The Eve of Destruction

 I'd like to say I was on vacation.  Instead, I was suddenly in an ambulance and soon after that in surgery.  Two medications didn't mix well...I had an intestinal perforation.  TWO intestinal perforations.  Fun times. 

There was an air conditioner in the room that I shared with 3 others.  I don't believe it was ever on, so the lady  across from me and I would ask someone to lower the shades each day.  I couldn't get out of bed, but she could and she would sometimes, when the sun went down, open a window so we could get a bit of a breeze. 

I'm home now, making the bed, feeding the clowns (cats), making dinner, getting dressed and taking showers...hallelujah.  But I'm far from 100%.  Nor will I be until the arthritis is under control, unfortunately.  I need to get my hair cut.  The house will need a big clean once the weather cooperates.

Ah, the weather.  It's hot.  It's bloody hot.  How long has it been hot?  Weeks...a long time.  No rain.  Yesterday the skies clouded up and there was thunder....and about 10 drops of rain.  Blip.  Then the relentless sun came out again.  When will this heat wave end?  Hard to say.  The forecast isn't hopeful.  This may likely spill over into September.  I'm sick of fans, I'm sick of shorts, I'm sick of sweating, I'm sick of pasta salad.  Sick of this miserable heat.

People could have been driving electric cars decades ago.  Wind and solar power could have been everyday normal by now. Everywhere.  Here, one of the problems is "historical" preservation.  I really don't understand the resistance to solar panels for "historical" preservation when you have the ancient cobblestone streets being torn up daily by cars and trucks.  When the historical streets are lined with parked cars.  What's being preserved?  Where do you draw the imaginary line?

But, of course, the worst scourge to our precious environment resides in the US.  Or should I say, what is left of the US?  Because I don't recognize it anymore.  Polluters are being allowed to pollute.  The stinking fossil fuel industry, which should and could have disappeared into history ages ago,  is now going to destroy previously protected nature preserves, animal sanctuaries, ancient Native American sacred sites.  Burn, baby, burn.

I read a book some years ago titled, "The Sixth Extinction."  Well, gang, here it is.  More and more scientists are saying, despite some countries trying to effect changes, that the tipping point has been passed.  Every year is hotter than the last and that has been going on for a least a decade.  Storms are more powerful, droughts are more severe, wildfires more frequent and devastating.  We might have some bandaids, but they can't heal this wound.  

This is the new reality.  Certain people can dream of escaping to another planet, but that is just plain folly, especially when they can't even get a rocket to go up without exploding.  Others have "bunkers."  One is being built now in Washington, D.C.  A nice, big bunker to hide in and pretend that all will be well.  Bunkers don't last forever.  Food won't last forever, or water.  How much recirculated air can someone breathe?  Nope, there is no escaping this.  This is what our miserable, nasty species has done in the tiny blip of time we have had on this gorgeous planet.  We had everything.  But the ancient chimp gene gained control and wanted more, and more, and more.  

I've seen and I've heard people say, "It will be the end of the world."  No it won't.  It will be the end of our species.  You know the old phrase...You asked for it, you got it.  Things will get worse, I don't know how soon or how to even imaging how bad.  But Earth will go on.  She will continue, and she will eventually heal.  She's been through some severe apocalyptic events in the distant past and she will get through this.  And we will be but a tiny little bump in her long, long road. Something will come out the other side one day.  I wonder what it will be?

I'm only sleeping....

Europe is enduring a "heat dome."  People are literally dying from the heat.  Hellish temperatures over 100 degrees Fahrenheit.  Amazingly, here, while it is bloody hot, we are not sweltering as badly as areas north of us, such as Spain and France.

Our windows are shut, the curtains we have are drawn (due to the fact that the living room is not finished yet, there are only white sheers hanging).  The room only gets early morning sun, so it isn't too bad. We closed the outside shutters in the kitchen.  The room is dark (ugh) but noticeably less uncomfortable.  We have one air conditioner, just outside the bedroom, and three fans fans running 24/7 throughout the place. It is tolerable. 

I refuse to cook.  We have already cooked chicken strips, sliced cheese, tuna, eggs and rolls and tortillas.  Besides, the heat pretty much kills an appetite.  If tomorrow I don't feel drained just by waking up, I may boil the potatoes we have for salad.  But I have to do it in the morning, before the sun starts bearing down.

The house next door must almost be ready for the occupants to return.  They are now painting the exterior.  In the meantime, there is a ridiculously large wisteria growing and some of it was reaching our little balcony off the back laundry/cat room.  It was also attaching itself to the windows of the double door back there.  So my husband opened the door and managed to trim it back some.  

The clowns (cats) are feeling the heat too.  Playtime, if it exists, is limited.  They tend to lounge around, spread out somewhere where they can catch a breeze.

So, with them finding cool spots to relax, I didn't worry when I didn't see Notte last night.  She usually comes to the bed in the morning, asking for pets as I wake up.  But, Lupo and Missy Tee and Scruff were there, so I dismissed it.  And, she usually is in the living room with the others as I have my first cup of tea.  I figured she'd show up at feeding time.

I opened the cans, I filled the bowls, I put Scruff's medicine on his food.  Scruff and Zini were already waiting on the dining table.  Lupo and Percy at my feet.  Where were the girls?  As I walked to the back room with the other three bowls, I glanced in the bedroom.  No sign of Notte.   I got to the back and gave Percy and Lupo their food.  Notte?

