I should have said Yes to the Italian, No?

I like to think of myself as a writer, which would work if I actually wrote even somewhat regularly, which I don't. Also, just by the quality of that first sentence, I need more practice and have a ways to go. This is what we call free writing... stream of consciousness writing, where the "editor" isn't really turned on and is actually better completely turned off. I have a very strong internal editor who is very difficult to silence. While I write, I am simultaneously reading my words through the eyes of at least three or four other people who are judging and reading into every word. Needless to say, I don't get much done.

View from my exquisite room at the Atlantic Hotel

I actually started writing tonight because I thought I should say something about the Italian I met on Ft. Lauderdale Beach Blvd. last night. (I am in Florida attending some workshops on new software we are implementing at my office.)

First of all, he was extraordinarily Italian and in the best of ways. Probably about my age, handsome as could be, pleasantly overweight, and on a skateboard. I was walking from my hotel after a long day of travel, hungry, and intent on enjoying a bit of sunset on the beach and hopefully finding a nice spot to enjoy a lonely meal. Along the way, I started singing. No one was around (and I am shy about singing out loud in public unless it is a performance venue) and I was truly enjoying the air, the gorgeous crystaline blue ocean view, and simply feeling happy. The gentleman on the skateboard scooting by surprised me, and hearing my voice, he turned his head and smiled.

Then he stopped and within a few steps I met up with him. He asked if I was Indian, and I said no, but I am Sikh. Within a few moments we were laughing and talking about his college roommates who had been Punjabi Sikhs. He spoke better Punjabi than I did. His name was Gianni and what a natural charmer.

Italians appreciate good food, love, and natural beauty. I know this from Italians I have known and from books I have read (hello, Eat, Pray, Love). I haven't known a lot of Italians or read many books about Italians, but I feel confident in making that statement. I realized that he was hoping for some company for the evening. I felt flattered by his comments about my classic natural beauty that glowed from within. He also noted I did not have a wedding ring (and I wouldn't be surprised if this was one of the first things he noticed). I laughed and told him how both my husband and I had broken our ring fingers on separate occasions and had to cut off our rings. We'd never replaced them, and didn't feel the need to do so. We are so solid! Poor Gianni seemed a little disappointed, and said, "Oh, well I guess you probably don't drink either." I confirmed this. So we talked, shook hands, and parted ways, I walking one way, and he turned around and skateboarded the other.

Here is Gianni (not!). I should have said yes. It would have been fun to sit and talk.

I walked on and found a lovely Italian restaurant right across from the beach. The sun was sitting low in the sky which was already shutting its eyelids in shades of pink, orange and purple. I asked for a table where I could sit and enjoy the view and have a bite to eat. And I did. Some crusty warm bread dipped in luscious olive oil & garlic, salad with asparagus spears, goat cheese, baby greens, toasted pecans and a medley of other perfect ingredients, along with a virgin strawberry daiquiri for dessert. It was perfect; me, the sun, the sea, and a beautifully prepared simple meal. I felt complete and blessed.

Delicious. And the fork is not blue. I think it is reflecting the sky.