. And, every Christmas since her passing seems to leave me with a bit more sadness than the year before it. Yet, when I start to miss her more than I think I can stand, I am reminded of a quote my father sent me shortly after she left us.

Death leaves a heartache no one can heal. Love leaves a memory no one can steal.

It was love that made my trips with her so memorable. Although I took her on three European destinations, that first adventure in Paris will always be the best. It's just one of many reasons why Paris means so much to me. Taking every memory I have with her there and wrapping them in the ones John and I made over our 13 day honeymoon are forever in my visions. I am beyond lucky to be able to return to Paris so soon, and with no agenda except to just bundle up and breathe in the holiday magic of Paris, John and I will be capping off a year like no other in our lives. I'll continue to share our adventures and maybe, just maybe, you'll understand the magic of Paris.

What a Ride We've Had

Tue, 11 Nov 2025 21:17:20 GMT

Saying Good-bye too soon

There are very few people in my life who have been allowed to call me Jimmy. I hear that name and I am a kid again. Hearing my grandmother call out my name as she walked up the stairs to our house. Hearing my mom yell my name from across the room or my best friend from high school not knowing to address me as Jim or James or Jimmy when he's with the people I've met along the years. Of all the times, I'm not sure when my friend Michael first called me Jimmy. But when he did, I never corrected him. It just felt, I don't know - right.

When I met Michael, it was late 2000. I had just moved back to Boston that January, after spending 10 years in San Francisco. My friend Josh introduced us on a holiday trip to Provincetown and I will always remember walking into the now defunct Carriage House and seeing Michael still in bed (it was well past noon) and we were all going to lunch. From that first meeting, there was an ease between us, and I will always be grateful to Josh for being the bridge that brought us together. Twenty-five years of friendship. How do you encompass them in a post that you shouldn't be writing? I have written too many eulogies for my taste and putting these thoughts into words about someone who should still be here is breaking my heart.

In Boston, we spent countless hours together. We bowled every Monday night for three years. I made him dinner long before we knew he had celiac. We looked back on those times and laughed til we cried. Especially the time when his doctor suggested adding wheat to his diet to increase his weight. I can't remember my years in Boston without Michael being there, and after I moved back to San Francisco in 2003, I re-located once again to Los Angeles. To my great surprise, Michael told me he had accepted a job in Long Beach. He was leaving Boston, a place that was ingrained in every fiber of his being. A more proud Bostonian you will never find.

Since I knew so many Michael's, I gave him the nickname of LBM, which stood for Long Beach Michael. It's how every one of my friends addressed him. There were Thanksgiving dinners, trips to Disneyland, countless nights out in West Hollywood and although he nicknamed Long Beach the land of misfit toys, we tore up that town on many a weekend night. We both loved Palm Springs and I have lost count on how many weekends we spent in the desert. New Year's Eve's there before the time of Uber were like nothing this new generation could comprehend. How many times was I on the lookout for hidden gluten in food when he got complacent about his menu choices and just wanted to eat. There's a taxi driver in Palm Springs who I bet is still talking about that night. In fact, the famous flourless chocolate cake that I made for John when I first met him was really a cake I originally made for Michael. It was his favorite and I can remember one New Year's Eve where he didn't share one slice. I wouldn't have minded so much, except he threw away the bottom of my springform pan that doubled as the serving dish! I never let him forget that.

I think Michael and I had a great connection because we were never afraid to change paths. I was always happy to lend my advice or thoughts on his moves and I think those adventures, in an unspoken way, brought us closer. Shortly after I met John, I wanted to introduce him to as many of my friends and family as I could. Michael didn't hesitate when I asked him to join us in Palm Springs in October 2022. I don't know if John knew he was being given the once over by my friends, but seeing how well LBM got along with John made me quietly happy. In fact, before they even met, when Michael was living in Scottsdale, he was willing to drive to the airport to pick up John when it looked like his flight to Los Angeles would leave him stranded in Phoenix for the night.

After that Palm Springs "meet and greet", I could not have asked for a greater cheerleader. He flew out to San Antonio shortly after I moved here and he was one of the first to RSVP to my wedding. If there was anyone that I wanted to witness the start of Limontella, it was LBM. When I looked out to the people gathered at the reception, seeing him there with Josh was, for lack of a better word with all the cocktails that day, sobering. From Provincetown to Boston, to Long Beach, Los Angeles and helping him relocate to Phoenix. I can't remember the past 25 years without a memory of Michael in them.

You can never anticipate the loss of a friend and when it happens, you think, did we say how much we meant to each other? Did they know how much they impacted your life. One of his last texts touched my heart:

"Jimmy, you give Josh and I hope. Your life. It's like Rhoda Morgenstern's wedding."

I've tried over the past few days to make sense of his loss. To try and understand how he is no longer here for me to call, to laugh about our adventures. I wish you could all ask him about the "Dead Judy" Halloween in Provincetown. It's just one of too many memories that are forever in my mind. Knowing that he met my husband and that the last time I saw him was at our wedding is a memory that will carry me forward. I hope he knew his worth, that he knew how much he touched my life. That my life in Boston would not have been the same or my time in Los Angeles would have been far different had he never moved to Long Beach. I hope he knows that him calling me Jimmy was something I treasured. He and I often talked about how fleeting this life is, especially after the loss of my mom and our memorable vacation in Mexico that taught us more about how quickly life can change in a second. Life changed for me with one phone call again this past weekend. And, I would like to tell the universe that I do not need any more reminders that life is precious. Having a friend like Michael in your life is one of the greatest joys imaginable. I want to tell him how happy he made me, how much joy he brought to my life in seeing the introduction of Limontella to our circle of friends. I also reminded him, after that text, that unlike Rhoda, I didn't have to take the subway to my wedding and there won't be any contract talks that cause a divorce to ruin a perfect storyline.

I hope in the end that I made him laugh, that he was happy to be my friend and I helped him see life's adventures were something to be treasured. No matter what though, I will forever be grateful that he was my friend. I will miss our stories. I will miss our texts. I will miss our nights out over cocktails. But most of all, I will miss hearing him call me Jimmy.

Thoughts of a Sadie

Tue, 23 Sep 2025 19:03:48 GMT

Musings of a Married Man

By now, everyone should know one of the messages of the musical Wicked - how one person can change another for good. For me, though, I have been fortunate because I have had more than one person who's changed my own existence. From high school to college to my working in Boston and beyond - there are so many I could say because I knew you, I have been changed for good. There is at least one person from every phase of my life who is still with me and I'd like to think that both of us have changed each other for the better. Yet, despite being surrounded by so many, as I got older, I was resigned to being single. I played the bitter card so well that at times, I resigned myself to the truth that I was the person I projected to the world. Never did I imagine that I would meet someone who really would shift the existence of my time on this planet.

Last year, as I looked out at the people gathered to witness John and I getting married, I was overcome with so much emotion that I barely could meet their gaze. The night before, at our cocktail reception, there was so much joy, so much laughter and I was crazy busy introducing my old friends to my new that I forgot to breath in the moment. The night was filled with the unbelievable belief that what was happening WAS happening. The next afternoon, to look out at the front row and see my brother knowing that the two of us were missing the one person who should have been there was bittersweet. Our mom was our greatest champion, our most dedicated supporter and she would have loved every second of that ceremony.

Remembering that day can sometimes resemble an over-developed blur of images. From our wedding day breakfast at the St. Anthony hotel to getting dressed, the drive to the venue and waiting for our guests at the clubhouse, it was one surreal moment after another. The one regret I have is that our photographer walked into the reception before us and captured no photos of the moment when we heard the applause and cries of congratulations echoing over the patio. Yet, it is a sound I will never forget as I held my now husband's hand. There was so much happiness, such an outpouring of love that it was almost too much to handle. And, before the madness really started and I could get my hands on our signature Limontella cocktail, John took me inside the dining room and told me to look around. The tables were perfectly set, The centerpieces we had debated over were a perfect fit on the tables and it all looked...well...perfect. This is our wedding reception, I thought. I let that sink in and then we were off for a day that made me feel that all was right with the world. Look at the friends I have, I thought. Look at the world I have created. Look at the man with whom I'm going to spend the rest of my life.

I suppose it all didn't feel real until early summer when we were finally able to set out on our Paris Honeymoon. Everything about those two weeks was inexplicably incredible. Every person we met was so full of joy for us when we told them we were celebrating our honeymoon. Meeting up with an old friend , having cocktails and dinner with a friend who was at our wedding (!) and just the sheer fact that I was with someone I loved in a city I loved was the most surreal experience. I had walked these streets with my mom, shown her all these sites. I tasted the city's cuisine and drank its wine with her. Now, I was on my honeymoon. If I weren't so exhausted by the sheer amount of walking that we did each day, that thought would have kept me up at night. Not only did my getting married change me, but that trip to Paris reinforced that my life had inexplicably been changed for good.

It's funny - my "when are we getting married" question to John in October of 2023 was more of a statement. October 13, 2024 was all this was leading up to all along, wasn't it? For me to leave California for Texas was no small decision and I don't think there was any doubt in either of our minds that this was the path we were on when the moving van pulled up to San Antonio that January. California has brought me such joy. So many wonderful memories that I could never encompass them all in one short post. But the experiences of San Francisco, Los Angeles and Palm Springs led me here, and for that alone, the great Golden state will always be special to me.

Now, as we get ready to celebrate our one - year anniversary, we are in the final stages of a massive home remodel. Our new HVAC system is still in the midst of its install, and as the Texas summer won't leave just because the calendar says its fall, I am longing for the winters of Boston (but just temporarily, though I would kill for a 40 degree afternoon right now). The house I moved into that January of 2023 is not the same house you'll find today. The dark mahogany antique pieces that sat on uneven dark tile floors that led to the brown wood cabinets of the kitchen have all been replaced. There are Parisian cabinet pulls to remind us of a trip that was more than just a culmination of the "I dos" we repeated to each other last year And, there is one big slice of wedding cake in the brand new freezer that will be defrosted in two short weeks. That is, if I survive the last phases of this endless home renovation. But like me since John walked out of his Uber on March 6, 2022, this house, and life overall, has been changed for good.

On the Cusp of 60 and 10

Tue, 05 Aug 2025 21:13:08 GMT

Two Giant Milestones -
One Lucky Number

They say it's bad manners to ever ask a lady her age, but since I am not a lady and I've pretty much already told you how old I am, manners don't factor into play here. In less than a week, I will turn the page to a new decade while also being two months closer to an even bigger milestone. And both occur on a number that most consider to be the unluckiest of all. After all, some buildings and hotels skip the number, which when you think about it, is pretty ridiculous because label the 13th floor number 14, and it's still thriteen. I suppose if someone doesn't see the number, it doesn't exist. In a way, it's just like turning 60. If you don't say it out loud, perhaps it's not really real? That's all poppycock in the long run. Reality still exists no matter if or for how long you ignore the view that's right in front of you. The clock still ticks and time moves on - even if you buy one with a silent second hand.

When I was younger, I couldn't imagine being 60. In fact, I couldn't imagine being 50. I was too wrapped up in being whatever age I was at the time, my thoughts hardly turning to such a number that was clearly far in the distance. But, I've had a lot of time on my hands these past few weeks to ponder so many things as I sit around, finally almost fully recovered from my double hernia surgery. First and foremost, is the fact that no matter what I tell myself, being married and in Texas was never an answer to that asinine question, "where do you see yourself in five years?"

In fact, I never looked ahead that many years, but looking back, I can remember where I was on so many birthdays. Whether I purposely marked the occasion alone or planned something special, I've always made sure to take in the fact that I've made it for one more year around the sun. There was the time I was in Memphis on business during dead Elvis week (look it up, it's insane) and the time I went to Provincetown. That was one for the record books as I made sure to replace every cocktail napkin given to me with ones that read happy birthday so that everyone knew just what I was celebrating. There were birthdays in Northern California being submerged in a mud bath followed by a dinner accompanied by a fabulous bottle of wine realizing that I still had to get the mud out of certain crevices. Each occasion was special in its own way. But none of them weighed on me as much as this birthday seems to be doing.

Above all, I do know that I adore the number 13. It's one reason why I suggested to John that we choose that day to get married. I've never been afraid of that number, or considered it in any way unlucky. My mom told me once that when she went into labor, besides being glad all the kicking and moving around I did would finally stop, that her last thought was how she didn't want a girl.

"Well," I said to her on one of our European trips, "You should be careful what you ask for on Friday the 13th, because you ironically got what you wanted." I think she found that as amusing as I, but it might have been my imagination since we were both on our third or fourth glass of wine.

One birthday I really recall is turning 25. I had just moved to California a few months earlier and before I got settled in San Francisco, I was living past the airport on the peninsula. When my birthday rolled around I wanted to spend it in the city. So, I foolishly went up to the city in shorts and short sleeves thinking August in San Francisco would be like any other city in the middle of summer. After all, summer birthdays were the best because you could celebrate outside all day and night. Needless to say, I never have to be reminded of Mark Twain's famous quote. Ever.

