My baby and I

Shameless Plug

For those of you following my husband's "blog book", you'll be glad to know that he finally posted a new chapter.
Hey, the man is meticulous! It took him a year to post this latest one, but hopefully the next one won't take as long!

So, go check it out, and see what you think :-)

I run, therefore I am...skinnier?

Many of you know I run. I consider myself a runner even though I still struggle to get up to my goal of logging 20 weekly miles, and even though to the naked eye my "running" looks more like jogging or bounce-walking.

I consider myself a runner mostly because I am dedicated. I started running back in 2002 and have been since with a few breaks in between, some due to injury some due to laziness and some due to pregnancy, fatness and overall out-of-shape-ness.
But I'm at it again, this time since April and it always surprises me how much I like it. It does so much for my self-esteem, for that closet athlete in me who loves the feeling of pushing my body to do things I could swear it could not do.

But beyond that, I just love getting out there. And I like the paradoxical feeling that is how something so simple can be so hard. HOw much it can hurt. Oh but it hurts so goooooood!

So I run, and I will probably continue to do so for the rest of my life, or at least as long as my body allows me to do so.
I ran 5 miles this morning with some friends and that just made my day much better than it would hvae otherwise been.
I run, therefore, I'm a runner. Or actually, I love to run, therefore I'm a runner.

Renzo Bertacchini

Renzo Bertacchini was 91. He passed away last week, alone, in an ICU bed. He was my grandpa. Mi abuelo. Il mio nonno.

I got the news from my sister, poor thing, she didn't know how to tell me, so she wrote me an email because she couldn't call me and say it out loud without sobbing. He was old and ill, so we knew his time was near, and yet the reality of the goodbye hit us hard all the same. We will miss him, with his heavy italian accent, his dry sense of humor, his cheek "pinches". I will miss him.

He made the BEST toasted bread slices (I know, it sounds weird, but in Argentina we don't actually use electric toasters, you have use SKILL!!!) for us when we were kids for our afternoon snack (la merienda, which is an official meal in Argentina).
He walked us to school and picked us up, he loved us in the only way he knew how, with his actions. Sometimes with his super tight hugs. For me the hardest thing has been not being able to be there to see him one last time, to hold his hand, so give him a kiss. To hold my brother and sister as they said goodbye. I was here, not there, and for that I will always be a little sad.

Chau nono. Nos vemos,un beso grande!
Tu nieta, la gordita, la Maria!