I love reading. Like love, love. I suffer true grief when I finish a book and don't have something as good lined up next. While other people read at night to fall asleep, a good book usually keeps me awake. I sometimes go so far as to throw the book off my bed so I physically can not reach it and am forced to bore myself to sleep. (But sometimes I still get up and out of bed to retrieve said book and stay up all night.)

I call these Tuesday musings love letters because they come from my heart and they are comprised of words and letters. Writing is definitely a love language for me and the most efficient way for me to express myself. But since I've arrived back in the USA, I've received love letters of many forms, not necessarily written.

I made a bold claim on Instagram yesterday that I would write about something that begins with the letter B today. So I walked to the supermarket thinking of B words. I went first to food. Bacon. Burgers. Bitter almonds. Bananas. Blueberries. Butter. As I lay in bed last night I started in on: Biking. Baseball. Basketball. Which led me to Michael Jordon and Space Jam and the song “I Believe I Can Fly” which took me to the power of beliefs. I thought about bottles, boyfriends, bats, brooms, baskets (especially Easter baskets but that’s not really in season right now although bunnies might be relevant) and boats (definitely warrant more exploration), and bots and beaches and brooms. I dedicated about three hours of my time yesterday thinking of words, topics, ideas…anything belonging to the letter B.

"It's not you, it's me." This was the narrative I learned about breaking up in the late 90s early 00s. It was the storyline of popular films and the allegedly “kind way” to let someone know that a relationship isn’t working while avoiding confrontation or honest conversation. But really, it was you. Or at least between the you and me there's always an us that makes (or breaks) a relationship. What’s the other saying? “It takes two to tango.” Yup, that one. I’m not here to talk about grade-school breakups or heartbreak. Yet I do have some thoughts on breaking up with your brain. Yes, your brain. 

Today I invite you to write a love letter using one word, three letters: AND.

Three letters that help us find the space, place, energy, and time to create ourselves, acknowledge the moment, and believe in the beyond. I won't say to move forward, or to keep up, or to continue, because sometimes and helps us slow down, stop, pause, reflect.

I got to meet two amazing babies this past weekend, products of two of my best women friends and their respective husbands. The 14-month-old girl could not be slowed down or bothered to get to know me, but 8-month-old Gos (not his real name, shortened from Gosling because of his downy head of hair) was more than happy to indulge me in my role as adoptive aunty.

Leaving things until the last minute isn’t really my forte. I like to think I can be spontaneous and flexible, but I also crave a certain amount of order and preparation. Tomorrow I leave a house that I’ve lived in for a year. I think it feels more dramatic than past moves because I am not simply changing places, I’m stepping into the unknown. I know where I’ll be in the next two months (Rome, Naples, Nantucket), and I know (that kind of knowing that shows up in my stomach) that I will find another house here in Cefalu in September. But I don’t have everything lined up yet.

Ah summer, she's here! I often use what's available at the fruit and veggie store as an indicator of where we are in the year and right now, it's stone fruit time. When cherries first came out, I thought: "Can't be! Much too soon...what happened to the asparagus?" But now that the donut peaches, plums, and apricots have arrived in abundance (along with the humid heat), summer can't be denied.

Well hello! And happy Tuesday to you too. I'm confident that you're starting the week off right if you're here making space to read words that make you smile. (I know, presumptuous of me to think you might smile...but I have to aim high!)

I had the chance to visit an extraordinary winemaker this past week. Her name is Arianna Occhipinti. (You might recognize her from Stanley Tucci's tour of Sicily.) Besides being young, driven, and delightfully refreshing in a world that can be quite arrogant, stubborn, and dominated by (yes, I'm going to say it) white, old men, she's also extremely dedicated to her land.

Good morning (or afternoon) from summery Sicily!

I’ve got two topics on my mind today. I know you’d prefer to hear stories on me riding donkeys with my 85-year-old gramma in Greece, or recovering from dengue fever twice, or ordering prime rib and expecting ribs and crying about it, but today I’m letting you all in on a little secret (or two).

Happy June dear friends! Hope these long days are bringing you extra light, energy, and room for exploration.

