Within a period of three years Sara made all her pieces fall into place.

Watch today’s video and find out how she did it.

Great new job, love of her life, and adjustment to her new household situation. We can all learn from her.

Today’s 50@50 is pleased to present Sara Nelson.

Saturday I did what I have been promising myself for a long time, I took an all day photo course so finally, maybe, perhaps, if I paid close attention I would actually learn how to use my cameras on any setting other than automatic.

I found a course through  New York City Photography Workshop.  It was seven hours and promised to be small; five people max,  so we would all get individual attention.

I was very keen to finally figure out my NikonJ1.  My friend the  photographer Tim Clary did give me a lesson, but I’m not too quick with these things and I couldn’t keep bugging him forever.  He suggested I might want to go take an all day Nikon course, but those are in hotel ballrooms and I think they just read the manuals out loud.

So Saturday I headed off to Crosby Street to the Jeffrey Apoin Studio, to hopefully, finally, maybe learn how to use a camera.

On my way out of the house something told me, that little voice of common sense or the one that says you might not want to be humiliated, take your CanonG11. So, despite the fact I didn’t feel I needed to learn how to use it, don’t ask me why I felt that way, since there is not one button on it aside from AUTO I understand, but I took it with me anyway.

On the way down I started getting nervous, see, my Nikon, while apparently very trendy, is the Ashton Kutcher camera. It is slick and sleek much like the Ashman himself.  And it also comes in a wide variety of colors, including pink.

Would you buy a camera from this man?

I don’t have a pink camera, I have white one.

My Ashton Nikon in white.

That’s already bad enough. I had these images of the four other people in the group all sitting their with their big SLR’s and there I would be with Ashton’s camera. I had visions of Reese Witherspoon in Legally Blonde, sitting in the law class at Harvard with her pink computer.   There I would be the lonely, photographer in training with a camera that comes in pink. Nobody would take me seriously. And despite the fact it has multiple lenses, Ashton’s camera might not be able to do everything the others can.

Looks kind of like Barbie's camera.

Blessedly there was only one other person in the class, Sergeant Oscar Hernandez of the New Jersey Police Dept.  I’m going to let you in on a little secret –  Police Sergeants do not have pink cameras. In fact they don’t have cameras that are even made in pink. Oscar had exactly what I thought people would have a nice, big solid Canon. He had a man’s camera, a photographer’s camera. I had one that might cheat on Demi Moore.

Oscar's camera. Manly and strong. The kind of camera that won't let you down.

Jeffrey is a very good teacher and a very patient man.  He taught both Oscar and me a lot. The problem was and is the Ashton Kutcher camera does not like to be used with manual settings.  It likes Ashton to do all the work. There is even one really annoying thing where you can’t take the light meter down below a certain number.

Jeffrey helping Oscar with his real camera.

Now mind you before Saturday I didn’t know the difference between an ISO and an IPO or F-Stop and a Pit Stop. I now know some of these things.

I have them all written down.  But Ashton for some reason does not want me to use my new found knowledge.   He wants to choose my settings.  And if I try he argues by putting up a red box that says, No, I’m Ashton and I work this camera.

The lens looks professional.

It got very frustrating. So much so, that even Jeffrey who really knows his way around a camera said “I can’t really teach you on this one as it prevents us from doing the simplest of things. Like changing light and shutter speed.”  To keep the sleek, night club friendly look there are very few exterior buttons, when you want to do anything except for a few very simple functions you must go into the settings that are all computerized and it’s really time consuming, confusing and annoying.

Jeffrey finally said, “Let’s just work with the G11, that one won’t  get in our way.”

We had to take multiple shots of this playing with the light.

Lucky I listened to that little voice.  By the end of the day I was understaning things that had confounded me for years.  I was a little frustrated as Oscar’s camera could do everything.

I was even more frustrated because I really like the way the Ashton model looks, but for a long steady, relationship I may have to abandon  him for something a little more mature, reliable and predictable.;  a camera that does not need to have their way all the time. A camera that lets me learn how to use it and make my own decisions.

I’m glad I took the course. I emailed Jeffrey tonight and said I think I need another one, no matter how good the teacher you can’t learn photography in one day. I also asked him what he thought might be a better choice for me if I decided to call it off with Ashton.

The real lesson is something I knew, never count on playboys or movie stars for anything other than amusement and good looks and real cameras don’t come in pink.

Still life taken with my G11. Ashton for some reason does not like rocks.

I decided today it could be used in another way too.

The response to Friday’s blog about forgiving and forgetting those who have hurt or betrayed us got so much feedback I realized I couldn’t let it go with that one slogan.

And then in this morning’s New York Times there was a piece called  “It’s Not Me, It’s You: How to End A Friendship.”  I posted it on my Facebook page only to find it littered immediately with comments.

This got me to thinking about friendships, the ending of them and shut the front door in another way.  I’m shutting the front door, you are no longer allowed in here.

People don’t like to talk about friendships gone bad. Loyalties betrayed. The people in our lives who for whatever reason, have worn out their welcome, proven themselves unworthy of our affection or trust, shared values and interests that whither and take off in opposite directions with the passing of time. Family members who for whatever reason decide blood is far thinner than anger. The list goes on and on.

There are also  friendships that are formed under forced conditions. Friendships made in school, the workplace, the parents of your children’s’ friends,  friends and co-workers of the people you love, neighbors, people you see every day at the gym; the people you might not go out and pluck from the garden of life on your own.   We often find ourselves tethered to them under the umbrella of friendship.