Soon after they ate, Calzini started going from room to room, howling.  Ok, now I'm worried.  They often play together after they eat and I haven't seen her all morning.  I really didn't see her last night, either.  Dear god, did she slip out when the back door was open??  It's quite a drop....omigod!   

With that, I went to the back and started calling her.  My husband started in the living room and we crossed paths in the middle.  When I got to the living room, he called out, "She's here!"  Hallelujah.  He said she was on the floor, looking up at him.  Tiny little Notte with her great big eyes, like..."Wha?  Izz hot!  I'm sleepinz"   

                                                         

 So, all is well, everyone is safe.  And we shall continue to struggle through this hoax.  Climate scientists are such jokers, right?  I think it's time for a small cup of gelato.

Mama said there'd be days like this

May 25.  It used to be my mother's birthday.  I don't recall any "celebrations" per se.  But hers was right before mine and I guess there are just some dates you never forget.

We had a strained relationship, if "relationship" is even what it could be called.

I was markedly younger than my three older sisters.  One sister called her "Mommy" even as an adult.  They would take walks together around the neighborhood.  It was pretty clear who the favored child was.  And none of them called my father "Dad."  They had a name they used, which I won't repeat because even as a child I knew or sensed that it was disrespectful.  He never said anything about it though.  Then again, not much was EVER said in our house, which may be why those walks taken by my sister and mother stick in my memory.  I was jealous. It's like they were members of a special club and I was not.  What did they talk about?  What was being said and shared?  

I was twelve years old and came home from school late due to volleyball.  It was a gorgeously autumnal day, breezy, the sun was going down, leaves were flying in the air.  I walked in and I could small hamburgers cooking.  My father came out to me and told me to go upstairs.  This was very odd.  In my room, he told me he was leaving.  Pffft. That was it.  He was leaving.  

I didn't take it very well.  I know I was crying.  I asked about counseling and he said that "was in the movies."  He left.  It had started to rain, and I watched him drive off through the rain and through my tears.  Lesly Gore's "It's My Party" was playing on my little transistor radio.  ("and I'll cry if I want to")

I remember my mother telling me I was being "dramatic."  She wanted me to come downstairs and eat.  Was she kidding?  And with that....I don't remember a thing.  Nothing.  For how long?  A month? Two? 

As I said, our relationship was strained.  I was stuck in that house with her until I graduated from high school, at which point I began to make a series of awful decisions, terrible mistakes.  All I wanted to do was get away from her.

Over the years we had on again, off again contact.  But once I was in New York City and comfortable in a job, that contact became more sporadic and eventually disappeared.  

I had my one and only child at age 36.  Somehow, I don't remember precisely how, when my daughter was four or five, my mother and I started exchanging letters. She sent a few small gifts and occasional checks.  She said in one note, "You try to tell your children that you love them."  That statement sent me through the stinking roof.  You try?  You TRY???  Well, mother, if you tried, you failed.  I never got that message.  I got left out.  I got ignored.  I had my hopes and dreams for my own future destroyed.  But thanks for letting me know you tried.  

Soon after that I received a letter from my sister...the one who used to take walks with my mother.  My mother had died.  There would be no funeral.  

So, today used to be her birthday.  My mother, the enigma, the mystery.   

One nation, indivisible, with liberty and justice for all

 Well....here we are.  We made it through the night.  

Because it is springtime and the pollen and dust and whatever else is flying around, I had to take an antihistamine last night in order to sleep.  Watery eyes, runny nose, coughing, sneezing...I had to do something. I hesitate to take them because they make me very drowsy...VERY drowsy, so much so that the effect lasts into the next day.  And, considering the news yesterday, that was alright with me.

The world is on edge.  Quite literally.  And it is all because of one person.

Enough with the chaos, enough.  History shows us very clearly what this is and how it plays out.

It is long past time for Congress to do its duty.  Party doesn't matter, personal beliefs don't matter.  What MATTERS is their oath to the Constitution.  What MATTERS is that their job is to represent the PEOPLE of the United States.  What MATTERS is sanity, safety and world order that was fought for, died for and carefully constructed after WWII.  

The creature is mad, unhinged.  Age is a factor, no doubt, but seriously, who doesn't know that there was a conviction on 34 counts of felony?  Who doesn't know that rape charges have been filed multiple times?  Who doesn't know about the sexual abuse trial?  And none of that takes into account all the other fraud and sexual abuse cases that were settled out of court.  And then, of course, there are "the files."  Something the creature is so desperate to hide that a new daily distraction is manufactured, even if it means scaring the living daylights of people all over the globe.

The founding fathers were well aware that King George was not in his right mind.  The 25th Amendment exists for a reason, previously unnecessary but most relevant now.

They need to do their duty, invoke the 25th and remove this stain from the White House.  Stand up.  Grow a spine.  Staying "loyal" to this self-serving, selfish, cruel, greedy and grandiose mockery of a human being is NOT going to help them after all is said and done.  How can they not see this?

Serve the people.  Serve the Constitution. Be adults.  Remove the heinous, destructive creature. The 25th or impeachment.  NOW.

La vie en rose....

 I was going through some old pictures and found one that brought back a veritable flood of memories.  

