kiwifruit's Diaryland Diary ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- La Dolce Vida Home again. Home again. Jiggity jig. I tried to keep my eyes open as the New York skyline welcomed me back but I was too tired, my eyelids sagged shut and I missed my favorite part of coming home, the part where I look at the city and think�Ah, this is the place I love, this is where I belong. So now here I am, up too early because I�m still on Italy time, drinking extremely disappointing coffee with skim (gak!) milk, and eating Special K. Yesterday I went to the gym and was tempted to make out with my yoga instructor it was so good to be back in pretzel formation again (even though my movement was impended by my cute little pasta belly). I attempted to go to a step class prior to yoga and I was so disgusted by the New York 30-something mommies with washboard abs and designer workout outfits talking about private schools and handbags that I had to leave and run on the treadmill instead. You don�t realize it until you leave, but New York women are different they are a different beast all together. And they are really, really annoying. Okay, I�m over-generalizing. Upper East Side New York gym-rat mommies and the like are annoying. Italy was amazing. In fact I really didn�t want to leave. I wanted to chain myself to the outside of the Duomo until C. agreed to stay. No such luck. We had such a whirlwind tour that it�s just sinking in now�Naples, Ischia, Pompeii, Positano, Sorrento, Florence, Rome and Capri. But I have to say that Florence was my absolute favorite spot. Okay, maybe Florence and Positano because I just loved returning somewhere that we visited last year and returning to our �favorite� spots, seeing friends we made last year and (of course) lazing on the beach with a book. It�s good to be home though. Good to sleep in my own bed. To laze around the apartment in my sweats watching Full Frontal Fashion on TV. And yeah, I know I have to get a real job soon but for this week I can ignore that reality and bask in the glory that I�m sliding into my 32cnd year on Saturday in a relatively good state of mind. It must be said though, that 32 is nothing like turning 30, or even 31. At 32 you are definitely, without a doubt, in your 30�s. There�s no turning back, you are way out of your 20�s and frankly, you should really start to get your shit together. I guess I am a relatively late bloomer having just discovered the beauty of anti-aging creams and vitamins. Who knew? Next I�ll be balancing my checkbook and not staying out until 4 in the morning (well, maybe not). One step at a time, Sieze the Day�and all that crap. La di da. La di da.
9:28 a.m. - 2002-10-02 ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- |
||||||
|
||||||