These friendships take very little to topple over.  Their foundation is often weak and when something goes a miss it’s very easy to walk away and shut the front door

Friendships that stand the test of time are very rare.  Friendships that go on from childhood into old age without a speed bump even more rare.

People are human, they are fallible, many will let you down. It’s how badly they do and under what conditions that we have to decide whether or not it is worth it to shut the front door.

I am a big door shutter. Scratch that, I’m a slammer. There are times I not only shut the front door, I bolt the back door and blacken the windows. There are times I feel that is necessary and I am totally unapologetic for it.

There are other times and other situations where I may gently close the front door, yet leave the back one open. And there are times I merely turn the proverbial other cheek.

We all have different thresholds for how much we are willing to take, how much abuse, how much narcissistic behavior, how much giving and not getting back, how many times we show up for someone, yet they are not there for us.  And then of course there are the betrayers, the liars and the ones who say one thing to our face, another behind our back and when we find out they wonder why we are upset.

I’m not painting humanity with a wide, dark brush here. But we have all experienced this at one time or another from various people in our lives. And it is then up to us to decide if we can continue being close to certain people. Are they really our friends?   Is it possible to sit down face-to-face and work through the issues and keep the friendship alive?  Or is it in fact a friendship whose day has come?  Is this the first infraction or just one of many?

For me betrayal is the worst.  It has to do with my background and I have a very low tolerance for any form of it. I have been known to close doors if I merely smell it. I don’t think this has always served me well, but it’s who I am and how I protect myself, and those I love.

I tend to get along better with men than women. In fact up until the last few weeks I can think of very few men who have irked me to the point where I shut the front door.

The older you get I find the less one is willing to take. The more precious time becomes wasting it is longer an option.  As we age problems tend to become larger, friends start to die, our needs and parameters for friendship change. Friends are no longer just someone to go out and have a good time with, but they become people who you hope you will see through the tough times and you them. It’s a different game altogether and if they can’t show up for you now, then shut the front door.

By no means do I think all friendships are disposable and that people should not be forgiven for screwing up or letting us down. We will screw up and let others down.

There are many friendships that are worth fighting like hell to keep, though real friendship like true love should not involve struggle.  But we must have to allow for the slips and slides of behavior.

Part of growing up and older, is knowing when the time has come to shut the front door. And then as Glenn likes to say blink and move on.

Cut to  tonight, for some reason all I wanted  when I walked in the door was a hot bath, I never want a hot bath until right before bed or if I’m sick.  But I must have had some ESP moment, the heat and water would not  be on. And of course I was right. This sent  me into major crankville, our apartment was like a meat locker and we had no hot water. So I kept my coat on and climbed under my quilt and pouted. That was when I should have been blogging and somehow coming up with something to actually say.

We had Fresh Direct chicken pies for dinner,  I complained, Glenn told me to stop complaining I had a great life. I told him It wasn’t about my life or the pies (which are not bad)  it was about being cold.  Now the heat is on and I really just want to go to bed and watch the MSNBC special about Mark Zuckerberg. I’m either on Facebook or watching movies or specials about it or reading about it.  Something wrong there. At least I don’t play Farmville.

Speaking of Facebook, I will leave you with this, I took this from someone’s page the other day. I actually did the right thing and clicked Share. And then I liked it so much I took a screenshot of it. I have totally forgotten whose page it was on so I can’t give them credit and I’m too lazy to go onto my page and scroll through the  week back and look.

But I think this says it all.

It’s a leaner, meaner team this time.  I have Catrin my trusty assistant on her computer. I have the awesome Greg Lee on Internet. I have hubby Glenn Horowitz on the phones. And I have the fine folks at Harper Collins doing all sorts of things.

The first thing they have done is they are doing a free giveaway through GOODREADS. How many of you are on Goodreads? If you aren’t it is a great way to share and talk about what you are reading. And they did not pay me to say that. In fact we are giving free things away through them.

So, if any of you want to enter the contest  - GOODREADS GIVEAWAY

If you want to pre-order the paperback  click on here  - Pre-  Order Book

If you want to start gearing up with your Book Club and get an advance copy of the BookGroupGuidline click on here.  And any Book Clubs a train ride away from New York City, I will come and visit. I promise.

If you want to see what the new cover looks like here it is….

The first person who writes in what the major difference is will get a free copy of the book today.

And since we mentioned Paul, well I mentioned him, you didn’t,  that was the royal we.   I was looking, well actually Catrin and I were looking at his 50@50 the last two days as we are cutting  the new trailer. Well actually Greg is cutting it. We picked the clips.  But we were watching all the clips and Paul just has this way of jumping out of the camera and into you heart.

So for those of you who missed it the first time here it is. For those of you who want to see it again -here it is and for those of you who aren’t interested – go buy a coat, or Judy’s Book. You should read Judy’s book, but  pick up a copy of mine while you’re at it!  I know a lot of you have bought it, but in paperback it makes a great gift. It also makes a great coaster.

1)   Do you like your life?

2) Do you like your work?

3)  Are you engaged with what you do and see yourself doing it for years to come?

4)  If you are in a relationship is it the one you want to be in? Do you really love the person you are with?  Are you a better you with this person in your life?

5)  If you are alone are you happy that way?  Some people are.  If not, what can you do to attract people to you so you can form a connection? Or what might you be doing that keeps people away?

6)  Do you feel you give back enough?

