Skinny Wednesday

Lent began today. I've never been especially good at giving things up, but over-indulging on Fat Tuesday has always been easy. And with my two moms in town, it was even easier than usual.

When I was in Italy, my overly patriotic father who will never leave the country would not come to visit me with my real mom. So Bonnie came along instead. People in my program were a little confused when the two moms showed up, as were the maitre'ds (is that correct?) when they insisted on getting a cot in their room in Florence for "their" daughter. We drank wine straight out of the bottle in St. Mark's Square, watched my mom lock herself in a tiny coed bathroom, and had a deli worker explain the meaning of love to us.

They've been traveling up the coast from Florida enjoying their retirement and stopping at every plantation and old southern city they can find. Charlotte was a less historic pit stop, but one I was lucky they made because it meant I had an excuse to stuff my face full of Charlotte's best Italian food and desserts. They left this morning, leaving me feeling quite empty (as lame and cliche as that sounds). I love my mom. I love her even more when there's two of her. And a monotonous day of school and South Beach diet food feels even more deprived after a day of indulgence.

The whole time they were here, I demanded that they give me life advice. What I really want, more than advice, is for someone to just tell me what to do. Or someone to at least give me some solid ground to give me at least a little sense of stability. Unfortunately, my mom's pushiness stops at the point of making decisions for me, usually with her exclaiming that she thinks I should "follow my hopes, dreams, and aspirations." Whatever that means. I was able to at least get the pearl of wisdom that making a choice does not necessarily result in a mistake, but just in something different. And that you don't always have to have everything 100% figured out, because there will be things like Nutella Pie and salted caramel brownies to fill the part that remains uncertain.

At an Italian restaurant in Charlotte celebrating Momma's birthday

I suppose the only thing I can do is get a grip, suck it up, and just chill out. Have some fun while life is sorting out the details for me. Try to distract myself by giving up some part of my daily routine (i.e. Facebook... we'll see how long this lasts) to understand sacrifice. Before I know it, something great will just fall in my lap, wrapped up in a nice little bow. That counts as a plan, right?