When I lived alone in my studio apartment in Manhattan, back in the late 70s, early 80s...I was working full time but also going part time to Hunter College.  I was surrounded by people all day, yet, there were times when I felt lonely.

I knew some people in my building, but they weren't "friends" per se.  Acquaintances.  And I knew the other gals in the medical office I worked in, but they didn't live in the city and one was engaged, another was married.  And I didn't find anyone at school to connect with, either.

So, I packed myself off to a couple of "events" at the 92nd Street "Y" which was just around the corner from me.  A couple of times some ladies there tried to hook me up with their sons.  Nerp.  

Then, one evening...there was another young woman.  We started talking.  She was French.  She was in NY for a "semester" of in-house experience.  Not sure if I recall correctly, but I think it was a perfume company.  She was lucky that she had an aunt who lived in Flushing Meadow, near the site of the 1964 World's Fair, where the Unisphere still stands.

Her name was Annie, Annie Bollard.  And although I knew she was only going to be around temporarily, we hit it off immediately.  Her English wasn't perfect and luckily I remembered quite a bit of my high school French at that time...so we understood each other quite perfectly with our "Franglish."

We were together most weekends.  Sometimes we would walk along the "fancy" streets, Madison and Fifth Avenue.  As the weather got warmer, we would go to the park, strolling or sometimes lying down in the grass, staring up at the leaves and the sky.

We would also noodle around Greenwich Village, we would go to the movies (she LOVED getting ice in her drinks!) or we would get some ice cream.  

One time we explored Chinatown.  On a whim we decided to go into a restaurant.  I forget what I ordered (I was not and still am not adventurous when it comes to food.) But Annie ordered some kind of fish.  I will never forget the look of total horror on her face as the waiter put down her plate.  All the color drained from her face and she just sat there with her eyes wide as saucers and said "No...no.....no....no."  It was an entire fish...eyes, head...scales...a freaking fish.  I explained to the waiter that she must have misunderstood what the menu said....they were very gracious and brought her something else.

We had a "sleepover" at her aunt's apartment.  As if we were still teenage girls.  We had snacks and watched TV and talked and talked and talked. 

It was painful to realize that she would be going back to France.  At that time I doubted I would ever have the money or the nerve to travel overseas.  I had met the young man who was going to become my husband and father of my child and Annie was happy that I had someone to be with and to be happy with.  

                                                             Annie and me, 1981.

Seeing the one and only picture I have of her brought it all back.  I'm so sorry we lost touch (it wasn't as easy back then) and looking at the photo made me miss her all over again.

Our house...is a very, very fine house....

 I went to the local animal rescue and was looking for a kitten.  I wanted an orange kitten, one that would sort of, but not really, "replace" Huey.  Well...that is not the way the world works...nor should it.  I went to the local animal rescue and there was only one cage of kittens.  Three or four....not sure now.  Anyway, the others huddled in the back and only one came forward.  He definitely was NOT orange.  He was a gray and white splotchy baby....adorable....and he played with my fingers.   OK.  This one.

Rathbone.

Rathbone was a wonderful boy.  Laid back.  Sweet, easy. He let my young daughter put him in a bassinette, in a "shopping cart"...dear god, she put make-up on him.  She danced with him, she slept with him.  He was the perfect cat.

His fur was slightly longer than the average cat.  Just a bit.  And it was silky.  My daughter called him "the VERY softest place."  He was.   

Boney.  Rathbone.  Such a wonderful boy.

And somehow, whenever I pet Scruffy, I think of Rathbone.  Scruff is gray and striped.  He doesn't look at ALL like Bone.  But...he's soft.  Oh!  SOOO soft.  Scruff feels like a bunny.  His coat, like Rathbone's is just a tad longer than usual. His isn't silky, like Rathbone's, but soft, fluffy...fluffy Scruffy.  

Yeah...this boy  Bunny fur.  Super softee.  AND he is mellow like Bone.  I doubt that that is a trait of soft furred cats, but it is in this house.  Mellow and accepting and yet, the leader.  

I adored my Huey, but Rathbone and Scruff have filled his shoes (paws?) in ways I never imaginged.

I wish I was....homeward bound

 I've mentioned before...there is a cat outside.  Not every day, but nearly.  Looks clean and well fed, but still, I hate to see cats outside and now it is getting cold.  And I can't help but wonder where on earth this cat goes when it rains. 

I thought it was a male, but....one day out of the blue the cat appeared in our kitchen window, sitting on the ledge outside.  I had to herd my clowns out of the vicinity...thank goodness there is a door just outside the kitchen, closing off both the kitchen and living room.

We thought about opening the window and letting this cat in.  But where would we put this obviously lonely fella?  I texted my upstairs neighbor.  She must have looked out her window and saw our visitor...."Oh, that's Paulina."  Paulina?  Its a girl???  And my neighbor said she "belongs" to the woman next door.  The only problem is, there is no one precisely "next door."  The place is empty and being rehabbed inside and out from past earthquake damage.  There is scaffolding up all over, which I think is how Paulina made it over to our window.

This is not her, but it looks like her.  She sat there for quite a while, talking and making biscuits.  Tearing my freaking heart out!!

Whenever I look out and see her, she turns?  Does she have a sixth sense?  How can she possibly know I'm in the window?  