7)  Do you take enough time for you?

8)  Are there people in your life who add nothing and in fact are actually a negative presence?  Do you have the courage to let them go? What would your world look like if they were not there?

9) Do you know who your real friends are? Have they been put to the test and failed?  If they failed then are they your friends?

10) Do you believe in a being greater than yourself? If so does this give you comfort? If not are you comfortable with that?

11) If you died today what would be your biggest regret?  Can you fix it before it’s too late?

I don’t have your answers.  Just thought I would pose the questions.

Nail polish anyone?

This stuff is actually great I have used it for several years. All natural.

The photos inspire you to reorganize your beauty shelf.

It is really amazing how everyone's products are displayed so differently. It is right?

Mac has so many new special lines, Daphne Guinness and Iris Apfel being two of the more interesting ones.

I find this image so soothing. Don't ask why.

They interview everyone from models to designers, fashion bloggers you name it. The photos are great, the content vapid. I'm enthralled.

Charolotte Roson's personal stash of her own products.

Fashion blogger of the moment The Man Reppelers Make Up Bag. Made my night.

Fashion Legend Iris Apfel - proving fifty may not be the new thirty, but ninety could be the new fifty.

All Photos Courtesy of In the Gloss

Both my girls have notepaper with their names on it as does Glenn. Whenever they run out I immediately replenish it. So long live the note and note card! Sit down and write a note to someone today, I promise you you will make their day.

Dempsey and Carroll Notecards, Love the Envelopes

These are also from Dempsey and Carrooll

A fan of envelopes.

Thornwilow Press may be one of my favorite paper companies.

Thornwillow doesn't only do paper but special editions of books and letters.

My newest favorite from Thormwillow - The Thunderbolt

Smythson Hearts from my own stash.

These are from Smythson I actually own a box of these too.

I love anything orange. I'm almost out of these and getting ready to pick something new.

Vera Wang makes great cards with lots of room to write on. I love the envelopes.

I love elephants. The gold ones are from Cartier, a gift from Taylor. The plain ones I think Dempsey and Carroll

Notecard designed for me by Jerry Kelly.

Few things render me speechless, even at the passing of my oldest and dearest friend I was somehow able to get myself together to write. But the news that  John McWhinnie who was not only our dear friend but the man who headed up a large division of Glenn’s company drowned yesterday while snorkeling in the Virgin Islands has left me in a state where I am truly unable to express myself with any clarity.

Hundreds of people are rocked to their cores by this extraordinary man’s sudden death.  John would have turned 44 in three weeks. He was on vacation with his wife Maria when the accident occurred.

I am in no shape to even eulogize him properly at this moment.  I am taking the week off from the blog to tend to the needs of my husband, my children, details and friends.  As I said yesterday and our friend Jessie Butterbaugh said today, for Glenn short of losing myself or the girls nothing could  be more devastating than the death of John.

I send love and prayers to his wife Maria.  Friends have galvanized forces and our friend Nick Weber flew down there immediately to be with her.

I can’t put into words the cyclone of sadness that has enveloped our world. So please excuse me while I go to mourn John, be there for my husband, help Maria in whatever way I can, and be a sounding board or a shoulder for anyone who needs me.  I will be back.

Live every day my friends. Love those you are close to. Don’t waste time on petty things that don’t count.  It can end faster than most of us are aware.

In Loving Memory John McWhinnie January 29^th , 1968 -  January 6^th , 2012

Hester is really a lifestyle in many ways, totally unique, very Dutch in her sensibility, sophisticated, practical  and whimsical. Spending time with her in Amsterdam was a highlight of our stay there.

Hester's Main Shop Hartenstraat 37 1016 Amsterdam, The Netherlands

Another view of the same shop. We went running over as soon as we got there.

Her Mens Shop Across the Street

Some of her smaller bags.

Wall of Wallets

Drawer of her small bags for pretty much anything.I have several of these in my bag and I no longer dig like a dog in my purse. They also make me smile each time I see them.

The Woody ~ her biggest seller. Chic and it holds a laptop!

Something a little dressier in this seasons hot color.

Practical mixed with the fanciful.

She also does amazing shoes. Taylor and I are lusting after these

On our last night there Hester and her husband Roland invited us to their canal house for dinner.  When You wander the streets of Amsterdam and look into every window the way I do getting to actually go inside one of these 17th Century wonders is a real treat. I don’t think all of them have quite the panache of Hester and Roland’s.

Hester has a purse museum in her home.

She collects them from all over the world. The new are mixed in with the very old.

She has shoes mixed in with buckles and wallets and all sorts of wonderful things.

Green the theme here

Green is a color she uses well. This is the entrance when you first walk in.

The other thing you see when you walk in is this computer in a wall. Roland felt since we no longer have traditional mail boxes at our doors a computer to check your email would be the best thing to have. This one actually covers a coat closet and there is a small bathroom to the left.

A shelf with some of Hester's other things.

This shows the main floor with the garden in the back. All space is perfectly utilized.

One of my favorite deities Ganesh sits near the front door. A perfect spot.

Red is the theme of a table in the upstairs drawing room. I like the handbag sitting there.

Florentine Chest with a Dutch painting.

Why is is some people jus know how to place things?

Getting ready to dine.

You might wonder what Hester and Roland served ~ we had a perfect tomato soup, followed by lemon ravioli with a simple butter sauce, rack of lamb with vegetables, salad and then traditional Dutch desserts, a cherry tart, those wonderful donuts to bring in the New Year, but light and fluffy ones, not heavy and greasy like the ones on the streets, but truth be told I like the greasy ones too and organic ice cream. Unlike here Europeans appear to eat a lot, but the portions are small and you never feel stuffed.