Birthdays aside, to get married on the 13th also meant something special to me. It certainly is a number that you can't ignore or silence - which is sort of a lot like me. And, though I've met quite a few people who share my birthday, I have never met anyone else who was born on a Friday or purposely chose to get married on that day. I like to think that makes me extra special. Sometimes, though, or lately really, I think I'm the only one who thinks I'm extra special. It certainly isn't the same world as when I turned 30, 50 or hell, even 55. The world is upside down and I wonder if it will ever be right side up again. It seems impossible to try to find out where I fit professionally here, and turning 60 certainly doesn't help those matters. My mind runs through so many thoughts. What have I accomplished? Have I done what I've always wanted to do? Is there a path still ahead of me?

But, this year, as the candles get lit, I have fully become a brand. I'm part of #Limontella, with a logo that is about as far away as you can get from the maker of baby and healthcare products. I suppose as I turn 60 that that is my greatest accomplishment. I've become more than just one person making his way through life. I have someone to share all the highs and lows of life, someone who agrees that once a year in Paris is never enough time in Paris and who wonders like me, how the heck are we going to accomplish all these plans and finish this remodel with our sanity and savings in tact? When I blow out the candles, we will be married ten months - a mere two left until our one year wedding anniversary. That on its own will conjure up a whole other set of thoughts and emotions. I don't think I'm ready yet to fully digest that, so I'll let that simmer a bit more. (And if you have to ask, the answer is yes, we still have a slice or two of wedding cake left.) The one thing all this has in common though is me and the number 13. It's not hidden, not disguised as a different numeral to make the skittish feel better. Like me, and this blasted bitch of a birthday - it's in your face and hard to ignore.

Leaving Paris...for now

Mon, 23 Jun 2025 21:22:40 GMT

Until Next Time, Paris

Our honeymoon has come to its fantastic conclusion. We are at the airport, awaiting take off and hoping the baby who has been screaming for an hour at the gate who has still not run out of air will fall asleep for the 9 hour flight back to Texas.

Yesterday, we started the day later than all the days before it. Our bodies are aching, our feet are tired and our calves feel as if we've been using a leg machine non stop. We procrastinated on packing a bit and after we forced ourselves to at least get the footwear we bought in our bags, we got the day started.

Our first stop was Sainte-Chapelle. Perhaps because it was a Sunday morning or everyone slept in, the line for non reservations was non existent. What a glorious chapel. I can't imagine how they even clean the amount of stained glass that surrounds you. As we exited, I noticed that after starting off cloudy and cool, the day cruelly reversed course on us. It's almost as if the day made a pact with the sun to relentlessly follow us from arrondissement to arrondissement.

We kept to the shade where we could, amazed that the fall out from the magnitude of the previous night's musical festival was nonexistent. If an event that massive had taken place in the United States, there would have been shootings, looting, fights and trash everywhere. Paris did a magnificent job of cleaning and not one storefront window was damaged. What a pleasure to see that decency at huge events still exists.

Continuing our decision to find side street cafes, we stopped for our last honeymoon lunch at an inviting bistro with gleaming tables and an inviting green and black interior. The croque madame and monsieur were, of course, delicious.

I wanted to be sure that John's knees were holding up, and was assured they were, but our pace had slowed as we wandered in and out of the 6th's art galleries. We looked at some spectacular pieces, all full of color and scenes that would look perfect in our newly painted home. Something was missing in each though- and we kept moving in and out of establishments. There was one gallery that took pictures of your Irises and the way they were displayed were stunning. it took awhile to figure out that they were a person's eye. We almost tried it but decided it was a bit too freakish. It was then that we stumbled into the Carré d'artistes gallery.

John was flipping through selections when I peered over his shoulder and something pink caught my eye. I lifted it and saw an incredible painting of a Parisian cafe - and then I was frozen in place. Along the awning, in glorious script was its name. The Marie Rose cafe.

Marie - John's mom.

Rose - my mother.

"John," I said in amazement, my voice wavering. "Look at this, we need to get it."

His reaction was a bit subdued as he then noticed all the pink in the piece and reminded me that was his recently passed Aunt, Marie's sister, favorite color. This was the only piece in the gallery - there were no others of any size. It was truly one of a kind. He asked the price and asked if it were painted by a Parisian artist.

"She is from Eastern Europe," replied the curator. "Let me confirm, but I believe she is from Lithuania."

At this point, it was all too much for me. I fumbled in my bag for the tissues that were my mom's favorite here and wiped the tears that were flowing down my face.

My mom was always proud to be half Sicilian and only later in life did she embrace that she was also half Lithuanian. If you have followed my blogging adventures, you will remember the drama of my mom's childhood growing up in South Boston all because of that heritage. At 17, my mother saw her own disappear from her life - both never knowing how to make a reconciliation work. Pictures of Lillian, my grandmother, were destroyed by her stepmother and my search to find information and any images of my grandmother finally came to a successful end, unfortunately after my mom had passed away.

How do you explain this piece and its purchase? For two weeks we have looked for art to bring home. Each time, with every piece, there was something not quite right. There was no question that together, our mothers reached out to us on our last afternoon in a city we both took them to and one they loved just as much. I composed myself as best I could, with John filling out our shipping information because - well - my penmanship issues are well known. We decided to walk from the 6 to the 15th where the actual Marie Rose cafe stood.

We've taken the metro only once on this trip, opting to walk everywhere to see parts of the city we both have never experienced. This latest walk was close to an hour. We stuck to shade as much as possible and found that since it was Sunday, that the Marie Rose was closed. In the end it didn't matter, it was a great way to validate its existence. We made a note of the address so we could visit on our next trip.

In desperate need of coffee, we found an open cafe (Paris takes Sunday seriously). Since I felt incredibly bad that I talked John out of ordering the chocolate cake in favor of a tarte tartine, we later found a patisserie to satisfy his craving. After, we continued our walk back to the 3rd, sticking again to the shade where we could, taking a detour to imbibe in two spritzes before we made the final walk back.

As we neared our hotel there was a massive parade of Hari Krishnas blocking our way. Their singing and dancing and giant float annoyed me as I was still recovering from the massive population of the previous night's music festival. Finally, we moved around them and slowly accomplished the last of our packing. Yes all our shoes fit - we did plan the weight of the valises appropriately for just such purchases. Then, we re-visited our favorite Italian restaurant to have our final honeymoon dinner.

Maybe the wine made me more emotional, maybe it was finding the painting, or maybe it was that this night was the culmination of these past two weeks. Together, John and I reclaimed Paris. We've added to the spectacular memories of past visits and erased other visits laced with drama and lonliness. Together, throughout this trip we shared stories of our moms and the things we love about Paris. And, yes, before any of you can chastise me, there were some I love you statements sprinkled throughout the destinations.

At the end of dinner, we treated ourselves to ice cream, wandering back to the 3rd as the light disappeared from the sky right on time at 10:45 pm. We will miss these long days. Et maintenant, San Antonio John has returned as he's asked the flight attendant if she has non dairy milk and he passed on the pasta. I will miss Parisian John (PJ) , but I'm stuck with SA John. He really is the best of both worlds. We just need to get PJ back more often.

We can't thank all our friends and family enough who have helped bring this Parisian vacation to fruition. And, especially to my friend Sue for adding a love lock for J&J on the bridge for us. I know for some that the fact that I am even on a honeymoon is unbelievable. Believe me, no one is more surprised than I. Creating Limontella was never on my radar, but what an incredible experience it has been. So many things have happened in my life that has brought me to this juncture, and this trip has made me realize that I can contribute in better ways to this brand. It's time to put those wheels in motion. I have lived in a lot of places that I have called home, but this - Limontella - truly is that because as cliche as "Paris is always a good idea" sounds, so does "home is where the heart is." So to my friends, my family and especially to Marie and Rose(marie) - you can rest easy. My heart has found its home.

Let's meet in Paris!

Sat, 21 Jun 2025 22:48:18 GMT

Friends, Love and a Whole lot of Music Madness

Our last Saturday in Paris has been one that I will never forget. Where to begin? Is it from meeting my college friend Sue and her husband in Paris or is it maneuvering our way through the tens of thousands of music revelers in the city for the 2025 Fête de la Musique ? However I try to explain, all I can say is that it is something I could never have imagined and something, despite the sheer panic that at times overtook me trying to get back to our hotel room, I am glad to have experienced it.

Sue and I met when I transferred to Boston College in 1984. I was a shy (can you believe it?) commuter student who had no friends and stuck to himself. I joined the BC Chorale because singing in the high school choir was something I enjoyed and I figured it would be fun to do on a grander scale. Making it through the audition was nerve wracking, but I still kept to myself. Sue was the social director and she got me out of my shell, asking me to write the newsletter and introducing me to other members of the chorale. I would have been content with just singing and going home, but Sue helped me break out of my shell. Her friendship meant everything to me then and it means so much more now. Before email and social media, we wrote letters and I would visit her in Chicago every summer. No matter how much time had passed, it were as if it were yesterday, and just like my friend Serge, it has always been an easy friendship. Something I treasure more than anything. When I found out she was coming to Paris to celebrate her ten year anniversary, I was beyond excited to meet her.

"Let's meet in Paris," is always something I dreamt of saying and now it was coming true. Sue has been with me through all my moves, all my relationship stories, and she knew my mom. I can't imagine the last 41 years without her. 41! I had to let that sink in tonight and after a glass of wine and a Limoncello Spritz, it was almost too overwhelming to handle. But trying to get through the crowds of the music festival sobered me up pretty quickly. This city is like Madi Gras on steroids and alcohol mixed with every White Party and celebratory parade. There is music on every block, dancing on the streets, traffic backed up for miles, police sirens in the distance and on the next block. All I could think was 'how do they clean up this city when this is over?' It will be interesting to see when we wake up if there's any hint of what is happening outside the quiet walls of our hotel.

Earlier, John and I sat in the Luxembourg Gardens before we met up with Sue for an afternoon drink. We tried to stay out of the sun for as long as possible. The Gardens are stunning and we found a shaded walk way to sit and enjoy the views. For sure, we want to return in the fall or winter to be able to walk around without the intense sun beating down on us. Of course, the day wouldn't be complete without a visit to a church and this one really took my breath away. The Eglise Saint Sulpice is not only massive, it's stunning in every capacity. I didn't expect to hear the organist concert. Hearing Darth Vader's theme from Star Wars in a church is - to say the least - a different experience.

After a very brief respite, we returned to the 5th to meet up with Sue and Scott - dodging the DJ's on the corners and crowds dancing and drinking in the streets. How we managed to find a quiet avenue to have dinner is beyond me. We sat talking about life, our love of Paris and a million other topics that I will remember long after tonight. One thing I can't wrap my head around is how the two of them only have carry on bags for a week's stay. Even if John and were here for 7 days, we'd never be able to accomplish that feat.

To be sitting at dinner with John and a friend I have had so long was really overwhelming. I don't know how good a job I did at concealing my amazement or how I stopped myself from getting more emotional. This journey of mine still surprises me. Holding John's hand through the massive crowd was comforting and I thought of my mom and how she put her arm in mine as we walked these Parisian streets. These crowds would have frightened her, but she would've held on tight like I did tonight.

Sunday is our last day in Paris. We'll throw all our stuff into our suitcase, pack up all the shoes we've purchased and find a place for dinner to relax before our plane home on Monday morning. We'll go back to San Antonio and as cliché as it sounds, we'll always have Paris. The joy of this city, the sheer abundance of living is something to hold onto whenever I start feeling sad or put too much thought into the past. There was no question that Paris was the place for our honeymoon. It embodies everything we love about each other, and we've shared some special days with some very special people in our lives.

There's so much more of the world to explore with each other, but Paris - well Paris is - magical, crazy, crowded, quiet, reserved, insane, and breathtaking. It has given me so many memories. First on my own and then with people who mean the world to me. Sitting at dinner, as I watched my friend and my husband chatting, I realized how very lucky I am. I have the best friends, the best partner in life. I had the best mother who I got to show this incredible city to when she was healthy enough to experience it. Paris has given me incredible memories. I can repay it by returning over and over - because Paris is always a good idea.

The Last Two Days Approach

Fri, 20 Jun 2025 17:42:58 GMT

The Weekend Before our Return

It feels like we've been away from San Antonio for months, and how I wish it could continue to be like that, but time is marching on and the honeymoon is entering its final weekend. We've been sleeping later so, like with my mom on our European trips, I know we're getting tired and worn out in every aspect with the amount of walking that we do each day. This morning, we decided to head to the Arc de Triomphe. John has never been to the top, so it was something we needed to accomplish on this trip. How and when we got there was up for discussion. That it was our ultimate destination was all that we knew. Along the way, we passed interesting sculptures, stopped into some unique boutiques and refreshed with coffee, milkshakes and more coffee. All before lunch and all before reaching the monument in the middle of the city.

When we finally got to the center of Paris, we knew that - although we could climb to the top of the Arc, John's knees would probably not make it down. From visiting with my mom I knew there was a lift and after we asked, we were instructed to wait along the outside wall for the mysterious elevator to the top. Although we still had to climb and descend 49 stairs, it was a lot easier than doing the entire 250 +. And, really, did we need to do even more steps than we already have this week?