And now it's raining and cold.  I worry about her.  I wonder if I bought a portable, insulated shelter...if the actual "owner" would use it for her?  Or, does she have someplace to go?  Is the owner still in the neighborhood?  Or does a friend fill in?  IDK.  All I DO know is, she tugs at my heartstrings and I wish I could help.

There she is, on the wall at the right.

When You Wish Upon a Star

 My mother did the Christmas decorating the day after Thanksgiving.  That was way back before "Black Friday" was a thing.  NOTHING was open on the Friday after Thanksgiving except maybe the movies.  

Anyway, one of my favorite decorations was a star my mother always put up right in the center of the living room entry.   It was large-ish...sparkly, or just shiny....and all pink.

It disappeared when we moved to Long Island.  

As an adult, I looked around for a star that I could hang somewhere, hoping to find something similar to the one I remembered.  I never had any luck.  

That is....until MANY years later, after moving to California, then Michigan and then getting divorced after 20 years.  I needed to get out of the midwest, I needed to go home.  So I moved child, dogs, cats and a fish back to the city.  Except this time I couldn't afford Manhattan.  My city had changed.  I wound up in Queens.  

After several years in Astoria, Queens....I had a new beau.  And we went Christmas wandering...just looking at what was around, enjoying the "vibe," the lights across the streets, the lights in the stores.  A couple of times we wandered into a store.  And there they were.....STARS!!

A bit flashier than my mother's, but times change.  I had to have one.  In fact, I bought two. 

I still have the second one in its wrapper.  I wonder if my daughter will take it.  She has the kind of bohemian taste where she could pull off having the star up all year long.  

I don't know...it just makes me feel connected...to my past, to THE past, to what used to be.  And for some absolutely incomprehensible reason it makes me happy, even though things with my family didn't turn out that way.  It evokes a happier time, when I felt safe.

Are the stars out tonight?

 At our former address, we used to love sitting out on the balcony even after it got dark.  The expanse of sky before us, the town to the left.  The parking lot, especially during the summer, was obscured by trees and greenery.

That all changed when the parking lot was expanded to three times its original size.  Trees were felled, bushes removed, earth turned over...and LOTS more streetlights installed.  Between the noise and commotion during the day and the extra light at night, we no longer lingered out there.

Then, when the back wall started to crack...well, I wouldn't go out there if you paid me.

Here, we don't have outdoor space.  There are tiny little balconies, if you can call them that, outside the two back double doors.  They are really for plants, not people.  Besides, with six cats, those little "balconies" are not going to be open.  

But there are advantages here.  More space, overall.  More light, because there are twice as many windows and most of the windows are as large as patio doors or they ARE patio doors.  The cats love it here.  They have umpteen places to sleep and lots of room to play, which they sometimes do with abandon and lots of sunbathing to do.

Like most older people, I usually have to get up in the wee small hours and head to the bathroom.  Sometimes, when I do, I will check on the clowns to see where they are.  And sometimes, I will look out the kitchen window which faces the mountains and has a view of the sky.  I've mentioned discovering the moon before.  Such a delight to see a big, full moon over the hills and mountains. 

I was gazing out the other night...no moon as yet...but the sky was completely clear and the stars were very bright.  And I found myself looking at Orion!  There he was, the warrior, right THERE in front of me...I haven't seen a constellation in years!!!  It reminded me of California, up in the hills outside San Francisco, where the skies were clear and full of stars.  Wow!!  Orion!  Long time, no see!  I didn't want to go back to bed.

And today we get a sink in the back bathroom and a new kitchen faucet.  A new round of upgrades is in motion.  I see a new rheumatologist in a week or so, too.  I intend to speak my mind. I want very much to feel better and be able to walk about town once again.

Maybe it isn't so bad here after all.

M - O- U- S - E!!!!

 Scruffy.  He was the kitten I wanted first. I fixed his goopy eyes when he was just 3 months old.  He scrammed out the door but came back the next day....eyes wide open and schmoozed me for the first time.  He understood.

Scruff is 6 years old now.  No, he wasn't the first in the door.  Not my fault and not at all what I wanted.  Missy Tee marched in the door all by herself.  "Honey!  I'm home!"

Calzini succumbed to temptation...TUNA!!..and got trapped in the cage.  Imp was terribly sick and near death.  Finally...finally....Scruffy!!!

So, here we are a bit more than 5 years later.  And Scruff is (and probably was always meant to be) the quintessential housecat.  He hardly ever sits in windows....only sometimes.  He loves to snuggle,  He shows up for breakfast (which is critical because he has feline asthma and I put his medication in his food).  AND he loves to play with toys.  But not just any toy.  No.  It HAS to be "Mousie."

There have been various incarnations of Mousie along the way.  It was inevitable, after all.  One gets lost forever...who knows where?  One loses its eyes, ears, tail and most otf its covering....ugh.  So, it has been necessary to replace "Mousie" from time to time and hope he accepts the newcomer.  

I found "mousies" online..similar...and they were filled with catnip.  I tried it.  Well, yay, he was happy.....but only, as usual, with ONE.  What is the special magic, Scruff????

But what this boy does with THE ONE is incredible, especially considering he is 6 now!  These floors are shiny and slick, so when he bats it, Mousey goes FLYING....ZOOM!!!  But he also gets up on hind legs and slam dunks it or sends it across the room....I have found Mousie on the kitchen counter, under furniture (most common) inside shoes, on the bed, and, sadly, in their water bowl, requiring a 2 day dry out.  He's hilarious.  Bend it like Beckham, boy!!  