So Hester.

Good Luck New Year's Donut. A grand tradition. You have to eat it!

If you want to know more about  Hester there is a book about her and her work over the years.

Click the word book and it takes you to Amazon to buy it.
Some of her collection is available in the US at HVEUS.

The New York Social Diary recently published Tracey’s blog entry, “When In Rome.”

Follow the link HERE!

To see the rest of Tracey’s blog in the New York Social Diary, click HERE!

It's busy and peaceful.

Everyone speaks English perfectly, some better than people you run into in the States.  People are nice and helpful. We were ripped off once by a cab driver who came from another part of the world entirely. There is nothing that isn’t pleasing about the city –with the exception of almost getting plowed down by cyclists all the time. But that was our fault and not theirs. We were never able to figure out the many rules of the roads. Between the bus lanes, the bike lanes, the car lanes and the cycle lanes it’s not easy to figure out which space is yours.

Even the chesses are orderly

New Years Eve there is something else.  I have a feeling this year might have even been more over the top than normal since they changed the drug laws on the first and it is no longer legal for foreigners to get high.

They are also lax when it comes to fireworks, which translates into anyone can shoot off anything they want wherever they want.  Thus the fireworks started going off in the afternoon. We came out of the Rijksmuseum having seen their  rooms of greatest hits. Most of the museum has been closed for renovation for six years. This means they have taken the masterworks and put them into a small segment of the museum.  According to our friend Roland who lives there, the museum attendance has never been higher. I guess people avoid the guilt when they duck out not having done the whole place.

Night Watch

But after standing in front of Rembrandt’s Night Watch for a good spell, which in my opinion is a flocked to work that exceeds its reputation; we went out into the streets and the pow, pow, bang, bang, sound of wireworks seemed to be coming from all over.

Actually, I heard my first ones at breakfast. By nightfall, which happens at about four in the afternoon it’s insane. They are shot off of cars, out of doorways, from moving bikes, from windows, street corners, bridges, anywhere and everywhere you go something firey, bright and loud is heading your way.

Fireworks in the streets

It’s actually dangerous;  so much so they are thinking of abandoning that as well as the drugs.  Taylor and I almost got nailed by several firecrackers on our way to dinner. And  when we are standing in the window of our room watching the endless colors and fire in the sky, one a spark literally flew in our room.  It’s quite a sight and a sound and goes on well past midnight.

New Years in Amsterdam

Maybe being orderly all the time has its drawbacks.  But it was a memorable New Years Eve and a grand way to bring in 2012.

The next morning order had returned.

Continuing what I think has become a family tradition of spending New Years Day in Jewish memorial museums, (last year we were at the one in Berlin) we went to the Anne Frank House.  To say it’s moving would be trite. They  have done an extraordinary job restoring it and for a little extra you get a fifteen minute lecture and once again, buying tickets early paid off big time. The line was around the block and we zipped in.  My tip for the New Year, if you go anywhere and want to visit a major museum buy your tickets online before you go. It costs a tiny bit more, but when time is precious and if like me you hate standing in lines it is worth every cent.

Part of the line to get into the Anne Frank House. 1,000,000 people visit each year.

Anne Frank

The Anne Frank House

We spent our last night of the trip having dinner with our friends designer Hester Van Eeghan and her husband Roland.

That gets it’s own blog as dining with them in their canal house is too special to be crammed into my trip round up.

Now I want to bore you all for a moment with a little hosanna to the Amsterdam Airport. As anyone who reads this blog knows I can lose it at airports. I have no patience (something I’m working on in the new year) with  inefficiency, especially when it involves transport. I get there early. I’m convinced things will go wrong. I often battle with my unruly evil airport twin.

Well, I could move into the Amsterdam Airport.  I could be like Tom Hanks in The Terminal and spend the rest of my life there. It’s almost a utopian society. Everyone is nice. There are no lines. The customs people are charming, yes, they are.  Have you ever heard that word associated with Customs Workers?  They have the most efficient, thorough security I have encountered anywhere in the world.  There is a library, a gorgeous business center, a perfect looking health food restaurant. It could be a great life and you would never miss a flight.

But the biggest thing I have been obsessing about for days is the whole detax thing.  I never usually do detax as more often than not I’m flying out of Paris and the lines there take forever.

But this year, the dollar went further and we bought our

Christmas gifts for each other in Italy, so I got tax return slips, meaning when I left Italy I would get the 11% sales tax returned to me.

Everyone in Italy said you get it back when you leave Florence. I didn’t trust this and I wanted to know how long the lines would be. My ODD nature being what it is means I literally asked anyone I came in contact with what their experience with detax was.

Glenn even told me to stop it. The kids would walk away when I started the conversation.  I was so well informed in tax return and money changing I was able to calm down an hysterical Japanese man at the change bureau in Florence who was throwing his Euros and yelling he was being robbed.

I told him you could not change money anywhere in Europe, even a cash machine at a bank without them taking a cut.  I helped a South American guy by showing him how to fill out his forms, where to get them stamped and when to mail them. But none of this helped me with my OCD question how much time I should allow at the airport. Several people said be prepared to show everything, so I bought another suitcase and only packed it with what we bought in order to save time. The Change Bureau woman in Italy said do it Florence the airport is small it won’t take much time.

