It’s 5:40am and I swipe my card to enter the workout area of the YMCA. The nice guy behind the desk smiles at me and says, “How is ol’ Vito anyway?” I turn around to see who is behind me. Strange, there’s no one–apparently this guy is talking to me? I honestly think I might still be asleep. I ask, “are you talking to me”. “Yeah, isn’t Vito Calcara your dad? I was just wondering how that ol dog is doing”. I laugh and explain. “No, my dad’s name is Fred and I’m from Kansas City…yada, yada, yada” Chris likes to call this characteristic of mine ‘word vomit’…it’s where I tell cashiers, waiters and random strangers my life story. For the record, I think they like it. Anyway, we talk for a few minutes and come to the conclusion that Vito Calcara is not my father and I am (shockingly) not Italian by blood…I know my dark features and golden skin are probably very misleading!!!
Looking back at this story, I’ve decided something…Vito Calcara is an awesome name for a French Bulldog!!! I was thinking George, but Vito might just take the cake! Of course, I still need to find the dog and talk my husband into letting me get it…but you gotta start somewhere!
Can’t you just picture it? 🙂