The view from the top of the Arc is simply stunning. All of Paris is before you in every direction. It was sobering to think of how much of this city we've walked. It was also a good place to plan our next walking destination for we were getting hungry again. We decided to walk towards the 7th and see what we could find, and after a trip back down on the lift (with a strange American woman telling us about her heart issues), we discovered an incredible cafe far from the crowds. .

I'm not sure how long we sat on the sidewalk. The wine went down slowly but it was potent and even the two coffees did nothing to sober us up for the walk home. And what a walk home it was, although I swear I did not hear John tell me he wanted to take the back roads through the 5th and 7th. My main goal was getting some rest and unfortunately, there was hardly any shade to be had along the way. I tried my best to keep my husband happy, but sun and no shade don't make for lively conversation. There were no big adventures today, unless you count the woman walking way to close behind me who decided to veer in front when she saw that I was with John who was walking further away from me. What her ultimate goal was is anyone's guess, but if she had made a grab for my new bag, I would've decked her.

We've made it back to the hotel and are undecided on what's next? Wine and cheese along the river? That may be too much walking at this point. Maybe a stroll back towards the 3rd or to our new favorite arrondissement - the 4th. I almost don't want to return home. There's real world stuff that we need to address and a newly renovated house to put back together. It would be so much easier to stay in Paris, but a honeymoon can't last forever. Or can it? We may be leaving Paris in a few days, but Paris isn't going anywhere. It will always be here to greet us. It would be great to return in the fall or early winter. Who knows what the future holds. Today, though, I am remembering being at the top of the Arc. At one point, I stared at the Eiffel Tower. Even though there were people all around me, I was able to block them out and remember how I stood in this spot with my mother. How she marveled at what she saw around her and after yesterday, I felt her with me. And to top it off, along the way, we passed an establishment called Boulangerie Louise. Louise? How common a french name is that? But it is the name of my godmother who recently passed away. That combined with everything else washed over me as I stared at the magnificent tower. I was back in Paris and without taking a physical picture, I burned the view into my memory. I closed my eyes, I remembered the ones I loved who were gone and then I went to find the one who is very much here. I walked over to John, had him put his phone down and we stood there, me hugging him from behind to just look at Paris - and specially the Eiffel Tower.

"Breath all this in," I said. "We are finally in Paris. Just take it all in." I might have slipped in an I love you somewhere in there, but who's to say?

Another train ride to another day of adventure

Thu, 19 Jun 2025 20:38:19 GMT

What is Friendship?

What is friendship? That isn't as easy a question as it may seem, however today there was a perfect example of it. This morning - John and I took the train to Belgium to meet up with my friend Serge, whom I first met in 1997 when he was visiting LA. Over the years we kept in touch by mail - yes real mail - we wrote back and forth and when I spent four weeks in Europe during my 1999 work sabbatical, I stayed with him and his husband for a week.

When I took my mom to Paris - we were their guests and then when my mom and I were in London, Serge came to meet us for the day. We last saw each other when I was living in Manhattan and he has kept up with all my addresses.

As we wandered into another church, he told me this one honored the patron saint of lost causes.

"We had you down for forever lost," he laughed. "But immediately, this morning, I could tell the two of you fit."

I had to stop from getting too overwhelmed so early in the day. We continued through town with Serge as the perfect guide, stopping for a healthy lunch before the decadent eating that followed.

Were these two events coincidental? Who really knows, but we felt our mothers together and it was a wash of warmth.

As Serge shared his stories about dealing with his mother's dementia, we all grew even closer. Lending our ear and our advice on watching your mother at the end of her life was all we really could do for him. It was interesting to learn however, that when your elderly parent is in rehab here, the country pays for it. Once they come to your home, if you choose to do so, that financial support ends. We could only listen more, but I think that's all he needed.

Feasting on a Belgium waffle (again- never for breakfast) and then more wine and Belgium frites, John and I realized that even at 17,000 steps, we have a long way to go to counteract the day's food intake. We probably have to return for a waffle though, since John wants one with butter and powered sugar.

"It's less polluted that way."

For Serge and me, recounting our friendship to John was an incredible walk down memory lane. Together we laughed and reminisced on what it meant to really be social before social media. Of course, we had to buy chocolate, and it was, alas, too hot for the shops to be selling hot chocolate. We had another glass of wine and made our way back to our respective train stations.

We hugged, said au revoir and looked forward to seeing each other again. This is a friendship I treasure. It has always been easy, without judgement on who visits who and how often we write. I did have to laugh when he said "your last letter reminded me why it is good you type them." I told him that my excuse for my penmanship is maybe my brain thinks faster than my hand can write.

Our walk back from Gare du Nord took longer than expected since we went in the wrong direction. All of a sudden we were in the 18th arrondissement and from the looks of the neighborhood, we didn't want to stay. We turned around, made our way back to the train station and figured out where maps was taking us. Overall, that added over another 10,000 steps. So, it all worked out. The second we got back to our hotel, I was ready to shower and get a good night's sleep. We have more walking to do!

To have my European friend watch my life's journey- and know he's still with me - "after all - Rosemummy is gone I can't write to her and ask if I have the correct address for you anymore," is something I cherish. Friendships may come and go for reasons you can't explain, but for the ones who remain, you can just be grateful. You know they are real even when the letters may be hard to decipher.

A Day with no Agenda is always a good idea in Paris

Wed, 18 Jun 2025 21:32:25 GMT

What to do with no Agenda in Paris?

We've officially been on our honeymoon for a week, and I can honestly say that it has not gone by fast. There's a different feel to Paris this time around. We aren't rushing from museum to museum and monument to monument. We've been enjoying the city itself in every facet of its neighborhoods. Today was a late start, but it was a day without an agenda, and if you ever have the chance - it's a great way to enjoy Paris. First off, though, we were in need of some clean clothes, so we dropped some of our stuff at a laundromat down the street. At first, the woman wanted to have it done tomorrow, and I took out my google translate and told her we needed it by tonight. We're leaving for Brussels for a day trip tomorrow and we need clean underwear!

After a stop at our neighborhood patisserie, we took our lattes to go and sat again in the little square near our hotel. It was the first time I noticed the mermaid sculpture in the fountain who had water spewing from somewhere that The Little Mermaid would never do and would never be allowed in the states to be on display! God, I love Europe.

From buying a lot of shoes to facial products and walking close to 18,000 steps, the day was perfection. And, stopping for happy hour instead of an afternoon coffee was a nice change. We've come to the conclusion that the 4th arrondissement is our favorite area of the city. It's far enough away from the tourists attractions and its side streets are beyond charming.

After picking up our laundry, we put on our new sneakers and headed to the 4th to a Thai restaurant that was a nice change from the rich French and Italian specialties we've been eating. And, what's a night out without more wine and a dessert? The light from the day, again, has disappeared at 10:30 (I will miss this part of Paris most of all), and of course, John is hungry again, so he's eating the snacks we brought from home. I don't know how he does it, but his appetite will never cease to amaze me. Over the wine, I thought how wonderful it is here, how the French just enjoy their lives. It's all about living life here. Without a doubt, they work, but it's the social aspect that you can tell is what drives them. I think that's what makes me love Paris as much as I do. This is life, this is living. It's not the job that makes you happy, it is what that job allows you to do. And, if you can find someone to enjoy it with then that makes it all the more special.

Surrounded by the sounds of the city - the diners still on the sidewalk, the clinking of their glasses, the sound of plates being collected, I took a moment to breath it all and reached for John's hand over our wine and creme brûlée.

"This is a far cry from Streetbar," I said to him, recalling the bar we first went to in Palm Springs. "I am still in awe, I suppose."

He just looked at me as if I were crazy, as if he knew all along this was the direction we were going. Tomorrow, we head to Brussels for the day to see an old friend. It will be an emotional day for me. I've known my friend Serge since 1998. He met my mom when she was here with me and now he's meeting my husband. Alhough we've seen each other only five times in those years, we pick up as if it were yesterday. That's the best kind of friendship, and he's been along for the ride that has been my life since I was 32. I wish more of the people in my life had come along for this ride, but I am grateful for Serge and the ones like him who have stayed on the train with me.

Without an agenda, we just soaked in the city. Like any big city, all its flaws are there if you look for them. But, why look for the cracks when there is so much joy to be experienced. Paris is always a good idea. And Paris without an agenda is an even better one.

Retour a Paris

Tue, 17 Jun 2025 12:23:57 GMT

The Second Half of the Honeymoon Begins

Today, we are returning to Paris to start the second half of our honeymoon. That’s still a strange sentence for me to compose, maybe it will never stop sounding strange. Our time in Annecy was beyond amazing. It was like something out of a movie set or a postcard come to life. The mountains, the lake, the fresh air, and the rolling hills in the distance are hard for me to describe. The proximity to Switzerland and Italy is felt throughout the cuisine and atmosphere. Italian restaurants almost outnumber the French and gelato is everywhere.

With the rain pouring down when we arrived, we made good use of our new raincoats and headed – of course – for lunch. We knew right away that the food here was going to be just as spectacular from that very first bite of our food. Why can’t tomatoes taste like this back home? And, when we finally checked into our hotel room, we found that the hotel had gifted us a bottle of champagne to mark the occasion of our visit. Drinking to us with that view before us - it was beyond expectations. And, yes, we had wedding cake. It traveled well and I think there's a small slice left in the freezer back home.

I could’ve stared at the lake and mountains for hours, but there were sights to see – and yes – churches to go into – so we kept on moving. Opening the balcony door and seeing the mountains every morning was the cure for any issues with life that I left behind. Sitting in the dark outside, those same mountains shrouded in secrecy were like a message telling me to hold on, the light is coming, and the new day will be spectacular.

I’ve lost track of how much we’ve eaten or really, I’m not keeping track. We’re always hungry and we are always in the mood for wine. Although a Porn Star Martini is on every menu, we’ve yet to try one. We've put that on the list in Paris.

At the halfway point, it’s hard to explain what this trip has been like for me. I’m with someone I love so completely that it doesn’t seem real. It’s something I’ve never imagined for myself and like when we met, it feels natural. There are no questions, well, except maybe why John sometimes forgets to put his ring on, and I must make him go back to the room to get it or why we have to stop into every church we pass.

This morning was bustling in the city square. From food vendors to jewelry, clothing, desserts and more, it seems that Tuesday is when Annecy comes alive. Local residents with their rollaway bags filled to the brim with fresh fruits and vegetables mingled with the tourists buying fudge, macarons and more was a joy to behold. We purchased some treats for the train ride to Paris and then made our way back to pack up and take the very short walk to the train station.

Annecy, like this entire adventure did not disappoint. We’d love to return someday, perhaps going to Geneva or northern Italy and taking the train back for a day or two. We’re not hikers or skiers, so food and wine days suits us just fine. But I would like to just stare at that lake longer. It’s a long way from Boston to the lakes of the French Alps and it’s been a long way from San Francisco to San Antonio. What a journey it has been and one that is far from over. We return to Paris before we head to Belgium to see an old friend and then back to Paris to cap off this trip. As we were talking last night, I told John that no matter where we go in this world, I will always want to return to Paris. Despite my Italian and Lithuanian heritage, France holds something magical for me. Like my marriage, it’s something I can’t explain but something I completely accept because it all just fits.

A New Destination

Sun, 15 Jun 2025 10:37:20 GMT

Speeding Towards a New Chapter

This morning, I can’t help but be reflective as we speed towards the French Alps. How a simple hello three years ago has led to Paris and a high-speed train to the mountains. I’m watching the countryside zip by, and I think back on the train rides I had through the French countryside with my mom. I miss her more and more every day – I don’t think that feeling of loss will ever disappear, but it’s times like these that bring the memories to the forefront, and I can only smile at how lucky I was to experience adventures with Rosemarie.

It's today, though that new memories are being made. And it is an amazing thing when you are away from life – you forget what day it is along with all the issues you had with the world you left behind. Yesterday in Paris was a day of exploration of Montmartre.

We got our Metro tickets online and then it was off for a day of walking around Montmartre with a stop at Sacre Coeur. Since we’ve both been inside the massive church and the line was snaking around the structure, we were happy to stroll around the surrounding neighborhood. This part of Paris is a bit disappointing as there are too many gypsies and scam artists surrounding the church. It felt so disrespectful in a way, and it can ruin your perception of Paris if this is someone’s first stop. The surrounding neighborhoods however were charming and the Davina statue, which I’m sure someone will take issue with in these times, was a highlight. I ignored any #MeToo voices in my head and both John and I did what every other tourist did - maybe we got a little bit of good luck from it.

After dealing with too many crowds in the shopping district, all we could think of was escaping the madness of the neighborhood. We hopped back on the Metro and decided to head towards the Rodin Museum – a place we’ve been and knew would be calmer. Unfortunately, we were too tired to go in, and all we wanted was an afternoon coffee, but it meant that we would miss our afternoon nap.