When we got to the airport in Florence and I had all my receipts out and the tax guy saw my ticket and said you can’t do it here you have to do it when you leave the EU. So much for staying up all night worrying about that.

We then went to check in, they weighed our bags, they had some silly rule I’ve only encountered on very small aircraft which is your carry-ons must be a certain weight. Ours were all way over it.  Thus it all had to be checked through. This meant endless paperwork and a hundred and sixty euro tab.

So Glenn gives her his credit card, we had thirty minutes to get through security at this point and make our flight. I was holding back hysteria. And the woman said

“You cant’ pay here, you have to go back to arrivals and check in and pay there.” I lost it, “Who makes up that insane rule”? We have to go back downstairs, to the ticket counter and pay for our luggage, which is upstairs at check in. Convinced we would miss the flight Taylor and I raced down to settle the bill, only to find ourselves being taken care of by the slowest man in the world. It was like being in India in 1979, fifty papers and all hand written. I huffed, I puffed and he glared at me and went even slower.  I finally said “Just take my money and let me go since you’re robbing us anyway can you at least do it quickly.”  His more ballsy superior told me to shut up. I told her they needed to learn how to run an airport, that nowhere in the world would this kind of craziness take place. Finally he finished, I handed him the credit card and he told me that it would take a very long time for a credit card. “Cash is better. Sure it’s better, it’s hard to skim from a credit card. So Taylor and I had come up with 160 Euros fast. We had the money but it like all we had and I was searching for coins in pockets, it was pathetic. By the time we got back upstairs, and they put our luggage through, the security line was a mile long. I went up to the guy in charge and said, “We will miss our flight we need to be at the front.” He scowled at me and told me to get in the back. I said in the US if you are about to miss a flight especially because of airport inefficiency,  (OK I didn’t say inefficiency but I was tempted) they moved you up.  ”Not my problem, I don’t care.” And he shooed me off.

By then I was furious, nervous, tired as it was only six thirty am and we had been up since four and I had been awake since three thinking about detax. But he was not to be messed with so I shut up and we somehow made it. I was so mad when I got on the plane I told Glenn I would never go back to Italy, which is not true, but it was how I felt at that moment.

So imagine the instant love affair I was catapulted into when I got to Amsterdam International. It was like finding the perfect man after a series of total losers. There was no line at detax. Instead there was a lovely gentleman who asked me about my trip and agreed Italy had nice things. He had three well-marked mailboxes right by his stand for each envelope. He stamped quickly and kindly.

They couldn't make it easier.

I wanted to hug him but the glass partition was between us.

They have a waterfall!

And then when we checked in and the women behind the counter said, “Let’s make this easy for you so you won’t be charged for overweight.”  Hello, someone from Italian airports needs to make an emergency trip to the Amsterdam Airport and take notes for a month.

They have a small outpost of the Rijksmuseum

I admit it was a tiny glitch in a wonderful trip and I added it as I can’t just prattle on about what we saw.  As always our winter trips are the highlight of a busy year. We all take away wonderful memories and spend quality family time.

At breakfast this am Lucy said OK - Quick favorite city, favorite sight.

Taylor – city Florence – sight – Night Watch

Glenn  – city Rome – sight – humidor in the Cafe Corso in the Piazza del Popolo. He really said that. I made him quit cigars yesterday.

Lucy -  city – Amsterdam – sight – Anne Frank  House

Tracey – city Florence (despite the chaos) sight -  Michelangelo’s David tied with The Amsterdam Airport.

The last one!

The  best and worst airports in the world. 

I was here once before, but I was very young and remember little. Perhaps my girls will feel the same way.  The Amsterdam of today is without question a different city than it was in the early 70′s and it is very different than anything in Italy.

It’s adorable, modern, high functioning and very forward in so many ways, says I who have been here 48 hours! I think for a long time people thought about Amsterdam as the red light district, smoking pot and tulips. It is anything but. It’s here, but not first on our list.

It is a truly a green city. Most people get around bikes or public transport. And the bikes have the right away. Glenn read that cripples, babies, old people nobody comes before the cyclists. I believe him as  we have each been almost run over three times from wandering into the bike lane.

Unlike Italy it is very multi-national and everyone speaks perfect English. They are all working and seem to love what they are doing no matter what it is. They make everything easy for you, with the exception of cashing money. There is a canal boat in front of our hotel and it takes you everywhere, it is charming, impressive and an easy place to be.

I know they have their problems like any city, and it lacks the color and bravura of Latin countries, but the people couldn’t be nicer, the internet never wavers and there is a ton to see.

I think perhaps I cram too much into each day. This morning I’m letting everyone sleep in even though my cram it all in voice is saying, today is New Year’s Eve and things might close early and tomorrow everything will be closed and then we leave….

My feet may hurt but I’m happy we are here.

I frist got the idea of coming here into my head when I met Hester Van Eeghan the purse designer. When we checked into our hotel her bags and other items were incased int he revolving door. What a welcome!

A genius form of advertising.

Everywhere you look bikes. I have not photos of people riding them as I am usually jumping out of the way

The canals give the city much of it's charm. But unlike other canals, they are clean, don't smell and the houses lining them are in immaculate condition.

Not a great shot, but each house is different and each one very stylish in it's own way.

This is what it looks like where we are staying. It's just gorgeous.

The light changes very quickly here. They are very hearty people it's quite cold and they walk around in light coats and no gloves.