We have about twice the space here, so he is having a blast.  AND his asthma is better here.  He hasn't had any bad attacks.  I think because ...more space, the ceilings are higher, more windows and there is no one (teens who used to hang out under our balcony on the passaggiatta) smoking nearby.  Less car exhaust, too.  So, the air is cleaner and he is more comfortable.  So am I.  I am considering lowering his already low dose of medication even lower and skipping a day here and there.  I will see how it goes.

No one would ever guess this sweet baby had ever been a street cat.

And speaking of street cats!

The street cats still left at the former domicile are being cared for by our former neighbors.  We provide the food and they do the feeding.  It IS a protected colony.

BUT, there is someone back here....there is a house next door, with a garden...no one there because the place is being rehabbed periodically and sporadically (I don't understand how things work here, exactly) but there is no one there except when there are workmen.  There were guys doing stuff inside during the summer, now there is a big scaffolding up...3 stories...perhaps to work on the roof...I have no idea.  They put up the scaffolding and disappeared.

BUT there had been a cat out there since we moved in.  And when we moved in, I noticed a bowl on the ground....so, whoever did/does live there....they knew this boy came by.  He must be a boy...he is LARGE, like Percy....maybe 20 lbs or more...but he is white with patches of tortoise shell in black and gray.  He is a gorgeous cat.  

Since naming more than 20 cats over the last several years, this one just became, (I'm sorry to say) Fatso Catso.  Yep.  Fatso Catso.  He comes to nap.  Sometimes he plays with butterflies or just stands on the wall in the back and looks at the view.  Recently, I saw him lounging on the scaffolding, since the garden was in the shade and the scaffold still had sunshine, keeping him warm.

I'm certain he is another unneutered male...the macho in this country sometimes drives me nuts....but he seems, like Calzini's dad, a nice cat, nevertheless.  So, I look for him every day.  He doesn't always show up.  Clearly, he doesn't need feeding.  That's a relief.  

He has seen us.  He knows we are here.  I can't stand people who just let their cats roam and whatever.  They are DOMESTIC PETS.  TAKE CARE OF THEM!!!!

Splish splash, I was takin' a bath....

 Sooooo...we moved.  And, as far as we could tell, there was only one "working" bathroom.  We originally saw this place on a chilly, rainy day and since no one had lived here for about a year, there was no water, no electricity..nothing.  We were "shown" the bathroom, conveniently across from the bedroom...and it looked "normal" albeit with a bathtub that was somewhat small, but this is Europe.  These things happen.  And we didn't have a flashlight.

Sooooo, turns out, after we moved in, we discovered that said "bathtub" had TWO levels.  An upper level that would have been fine as a seat.....IF it had even been remotely possible to STAND in the lower level.  BUT the lower level is cupped, like a fucking tulip.  Seriously.  Who?  How?  What????

Sooooo, the era of sponge baths ensued.  

Finally, we were able to have a guy come over who owns a contracting company.  Young guy, very nice, personable.  And he speaks English as well as Italian.  Turns out he lived in the US for some years!! His father moved the family there from South America. 

After discussing, it was decided that the SECOND bathroom in the back would be better suited to an immediately working shower.  First a large and heavy (and ugly) dry sink had to be removed (and is still sitting in the back) but that provided the water source.  On the other side there is a toilet and bidet and the bidet could have been removed, but this is another room with a curved ceiling, so a shower would be impossible.  

They took out the sink, put in the shower, fixed up the wall and we also replaced the double door to a small balcony, so there are no drafts, leaks or bugs.  

The work has stopped next door, there is no one there.  I love taking a shower midday, when the sun is shining in.  It almost feels like a spa.  Those doors, even when shut, will tilt in on the right, just enough to get a breeze, some fresh air.  

Yes, we have a curtain, and when it starts getting dark, or if and when someone is ever next door, of course, it will be closed, for the most part.  But right now I am loving this feeling of being bathed in sunshine with all the greenery outside while showering.  It reminds me of the years that I would take my daughter to the water park in Michigan.  We could rent a tube for the day, there was an area to sit under umbrella and have lunch or a snack.  There was a wave pool and a water slide.  She loved it, I loved it.  

Eventually we will remove the bidet and put in a sink, hang a mirror and voila!  

Eventually we will rehab the stupid bilevel tub.  Eventually......  hopefully within a year.  Eventually every room, other than the bedroom which is done, needs to be painted.  But, hallelujah, I am clean.  Yippee!!

Tell someone to meet me, I'm coming home

The cats were freaked out by moving.  We had to bring them in shifts.  And none of us were familiar with the terrain, as it were.  

Scruffy was one of the most severely traumatized.  He disappeared for about a week, even though they were confined to one room, said room had once been a kitchen and he found a way to wiggle into the cabinet below the sink.  I was beside myself because if he wouldn't come out, clearly he wasn't eating or getting his asthma medication.  AGGHH!!

Notte wasn't too happy either.

The BIG surprise was Calzini.  Calzini, the one we weren't going to adopt, but he made himself so at home after he was neutered we decided he would stay.  Nevertheless, Zini was somewhat standoffish.  He never made a sound and you could not touch him. 