Overall, when the day was done, we accumulated over 21,000 steps. So, I think we earned our pizza, wine and cheese dinner and in addition our amazing dessert and wine (again!) at a charming little restaurant we found down the street from the Pantheon. The night ended with a walk back to our hotel and a chance to stand outside Notre Dame without any crowds and really look at the intricacies of the sculptures. While some are extremely disturbing, they are all beyond amazing. I don’t think I could ever find the words to do it justice.

This morning, we decided to walk to Gare de Lyon to catch our train to Annecy and I’m so glad we did. Paris on Sunday morning is peaceful and more charming than ever. The train station, like all railways I’ve been to in Europe was bustling but organized. A far cry from the madness of Penn Station when I would take the train from NYC to Boston. It was orderly, calm and efficient.

I’ve had so many adventures, so many stories that could easily be mistaken for fiction. How lucky am I to be once again in Europe, watching the green hillsides of France from a window of a train, knowing the destination that awaits will be even more memorable than the one we’ve temporarily left behind. And to have a husband to do it with? It still makes me shake my head in amazement. When John got out of his uber that March Day, I didn’t really know what to expect, except maybe my usual meet them and leave them. There was always something that made me uncomfortable and for as long as I live (and I can only hope that will be a long time) I will never understand what changed that day. How a relationship happened, how a wedding occurred and how a new life started. The French Alps await. Whereas we are both reclaiming Paris from past visits, when we make our way around Annecy, we will have a destination that is all ours from the start.

I wish my mom were here for me to share these stories, yet deep down, I think I wouldn’t be able to have this new chapter if she were still with me. Her leaving allowed me to open and find John, but it still doesn’t make the loss of her any easier. People have come and gone in my life, and although I still struggle to understand why, I’ve moved on without them. One thing I won’t ever have to understand, though, are my adventures and travels with Rosemarie. They stayed with her to the very end of her life. When she talked about them in her hospital room, I was overcome with emotions. I had given her a gift that she never forgot and that will always stay with me. And yes, John’s going to always stay with me, too. After all, we’re Limontella – and that’s a brand that’s worth a worldwide distribution.

The day could not have been more perfect

Sat, 14 Jun 2025 07:55:30 GMT

A Spectacular Anniversary Day

Eight months ago today - John and I got married. Some would say it's not really an anniversary because it's not a whole year, but October 13th to June 13th is something pretty special. To mark the occasion, we are taking a dinner cruise on the River Seine. First though, what was the day if not marked by another 14,000 plus steps?

We started with not one - not two - but TROIS pastries from the corner patisserie. We love the woman who works there, her sing song Bon Jour every morning just makes us smile. She laughed as we finally decided on an almond chocolate croissant, a macaroon and a chocolate eclair. We took all three to the steps of a church in the square around the corner and devoured them all along with our lattes. There's something about the foam on coffee here, it's rich and - well - foamy. Nothing like you see back home. After feeling no guilt we set off without an agenda for shopping and browsing in the 1st arrondissement. But before we did, we stopped into the local department store and found some really cool and colorful pulls for our new cabinets. The Paris heat felt much higher than 80F, and this time we kept our water bottles close and managed to find a fountain for refills. I swear the gypsies who sell water on the street are doing the same thing. If you come to Paris -buy your own.

Overall, we walked over 6.5 miles (17,000 steps) and we capped off the day with that aforementioned dinner cruise. What an amazing experience. We saw views of Paris that we never would have been able to accomplish on our own. It was amazing to see all the people lining the river, as well. With food, wine and blankets, it's for sure something we would do if we had more time or even if we lived here!

Everyone on the boat was incredibly supportive when we told them we were on our honeymoon. I knew instantly that the table next to us was a foursome of Italians. They all looked like my relatives, and after I complimented one of the women on her nails, we were immersed in conversation. I asked if they were Italian.

"I'm Sicilian," the man announced proudly and I laughed, telling him so was I! We hit it off and his wife said she was Italian by insertion, so not sure if she knew about her double entendre or not. We had an entire bottle of wine - not as smooth as the last two - but still delicious. I had to take over pouring as John was a bit tipsy, despite him saying he wasn't. The remnants of the contents of his glass on the table said otherwise.

After dinner, we walked to the top deck and had the most spectacular view of the tower. We managed to find a gay couple who took our picture and told us they were together for 34 years. It was beyond words. In a second, the weather shifted, a lighting flash was seen behind the tower and after the boat docked, it started to rain. John and I walked in the Paris storm - which wasn't a downpour but still we got wet - and I couldn't help but put this memory in my forever remember compartment. Walking in the rain with someone I loved...what a surreal experience. We made our way to a bus overhang, called an Uber and we were home to have - yes - a bit of wedding cake before the sky really opened up and the downpour descended. Listening to the rain on our room's courtyard was the perfect ending to a perfect day.

Pasta, Wine, Gelato and Bears

Thu, 12 Jun 2025 22:10:12 GMT

Really? The Bears?

It's close to midnight, the city is still alive - and eating - but we have reached 21,000 steps and it's time for the newlyweds to retire. What an amazing evening that began with a walk to an Italian restaurant that we passed last night called Frateilli's. It was the most delicious pasta we've eaten - and I say we because it seems the gluten here isn't a problem for John, He ate my gnocchi and his pizza as if they were going to take the plate away. The wine was fruitier than last night but just as smooth and delicious. Cocktails here, it seems are not the way to go. More on that later.

A lovely French couple sat next to us and after asking if they spoke English, we asked if it were appropriate to tip. The answer - if the credit card machine has an option to add a tip, you can do so, but it is not necessary and not expected. They congratulated us on our honeymoon trip and we finished our meal with - of course - Limoncello and the most amazing Panna Cotta on a bed of raspberry sauce. Who counts calories here?

The night was warmer than Wednesday - or is it Thursday ? We've lost track of time already, and we strolled back towards our neighborhood, deciding on a cocktail at a Bear bar that we've often passed. Who knew that we'd get overlooked by bears in Paris? The bartender didn't acknowledge us and we chalked it up to being too thin and American, so we decided to move onto one down the very busy avenue. Ordering a margarita and mojito was a disappointment as there was hardly any alcohol in either drink. We've decided to stick to wine - it's more potent and more delicious than we'd imagined.

I grilled John on the relationships that came before me - well just one in particular - as I'm honestly curious about the one who had an apartment in Paris. I told him about my attempt at dating in California and how my mom only met one of the many. It was all information we knew, but in Paris, the conversations take on a whole new meaning when they are repeated. There's food and life everywhere you go here. I've forgotten what I do on a daily basis back in San Antonio - it simply allows me to have moments like this. And, of course, we couldn't stop at the Panna Cotta - we had to have gelato and I admit, a little bit of wedding cake frosting when we got back to the suite.

We should be more tired than we look, however, I know that once we turn off the light and I put the final punctation on this text, that I will be asleep before you can say Bon Soir.

Food, Coffee, and Art Oh My

Thu, 12 Jun 2025 16:59:19 GMT

Anyone ever Walk 14,000 Steps Before Lunch?

I've just woken up from a nap. I never take naps, but when you walk over 14,000 steps before lunch and stop counting by 3pm, a brief respite is required. We started the day by having breakfast in the cellar of our hotel. Walking down the steps, I remembered being with my mom and descending that very stone stairway to the charming nook where a very Parisian breakfast was served. My mom was only 75 when I took her to Paris, and stairs and walking were not an even issue for her. The memories of that visit with her are everywhere as I walk this city with John. They wrap themselves around me like a protective blanket as we wander the very same street that leads to Notre Dame and take pathways that I remember so well.

After the delicious bread, coffee, eggs and two glasses of fresh squeezed orange juice - I had John's, because he said, "I don't want to push it with the citrus." The gluten doesn't bother him here, and neither did the wine last night. By the way, it was the smoothest, fruitiest carafe of wine I have ever tasted. We made our way to Notre Dame, which has been beautifully restored after the devastating fire. It still takes my breath away when I walk inside - but new this time is a very loud recording that you can't ignore. "SHHHHHHHHH," it starts - like a slow rumble from a mountain top. "Silence, Please." and then it gets repeated in a few languages. I joked that if this were in the states, it would say, "SHUT THE F&(*)&* UP!"

I lost track of John a few times in the crowd - sometimes because of his stature, but other times because there were a sea of tourists. After I contemplated lighting a candle, but didn't want to light one without paying the 2e charge - we set off on our walk to the Musée d'Orsay. We found a charming corner cafe on the way where we had a cafe latte and Nutella crepe and then set off on our day's adventure. Once in the museum, John didn't really appreciate my humor as we looked at the timeless paintings and statues. This was a serious business looking at art, and James humor, it seems didn't have a place in it. We, unfortunately, didn't have any bottled water with us and we could feel our dehydration creeping up on us, so as we exited, we purchased two - being sure to keep the empties to fill up on the many fountains around the city.

Just like with Rosemarie, I had to constantly remind my husband to close his bag. As we reached close to 14,000 steps, we stopped to get a sandwich which we ate in a charming park, noting the chocolate shop we passed along the way. After his chicken panini and my mozzarella and tomato, we walked back to that shop where we purchased four of the most incredible chocolates.

"Do you think they'll melt if we get them?" I asked, which was one of the most ridiculous questions of the day as we popped them in our mouths before we made it to the corner. The sun, in all its glory, forced us to the shady sides of the street as we explored St Germaine and another church, which in my mind was just as spectacular as Notre Dame. I did feel bad for the man inside who was obviously tortured as he prayed in front of a statue of Mary and then again in front of another saint as we were leaving. I wanted to tell him to go on Prozac or see his therapist, but maybe someone holy heard him and he's doing fine.

As we debated on going for a mid afternoon drink, we settled for another coffee before crossing the river back to our hotel for a much needed nap. As we crossed the street, a vendor called out "Ti Ti," and said he loved my Tweety Earring and tattoo. I took that as a sign that he too saw my mom walking with us today. I held back the emotion and we continued on, but not before purchasing a bunch of little jars of incredible flavors of honey that are going to make some amazing cocktails.

"It's past our cut off for coffee, will you be able to nap?" John asked.

"Please, I slept after three cups yesterday, it's not going to matter."

And matter it did not as we just woke up from another power nap. On tap next, more food, more wine and more steps. The weather has been spectacular and at night the breeze has made me forget the intense Texas heat back home. As with Rosemarie, it is shaping up to be the trip of lifetime, We are reclaiming the city we love from the memories of recent visits, remembering the trips we made with our mothers and making new memories that will forever inspire us in the years ahead.

Who Ever Thought?

Wed, 11 Jun 2025 20:49:27 GMT

A Very Long Day

What a start to the honeymoon. First off, that sentence alone should be enough amazement, and the first day of our celebration was indeed one for the record books. I purposely booked an early flight out of San Antonio to Dallas in case of any delays in making our 5:30 pm connection to Paris, and as it turned out - I was right. Mother Nature had big plans for the day and our flight was 40 minutes late in arriving and then, what normally is an hour flight turned into a 120 minute flight due to the weather. If the pilot left Texas and than came back or crawled up the state lines, we will never know, but we left at 11 and touched down in Dallas a little after 1.

I was extremely hangry, so all I could think about was eating lunch before even thinking about walking around DFW. We stopped into a Kiehl's duty free store and then waited for our flight to Paris. As I suspected, we did not make the upgrade list, but our Premium Economy seats had plenty of room, good food and nice amenities. Alas, while my husband could sleep for nearly 5 of the 9.5 hour flight, I was awake the entire time. No amount of sleeping pills, movie watching or the latest Guncle book by Steve Rawley was enough to relax me.

We landed on time, collected our luggage and found our driver - but the adventure had not ended. There was a Taxi demonstration blocking traffic on the highway and coupled with the morning cars, it took over an hour to get to our hotel. It was well worth it, though as the room is picturesque, the patio is very French and the location in the 3rd couldn't be better. We had a baguette lunch, coffee and wandered around the city until I was too exhausted to continue. While John could have kept going, I was dead to the world for 90 minutes. After a shower and feeling refreshed, we changed and set out for more shopping and an incredible dinner at Les Philosophe. I stopped myself from ordering two creme brûlée desserts and instead opted to walk around the city as the daylight never fully left the sky until 10pm.

I can't help but think of my friends and family who have made this honeymoon what it is already setting up to be - and of course, I couldn't do it without John. So, yes, I said I love you - so to all of my friends - especially one in particular can relax. A new day awaits - more steps, more coffee, more wine, more adventures and more of something that makes me realize how very lucky I am.

Paris is Always a Good Idea

Sat, 17 May 2025 20:09:41 GMT

A Return to the City of Light

I'm really not sure when I fell in love with Paris. I could take the easy way out and say it was from watching classic MGM musicals or the obscure Judy Garland animated movie Gay- Purr-ee , but that might just be a little too gay. Even for me. Whatever the reason, the city has always been my favorite of all the places I have seen. Taking my mom there in 2010 was without a doubt, the highlight of my relationship with her. Now, 15 years later, I am returning to that city for a reason that no one could have ever predicted. No - One.