The tops of all the houses are different. I loved this one. I love most of them.

We opted for the typical Indonesian food for dinner. Amsterdam is known for it. That is one thing I remember from the last time I was here.

It's called ricshtaphal and the is totally the wrong spelling, but I'm too lazy to google it as I want to get to breakfast. But a picture is worth a misspelled word.

Indonesian Restaurant. ShhThe concert hall. I just think it's very pretty.

First thing we did yesterday was go over and see Hester. She has three shops on one street. As Lucy said she is the Ralph Lauren of Amsterdam.

The Woody her number one selling bag. Taylor got one of the spotted ones. There will be much more on Hester as we are going for dinner at her house tomorrow night. She has a purse museum in it!!!

I just had to show this, these are chords of leather downstairs in her shop. I love the way they look.

The Royal Palace sits in the middle of downtown Amsterdam. I have not boned up on my Dutch Royal history, sorry…..will fill you in later.

We are going to see the inside this afternoon.

Crowds in the Van Gogh museum. I was clever and bought tickets online for all museums the lines are endless. But once you get in so are the crowds.

People flocked around the Sunflowers. For me it is one of those paintings that's reputation is bigger than it's genius. Lucy said why are they all looking at only that one. I said because they think they are supposed to. There are extraordinary works in this museum Often times people miss them as they just go for the postcard paintings..

Lucy discovered these. She ate them endlessly yesterday. She woke up with a stomach ache.

Four O'Clock in the afternoon.

Bikes at night.

Finally a way I could maybe ice skate, holding on to a plastic seal.

Lucy moved on from the dough balls to strawberry cream covered waffles last night.

We’re all up…we’re cranky….we’re going off to the see the Rembrandts at the National Museum. This may be the last museum I can drag them through. Oh no, forgot ~ tomorrow we have The Anne Frank House.

Have a great New Year’s Eve.  Don’t drink and drive, not even a bike!

Thanks to that time we really got a lot in. Unfortunately unlike Rome Florence is rather strict about where you can take photos.  It pretty much breaks down to nowhere inside, and that means museums, Churches, crypts,  you name it. And they have all sorts of people waking around checking on you, which means sneaking is impossible, or nearly. I managed a few time.

The last two days were packed. In  the morning we went to The Accademia and saw Michelangelo’s David. The one thing I do remember from my only trip to Florence. The thing about the David is there are many great works of art in the world and if you are lucky enough to see them up close, sometimes they disappoint: not all by any means, but some.  Many one who have seen the Mona Lisa, I think might agree. You get up to her and you go, this is what all the fuss is about. And then there are things that are just so astounding you stand and stare for what feels like hours. That are far grander than their reputation. This is true with The David  -  and it’s not because he is a naked guy.  The whole museum is astounding,  even the girls couldn’t quite believe what they were seeing.  At a certain age there is only so much 14th Century religious art an eleven year old can take. This blew the away.

Thank heavens for Google Images.

To balance it out we went to the Museo Ferragamo another museum devoted to the luxury leather trade. And while the Gucci is chicer and more shopper friendly, the Ferragamo is more sophisticated in terms of art and history. I never  knew he started his career in Santa Barbara. And they really integrate history, art, design to show his inspiration. What I found most amazing was how advanced he really was in terms of design. One thinks of his shoes as a bit frumpy today. But when you see what he was doing in the thirties, which I can’t show you as there were no photos allowed, but they look exactly like what some of the really fashion forward shoe designers are selling today.

Shoe from Museo Ferregamo

I was very blessed as two of my oldest friends took the train in from the towns where they live to see me. Natasha Timofejeff who I have known for thirty plus years and is part of that whole Luciano story  took the train in from Arezzo where she now lives to spend the day with me. I was so thrilled to see her. She reminded me we had not seen each other since I was pregnant with Taylor.  We had a family lunch at Harry’s Bar, which has significance for Natasha and me as that is where we would eat with Luciano. After getting some time with Natasha  my family took off, the girls wanted some time alone in the shops with the assurance they would not be dragged into one more random Church and Glenn needed to see some book people.

Lunch at Harry's Bar with Natasha

Natasha and I wanted time to catch up and we took in the show  Money and Beauty – Bankers, Botticelli and the Bonfire of the Vanities at the Palazzo Strozzi. These Palazzos are too much, one after the other, which is what a lot of the exhibit is about.   This was one of the most interesting shows I have seen, not only for the extraordinary art work being shown, but it could not be more relevant to what is going on in the Western world today.

If you can get the catalogue. It's a great read with wonderful art and a history course.

The next morning we hit the Medici Chapels which was not only their private Chapels but where many are buried and some of their belongings are shown. The whole Medici family tree is so confusing, I am presently reading The Rise and Fall of the House of Medici  by Christopher Hibbert to help me untangle it all.

Again no photos were allowed and it was so dark you needed a flash so there was no sneaking.

Cappelle De Medici thank you GOOGLE

After that we dragged the over to Santa Maria Novella, this was it, they said no more CHURCHES. But I had to see it. If you are interested you can click on the link, if like my girls this series has you Churched out, then move on.

I was very set on finding the Bellini house where I first stayed in Florence so many years ago. I was lucky that a friend from Santa Barbara sent me the address that morning. So after  a wonderful lunch overlooking the Arno at the Hotel Lugarno which is owned by the Ferragamos. Lucy is waiting for the Gucccis to open one, we took off down the Arno to find the house. Was my memory in sync with reality had it changed? Would it be the same or some McPallazo?