Gradually, over the course of some time, he allowed himself to be pet.  He snuggled with his buddies in their usual spots.  Eventually, he started asking for attention.  "Hey!  I'd like a scratch, please!!"  And after sweet, lopey Lupo came along, he really came out of his shell.  They were play buddies.  And Lupo is VERY affectionate and vocal.  Zini learned.

So, by the time we moved, Zini would sit on the arms of chairs or the sofa and allow himself the attention.  But what surprised me was, after the move, HE was the great explorer.  Once we were settled in and the cats were given the run of the place, it was Zini who looked in every room, every nook, every corner.  He jumped in the windows!  "Whats goin on out there?"  

Now he talks regularly, DEMANDS affection...by either shoving his face into yours or patting you with his paws.  He still hasn't ventured into a lap, but he comes close.  He might put one or both front paws down in your lap.

I don't know, but I think the light bulb went on in his little head....and he realized he was not going to be abandoned in the street again, that he was "home" and home was with us and his companions.  

The Light of the Silvery Moon

 It's been a long time.  Things have....happened.  

So, there was a small (about 50 cars worth) parking lot below us....down the hill.  We really couldn't see it in the summer, only after the leaves fell in Autumn.  The lot led to an elevator that rose about 8-10 stories to the main piazza here.

Well, said lot was expanded.  A lot.  I would say 3 times larger, although maybe a bit more.  Why?  I have no idea...no one was filling all that space.  During the construction, land, plants, trees were moved.  Lots of them. And for no apparent reason, all the vegetation next to our balcony, near the TOP of the hill, was also removed.  Trees, bushes, a magnificent elderberry.  

We lost the birds.  The only stragglers were some crows and an occasional sparrow.  What we did get was a whole lot of sun.  So much so that I had to buy a blackout curtain for the bedroom because it was getting ridiculously hot.  The other result?  I could no longer enjoy the balcony.  Too much sun, too much heat, too many bugs.

  But then...ah, then....the back wall of the entire apartment...which included the dining room and the kitchen, where the caldaia (water heater) was mounted on the wall, where we had the refrigerator, and of course, where the balcony was located outside, began to crack.  Seriously crack, as in it looked like it was falling down or off.  If it was windy, you could feel it.  Bricks were exposed.  Not only unsightly but potentially dangerous.  We had to move.

We had to move, and saddled with a place we could not sell. (We are hoping that the Comune or Italy or something, will decide to reimburse us something.  Maybe.) 

I'll make it short.  We found an affordable place on the other side of town, up a hill.  We moved at the end of March and I haven't even attempted to walk down the hill yet.  I'm beginning to feel isolated.  Also because my husband had a fall and hurt his hip and will need surgery to scrape arthritis from said hip in the very near future.  

On the bright side, the place doesn't have outdoor space, but it is considerably larger.  We have a large storage room (which is still a wreck) and two baths, sort of....agggh.  There were surprises in store after we moved.  What looked like a regular little bathtub is some weird thing with 2 levels and the bottom is curved like a tulip, so it is impossible to stand.  We had to have a shower installed in the OTHER bathroom.  

Also, the colors are...for me, anyway, mortifying.  Only the bedroom has been painted, a creamy off white.  (It was what I lovingly referred to as "hospital blue")  The rest of the place is YELLOW.  Like a freaking egg yolk.  

The oven wasn't "new"...it was filthy and didn't work.  The stove had a gas leak.  So, I got a new stove/oven.  The window in the bedroom had to be replaced, and the double door in the shower room.  The one in the laundry/cat room will need to be replaced before winter.

But, little by little, it is...improving.  Our upstairs neighbors are wonderful.  She is a nurse in Pescara and just so helpful its embarrassing.  She gives us peppers, tomatoes and cucumbers and EGGS,  fresh from her cousin's yard.  She has taken me, or my husband, to the supermarket, to the bank...I hate to impose, but she always asks.  

And one other nice thing.  Out the back windows the mountains are visible, and a small garden that belongs to the place next door, which is vacant, so the thing is getting unruly and overgrown.  But I can see THE MOON!!!  I haven't seen the moon in 6 years!  I was so excited the first time I woke in the night and saw the light shining in.  What is that?  And this month, the moon has been nothing short of spectacular.  Yippee, something that males me happy.  

We have to visit the Questura this year to renew our permits.  Needless to say, it is rather nerve wracking, considering what is going on across the pond.  Should all go well, we can then think about getting the rest of place painted in the Spring.  And also installing another shower in the bath with the strange little tub.  

The clowns (cats) have adjusted.  Moving was hard on them, except Calzini, who, after 5 years must have finally decided that we aren't getting rid of him.  He made himself right at home.  Scruffy took awhile.  Our former neighbor is taking care of feeding the "colony" now, while we supply the food.

Lastly, I am gradually feeling better with a new rheumatologist and new medicine regimen.  I hope to be able to walk down this hill at some point and join the living once again.  Fingers crossed.

It's the Holiday Season...

 

Help me get my feet back on the ground...

 It is Thanksgiving in the US.  What used to be my very favorite holiday.  First of all, it was a four day weekend...yay!  And, there was really no reason to "dress up" although I know some people did.  Sometimes we did, but not usually.

Then there was the parade...hours and hours of TV, watching giant balloons and various performers (often struggling in the cold) and the school bands.  My task was to make the "hard sauce" that was used on pumpkin pie.  It was just creamed butter and confectioners sugar plus a little vanilla.  I hated pumpkin pie, but I would eat the sauce by the spoonful.  