When I met John, our conversation was so easy, and although I can't remember all of the topics, I am certain that Paris was part of the tales we shared that day. He had gone with his mother a few years earlier and I'm sure that common denominator was just one of the many things we enjoyed about each other that day. The week I spent in Paris with my mom was more magical than I could ever explain, and I am so grateful that I documented our travels in my blog . Every night, I recapped the day's events - interjecting her exact dialogue whenever I could. When we returned home, I gave her the blog in book format - a tradition I carried on with our trips to Italy and England. The volumes are some of my most precious keepsakes. Whenever I miss her - which is more and more these days - I take out a book and relive my travels with Rosemarie.

So, without any doubt, after the infamous "when are we getting married" proposal, the only location for a honeymooon was Paris. It's hard to explain how my mom lighted up as walked along The Seine - she was in awe and I can still hear the sound of her voice and how tightly she gripped my arm as we strolled towards the Eiffel Tower. We stayed at the Hotel Beaubourg and I am beyond excited to return to that hotel with John (this time in a jr suite with a balcony!). It's bittersweet that our mothers are both gone and we're returning to a city they loved as much as the both of us, yet what's comforting is that I now wear my mom's rings on my right hand - her engagement ring and one that my brother and I gave her one Christmas are always with me. With my wedding band on my left and her rings on my right, it's a wonderful full circle moment that I will cherish.

To all of those who helped contribute to this trip, we can't thank you enough. And, like before, I will do my best, in less than three weeks, to capture the day's events so everyone can share a bit of this amazing ride with us.

The Godmother and Me

Sat, 12 Apr 2025 17:25:37 GMT

The Godmother and Me

When the ball dropped on 2025, I knew change was in the air - I just felt that chapters were closing and new ones were beginning. After all, 2024 had brought surprisingly unexpected shifts in my life. And, this past week has been one of even greater reflection than previous times, namely because the last woman who shaped my life left this world. I can't say that it was unexpected, my Aunt Louise who was also my godmother had been in failing health for some time, but like my mom, the longer I had her around, the greedier I got. And, although I hadn't seen her regularly over the past few years, there were the cards, the occasional text message and the amazing photo frame where I could upload and view pictures of what was going on in her life. Since my mom passed away, my godmother had become a great - grandmother and I couldn't have been happier.

The last time I saw her was at her granddaughter's wedding- the same girl who was barely a year old when I left for San Francisco. My aunt sat with me, took my arm and told me how proud my mother was of me.

"She loved you so much, I know you know that," she said at the breakfast table. "She was so proud, she loves you still." Her grip on my arm was surprisingly strong for almost - at the time 90 - and as tears filled my eyes, she gave me a hug and I kissed her cheek. Did I know it was the last time I would see her? Who can tell? But I held onto that moment with every fiber of my being. This was a woman, who my mom told me was so excited to christen me.

"I've never seen anyone so happy," my mom told me on one of our European trips. "She kept thanking me over and over. You'd think I had just given her a million dollars!"

I know my mom and my aunt had a special bond - after all, they both married Tella men, and that alone should have won them accolades. The strength of my aunt and uncle's marriage was so inspirational to me, even more so than my own parents'. I could see the love emanating from my uncle/godfather when he looked at his wife. At his granddaughter's wedding, when they were introduced, he grabbed my aunt's hand, raised it high in the air and smiled so bright that it outshone the photographer's flash. That image of them will never leave my memory. It inspires me in my own marriage.

When I was a kid, I would go over to their house and don't ask me why, but I would wash her dishes. I loved washing dishes. That makes no sense but there you have it. Now, I put them in the appliance that was made to do that but back then, maybe it was just the opportunity to spend time at her house. There were countless parties, holidays, birthdays, and brunches. And whenever she told us to stop over for coffee, it was never JUST coffee. There was a spread that would put an Italian restaurant to shame. We would all talk for hours. There was always laughter, always joy. It was never a home filled with tears, it was always filled with joy. And, for that I will be eternally grateful.

Yet, as I write this, I can feel my past slipping away. The people - the women - who connected me to my childhood, who taught me how to bake, to love and to be a good human were gone. I came home from work the day my godmother passed and I hugged my husband and ugly cried. When I was finished, I sat and thought some more. How these women -- my Great Aunt Lil, passing at 94, my mom, leaving me at 86 and now my godmother at 92 all lived incredible lives. How could I ask for me? Yes, I was greedy, I was envious that my cousins had their grandmother with them all those years, where I lost one when I was 8 and never knew my other who I searched and searched for and didn't discover pictures and stories of her until after my mom passed away - unable to share them with her. How could I be angry at the world for allowing these women to be in my life for so long? I just wanted....well...more.

Today, I have a new chapter - a whole new life unfolding and I am taking the lessons of these women with me along the journey. I see them in everything I do. I can hear their laughter. I can feel their touch. I can breathe in and still smell their particular scents. In fact, I keep a bottle of my mom's White Diamonds body lotion by my bed. Sometimes, I undo the cap and take in the wonderful scent that reminds me of her. It wraps me up in her embrace and then I am able to sleep.

I happily steal a note from a great friend of mine that my mom met when we were in Paris. He sent me this on the anniversary of my mom's passing.

I remember those days so well...first they are and now they were. Glad we lived them...and keep them forever in our hearts.

And like my godmother told me about my mom. I hope my Aunt Louise knows how much I loved her. How much I will always love her. My journey now is because in part of what she gave to me. There would be no Limontella without her. And if I were able to react back in 1965, I would have been just as happy to be chosen as her godson.

Three Years in the Car

Thu, 06 Mar 2025 12:28:51 GMT

Just Get in...

At the moment, winter seems to have left San Antonio, however I'm still skeptical that it's fully retreated. One thing for certain is that the clocks more forward this coming weekend and bring with it longer days and the promise of summer. But, this is Texas and I've learned that all bets are off with the weather, so I won't be convinced I am leaving the fireside just yet. It's also been three years today that we met, and now know what was next and that we would become a Limontella Originale. On Sunday, after we watched an Elton John documentary, it made me think of a previous post that I wrote before we met. It makes sense to revisit it because I really did not know what was next. This time, I just...well, you'll see what I did.

---

What's Next?

——

IT WAS SHORTLY BEFORE I MOVED TO SAN FRANCISCO, ELTON WAS ON HIS REG STRIKES BACK TOUR, AND I WAS WHERE YOU’D ALWAYS FIND ME ON A BOSTON SATURDAY NIGHT. AT A CLUB, DRINKING, FLIRTING AND BEING, WHAT I HOPE NOW IS NOT THE EXTINCT SOCIAL PERSON THAT I AM. I WAS OUT WITH THE FIRST GIRL I WOULD HAVE BROUGHT HOME TO MEET MY MOTHER - MY FRIEND DAWN AND ONE OF HER FRIENDS, WHO I SEEM TO REMEMBER WAS NAMED CAROL.

NOW, DRINKING HAS ALWAYS BEEN ONE OF MY FAVORITE PASTIMES, AND NOT IN A ZOOM ROOM, BUT SURROUNDED BY PEOPLE, WHERE, ONCE THE BUZZ KICKS IN, I CAN FLASH MY SMILE AND WORK WHATEVER MAGIC I SEEM TO THINK I POSSESS.

THAT NIGHT, AS I ORDERED MY LATEST LONG ISLAND ICED TEA, WHICH BACK THEN WAS MY DRINK OF CHOICE BECAUSE I COULD DOWN FOUR OF THEM IN AN HOUR AND STILL BE PERFECTLY FUNCTIONAL THE NEXT DAY, I SAUNTERED UP TO THE BAR AND SAT NEXT TO AN AVERAGE LOOKING GENT. WE STARTED TALKING AND HIS BRITISH ACCENT HAD ME FASCINATED. I ACCEPTED ANOTHER DRINK AND I INTRODUCED MY COMPANIONS, BECAUSE FORGETTING WHO I WAS WITH - NO MATTER HOW MANY DRINKS I CONSUMED - WAS NEVER MY STYLE.

HE INTRODUCED HIMSELF BY HIS FIRST AND LAST NAME, WHICH I FOUND INTERESTING.

“I’M JOHN REID,” HE SAID.

“AND, THIS IS JIM,” DAWN INTERJECTED REALIZING THAT I FORGOT TO SAY WHO I WAS. (BACK THEN, I WAS ALWAYS JIM, DON’T GET TOO COMFORTABLE CALLING ME THAT NOW.)

“WHAT BRINGS YOU TO TOWN?” DAWN ASKED.

“OH,” HE SAID NONCHALANTLY “I MANAGE ELTON JOHN AND HE’S AT THE WORCESTER CENTRUM THIS WEEK.”

NOW, BEING THREE SHEETS TO THE WIND, NONE OF THIS REGISTERED WITH ME, BUT IT DID NOT, HOWEVER, GO UNNOTICED BY DAWN. SHE THEN BECAME VERY KEEN ON KEEPING MR. REID TALKING TO US. AS THE NIGHT WORE ON, AND WITH MORE DRINKS BOUGHT FOR US, HE ASKED IF WE WOULD LIKE A RIDE HOME. I STUMBLED DOWN THE STAIRS AND OUT IN FRONT OF THE CLUB WAS THE LONGEST STRETCH CAR I’D EVER SEEN.

“LOOK, DAWN,” I SQUEALED AT THE TOP OF MY LUNGS, “IT’S A LIMO!”

“SHUT UP, JIM,” DAWN SCOLDED, PUSHING MY HEAD DOWN AND BODY CHECKED ME AS THE CHAUFFEUR OPENED THE DOOR. “AND, GET THE FUCK IN THE CAR!”

AND SO BEGAN MY DECADENT NIGHT AT THE RITZ CARLTON WITH THE MANAGER OF ELTON JOHN, WHILE THE FORMER REG DWIGHT WAS ASLEEP IN THE NEXT SUITE. THE NEXT MORNING, MR. REID TOLD ME TO ORDER WHATEVER I WANTED FOR BREAKFAST. HE HAD TO GET AN EARLY FLIGHT BACK TO LONDON, BUT THE ROOM WAS MINE UNTIL LATE AFTERNOON. THERE I SAT IN A FLUFFY RITZ CARLTON BATHROBE, CALLING DAWN, EATING MY BREAKFAST WITHOUT A HINT OF A HANGOVER. I DID MANAGE TO SWIPE THE RITZ CARLTON UMBRELLA ON THE WAY OUT, AND I DON'T KNOW HOW I GOT OUT WITH THE BATHROBE, BUT I HAD IT FOR THE LONGEST TIME. AND JUST TO BE SURE I WASN'T DREAMING, I CHECKED THE BACK OF ONE OF MY ELTON CD'S AND THERE WAS JOHN REID'S NAME.

I SUPPOSE THE WHOLE POINT OF THAT STORY IS TO NOT ONLY TO TELL A TALE (GET IT - TEL-LA) THAT PERSONIFIES ME AS THE SOCIAL AND YES - HAD FOR THE PRICE OF A COCKTAIL PERSON I AM - BUT TO ALSO REACH BACK AND REMEMBER HOW THINGS USED TO BE. I AM, MAYBE NAIVELY, CLINGING TO THE BELIEF THAT PART OF THE OLD WORLD WILL STILL EXIST IN THE NEW.

BACK THEN, I DIDN'T KNOW WHAT THE FUTURE HELD. I STILL DON'T, BUT I FOOLISHLY DIDN'T APPRECIATE THE MOMENT WHEN I WAS LIVING IN IT. YOUTH HAS A PROBLEM THINKING THAT THINGS WILL ALWAYS STAY THE SAME, THAT WHAT YOU JUST EXPERIENCED WAS JUST ANOTHER DAY IN THE LIFE, AND THAT YOU ARE THE ONLY ONE THAT MATTERS. HOWEVER, AS TIME NOW PROVES, NOTHING IS JUST "ANOTHER DAY IN THE LIFE."

WHICH BRINGS ME BACK TO HOW I BEGAN:

THERE’S REALLY NO POINT IN ASKING WHAT IF? THE ONLY QUESTION WORTH ASKING: IS WHAT’S NEXT?

I'VE HAD A LOT OF TIME TO THINK THESE PAST FEW WEEKS, EVEN THOUGH IT FEELS LIKE MONTHS. WHAT IF I HAD TAKEN JOHN REID'S NUMBER? WHAT IF IT WASN'T MORE THAN JUST WHAT IT WAS? WOULD I BE ELTON'S BEST FRIEND? WHAT IF I MOVED FIRST TO LOS ANGELES AND NOT SAN FRANCISCO? WHAT IF I NEVER SOLD MY CONDO IN SAN FRANCISCO (DON'T ASK, IT'S A SORE SUBJECT), WHAT IF I NEVER SPENT THREE LONG LONELY YEARS IN MANHATTAN? YOU CAN'T CHANGE THE DECISIONS YOU MADE IN THE PAST, YOU CAN SIMPLY LEARN FROM THEM AND NOT MAKE THE SAME MISTAKES. ALWAYS STRIVING FOR SOMETHING BETTER FOR YOURSELF. AND ALONG THOSE LINES...WHAT IF THIS DAMN VIRUS NEVER REARED ITS UGLINESS? BUT THERE REALLY IS NO POINT IN SEARCHING FOR THOSE ANSWERS. THE ONLY THING TO DO IS ASK WHAT IS THE NEXT STEP? YOU AND I CAN'T CONTROL THE WORLD, WE CAN'T MAKE THIS VIRUS GO AWAY ANY FASTER, BUT WE CAN WORK TERRIBLY HARD AT MAINTAINING THE PEOPLE THAT WE WERE, AND I CAN WORK, IF IT'S POSSIBLE, TO BE AN EVEN MORE SOCIAL PERSON THAN I WAS BEFORE THIS PATHOGEN DECIDED TO INFILTRATE THE WORLD.