It was in fact exactly how I remembered it, though it has now been turned into a museum. Sadly it was closed for the holiday. But it was as impressive as it was close to forty years ago and it did take me back. It is also nice to see that some things stay the same. The chances of that happening in a city like Florence are more likely than say a city like San Jose, but it was nice just the same and I liked being able to show Glenn and the girls as I had talked so much about it.

You see the Museum sign now on the front.

Me peeking in.

I so remember these doors as I had to punch in a code and push them open very late at night when I was returning from my dates.

The Palazzo Bellini when you are standing on the bridge.

The view to the other side when you are standing in front.

We crossed the bridge to get back to the other side and saw these people walking across the Arno.

Just because....

That evening my friend Margaret Hartley Pezzo took the train in from Milan to see us. I go the furthest back with Margaret, I have known her since I was 14. And the lovely thing is now our daughters are friends and through a whole long tangled set of connections, too involved to go into here, I met Natasha through Margaret even though they don’t know each other.

Margaret Hartley Pezzo

We went to dinner on the early side for Italy and like with Natasha I could have spent so much more time with Margaret.

But we had to be at the airport at five-thrity, that is a whole blog in itself. For the moment it is arrivederci to Italy.  Wonderful memories old and new and hopefully more to come in the future.

I have not been here since I was 16. I remember very little about that trip. Not true, I remember quite  a lot, not all of it can I share.  I don’t remember many sights. I do remember the statue of David and the shops, but mostly it was a very social trip.  We stayed with  friends of my mothers, this sort of swank couple called the Bellins who lived in a Palazzo on the Arno. Now until today when I was trying to find their house, I didn’t realize what a shut the front door  thing that was.  My childhood was a bit that way. I did a lot of things that were rather grown up and I don’t know if I took them for granted;  it’s just you know we arrived here and we stayed in this Palazzo and that was that, that was a lot of the way we lived.

What I do remember vividly  are two  things ~ one was a pasta the Bellini’s chef prepared, which was a giant crusted pie dome thing and Beppe, I guess it was Beppe Bellini would crack this thing open and steam would whoosh out and it was filled with the most amazing pasta I had ever had. I can see that like it was yesterday. Beppe might have even made it himself, but I seem to remember a cook.

And then of course like all my Italian adventures there was romance. The first night  we were at a dinner party and I met the most handsome man named Allessandro Dalgas. I can’t remember my own name some days but I remember every syllable of his.

He was a bit of playboy and  drove a red Ferrari, as I write this it all sounds like such a cliche.  Cliche or not that was how I spent much of my four days here back in 1974, roaming around with him. We went to private discos, back in the days when they had them and stayed up all night drinking Campari and soda.  That probably sums me up as a teenager, I drank Campari and soda.

And then of course in that way a young girl does I developed a massive crush on this gorgeous Italian and I fantasized that we would get married and have beautiful children that spoke Italian and English and we would live here and go to the States for holidays, where I would only speak to them in Italian. I remember spending a lot of time coming up with that scenario, but not seeing the Uffizi. I also remember thinking before this glamorous international life started I had to return to Santa Barbara and finish high school.

Of course none of  it ever happened( I did finish High School)  in fact he was supposed to meet me in Venice. My mother kept saying “He won’t show up.” She wasn’t being mean, just practical. And he never did. Pre mobiles I spent four days in Venice coming up with excuses to go back to the hotel to see if he had called, which he never did. And I learned my first lesson about certain types of men, though it did absolutely nothing from  keeping me from falling in love with them for the next decade.

I went back to the States with a few cassettes of mopey Italian music, one of those stove top espresso makers and spent two months talking with fake Italian accent, listening to Italian songs and wired on espresso. Those are my memories of Florence and I never came back.

So here I am  thirty plus years later, the only thing that hasn’t changed is I still drink Campari and soda.

I expected things to be closed today, but perhaps not as closed as they were. I don’t have many photos of what we did as the things we did do were in places where we were not allowed to take photos.

We started the day at the Uffizi Palace, I really wanted to see it since last time I was there I sat on a bench thinking about Allessandro Dalgas and not looking at the art. It was hard for me to get annoyed at my own kids when they took to the bench after an hour and used their devices. I remembered how much time I spent on benches in  museums in my life.

Duomo walking home from dinner last night.

View outside our window - PIazza Della Repubbilica

Uffizi Gallery from the other side of the Arno River.

Outside the Uffizi

The Arno

Ponte Vecchio. All the shops were closed today which is why it looks so empty.

Hard to believe I was younger than Taylor last time I was here. Time does fly.

A private residence in the most unexpected spot.

After the Uffizi, a long walk and lunch we went to the GucciMuseo, which they have oh-so-wisely set up next door to the Uffizi. The girls loved this museum. I did too. It is four floors of  their iconic goods and a show by Bill Viola.  No photos allowed. I snuck one.

The world according to Aldo Gucci!

We had tea in the cafe there. It was all very swell.

The streets were packed. I tell you if the stores were only open......

Piazza della Repubblica this evening.

The sky when we came out of The MuseoGucci

The country is not in terrible financial shape for no reason. People really consider work to be a hindrance here. You go to a taxi stand and fifteen drivers all stand around debating something crucial like soccer or sex,  and then have a thirty minute debate on who will take the fare. Unlike NYC where a driver will threaten their life and others by running a red light and crossing three lanes of traffic to pick you up.

