I totally lucked out when God gave me to you. Thank you for teaching me to love unconditionally, to be loved, and to love who I am. Thank you for teaching me about perseverance and how to dust oneself off when life knocks you down. Thank you for teaching me about joy in the simple things…Like fresh picked strawberries, or swimming out to the deep end, even if you’re scared, because the water is cooler there, and there’s nothing like floating on your back in the middle of the ocean.

Happy Mother’s Day to my Grammie, who listened to me tell stories where Princesses rode giant panthers through dense forests,  and for helping me spy a leprechaun when out for a walk. Thank you for always having an ear, or a story to tell of her own.

Thank you both for teaching me to always find time to dance – to throw up my arms and spin and it’s OK if you’ve got two left feet, there’s Grace in that.

love always,

me

The post A Mother’s Day Sentiment #GivingThanks appeared first on Nicole Olea.

You were my best friend.
I love you like a sister.
“Good-byes”, there were none. 

The post Friendship Lost (A Haiku) appeared first on Nicole Olea.

Fast forward a few months and I still have that desire to go light. However, I’m in Italy now and I swear, like 90% of the population here is blonde. When we go out and about in town the number of women I see with blonde hair far outweighs that of black hair or brunettes. Forget about red, I think I’ve spotted about 3 red heads since I’ve been here and they’ve all been on base.  I’ve not travelled farther than Venice yet, so I can’t speak for the rest of the country, but here in Northern Italy, the women love to be blonde.

So I’ve compiled a few of my favorite blondes via my Pinterest board “Oh so Pretty Hair” as a bit of hairspiration for my stylist tomorrow (which oh my gawd – am I hoping she is awesome!)

Have I mentioned how much I miss having bangs? I do, but I’ve spent 9 months growing those bad boys out – I won’t be going back into bang territory for a while.

This is sort of my hair goal. Long, all (mostly) one length. I also like the darker roots which is why I’m opting for highlights.

Cameron Diaz. Love her.

This is a great highlight/lowlight.

Is there nothing more quintessential and classic-glam beauty than blonde hair with red lips?

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I can not sing. I mean, I can. I do. It just doesn’t sound very nice.

Then my husband said something to me, that to my tone deaf ears, was sort of profound.

He said, “Nicky, you may not be able to sing, but you can write. So by your account you should be writing all the time, and you’re not doing that.”

With his sagacious words I had a moment of clarity.

He was absolutely 100% right. So profound was my reaction to his observation I became very still and quiet-the proverbial deer in the headlights. All I could do was stand there in the middle of the kitchen with a dishtowel in my hands. After about a minute all I could utter was “wow”, which by the way is the exact same thing that occurred the night I met him.

I guess I never looked at my writing as a “talent” like singing. It was and is simply something I must do.

Therefor by my own account, I’m not using my talent as I would have myself do.

Sure I’m constantly “writing” in my head, or making little notes on my iPad or journals, I have my manuscript, and a few other stories I’ve written, and I can’t discount this blog – so I’ve never – not written- but even my blogging over the last two years hasn’t been what I would call prolific.

By my account my talent has been neglected. I should be a prolific writer and I’m not.
I have only one thing to do, write. Write so that should I one day loose the ability to speak, my voice would continue to be heard.

Oh and in case you were wondering, we were listening to Summertime Sadness by Lana Del Ray.

The post I should be writing instead of speaking appeared first on Nicole Olea.

I really wish I could’ve skipped the entire experience.

I enjoy these exams about as much as going to the dentist or that other annual exam I wish I could ignore.

You know the one ladies, as it also involves one of those crinkly paper hospital gowns–that are about as useful as a flashlight is to a blind man. (God knows they provide about as much warmth as one.) Which of course leaves one freezing, waiting for the doctor, because let’s face it, I’ve never walked into a hospital or doctor’s office where the thermostat wasn’t set to sub-zero temperatures. Which of course meant that I was all goose-flesh when it came time for my exam.

Thirty minutes later I had a diagnosis of  “this mole doesn’t look right we should have this biopsied” scenario.

All I could think was, “here I go again”.

I’ve been cast into that slightly uncomfortable, I just want to have this be over spot, I like to call, The Waiting Place.

Basically it’s Purgatory here on earth.

As I walked to my car despite the overcast day, I could feel the threat of skin cancer blaring down on me like the midday sun.