I DON’T THINK I EVER LOST BEING THAT SOCIAL BOY OF TWENTY-SOMETHING. IN THIS NEW WORLD, I STILL WANT TO BE ABLE TO SIT AT A BAR AND MEET PEOPLE. (ALTHOUGH LONG ISLAND ICE TEAS ARE NOT ON THE MENU EVER.) I WANT OTHERS TO DISCOVER THE JOY OF TALKING TO THE PERSON NEXT TO YOU, BECAUSE YOU NEVER KNOW WHO THAT STRANGER IS OR WHAT ADVENTURE THEY CAN TAKE YOU ON. WETHER IT'S ONE INCREDIBLE NIGHT OR A LIFETIME JOURNEY, YOU HAVE TO KEEP THE FAITH THAT PEOPLE WILL STILL WANT TO BE PART OF THE HUMAN RACE. AND WE HAVE TO APPRECIATE LIFE IN THE MOST EXCITING OF EVENTS AND THE MOST MINUSCULE OF MOMENTS.

SO MY SIMPLE ADVICE OR MAYBE IT'S MY SIMPLEST OF THOUGHTS: WHATEVER THIS NEW WORLD BRINGS, LEAVE THE COUCH BEHIND, LOOK UP FROM YOUR PHONE, TALK TO THE PERSON NEXT TO YOU, REACH OUT TO THE PEOPLE YOU CARE ABOUT, AND ABOVE ALL, ENJOY EVERY MINUTE OF THE RIDE BEFORE IT ENDS. BASICALLY, JUST "GET THE FUCK IN THE CAR."

--- and get in the car, I did. All the way to San Antonio and becoming a #Limontella orginale.

Another Ball Drop

Tue, 31 Dec 2024 02:23:01 GMT

A Record Ball Drop Year

As another year comes to a close, I think the general agreement is that 2024 was one for the record books. Not only were the previous two years shocking because they were with a boyfriend, but also this one is even more so because it's with a husband. It goes to show that any year can never be predicted - you may bid an old one with all its highs and lows good-bye but a new one waits with just as many peaks and valleys. You just never know what's on the other side of them.

After the clock has struck midnight and a new set of days begins, I will, without a doubt, be even more reflective of what has transpired in my life. I was, as anyone could tell you, adamant that I would never move to Texas. I would never leave California. I would never....I would never....such a statement of fact. But there was this puzzle, this jigsaw piece that I never saw coming. As always with me, I wanted my friends to be a part of whatever was happening and while some relationships grew stronger as the puzzle came into focus, others that I never expected, went out with the tide. Does anyone know what moves the ocean to ebb and flow? How it moves up the shore, sometimes violently, sometimes calmly, but always it is in constant movement. I've always lived near the ocean, I've loved the sound of it since I was a kid. It calms me, keeps me grounded and makes me realize that there is so much more out there to discover. I may, for the first time, not live near the ocean, but like the sea, I am in constant movement. When the tide goes back out and returns, is it the same when it first reached the shore?

Like the tide, over the years, my life's ocean has brought friends and family in and out of my life. While some of the ending of those relationships were because the bond between us was meant to exist in a particular time and place, other final punctuations have taken me by surprise. I try to never take my friends for granted and during our wedding reception, when John and I looked out at the tables, I was over come with emotion at how many of those that I have met over the years had come in with the tide. I think, in a way, when you do something so out of the ordinary, so out of what has always been between a group of friends some are convinced you've lost your mind. You fall into a category that makes them more comfortable with their decision to not return with the tide.

All of these thoughts were coming and going over these last few weeks, but they came to the forefront today when my cousin sent me a meme. That there are those that love me, those that love to be around me and then those who love what I can do for them. I can never truly understand what causes what looked like a solid friendship to end. I can only be true to myself. Since I left Boston when I was 24, I have done just that. As I turn 60 next year - 60 - let that sink in - I have one friend who reaches that milestone with me and has been with me for more than half my life. He is the embodiment of friendship. Together, we are the best combination. But, let me be clear, I have not, as so many others have done - married their best friend. The beginning of Limontella is what we said it was - a Limontella Orginale. There is no one like us, no combination like it has come before and nothing like it will come after.

So, the ball will drop on another year, but it will not sink to the bottom of the sea. It will ride the movement of each wave. It will be unpredictable and it will continue to draw puzzling shapes in the sand. I hope it's just as special to those who ride the waves with me. And, yes, we can all put our feet in the sand together.

The Next Chapter

Sun, 03 Nov 2024 18:08:11 GMT

How does it feel?

We went to dinner with friends the other night and one of them asked, "how does it feel to be with someone who will be there for you for the rest of your life?" I had to take a pause from sipping my craft cocktail before I answered because I never really thought of that. Here we were, two couples out for a delicious dinner and then it hit me. We were not going to a club, we weren't going to a party, we were all out with our husbands sharing laughs, stories and great food. I never thought of marriage as something that was even remotely in the cards for me, and to have the question about the rest of my life was a new experience. There was only one response - it felt comforting. It was a surprising chapter I never saw coming.

New chapters are always a mystery. Characters that were in the prior pages are suddenly written out. Sometimes the reasons are easy to see from the adventures that were read, and sometimes, they are a twist that the reader never saw coming. You can examine the words to find what clues you may have missed, you can re-read your favorite passages and hope you can find the explanation, but in the end, like any good book, there are so many more pages to be discovered that you move on - chapter by chapter, adventure by adventure. Like all the Agatha Christie books I read when I was younger, clues were there, sometimes hidden by the actions of the other characters or by the red herrings that disguised actions that no one should have missed. But, every mystery ended with the situation solved and the characters moving forward - and the reader picking up the next book in Agatha's long line of published works.

So, the answer to that question from me was simple. Turning the pages will never not be exciting, to read what's ahead will still be full of surprises, but the main characters will continue to evolve and take their places in adventures to come. Pages will be written that are unexpected, but those characters in the story will keep each other warm on cold nights in front of the fire. And, in the end, it's my story to write but never again a story to write alone.

A Grinch No More

Thu, 17 Oct 2024 22:43:12 GMT

Someone's Heart Grew a Few Sizes that day

Good evening, everyone! For those who don’t know me, I’m Holli, and I’ve had the honor of knowing James for about 15 years. When I first met James at NBCUniversal, he was, well... a fabulous curmudgeon. Stylish blazers? Always. Warm hugs? Never. Outdoorsy? Not unless 'outdoors' means boozy brunch. And the idea of him sticking his feet in the sand? Absolutely laughable.

I think our friendship was officially sealed during a business trip to New York. We had epic dinners on NBC’s dime, and James introduced me to the iconic Stonewall Bar, telling me all about its history. And as we walked down the street, something magical happened—James linked arms with me. It was like a rare eclipse. I thought, ‘Wow, James Tella actually *likes* me.’ That was the moment I knew we were truly friends.

When he moved back to LA, life was fantastic. He’d swing by with his delicious homemade cookies and pies, and we even sheltered in place together during the pandemic. He shared with me his adventures in dating (and when I say dating I mean “dating”..wink wink) one thing seemed certain: James was going to be a forever bachelor. He wasn’t dating anyone seriously, and after 15 years, I was convinced that this was just who he was—content, single, fabulously Grinchy about romance.

And then… John entered the picture. James tells me one day that he met a ‘cute pocket gay with a great ass’ in palm springs. And the next thing I know, James is flying off to Texas, John’s coming to LA, and, suddenly—James Tella, the fabulous curmudgeon, has a BOYFRIEND. It was like watching the Grinch’s heart grow three sizes that day!

John, I have no idea what kind of magic you worked, but you turned our stylish Grinch into a man in love. Not only that, but now James is doing things I thought I’d never see—like sticking his toes in actual sand! Giving great big bear hugs, telling me he loves me! (Although, we’re still perfecting that one). Needless to say, that’s true love.

I was sad when James left LA for San Antonio, but seeing the two of you together, it’s clear that James has found his person. You complement each other so beautifully, and, John, I have to say thank you—for giving us a James with a heart three times its original size.

So, everyone, raise your glass to James and John—a wedding miracle. May your love grow even bigger than the Grinch’s heart and be sweeter than James' pies. Cheers!"

A New Chapter - A New Volume

Fri, 11 Oct 2024 12:50:35 GMT

Sadie, Sadie...

As I sit here in the dark of a crisp, cool Texas morning, I can't help but think of what is finally happening. My life's journey has volumes of adventures. I have seen the world, both alone, with friends, and most importantly, with my mother. Through it all, I was not prepared for what will be the ultimate chapter.

I suppose that's what life is, isn't it? A series of events that open your eyes to, not only the world, but also to your life. You see things in a different light, things you perhaps were blind to or just didn't want to see, And, now with something so monumental happening, being surrounded by people who love you unconditionally is so overwhelming that I wonder how I'm going to get through the weekend. It was just a quip in a Dallas restaurant.

"When are we getting married?"

It just felt like the right thing to say at the right moment. This was where this adventure was always leading. I somehow felt it that first week, not really knowing what was going on or what powers of the universe were at play. Flights booked to San Antonio, drama at a job that I once adored and who so easily tossed me aside based on co-workers jealousies and pettiness. I recovered, but it took some time to regroup. And, as always, I rose to the challenge ahead of me. I have once again made a new start.

There's so much division in the world but this weekend, I have friends that I have made my family coming from both coasts to celebrate something that is shocking to them as well. I am becoming a Sadie. And, if you don't know what that refers to, then your gay card needs to be examined.

The darkness of this room will be light soon. The day will get started, the weekend will commence and a new page will be written. If you've read the pages so far, just wait for the new chapters. If my past is anything like my future, there's a lot of adventure ahead for us all.

The People You Miss

Sun, 22 Sep 2024 16:29:16 GMT

Life's Twists and Turns

I can still remember watching the home movies of my parents' wedding. We would take out the projector, dig out the movie screen from the back of the closet, and settle in for a living room night of reel-to-reel films. The movies were silent, half the fun was reading lips or hearing my parents tell us what was being said. During the wedding film, though, no captions were needed as I could clearly read my mom's lips right after they exited the church.

"I'm freezing," she shivered as the wind whipped her small veil to the side of her face. It was May in Boston and still the weather was not cooperating. Over the years, I would always hear stories of that day from her and my godmother. How my dad was up and dressed hours before the big event.

"I'm getting married, today" he stated when my Aunt Louise asked him what he was doing walking around outside her house at 11 am dressed in his tuxedo (the ceremony was at 2pm.). Later, as the newlyweds got into the car after the wedding, my dad smacked his head on the door frame.

"Wait for it," my mom would say as we watched the playback. BOOM. There it was. Funny, not so funny.

So, as October 13th quickly approaches, I've been thinking about that short film a lot and missing my mom. Not that I don't miss my mom every day. It's just that these days, I feel her loss more than ever. What I wouldn't give to see her sitting at the ceremony. She was always my biggest supporter. Even when I made decisions that broke her heart, like moving to California, she never once tried to talk me out of it. Years later, when I dabbled in drag, she came to a contest I had entered and I could hear her applause and voice above all others.

"Are you his mother?" some big bear of a man asked her after I walked out on stage and she was applauding along with my friends.

"I most certainly am!" she answered back. He gave her a huge bear hug and disappeared. She told me she would never forget that moment as long as she lived.

There wasn't a major moment in my life that I didn't share with her. It was only once, when I was taking shelter from bullets in Cancun, thinking that my life was over, that my first thought was, "I'm glad my mom is gone." Her knowing the paralyzing fear of that afternoon would have been too much for her. It was almost too much for me.

Moving to Texas would have been a surprise for her. She loved California as much as I did, but she would have supported my move, and how she would have adored John. There would be no question of his character to her, but if on the off-chance something bothered her, I would have known. She was never good at truly hiding what she thought of someone.

During the ceremony, I wanted to find ways to honor her and from our rings to other small touches throughout the ceremony and reception, there will be nods to her memory. I won't have to imagine her sitting in the crowd showing her support, I'll feel her with me from the moment I wake up that day. The days since she's been gone have not been the same, you think you'll heal from the hole that's left in your heart, but you just find other ways to keep moving. A great friend of mine told me this once and I gladly plagiarize it.

