When I was a girl, we had an old wooden marble shoot that was hand made by one of my uncles for us.  It seemed so big to me at the time – looking back I bet it was about 2 feet tall.  You would start the marble at the top of one side, and it would roll along, traveling it’s zig-zagged path to it’s pre-determined final destination at the bottom. 

I have always had a deep love of adventure and excitement, but I have also always relied heavily on planning and consistency.  I am not the person in your life that you throw a surprise party for, because I genuinely hate surprises.  I get joy and comfort out of the planning, the preparing and most of all, the knowing.   

This has always been especially true of my travels; while I love the trips, half the joy is the research, daydreaming, deciding… the knowing ahead of time what the days will bring; then the trip itself arrives, and fills in those bits that were missing with the reality of the experience. 

Regardless of if I’m heading to Kuala Lumpur or Budapest, I have always purchased as much as I possibly could ahead of time.  This was done for two reasons.  The first reason is financial; it’s easier for me to pay for a trip in pieces rather than in a lump.  The second motivation is more personal; it’s to fill in those questions gnawing in my head.  I know what hotel I’m staying at each night, because I’ve already paid for them.  I know what train I’m taking from what station at what time for each leg of the journey, because the tickets have been purchased.  I even know some of the restaurants and museums I will go to, having made reservations for what struck my fancy months in advance. 

Just as with the marble shoot, I love the excitement and adventure of the small glass ball’s race down the path, from side to side… but I also enjoyed watching the bottom; knowing exactly where it would come out. 

Earlier this week while talking on IM, I shared with Lo that I was going blonde. 

“Blonde Amanda??” he exclaimed, “Send no pictures – we want to be surprised!”  

“Well,” I explained cautiously, “I’m trying to pick up an Italian while I’m there so…I have to be ready.  Which reminds me – I got my hotel room for the first night, so you can pick me up the next morning.  I’m warning you though, once you tell me what time you’re coming to get me, I’m giving you half an hour to show up – after 30 minutes I’m going to look around the lobby, pick another handsome Italian and leave with them instead.” 

Lo expressed amusement. 

“Whoever offers me Prosecco, I’m theirs.” I warned. 

“So it’s not so hard then!” he replied. 

“No, I’m an easy woman, sadly.”  

“Why sadly??..................” he teased back. 

Towards the end of our conversation, he complained that his house was messy.  Since he’s been sick all summer, I pointed out that no one’s house is clean when they were sick. 

“I’ll clean it for you, don’t worry.” I joked

“It’s an impossible mission I think – I’m somewhat of an animal” 

“An animal?” I typed back.  “are we still talking about the mess in your house or are we back to the Prosecco?” 

“Both” came his response. 

And with that, we arrive at the point of today’s entry:

Friends flirt with each other all the time.  It can mean something, or it can mean nothing.  Granted, Lo always seemed to be the exception to the Italian man’s “flirting rule” until a few months ago, when comments like this began finding their way into our conversation on a more and more regular basis.  Still, I have no idea which brand of flirting this is; and even if I were a better judge on this normally (and I’m not) when you add in the issue that English as a second language brings to the table, not to mention the issue of communication being limited to IM, email, or poor phone connection, I’m sure that decoding this would be an exercise in futility for even the best and brightest of flirters - of which, I stress again sadly, I am not. 

Bottom line, this trip does not translate into my normal “Marble Shoot” formula.  I don’t have the vaguest idea of where this marble (whose journey I began when I set this trip and these changes in motion) will come out.  Instead of one path down the contraption there are countless options.  Perhaps he’s interested; perhaps he’s not, and even once this becomes clear there are limitless levels of “interested” and “not” so… I have to do what I hate the most: 

I have to wait 126 days, and I have to be surprised. 

I liked the old marble shoot better.