My heart felt heavy, and I’m pretty sure my eyes got all teary as I gave myself just a moment to accept that this is happening again.

The mole in question is in the same spot where I had a-typical cells during my last skin cancer biopsy which, I subsequently had removed. So if something’s grown back, I mused, It can’t be good.

To be honest, I’m feeling much more anxious about having to have this biopsy and the results this go-round. All I could keep thinking about where the statistics, as a Melanoma survivor, my risk remains higher that I can get it again, which is why I must be diligent about my skin examinations and use of sunscreen etc.

I’m trying not to think about it. Or talk about it. But it’s my skin. It’s kind of hard not to think about it, when you have no other choice but to live inside of it.

Still…My biopsy isn’t for about two weeks, so I’m certainly not going to go around moping or freaking out as that would do me about as much good as that paper gown did, but until I actually get the results it will be there, lingering in the back of my mind.

If you’re new to my blog or would care to read some of my other posts I’ve written on my experience, thoughts, products I use for my skin, and the topic of skin cancer, Melanoma, in general here are a few:

• Pale Is The New Tan  August 2009
• Protecting My Skin  July 2010
• To Be or Not To Be Skin Cancer July 2010
• The Waiting is Over July 2010
• Got Wet Skin? Need Sunscreen? No Problem! June 2011
• Melanoma Does Not Discriminate October 2012

The post The Waiting Place appeared first on Nicole Olea.

Life is short. We all say this. Made me wonder…

Are you living the life you deserve?

Dreamed of?

Want?

If any of your answers were “no”.

The clock waits for no one.

Time wasted can not be regained.

Make a plan. Set some goals.
Your life is your canvas.  You are it’s pen, brush, camera…

Go create a masterpiece.

The post Your life is art appeared first on Nicole Olea.

I love Italy. It is absolutely amazing here.

Spring is doing it’s magic and the world around is coming into bloom in bright greens and many trees are in bloom, which doesn’ thelp my allergies, but I don’t mind.

Here’s a look into what’s been up with me via my iPhone (let me not get into how horrid my cellular service is here).

The post One month later… (life through my iPhone) appeared first on Nicole Olea.

I was less than compliant because it was already so late in the day nearly five by then and the forecast called for rain in Venice that evening. Not to mention my “maybe all of these hiccups today mean we’re not supposed to go” argument.  But my protests fell on deaf ears and before I knew it we were all aboard a train to Venice. The city I’d dreamed of. The city I longed to see for so very long.

We arrived at twilight as a light rain began to fall.

My husband snapped as many photos as he could before night fall.

I was simply trying to soak it all in. Even as the rain began it’s more persistent fall that would last through out the night.

We walked around for a few hours and when the kids began to complain a little too loudly we stopped in a cafe for pizza. After which we ventured out into the wet cold night, which in a city like Venice, made it much more ethereal to me despite the bustling of people. We ventured into the maze of buildings, following the echoing of church bells, found our way out and treated our boys to gelato.

We all ended up with soaking wet shoes save for my husband who’d worn his waterproof hiking boots. We were cold and chilled to the bone, but still we were in Venice and knew she would be but a train ride away.

Love & Seeing Venice in the Rain,

nicole

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Test driving and deciding on a car while your teeth are chattering is never a good idea. Trust me.

It was a ’91 BMW that was priced right as it’s owner was scheduled to PCS (i.e. leave) our base in two days time. We thought it too good a deal to pass up and began the process of purchasing the car.

A few hours later that decision began to not sit so well with me. One because it was a manual transmission and my husband doesn’t know how to drive a stick-shift. The thought of teaching him didn’t freak me out or anything like that. I’m sure we probably would’ve gotten into an argument or four along the way, and I was sure I could teach him in an afternoon. However when I really began to think about driving this vintage-behemoth (behemoth around here anyway) I began to think perhaps we hadn’t made the wisest of choices.

Because of the age of the car it also didn’t come with things I’ve grown accustomed to in an automobile. Things like ABS brakes and air bags to name a few or even cup holders as they are an up grade when purchasing BMW’s here the original owner decided he could do with out. Clearly this person didn’t have children who had an affinity for sipping their juice boxes while driving.

Yesterday morning around one I woke up with a gnawing in my stomach. That car was not right for our family. I tossed and turned. Switched on my iPad and began looking for other newer cars. Yes we’d have to spend more but having a good safe reliable car was the important thing.