I walked out of a store two days ago after holding my items for twenty minutes while the woman who worked there chatted with her friend about Christmas gifts. I finally put  the things I wanted to buy away and left.  For the American it does drive you a bit mad.

So you walk around rather infuriated for a spell, and then you turn a corner and are met with the most magnificent sight that takes your breath away and all is forgotten.

Yesterday we had to go over to the Pantheon as I was turing in my tax refund forms before the airport.  We got there and there was a typical Italian sight, a strike in the Piazza. I think this was the tenth one I have seen in five days.

All stopped working to come and demonstrate at noon.

What were they so upset about?  What was the crucial issue?

They don't like the fuel used in the outdoor heating lamps. So they shut down the restaurant and took to the streets.

Then  I went to the money exchange office. The brochure says it is open from ten to six. Now as we know in the states ten to six means ten to six.

He was gone for ten minutes. OK, that happens.

So we went and had a coffee and returned in ten minutes. Miracle of miracles he was there, finishing up a ham sandwich. I handed him my papers and passport. He said “Not working.” I said you are here.. He snarled at me “I have to eat lunch”  With that he swallowed the remains of his sandwich. I said  ”You’re  finished.”  He said  ”I need a break.”   He disappeared. Hadn’t he just had a break?

He just left. A line was forming. He did not care. This is when Americans have a hard time with the Italian mentality.

But then I looked up and saw this and I could only smile. The yin and yang of Italy.

He did return to reluctantly do his job. That is the other thing, for many working is such a burden.  They moan and groan. Perhaps he too was deeply upset about the fuel they used in the heating lamps across the Piazza.

Despite our own two protestors – they were on Church strike we took off to The Basilca Santa Maria Maggiore. And in then again you are reminded of what a magical place Italy is.

Santa Maria Maggiore

Inside Santa Maria Maggiore

After the Church, (how many pictures of Churches can I show) we stopped for lunch.

Again ali is forgiven and pleasure over rides order.

After our pizza  we went off to explore the gentrified neighborhood of Monti.  I had heard about a store that was apparently very in. I asked the waiter how to get there. Unlike the French the Italians are happy to give you directions, even if they are not correct.  He told me to walk straight,  eventually I would run into a subway station, we should then go down and  on the second level we would find the store. Wow, this must be very of the moment, or as Lucy says, shut the front door, when she thinks something is awesome. So we got to the subway. I dragged everyone down the steps, they all thought I was mad. Which of course turned out to be true as there was nothing there but a vending machine. I clearly was in the wrong Metro stop. Lucy said next time we went to a store could it be a real one.

I don’t know how it happened but we stumbled into Monti. For New Yorkers, I guess it would be Nolita in the beginning or parts of the East Village; In LA it would be say, Silverlake seventeen years ago, with one major exception, it’s in Italy.

We get to this little hipster hood of Monti and shut the front door, I see the Metro, and next to the Metro is the shop. The shop wasn’t in the Metro, it was just outside it. Something got lost in translation. The shop looked adorable.  It was clearly in many guidebooks and on many lists as there was a gaggle of people waiting to get in. The sign in the window said that annoying   “Opens at 3;30.”  At this point it was maybe 3:20,  the woman who ran it was inside and she was doing nothing. Nada.  Niente.  She wan’t taking inventory, arranging the window or doubled over in pain, she was staring at the growing group who wanted inside.  She had nothing to do.  It was two days before Christmas, the economy is falling to pieces; wouldn’t common sense dictate open the damn store and collect some Euros.  It would have been easy, but she refused and ignored everyone. I said to my group “Let’s go.” I’m not giving them money if they can’t open. Did they lose a sale? Yes. Did they care? I guess not. But when you think about this with an American mind set you cannot make sense out of it. You go for the sale not the break. They should all go to Asia where the stores are open until midnight. See Taipei, they never close. It’s a goofy way to run a country, though nobody has asked for my advice.

But then as we made our way down the streets of Monti, old buildings dotted with trendy shops, the glories of Italy that blessedly allow you to forget the problems of Italy made themselves apparent.

Store sign. It doesn't look like much, but it's on three levels.

People waiting to for it to open. See the Metro in the back?

One of the main streets of Monti.

A glass shop. They were reopening at four as we got there.

Ground floor of the glass shop.

Taylor in the street.

Down a side street, the flag caught in the vines that connect two buildings.

Then as you come out of the area look at what you see. How do you not fall in love at that moment.

A few feet ahead was this.

Making our way up the hill.

And a few feet up and to the left - this.

And this....

We kept walking.

And then we came upon this.

What else is there to say?

While wandering the back streets of the Trastevere section of Rome today  we happened into two churches, not fancy gilted  ones, but simple churches, each one dedicated to a Saint. One was dedicated to St. Cecilia  and the other a small church called  St. Benedetto in Piscinula  dates back to the tenth century. It is where at the age of fourteen  St. Benedict lived when he came to Rome.  He contemplated and prayed in a tiny cell that is now a chapel.

In both these churches the people who run them were getting ready to celebrate the birth of Christ. Watching them go about their duties quietly and joyfully was a glorious reminder of what this holiday truly means.

Merry Christmas and Bless You All.

Nun playing an organ to God in an empty church.

Nuns preparing the Church

Quietly getting ready.

The tomb of St. Cecelia.

San Benedetto in Piscinula

The cell of St. Benedict.

What hangs above his alter today.

Have a wonderful Christmas Eve.  Back tomorrow…..

Photo by Taylor