We remember those days so well…first they are and now they were. Glad we lived them… and keep them forever in our hearts.

In three weeks, I'll say to no one in particular, "I'm getting married today." And somewhere, I will feel a big hug from my mom to get me through the day.

Home Stretch

Sun, 08 Sep 2024 14:56:16 GMT

Falling into a New Season

My favorite time of year has always been fall. Growing up outside of Boston, when the weather turned from hellish humidity to crisp cool days, life was the best. The freezing temperatures of winter were still, if we were lucky, some weeks away and we made the best of the days ahead. Some of my best memories are going apple picking with my mom or taking a drive to the beach where we sat on the sea wall and ate Fried Clams (with the bellies for me, without them for my mom since she hated them). The leaves were turning color, although we never had enough to make a big pile to jump into, I loved hearing them crinkle under my feet. The days got shorter, which was and is always fine for me until Christmas, then I'm ready for the longer days again. There were just no bad memories in the fall. I lost no one I loved, I was settled into school (well, there were bad memories there but in the end, they don't count in this recollection), and Halloween was right in front of us. My mom always made sure that every day of the season was filled with good food and even better times just being together.

Even when I moved to California, where fall was pretty much non-existent, I still enjoyed October. The heat finally lost its hellacious hold on Palm Springs, and LA was cool, though the air was still not as crisp as I would have liked. These days, I'm still trying to figure out the weather pattern in Texas. There doesn't seem to be one, save except summer's sizzling days and crazy pop-up thunderstorms that shake the roof off the house.

So, it really was no surprise that when we decided to change our lives, we picked October. The night of the big proposal was simple and easy - exactly like our relationship. We had gone to Dallas and were having dinner - at a Mexican restaurant naturally, when I simply asked, "So, when are we getting married?"

The question was just a statement of fact. There was no jumbotron, no flash mob, no surprise party, no audience of strangers, no elaborate scene planned for months, and not even an engagement ring hidden in a glass of champagne or fruity dessert. It was just the two of us, having dinner like we did the first night we met. Because deep down, I always knew this was where the road was leading. All the back and forth between California and Texas was exciting and adding frequent flier miles was advantageous, but both us knew something had to eventually change. What was a surprise was that I moved to Texas. I loved and still adore California. It gave me my adult life, it helped shape the person I am and it gave me a family of my choosing. I've met so many great - and not so great - people over my years there and the ones that are still with me today mean more to me than I could ever properly put into words. I never imagined a world in the Central Time Zone, yet somehow I knew from that first flight to San Antonio that something was about to change. Deep down, I knew the California chapter had been punctuated.

And, in five weeks a new sentence to the story begins. The days are getting cooler, the heat is relinquishing its grasp on the Alamo City and the schedule for the big event is getting more exciting, and a bit stressful even though there are wonderful people called wedding planners. I never imagined a day where I was the one in front of my family and friends, but life is unpredictable and that's what makes being alive so delicious. It's like that first taste of the apple that we picked from the tree when I was younger. We couldn't reach the highest branch for that perfect fruit that my mom saw from the ground, but we knew that was the one we wanted. So we pulled over the ladder and twisted it off. It relinquished so easily, because it knew it was ripened. Maybe it was our imagination but those apples made the tastiest pies and even when my mom mashed them up, the apple sauce still tasted the sweetest. And, this year, when October comes, there may not be a pile of leaves to fall into but in the seasons ahead, we are going to make sure it all starts with great food and even better times together.

Paths Intersected

Sat, 13 Jul 2024 00:25:56 GMT

My Mom, Marilyn and Texas

Many years ago, a friend of mine told me a story about his parents going to the same department store to visit Santa at the exact day and time when they were children. He knew this from a picture taken of both of them at the same store on a particular December day.

"They didn't even know each other then," he told me. "They passed each other in line, probably even cried on Santa's lap right after the other. Something brought them there that day and something brought them together again."

Because of that, he was convinced that people have passed the person they were meant to be with at some point in their lives. That story, as true or false as it may sound, has always stayed with me. Through all my moves, all my attempts at dating - when, in fact that was something I did - I would wonder if what my friend said pertained to me. The day I met John, when he told me that his friend Jimmy James instructed him to go to Palm Springs, things started to churn again in my head.

My mom adored Jimmy James as Marilyn Monroe. She first saw him on The Phil Donahue Show and after she told me about him, I was just as enamored. My mother couldn't get enough of The Boy who was Marilyn whenever she knew he was appearing on a talk show. Years later, when I was in Provincetown, I attended one of Jimmy's shows at the Post Office Cafe. I was amazed at his talent and back then, I didn't have the courage to go up to him and tell him how much my mom and I loved him. Years later, when I was in LA, Jimmy debuted his single "Who Wants to be Your Lover," at a release party at the Revolver bar in West Hollywood. I was among the fans there that night for the video premiere and free CD giveaway.

Now, here I was - many years later - talking to Jimmy's best friend in Palm Springs. Then, over that infamous Tito and soda (no lime) he tells me that he was Jimmy's barker in P-town one summer, hustling on Commercial street to get people to attend Jimmy's show. Was it one of the summers that I was there? I couldn't get the dates to agree in my head, but I found it too coincidental. Months later, when John introduced me to Jimmy on one of my visits to San Antonio, I tried my hardest to not fan-boy out in front of him. Here I was in Jimmy James' living room, and it were as if my mother were with me. I wanted to hug him, but all I could manage was to tell him that my mom adored him.

"I love your music," I said, or something, no doubt, equally trite.

As I've come to experience, Jimmy often talks about John during his shows. Sometimes the comments are more colorful than others, and without a doubt, John enjoys the spotlight that gets briefly shined on him. Even though they've never met John, fans of Jimmy know him through the shows. In fact, recently at San Antonio pride, one fan introduced himself to John, and told him how exciting it was to meet him in person. He even knew he was getting married and asked where I was. It got me thinking - did I ever hear Jimmy talk about his best friend when I attended one of his shows? I can't really say for sure.

Perhaps all this reflection comes from this morning, when one of Jimmy's songs came on my Spotify playlist and it being July - the month I lost my mother. I can't help but think back on those weeks and how I watched her fade. I knew that the end was coming, that the moments we spent together would be our last, and I fought to make every day as enjoyable as I could with her. During her lucid moments, we would reminisce about our trips to Europe and the memories we had accumulated over so many other adventures. Today, as Who Wants to be Your Lover played over my car's stereo, I laughed at how thrilled my mom would have been knowing that I was dating (and engaged) to someone who knew Jimmy James, and all that sadness of those weeks in the hospital were pushed away.

Yet, as much as I would have wanted my mom to meet John and Jimmy, I know that that wasn't the plan. It wasn't the path that was meant to open up to me until the fog cleared and life became clear again. As much as I like to think that I started this new chapter of my life because I messaged John, something deep inside tells me that those paths crossed long ago. We may not have been waiting for Santa Claus, but the gift my mom and Jimmy James gave us was something that the Jolly old man himself could never fit into his sack of toys. Or, now that I think back on it, after I saw John emerge from his Uber, maybe he could have?

Wonderland and Me

Sat, 15 Jun 2024 19:38:36 GMT

Where exactly is Wonderland?

When my parents were dating, so the story goes, my father won a white bear for my mom on the Revere Beach Boardwalk. It seems to have disappeared over the years, so when we celebrated their 50th Anniversary, I found a replica to join us in the limo. It's a little eerie that, although it wasn't a bear, there was a white rabbit waiting for John in his Easter basket when he first came to LA. However, little did I know that that rabbit was a bit more on the money than I imagined.

Anyone who knows me realizes pretty quick that, not only am I a planner, but I am also never late. In fact, if I am late, then you can be sure of a few things. There's been an accident on the freeway that has delayed me, I have broken all my bones and lie in pain in a hospital room, or I have met a demise I was not ready for by any means. Growing up, lots of people would get upset that my mom and I were always punctual, or in fact, most times, very early. Having a party at 1pm? We would be there at 12:30. Have to catch a 9am flight? We'd be at the airport by 7. It was just part of our DNA, yet I didn't realize why until I took my mom on those fantastic trips to Europe.

As the years go by without her, I am so grateful that I traveled the world with her. It was on that first trip to Paris that she shared how her mother was constantly late on her visitation days. Sometimes, it would be minutes, most times, it would be hours. One day that she never forgot, she told me that her evil step-mother even relished in the tardiness.

"Your mother's not coming," she spat at her while my mom waited on the front steps. "Go out with your brother and sister."

And, so my mom would listen, only to find out that my grandmother indeed did show up later, only to be told by that same resentful woman, "Your daughter didn't want to wait for you. Go home."

Rosemarie was certain that's where her promptness originated, and she passed that down to my brother and me our entire lives. In fact, most times, we had to make ourselves late. Whether it was letting train after train pass us by so we wouldn't have to spend an extra second in South Boston visiting her step-mother, or arriving early for a holiday gathering and sitting in the car - punctuality was key. I never understood when people would get so mad at us for arriving early. Later in life, I was always early for interviews, I was always the first one in the meeting room and could always be counted on to arrive first and make sure everything was in place so everything ran smoothly.

The day I met John, I had finished lunch, and he says he wasn't late for our drink meet-up. (I never called it a date, since that's something I didn't do.) I can't be certain if he was tardy, but for sure, I was first to arrive. When we lived in different cities, I always timed the drive to LAX so that I was at the airport for his arrival. It was hysterical that no matter how many times I shared my flight plans, he was rushing to the San Antonio Airport to meet me.

"How long is your layover," he texted one June visit after I messaged, "landed!"

"Oh, a long time," I returned. And then after a short pause, came his response text...

"OMG, you're here. I'm not even showered and I was getting my car washed!"

It's been 2.5 years, and not much has changed time-wise. I have to admit, it's quite humorous. If we have to be somewhere at 6pm, he's stopping at a store at 5:59 to get a lottery ticket he forgot to get earlier. If we have to be at his sister's at 5, he's in the shower at 4:55 because, it's 'just down the street.' If we have an early flight, I know to not engage with him until after I park the car and he gets a breakfast taco. I drive on those flight days because I can just put him in the passenger seat and get to the airport without delay.

Some can say opposites attract, but we really aren't that different. If he mentions an old TV show, I know exactly what he's referencing. If he mentions a singer named Jane Olivor, I know who he's talking about. We come from the same experiences. We've seen the evolution of gay rights. We've been in the closet and have coming out stories that no one seems to have these days. We've watched friends leave this world due to the AIDS epidemic and experienced the fear of being different as it ravaged the community. We've seen how the world didn't care that there was a pandemic until one impacted them. We've dismissed marriage mainly because it was something that wasn't a possibility for us. I remember when George W. Bush tried to get an amendment in the constitution that would make gay marriage illegal. I was so angry that day, not because I wanted to get married, but because he was trying to take something away from me that could be a possibility. That was a slap in the face on how different I was from the rest of the population. When it comes to on time, though, John and I are for sure on opposite ends of the time clock. "I'm late, I'm late," stated the famous Lewis Carroll character. Little did I know how much those words were to be true to life.

Work starts at 7 am - he's leaving the house at 7:04 (it's just down the street). Work starts at 8, and for a twenty minute commute, I am in the car and on the road at 7:04. I like to get up and enjoy the morning, he has the curtains closed to avoid any breach by the sunlight. I have no idea how late he will be in October, but as long as he shows up, I guess that's a win. You see, Alice followed a very late white rabbit and she fell down a long hole into Wonderland. My fall may not have been as far, but I followed a Texan and wound up in San Antonio.

I sometimes ask, like Alice and most who read her adventures, is it a dream? Did it really happen? What's the meaning of everything around here? I don't think I will hear "off with his head," but I do know that I won't lose the white rabbit. It's in the living room, in a cabinet and it comes out every Easter to remind me that a Wonderland can exist, even when you're not sure you deserve it or will ever get it for yourself.

Savor the moment

Sun, 19 May 2024 17:07:23 GMT

Savor the moment - even the summer heat

Of all the things I wasn't prepared for, one of the top three was weather in Texas. After living three decades in California, I took the temperatures for granted. There really was no need to pay attention to forecasts or news reports. You opened the door, you went outside and the sun shone exactly as it did the day before and the day before that, and the day before that. In Texas, all bets are off.

As a kid, I would sit on the back porch and listen to the thunder and watch the lightening flash in the distance. My mom would always yell at me to get back into the house. I suppose she was afraid the lightening would find me. It's no surprise that I can still hear her voice every time I see the bolts flash across the Texas sky.

I've been hearing her voice in my head more often than not these days. Especially now that summer is almost here and October won't be far behind. I was never prepared for losing her, no matter how much I realized that she was nearing the end of her time with me. As plans for October continue to take shape, I can't help but remember some of the conversations that we had in Europe. Those trips were magical and something I have been thinking about a lot lately. We talked of so many things and I told her in Paris, that I was sorry I hadn't brought home a boy so she could see that I could indeed find someone.

"Why are you in a rush?" she asked. "Be single, have fun, do whatever you want. Play the field!"