I was able to get passed the glove box not working properly or the fact that in order to lock the driver’s side door I’d have to use the trunk. I liked that it was in pretty good condition and that the owner had put on great tires and upgraded the sound system. What I didn’t was the driver’s side window wouldn’t go completely up. Leaving a space about a half inch wide. I’m cold here in our rental car with the heat on. I figured that would be an added distraction. When you add that and the manual transmission, plus the way my Italian neighbors drive and the small narrow roads I figured we were asking for a collision.

We cancelled that purchase and bought a car ten years younger. It comes w/ air bags and ABS brakes, and windows that close completely. I forgot to look to make sure it had cup holders, at least I know I wont freeze while driving.

Now that I’m on the topic of purchasing a car I thought I might share some information we learned for those who are PCS’g here.

I honestly think it would be easier to buy a house in Italy. In order to purchase a new car we’d have to wait about 8 months for it to arrive as we’d have to order it with the specifications we wanted. Furthermore military members overseas can only finance new cars though their banks like USAA.

Purchasing a used car was very simple as we used a local dealer who is well established with the base and all the regulations they and Italy require. Selection was very slim as automatic cars go quick and are few in number as most people here drive manual transmissions.

However if you plan to purchase a vehicle from an Italian dealership there are some rules you need to follow and should make sure you use a dealership who is familiar with the process to ensure things go as smooth and as quickly (hahahahahaha) as they can.

All of the rules will be explained to you in detail when you in-process and the information is readily available from the Pass & Registration office. If you have any questions feel free to ask and I’ll answer them to the best of my knowledge or at the very least point you in the right direction.

We’ll get our “new” car in a week after all the paper work has been filed and officiated. Until then we’re driving a rental.

The post Italian Wheels appeared first on Nicole Olea.

Just over a week ago I learned about your “squatty-potty” from our sponsor when out for dinner at a local restaurant. The very description of it sounded completely alien to my ears. “A toilet, that’s basically a whole in the ground.” I imagined a dirt floor and a hole. I was a little unnerved and so had to go and take a peek at the time even tough there was no real “need”.

I’d heard about horrible public restrooms in places like China, but never in Europe. The only thing I’d heard was that one had to pay to use them here-which I’ve as yet, not encountered.

When the “squat-toilet” was being explained to me I was told that for “numero uno” you should face the back and for “numero due” you should face the front. When I got in there that made no sense to me. My advice, should I ever need to share the mysteries of your public toilets to the unaware would be to roll up your pants at the ankles if you’re wearing them and find any sort of moisture on the floor. Plant your feet firmly in the center, there are grooves there that will keep you from sliding. Pull down your pants and squat low. The squatting low is key to not getting dripped on. The first time I used one I easilty went into my softball catcher’s squat and it worked great. So far I’ve been lucky in that all of the public restrooms I’ve encountered have been clean. Even the one on the train to Venice was not horrible. Though there was no soap, there was paper and luckily I always have hand sanitizer in my purse. I am a former Girl Scout after all Italia.

Since my first encounter with your squatty-potty, I find myself acting like a four year old when it comes to your toilets. I’m curious, and feel more than a little compelled to go in and have a look around. A novelty I’m sure will wear off eventually.

On my way to the toilette I secretly guess what sort of commode I’ll encounter. Either way you’ve usually decided that squatting is the best way to go about a public restroom since most of your more standard toilets don’t have a seat on them. Which leaves me no place to lay my delicate derriere should I so wish; and lets face it, I never really wished to in the States, so why would I here? A fact I’m very glad for now because my disdain for sitting in public has led me to develop excellent squatting capabilities which I was forced began to hone during my freshman year at college. My dorm had a common bathroom on our floor, so I squatted a lot that year perfecting my “technique”.

Flushing is another matter I find rather confusing. All of your toilets seem to have a different flushing mechanism. It’s taken me a few moments sometimes to figure them out. Also, if there’s a basket in there I should put my paper in it. Shouldn’t I? I suppose doing so is way better than finding out too late a toilet doesn’t flush too well.

