. . . the tough plan a vacation and start a new hobby in connection therewith. In connection therewith? Lordy I do need a hobby. And a vacation. Last year I went on a gourmet cooking vacation in Tuscany. I’d always wanted to go, and it was a fun trip. But I realized that I’m definitely more an outdoors girl than a museum girl. My favorite parts of the trip were my walks in the Tuscan countryside and the day trip to the coast: Cinque Terra. The day I turned 49, I was in Florence. This year, I’m going to top that. But alas, I won’t be going exactly on my birthday because the trip I want to take isn’t offered on my birthday. It’s offered in the late summer and early fall when the salmon are spawning. Why then? Because that’s when the wildlife viewing is abundant. Which means I’ll need a good camera. Which means I’ll need to take a class to learn how to use it properly. The class starts in two weeks. Just enough time to pick one out and get somewhat familiar with it.

Here is the description of the sailing trip from the website. I wanted to link it, but I couldn’t get it to this exact part. The tour is with Emerald Isle Sailing.

THE NORTHERN GREAT BEAR RAINFOREST

Sailing between Bella Bella, B.C. and Ketchikan, Alaska

Finding the right words to describe the Great Bear can be difficult. Experiencing its raw, primeval beauty firsthand can leave the explorer indelibly changed. It is the largest remaining expanse of temperate rainforest left on the planet. Largely unknown, it is quickly emerging into the limelight as the battle to save its ancient forests from clearcutting intensifies. Its dramatically beautiful mountains, islands, and river valleys are home to grizzlies, black bear, the rare white “Spirit” bear, wolves, and a vast array of other wildlife and plants.

The Great Bear lies roughly from the north end of Vancouver Island on the central B.C. coast up to the Alaska border. We plan our trips here to be in prime areas for wildlife viewing during the summer salmon runs when hoards of wild salmon return to their pristine rivers of birth, attracting bear, wolves, eagles, ravens, and others to the feast. Join us as we silently glide upriver in the electrically powered inflatable to quietly witness this ancient ritual. Watch salmon lay their eggs in the river gravel after their far flung journey. Feel your pulse quicken as a majestic grizzly plunges in and emerges with a silvery meal. Back on the mother ship, be quick with your camera as a humpback whale breaches nearly out of the water close by. Feel the hair on the back of your neck tingle as a pack of wolves howls from under moss-draped ancient cedars around our protected anchorage.

I’ve been thinking about this trip since I heard about it from a colleague who took the trip this past September. My two favorite things: sailing and nature. I grew up sailing with my dad. And I grew up in nature with my dad, spending time at our cabin in Ontario on Lake Superior. The last trip I made there was over Labor Day 2011–the last year my dad went before he died. It was nearly a yearly trip for me. This year, I’ll spend Labor Day sailing on the Pacific Coast, viewing the wildlife in a different Canadian province. My dad would have loved this trip. It is my tribute to him. I’ll be going right about the time he had his brain surgery last year. He died a month later on October 18 at 6:00 a.m. sharp. It still impresses me that he managed his last heartbeat at the top of the hour, just as the dawn was breaking.

Today is my 49th birthday. My last birthday with a 4 in front of it. I awoke this morning at the Hotel Bernini in Florence. Last night, I had a four-course dinner at a wonderful restaurant, including too much wine. The meal was so fabulous, I’m not even going to try to top it. I’ve also grown a bit weary of getting lost. Florence is a maze! But since I was out the door at 7:30 this morning, I made it to the Uffizi and didn’t wait in line for long. The museum was spectacular. After I meandered amongst the statutes and busts and Botticelli paintings, including the Birth of Venus, I spent the next five hours wandering through the maze of streets that is Florence. I’ve finished being lost, and now I’m sitting in the hotel bar.  It’s lovely, decorated in traditional Tuscan furninishings of purple and gold.  I’m sipping on a delicious chianti and watching people. Not a bad way to spend a birthday.

Ive got lots of photographs left to post, including those from my favorite day of all:  Cinque Terre, the Italian Riveria. The coast was spectacular. As was our cliff-side lunch.

This has been such a fabulous trip. I’m not sure how I’m going to top it next year: 50.  Any recommendations?

 

After 12 hours of flight time, I made it to Tuscany and I’m at the villa. It’s lovely. But I’ve yet to sleep on a trans-Atlantic flight. I was plied with Prosecco and Italian salami, olives, and cheese upon my arrival. The chef’s name is Valentino. Perfect.

I hadn’t intended to nap. The plan was to push on through. But then the light rain began, and it was so cozy that I thought I’d rest my head for a moment. A moment turned into a three-hour nap. I feel rested and ready to continue the adventure.

I’m off in search of my villa-mates, whom I haven’t yet met. And more Prosecco.

What I remember most about my childhood is moving vans and boxes. But no matter where we lived—Chicago, Saginaw, Denver, Long Island, Houston, Charlotte—we always spent our summers in the same place: Lake Superior, Ontario. Here are some photos from my last visit, September 2011. I took over 500 shots, so I had a tough time choosing.

This weekend I was scheduled to go to my firm partnership retreat.  Hundreds of lawyers bonding and on their best behavior.  I’m actually sorry I’ll be missing it. Evidence of a sick mind, if ever there was. Instead, I’ll be traveling to a Texas city to attend my brother’s memorial. Will my pedophile brother-in-law be in attendance? Stay tuned.

In more upbeat news, I’ve been learning a little Italian for my upcoming trip. Today I learned the very important phrase: Del vino, per favore. I’d say, I’m all set.

Because typing on this iPad is so tedious, I’m cutting this one short.

Arrivederci.

The painter comes tomorrow. It feels like this change is about a lot more than paint color. It’s been six months since I ended things with Mack, give or take a handful of days. According to popular thinking, it was to take me half the time of the relationship to feel free of him. We were “together” a few days shy of a year. So here we are, at half-time.

At least in my case, the formula is accurate. It took a psychiatrist, a cocktail of antidepressants, a therapist, a personal trainer, an interior designer, a painter, and a scheduled trip to Tuscany. But I’m free of him. Mostly.

I go days at a time without him sliding into my thoughts. I’ve stopped mentioning him to my friends; for which I’m sure they are most grateful. I’ve stopped muttering a barage of profanity to myself, when I do think of him. I’ve started wearing the ring again. On my right hand. I asked two of my dear friends at sushi the other night, “Does it pass as a right-hand ring?” And they said, “It can be whatever you want it to be.” What I want it to be is a very special ring I bought for myself. Which is exactly what it is.

I’m so grateful it sits upon my right hand, rather than my left.

Yes, it’s definitely about more than just the paint. It’s about making my life, my environment, my world, just the way I want it to be. My old paint is a burnished red. And sandy beige. My new paint is a deep vibrant teal and a neutral called Coastal Fog. I’ve always been attracted to cool colors. I have no idea how I ended up with warm. But tomorrow, they’ll be gone. And my home will be vibrating on the same frequency as my soul.

And I’ll have painted over Mack.

Follow

Get every new post delivered to your Inbox.

Join 230 other followers