I didn't tell her that I was indeed playing the field, but the whole conversation made me smile. She never judged, never wanted me to follow the path that was the one that was expected. Maybe she felt guilty for making me go to college when I wanted to travel the world? She never tried to talk me out of moving to San Francisco, never made me feel tied to Boston. Even she knew Massachusetts was not the place for me.

"Why do you want to come back here?" she asked incredulously, when I briefly moved back to Boston in 2000. That Rosemarie was far brighter than she or anyone gave her credit for. She supported every decision I made, and that was something, looking back, that I took for granted.

These days, I take nothing lightly. I savor every minute, even if it's the sweltering heat of the summer to come. I am honoring my mom in lots of ways as plans for October take shape, and I try to imagine how she'd laugh at being the mother of the groom.

"I'm so cold," she could be lip read in the home movies of my parents' wedding, and she always told me how the wind that day in May 1962 froze her to the bone.

There's probably not a chance of freezing in October in Texas, and a ceremony in San Antonio was for sure the top item that I wasn't prepared for in life. If I had her at dinner, I could tell her that indeed the lightening did find me, and it brought a whole new world to me.

The Easter Basket

Sun, 24 Mar 2024 21:57:10 GMT

When an Easter Basket is not JUST an Easter Basket

When my brother and I were kids, we'd wake up on Easter morning to a trail of white cotton balls that led from our room to the living area. It was almost as exciting as Christmas morning, except the trail led, not to a tree overladen with gifts, but to two huge baskets full of chocolate bunnies, candy and almost anything else you could think of that would cause the Tooth Fairy to pay a visit after the Easter Bunny made his departure. It is a memory that I have carried with me for years. My mom never let any holiday pass without some sort of celebration. Every occasion was met with greeting cards. Greeting cards were her specialty. There was always one ready to be mailed to someone as they marked whatever milestone was on the calendar. It's something I do to this day. There's something special about writing and sending a Hallmark. I know it's the new world of texts and emails, but nothing beats sending someone a real card in the mail.

The memories of what my mom did for me are forever with me, and when John agreed to come visit over Easter Weekend of 2022, I didn't even think twice about what I was going to do to make him feel welcome.

"You're making a what?" my friend Debra asked as we walked around Target.

"It's just a basket," I replied. "He's flying all this way, I have to make him feel at home."

"Yes, but this is a bit more than that, don't you think?" she persisted when she saw that I had not only chosen gluten free treats, but items like Gluten Free Pasta, a collection of stories by Edgar Allan Poe, one of his favorite authors, and of course, a small jigsaw puzzle - because I still couldn't quite put my finger on this mystery. Every time I told Debra I was in Target, I was met with the same response.

"What else are you buying for the basket?"

In all honesty, I didn't go to purposely find things to add. Things just happened that way.

Then I thought, well, I just can't have the basket sitting on the table. And that's when I remembered the bunny trail my mom used to assemble. But, since color is such an important part of my life, I couldn't just use regular white cotton balls. And of course, no matter what store I searched, I came up empty. Once again, it was Amazon to the rescue. As the weekend approached, the basket was finally assembled, the trail extending from the table to the front door to the steps outside. John's flight was due to land at 5pm. And as I sat at the stop light not far from my apartment, I got a text. STOP. We're turning back to the gate.

And so began the next few hours of would he or wouldn't he arrive in time to salvage the long weekend. I even called my friend in Arizona to see if John could spend the night at his condo if his flight wasn't able to leave his layover city of Phoenix. As the sun set, I was getting less and less confident that the Texan would make it to LA, but four hours later, when he texted that his flight had finally gotten take off clearance, I double checked the bunny trail and headed out to LAX. Unfortunately, it was so dark by the time he landed, I was afraid the outside cotton balls would be hard to see.

This was the first time we'd seen each other since he left Palm Springs, and as I stood waiting at baggage claim with Welcome balloons and a smaller Easter basket -- yes, there was another basket -- I suddenly was in a panic. I had a boy coming to visit me. I couldn't even get one to drive up from Palm Springs or make the drive an hour away in the valley to come to Toluca Lake. And here was one flying in from Texas! I was getting more nervous by the minute as person after person came around the corner to the baggage carousels. And, then, there he was - as pocket sized as I remembered him, with his bag in one hand and a big smile on his face. I attribute that to the balloons, though.

Our conversation was just as easy as it was when we had met a few weeks earlier. My biggest disappointment was that by the time we'd gotten back home, it was too dark to see the trail of cotton balls that led from the driveway into my apartment.

Rosemarie showed me in a million different ways how much she loved me. Cards, notes, dinners, phone calls on our Tuesday & Saturday schedule when it was a time before emails and FaceTime. The examples are endless. I knew how to SHOW someone I cared, I just didn't know how to tell them. There were so many disappointments over the years. I tried so hard with so many to only get rejected, ghosted or told clearly that I was not to spend the night. From the start, this relationship was different and the puzzle pieces of it kept accumulating and falling into place.

Throughout all the wonderful moments of these past two years, the only sadness is that I can't share this phase of my life with my mom. There's a part of my heart that I don't think will ever recover from losing my mother, but, I can say for certain that that space has been filled with more treats than could ever fit into an Easter Basket.

My Travels with United

Sat, 27 Jan 2024 19:41:03 GMT

The Friendly Skies and Me

Lots of things in life you can't plan for - I of all people can tell you that for sure. When I decided to leave Boston and start a life in California, I chose United Airlines to take me across the country. Now, this isn't a piece praising the company above any others, it's just that when I thought about it, I realized that the airline was the one that brought me to every new chapter of my life. When I moved back to Boston; returned to San Francisco and tried my luck in New York, I flew them because I somehow felt it was fitting that the airline who was with me at the beginning, should bring me to every additional new chapter. Keep in mind that when I first came to California - pre 9/11 - flying was a whole different experience. There was no TSA, anyone could walk you to or meet you at the gate, and craziest of all - no smoking on planes had just recently been implemented. Most surprising, was that one way flights were three times as expensive as round trips. On my first move to San Francisco, I booked a return on a random date towards the end of the year. When the date came to miss the flight (without any penalty) - I thought briefly on how far I'd come in such a short time. I had made it. I was here to stay. Or so I thought.

As much as I hate flying, I know it's the only way to get anywhere. Thinking about being in a metal tube flying at over 500 mph does not sit well with me, so it's best not to think about where you are at the moment. At least now, I can text my friends to keep my thoughts occupied. Every time I returned home to Boston, I felt somehow connected to book United. When they introduced more non stops from SFO to BOS over Mothers' Day in the mid '90s -I think it was for $300, I came back to surprise my mom. Every trip was an adventure. From the very flamboyant flight attendant who gave me champagne when I flew United to Italy for my four week European adventure, to the one who moved me up to business class (I'm sure I was too naive then to think why), they were all fun rides.

Of course, over the years, I did book trips on other airlines, but somehow, when I transplanted my life, I always felt I should book the airline that first started my journey. So, when it was time to move to Texas, I once again, booked the airline that started this whole incredible journey.

BOS-SFO-BOS-SFO-LAX-NYC-LAX-SAT

Thu, 18 Jan 2024 03:11:07 GMT

Journeys are an interesting part of life. To say that my life has been one big adventure would be an understatement for sure. When I think back on it, I knew I never wanted to stay put in Medford, which is a not so small city, seven miles north of Boston.

The world was always bigger than I could imagine, and something about California was always at the forefront of my mind. Of course, before California, I dreamed of Europe. In fact, instead of going to college, I wanted to travel across the Atlantic and spend a year or two going from city to city and country to country.

1983 was a time before cell phones and Email. The only way to stay in contact with people was via phone or postal mail. My parents, particularly, my mom, would not hear of my leaving the country. It was out of the question, no more discussion. I was to go to college, even though I had no idea what I wanted to study or where I wanted to attend.

When I realized that I wouldn't win the Europe discussion, I decided on an out of state school. Once again, I was met with resistance. The only choice was an institution close by, as my father would not even entertain the thought of my living away from home. I couldn't even tour a small school in Rhode Island. My dad didn't like to drive to the beach, which was less than ten miles from home, let alone leave the state to look at a college. Instead, I reluctantly chose Suffolk University - where "all of downtown Boston is your campus."

Unfortunately, I was miserable. Going every day to a city where my mom and I went all the time held no fascination for me. A year later, I transferred to Boston College, where once again, I was met with resistance. I had been given housing, which as a transfer student was extremely rare. However, my father squashed that idea and bargained that if I took public transportation for a year, he would buy me a car. Lesson number one of life - get everything in writing, for 365 days passed and it was, "Well, you've taken the train for a year, you can do it for another." In rebellion, I lined up an off-campus apartment.

When I was once again met with resistance, I reminded my parents of their promise that I would get a car. In the end, it was a small win. I was pretty lost in college. Not living on campus, I felt isolated and I met only one person I can proudly call friend to this day. My friend, Sue was my savior and made me feel like a person for the very first time in my life.

After graduation, I wasted no time in moving to Boston. With my rent a staggering $500 a month, I managed to stay in the city for almost three years until I followed my heart to California. I suppose that I've always been a wanderer. Once I got to San Francisco, I wanted a taste of more of the world. From there, I finally traveled to Europe, and, although I am Italian, I fell in love with Paris. And when I at last took my mom there in 2010 , it was a dream come true.

There was so much of the world to see, and sharing something I loved with someone I loved was everything to me. I had no boyfriend, no significant other, I had only myself and the family I created in California. But as before, I left my family and tried my luck once again in Boston. However, I found that the city of my youth didn't change. It was I who had morphed into something different, so I returned once again to the City by the Bay.

Yet, it wasn't long until Southern California beckoned. Try something new, I thought. What if I had moved to Los Angeles all those years ago and not Northern California? Why not try to get into the world
of entertainment? I set a goal, finally getting a job at NBC, which allowed me to frequently travel to New York City. It was there that I moved once again, only to discover that relocating for reasons of escaping life is not the best course of action, and I returned once more to California, where I thought I'd stay put forever. Living in Los Angeles and traveling back and forth to my desert oasis of Palm Springs was something that made me happy.

And, then, a Texan arrived, and my journey continued. There were so many paths in my life that I didn't take because I was afraid or because I was told I could not undertake. What if I had gone to Europe all those years ago and not attended college? What would my life have been if that were the path I had undertaken? I've never been afraid to take risks. Being fearful of the future keeps you stuck to repeat your present.

On one of our trips to Europe , my mom shared her stories of her past and all the what if's she was afraid to face. Those vacations were pivotal in how I saw the world and how I came to realize that nothing should ever be taken for granted. Be in the moment, breathe in what's around you, for it all fades too quickly. The past is done and cannot be changed, yet you can always take charge of what's next.

limontella

Brought to you by the letter "P"

The Past, Palm Springs and a place called Paris

On a Night Like This

La Luna - La Bella Luna

Hey, Old Friend

Love and other Stories

Baby, it's Cold Outside

I'm not Grumpy, You're Grumpy

Full Circle

30 Years of Drawing a Circle

Bonnes Fetes

It's Almost a New Year

Smile, You're Back on NBC

NBC, Pastries and Wine, oh My!

Did the Gypsies Take You?

Bundle up - it's Cold Out there with the Gypsies

Christmas on the Champs-Élysées

Sunday Funday - Paris Style

Getting Lost

Just Get Lost

Requiem for a Requiem

The First Paris Night

The Holiday Begins

A New Christmas Story

Joyeux Noël

Retour à Paris

What a Ride We've Had

Saying Good-bye too soon

Thoughts of a Sadie

Musings of a Married Man

On the Cusp of 60 and 10

Two Giant Milestones - One Lucky Number

Leaving Paris...for now

Until Next Time, Paris

Let's meet in Paris!

Friends, Love and a Whole lot of Music Madness

The Last Two Days Approach

The Weekend Before our Return

Another train ride to another day of adventure

What is Friendship?

A Day with no Agenda is always a good idea in Paris

What to do with no Agenda in Paris?

Retour a Paris

The Second Half of the Honeymoon Begins

A New Destination

Speeding Towards a New Chapter

The day could not have been more perfect

A Spectacular Anniversary Day

Pasta, Wine, Gelato and Bears

Really? The Bears?

Food, Coffee, and Art Oh My

Anyone ever Walk 14,000 Steps Before Lunch?

Who Ever Thought?

A Very Long Day

Paris is Always a Good Idea

A Return to the City of Light

The Godmother and Me

The Godmother and Me

Three Years in the Car

Just Get in...

Another Ball Drop

A Record Ball Drop Year

The Next Chapter

How does it feel?

A Grinch No More

Someone's Heart Grew a Few Sizes that day

A New Chapter - A New Volume

Sadie, Sadie...

The People You Miss

Life's Twists and Turns

Home Stretch

Falling into a New Season

Paths Intersected

My Mom, Marilyn and Texas

Wonderland and Me

Where exactly is Wonderland?

Savor the moment

Savor the moment - even the summer heat

The Easter Basket

Two Giant Milestones -
One Lucky Number