No school, no tests, no errands.  Time to read for fun, or watch old movies on TV or actually go to the movies...maybe.  Most everything would be closed so there were few places to go.  I loved it. 

Thanksgiving changed for me personally because my family fell apart.  After that it was never the same and of course, as a adult, the "holiday" morphed into an awkward time where for a while people felt sorry for me and invited me to their homes.  I did it a few times but it just accentuated the awkward aspect for me.  I preferred to just stay home.

With my own small family, it became a chore and more so when I had to work on the holiday (although the double time was nice.)  I do recall a couple of really nice years when just the three of us went out to dinner.  THAT was nice, even if I had to work.

Still, I saw what was once a nice, laid back time off change over the years to all this "Black Friday" nonsense.  SALE!  LOWEST PRICES EVER!  DON'T MISS IT!  Get a "jump" on Christmas and go shopping!!  Ugh.  Nothing quite like rampant capitalism.

Now, we don't do anything.  This year, particularly, since I am surrounded by out of place furniture and packed and not yet packed boxes.  I have a nice, clean oven and its going to stay that way.  Here, in Italy, Thanksgiving is just....Thursday.  

So, I was so pleasantly surprised when our neighbor came by last night and dropped off two fresh from the oven "bagels."  Well, that's what I call them...even though I know they're not, they may as well be.  With my favorite...sesame seeds! Instead of the planned fish cakes, we will have tuna melts!  Accompanied by some macaroni (penne) and cheese (provolone.) It doesn't get more "American" than that, does it?

My deepest thanks to my dear neighbor who is talking like we will be thousands of miles away.  Its just a few blocks. And my husband will be here often in order to take care of our outside cats, our protected colony.  

I don't know how I would manage in NJ.  My shock, dismay, disappointment, anger and fear is somewhat consuming as it is.  Although I am not religious, I am going to say God HELP  America.

It's too hot....too hot, baby...

 How is everyone?  Are you able to cope with the present heat wave?  

I've said before, the first three years we were here, the weather was glorious.  Yes, it got hot in the summer, of course.  There were, perhaps, three or four days throughout the entire summer where the temperature went about 90 degrees.  And, the humidity was low.  So....it was hot, but not awful, not unbearable.

Needless to say, that has changed.  I was hoping we might be in a little pocket that got through this mess without terrible consequences, but that was just wishful thinking.  

We are now stuck in a "heat dome" and the wind is coming from Africa.  Hot wind.  And we are in a drought situation, so the water is turned off every night at 10 pm and returns at 6 am.  Before 10pm the pressure diminishes.  A reminder?  Or is that just the way it has to be?  

Since our building is very old, we cannot have an air conditioner installed.  There is nowhere to put it where it can work properly.  We have a portable air conditioner in the kitchen (again, the only place it can be) which is okay because it sends cool air down the main hallway to the bedroom and living room.  

We have fans everywhere else.  And we just put up a cabana curtain outside the kitchen, which is the double glass door to the balcony.  No view, but the sun is blocked.  The SUN!!!!  Yes, of course!  The idiots last year who tore down all the trees and greenery outside our bedroom window....the idiots who exposed the whole side of our place and the balcony to total sun!  Whoever those stupid bastards were, they made the place MUCH hotter.  They made the balcony sunnier which is actually scorching some of the plants and also makes it impossible for us to be out there at the height of the day.  And that is not to mention how we lost the birds.  We had chickadees and several varieties of finches and sparrows, and the pigeons and crows.  Now there are only pigeons and crows.  I don't care for the pigeons.  I like the crows.

Crows are smart and they take care of each other.  They have community.  On these hot mornings, fresh water is put out in the bath while they watch from a tree down on the passeggiata.  Then, one by one, they come for a drink.  Not one of them bathes or splashes around.  No water waste.  Each one drinks and leaves and another one swoops in.  They have a system.  

Funny, when I was a kid and even well into adulthood, summer was my favorite season.  Now I dread it.  It seems to be morphing into a nightmare everywhere.  

The poor cats are limp.  They just sleep after their breakfast....no playing in the tubes, no "mousey" for Scruff.  

Dinner is pasta or potato salad with something on a roll, be it tuna or turkey, cheese or maybe egg salad.....uninspired but cool and easy.  

There might be some rain heading here in a day or two.  Hopefully.  Maybe.  Meanwhile, this misery drags on.  Glad there are things to watch on the computer and books to read.  But it is difficult to pull out of the lethargy these temperatures induce.  

Back in high school we used to have "field day" every year.  A whole day outside taking part in various activities.  I fainted.  I can't remember what it was I was doing at the time, I just remember being in the nurse's office, on a cot with a cold compress on my head.  I had to wait for my mother to drive me home.  I imagine "field days" now must be downright dangerous and it's horrible to read about moronic parents leaving kids in hot cars, or football playing kids passing out during practices.  

I hope people are learning to adjust to the present situation.  I, myself, have little confidence...none, really, that anything is going to get better.  **sigh**  But we soldier on.  What choice is there?

The second time around....

When I lived in New Jersey, I eventually found "Mr. Bill's."  Not the hapless little claymation Mr. Bill from Saturday Night Live, but a real, live Mr. Bill.  He owned a gym.  Since Maywood was one of those few still walkable towns...an actual "town" although it was really only one main street, I passed Mr. Bill's often.