I’d also like to comment on the closeness of the male and female restrooms. I understand space is limited here. I get that. I also understand that most of your buildings were born before indoor plumbing. I will just need a little time to get used to having the men pee at such a close proximity. In one instance the men’s stall was right next to mine in the same room. I thankfully had only ventured in to take my son to use the facilities. I can’t tell you how quickly I high-tailed myself out of there. Call me a prude American if you wish Italia, but this girl like’s her privacy when toileting. Also, why do you leave your doors to your restrooms open? I don’t want people (I mean random men) to see me washing my hands, or adjusting my smeared mascara at the mirror. I’m not sure I’ll ever get used to that. But I’ll keep you posted should I begin to. Promise.

I was still very surprised to discover a toilet in the floor. I mean what if I had to sit? Like what if I couldn’t stand? What would I do?

I still haven’t answered that question, as none of the toilets I’ve visited aside from those on base have a disabled stall. Which led me to pay attention at other public places. For instance at the train station where I had to climb down and then back up a ton of stairs. I spied no elevators at any of the three train stations I’ve visited so far. Which gives me pause to wonder what does one do when one can not walk on their own here? I’m still investigating that, but if you could help me figure it out without having to ask a native I’d really appreciate it.

I never imagined I’d write about toilets…Prego Italia for the experience and opportunity to ponder these differences in culture.  I’m embracing them. I really am, though I can’t promise a bear hug in the toilette any time soon!

Ti amo,

nicole

Italian words used:

numero = numberuno = onedue = twoprego = thank youTi amo = I love you.

The post Dear Italy, Your toiletts are um…well… appeared first on Nicole Olea.

Turns out it hadn’t and was the first place and only stand alone home we looked at. We saw about 5 others, all very nice, apartments and duplexes but this one we liked best. It’s a four bedroom two and a half bath with a little back yard and a view of the Dolomite mountains that really sealed the deal for us. A few added bonuses are a mudroom/laundry room, a little square room (it’s technically called a bedroom, but will be my writer’s nook) and a closet under the stairs ah-la Harry Potter!

We began the contract process today and hope to have it back in our hands very soon. After which Base Housing will have to come in and inspect the home to make sure it’s “livable” and review the contract before we can make it official. Next week is Holy week and then Monday is a holiday here so I’m not expecting to move in immediately. However, we have a place we’ll call home and that is the important thing.

I can’t express enough how anxious we are to be settled. After two years of living apart and not in our own space, having some place that is ours again will be delightful.

ciao!

nicole

The post We Found A House! appeared first on Nicole Olea.

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I’ve got so much I want to share. From our exhausting trip over, to all the little things I’m experiencing.  I’ve got to tell you about the food. The public toilets and even little things I’ve done that seriously, could only happen to me. I’ve got notes, and I plan to share them all. For now, I thought I’d share some photos from our first week. It hasn’t been all briefings and sleep deprivation.

Ciao,

nicole

The post Our First Week in Italy appeared first on Nicole Olea.

Hope you like letters! I fear they may become quite plentiful. Thank goodness I won’t need postage!

The post Dear Italy, Ti Amo appeared first on Nicole Olea.

xo

The post 751 Days Later… appeared first on Nicole Olea.

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Two years is a long time to be away from your husband, to watch your kids grow and change in miniscule ways that over time amount to big changes. To know how his heart yearns ten fold more than mine to be home, and to feel like half your heart is missing. He serves our nation proudly, and we support his duty and the sacrifices that come with it are understood and accepted (though not always with easy grace). We wait for his home coming and serve in our own way along side of him, marking off the days (750 so far) until we can welcome him home.

The post A Military Wife… #AirForce appeared first on Nicole Olea.

11. Spend the day browsing books in a used book store.

12. Wait, this list was supposed to be only ten things long. I could really keep going…

photo source: http://writersrelief.tumblr.com/post/39705929014

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As things begin to wind down for us here in Miami, it seems as though our life is getting a lot more busy (how is that for irony).

I thought I’d share a bit of my life through my iPhone.

Last week my boys and I along with The Bestie, went out to dinner. As we waited for our table we strolled the mall. Where  we acted silly and browsed though a store she dragged me into called Culture or something. It was cool. Reminded me of a gaudier version of Forever 21 – not really my style but I did find a few things that made me smile, especially their “pretty baubles”.

Valentine’s Day was spent with my two boys. They made excellent Valentines in lieu of my husband’s absence.

I had some fun in the sun. (If you know me and my avoidance of the sun you get this. If not read this or this, or this.)

Finally a late afternoon spent on The Beach playing in a playground.

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