I took two driving adventures recently. I really wanted to take a picture from my car window the other day but I also wanted to be a responsible driver, so I didn't. The picture I wanted to take was of road signs. Boring? Potentially, but not this one.

I was lying in bed the other night and I started cracking myself up in the dark thinking about the card game Old Maid. My sister and I had these oversized cards that were beaten and battered, but none more so than the Old Maid. She was dog-eared and worn through on every corner, so obvious that when either of us would go to pick a card, you could pretty much tell which one was the Old Maid. (My sister eventually got smarter and started dog-earing more cards to level the playing field.) But I hated losing so I would try to find any way to distinguish the Old Maid from the rest. I focused a lot of time and energy on avoiding the Old Maid, rather than looking for perfect pairs. And that, my friends, is common practice.

Yesterday afternoon while sitting on the beach I couldn't decide what I wanted to write about. But I did decide that if (ahem….when) I write a book, I will dedicate at least half to Italian rituals at the beach. Chapters may include but are not limited to:

What to Wear: Less is More
What to Eat: A Place-Based Investigation
Personal Space: A Philosophic Treaty on the Implementation of a Rare Concept
Public vs. Private Beaches: What to Expect When You’re Expecting Instagram Photos
The Art of Tanning
Public Grooming: A Well-Plucked Guide to Public Displays of Affection

I started writing this letter on Sunday. Over the past three days, I've written more than 2,000 words on the thoughts sparked by the job negotiation process I've been involved in this past month. The experience brought up a lot: instincts, excitement, hesitations, insecurities, discomfort, curiosity, humor, potential, gratitude, confidence...a whole realm of emotions. Inspired and at the same time overwhelmed by the process, I figured today would be a good day to write a love letter to all who work.

Happy May everyone! I love this month, mostly because of the promise that "April showers bring May flowers." I feel like May is really a time to bloom. We (hopefully) put the cold, dark winter behind us and move forward into brighter times. Today I'm offering a quick-ish, honest, heart-to-heart. I know you're here reading along for some reason. I'm hoping that reason is you are thinking of coaching. If you're on the fence, I've got five reasons why you should not be working with a coach. I'm open to any and all counterarguments, but here's what made my list!

As a coach, one of my promises to you is to show up without judgment. I'm here to listen to your stories. To take in and be curious about your daily life. To search for meaning with you about what you think of as bold actions, big fears, and true meaning. My questions come from a place of care with a desire for you to get exactly what you want. We are working together to discover what it means for you to live authentically, with purpose and joy. 

JOY.

It’s one of my core values. It’s expansive, warm, radiant, and full of possibility and opportunity. It’s what I want for myself and for others. It's why I coach. The written word itself is playful: short, open, somewhat symmetrical with the O connecting the smiling J and the upward reaching Y. You can "jump for joy" and bring "joy to the world." Who doesn’t want joy? 

Here I am, as promised. I wanted to honor all of you new subscribers and give a personal welcome. I'm guilty of assuming you already know me, or if you don't, it feels a little self-indulgent thinking you might want to know anything more than what's on my website or LinkedIn. But I'm going to put all those preconceptions aside and let you into my world. Even if I insist that coaching really isn't about me (it's about YOU!), I suppose you might want to know a little more about this person you're debating getting into a long-term, committed coaching relationship with. So let's get started with ten things you may or may not know about me, completely irrelevant to coaching.  

Hey, hey, hey! I've had my head in the clouds lately, but not those fluffy, light, bright clouds where Care Bears certainly live. More like the long, dark, streaky rain clouds that are prone to scramble my vision and obscure my horizon: that place that steadies me, that promises possibility, that shows me a way forward. Brain clouds (whether light and fluffy or dark and rainy) can be so powerful that I risk getting my head stuck up there and even my feet start leaving the ground. Who cares, you say? Well, I do, because I'm looking to take steps forward and without my feet on the ground that gets hard. 

Happy Tuesday! I'm keeping it short and sweet today (hence the gelato photo).

But I have a question for you all: What are you hungry for?