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I’m just kidding. I love cold weather! Strange? Not really. I’ve lived in the tropics and I used to enjoy running wild along the beach or in the jungles as a young girl and it was fantastic at that point in my life, but as I grew older and moved to Europe, my mindset changed. I wouldn’t say for the better but something shifted and I became a fan of cold weather.

Most people love summer but in Europe where air-conditioning is seen as a sin or rather as not being environmentally-friendly, people sweat it out for all the wrong reasons I think but that is just my opinion. Plus, there are those who think that going deodorant-free is a good thing. All fine and good but try standing in line at the supermarket and imbibing all that goodness!

I usually wait for fall when the weather turns and everything has a nicer feeling about it. Walking becomes a pleasurable activity again and sweating takes a backseat. I love it when the first snow hits and everything is pristine and covered in white but ice is something I can do without. I’d rather stay home when it is icy outside but it doesn’t happen that often so that is another good thing.

I’ll take cold weather all year round! Weirdo? Call me whatever but I simply love bundling up in heavy coats although they’ve made them light as air now which is another plus and add all the other accessories such as gloves, scarves and the rest and I’m in wonderland!

Hmm….not that I can remember. I recall one time when I was in a hurry. I had just got out of the shower and had minutes to get to where I needed to go. The floor was wet but I rushed out of the bathroom and then had to run back in to get something when I slipped and hit the side of the bathtub really hard.

I felt a searing pain shoot up my ribs on the right side. The fall knocked the wind out of me. I stood up slowly, felt around to see what I had done but except for the pain nothing else seemed to be amiss. I got dressed and took off to pick someone up at the train station. It was almost midnight and I needed to hurry.

I made it there and as I sat there at the train station, I wondered if I had broken a rib or two. The person finally got there and I told him what had happened. He suggested that I see a doctor the next day. The next morning, I was bruised, the pain was there but not as bad. I didn’t see a doctor, I am stubborn that way. I rubbed some ointment on it, refrained from doing my workouts and after a week of tender loving care, it got better.

That was the closest I came to breaking something. TOUCH WOOD!

Nothing much to say here. I am my own “boss” meaning I work from home so I do as I please. However, I do have a routine of sorts.

First thing’s first. A light breakfast is a must and add a cup of hot coffee and I am good to go. Then comes a walk or meditation or both. After that my real day starts. Quite often it has to do with writing. Some days I add a few more pages to the novel and on other days I let it all drift!

Playing with Chachi, the cat, is a must. Cleaning house and keeping things tidy is something I do everyday. I am a neat freak. Chachi doesn’t make it easy. He wears a fur coat and today as I was coming up the stairs, I noticed tufts of hair on the carpet! I yelled, “Chachi, what is this?”

He answered, “It’s hair mommy! I can’t help it!”

Another once-over with the vacuum did the job and the dark brown carpet is as good as new. The routine is boring but I do a good job of balancing both. Work is down to a very boring level but who cares! I’m loving it.

The sacrifices I made for love have been many but leaving to start life in another country was a huge one. Leaving the U.S. was a hard decision. I didn’t want to but it needed to be done because I was pregnant at the time and I didn’t have a choice. Oh, I could have stayed where I was but I was in “LOVE” and love makes you do things that you wouldn’t do otherwise.

One of the hardest things I had to cope with when I got here was not being able to speak the language and a culture that was in many ways alien to mine. Being heavy with child did not help matters much either. The newness of the place didn’t set too well especially when I couldn’t communicate what I wanted and needed. Independence was out the door and I was dependent on the in-laws and my new husband for help and that didn’t set too well with me either.

I did eventually learn the language, it was that or give up and go back home. I did grasp how everything worked in the village and even learned to like it. However, my advice to someone who is planning the same is to take a good hard look and to have a backup plan if everything goes down south. Love doesn’t last as I found out and the sacrifices I made in the name of love didn’t matter when I found myself alone in a country that was not mine.

It took time, focus, energy and learning to speak the language to feel at home here. Also, having a son meant that I had to somehow manage and to make this place my home. Being able to speak the language almost fluently has helped and of course integrating in a closed society is a must and that is another hurdle altogether. Not everyone is able to overcome what it takes and I have known many women through the years who gave up, packed their belongings and went back to where they came from. Sacrifice is defined as giving up (something valued) for the sake of other considerations so do not let your heart rule. Love is fleeting at best so think beyond that when making the decision to sacrifice what you are used to and to move to another country. Would I do it again? Knowing what I know now, I would say a definite NO!