We had a hardware store that smelled like a hardware store, with plungers and keys, paint and toilet seats, nails, screws, the works.  At Christmas they filled their front and side windows with a spectacular display including, of course, trains, stores, homes, ice skaters, hills, trees and lots of twinkling lights.

There was a small supermarket whose deli section included lots of already cooked meals, like chicken piccata or cordon bleu, stew beef in gravy, green beans, potatoes, pasta salads...everything for the harried commuter who needed a decent dinner.

On top of that, there was a fantastic pizza place, the best Chinese food I believe I have ever had (next to one place in Manhattan that I adored) and another "fusion" storefront that sold Chinese and Mexican food.  Their quesadillas were wonderful!  But if you didn't feel like take-out, there were two (TWO!) actual restaurants that weren't blaring with multiple TVs, both of which had a quieter seating area and a less formal bar area.  Both had great food and nice people.  

It wasn't until I had to cut back my working hours because of rheumatoid arthritis that I slowed down enough to actually notice Mr. Bill's.  Eventually, I worked up the courage to go inside.  This, however, was only because I noticed quite a few "older" people inside.  You know, ones with GRAY hair, and saggy buttocks and stringy arms.  And a dog.  Mr. Bill took his dog to work.  Ok, ok, I can do this.

And I did.  I was a member for three years, following this "program," and meeting people, feeling better, "expanding my horizons."  I went on the occasional hike, which included stops along the way at member's homes for rest and refreshment.  Mr. Bill also gave an annual party at his house.  He celebrated "Cinco di Mayo" and we all chipped in bringing dishes while he provided the beer.  

However, I learned that Mr. Bill was not actually celebrating "Cinco di Mayo" because it was a great holiday or he had Latino roots (He was about as Irish as one can be) but that this was his "second birthday."  He had been out jogging one morning (happened to be the fifth of May) when he was struck by a car.  The car kept going and as he laid there on the side of the road.  

Somehow he wound up in a hospital....alive.  Ergo, his "second birthday" that he celebrated every year.

My actual birthday was just a couple of weeks ago, but today, June 30th, is my second birthday.  After having a botched surgery, followed by pneumonia, followed by lethargy, inability to eat, walk...anything....I was taken to the hospital on June 30th...a large, teaching hospital with state of the art equipment, and my life was saved with a major open surgery and repair of a bile leak and intestinal perforation.  I had lost 50 pounds in those few months. My hair was falling out.  Weak and tired hardly covers it.  But I lived.

  I won't be having a party, only home made chicken tarragon salad and pasta salad with peas and eggs. But there will be a large bottle of prosecco and gratitude to my friend and neighbor who drove me to the hospital and, of course, the doctors who saved my life.  I may never be quite the same again, but I am eating and cooking, walking, getting outside, feeding the cats, folding laundry, reading and exercising as per the instructions of the lady who treats me with shiatsu.  Yes, shiatsu.  More on that later, it's time now for prosecco!!

See you in September....

 I went to get my hair cut today.  I know that everything will be basically closed for the entire month of August....so, in anticipation, I had my hair cut a bit ahead of time so I could make it until September, 

It was funny because it was the first time my hairdresser called me by name....Yuni...or Yoony....or Uni.......as in Juni....since my name is not one that is "normal" in everyday society in Italy.  I thought it was cute....wrong, but cute...I mean, I can live with that. I know they don't understand.  

This was the first time she ever called me by name.  She was busy this evening...and her phone never stopped.  I thought I would be the first appointment of the afternoon, but there were already two people ahead of me.  What is it?  Graduations?  Weddings?  Both?

So, she was a bit rushed, but perfect as always.  She might be THE best hair cutter I have ever encountered.  I called her an "artista"...and one of the other women there agreed.  

Also, this time, as I left, she didn't follow me to her "check out stand" but stayed back with the other ladies.  So I left my money on her counter and as I left I said "Buonasera!  Grazie!" and pointed to the counter.  I was...sort of ...and sort of not ....comfortable with that.    

My husband noticed that my hair was shorter than usual and I told him why.   Why not shorter?  Why not?  Why not?  Well......that's because.....that's because some years ago someone noticed ....who was it?  For the life of me I can't remember....someone said I looked like my mother.  I nearly died. 

All my life I was told I looked like my father....my father who left us.  My father who turned his back...on me.  (My sisters were older and were adults when he left...I was twelve.)   But, what did I do?  I blamed my mother.  Because.....she was silent...she never spoke...never raised her voice...never said a word about it.  I blamed my mother although she was still there.  I blamed her because she DIDN'T EVER TELL ME ANYTHING!  

So.....to have someone say I looked like her was jarring, to say the least.  And, as I got older, I saw it.  I could see it myself.  But most especially with my hair short, as my mother's always was. 

Quite frankly, I could not bear it to see or be reminded of her each day in the mirror...it would drive me crazy.  I was the unwanted child.  I was the accident.  I should never have happened. 

I am sorry that I feel this way, and I have no way of ever extricating myself from it.  Just as I have no way of ever forgiving my miserable, selfish father.  Both of them failed me as a child.  I was the leftover.  Pffft.

Well, I'm still here.  And I love my hair, which is shiny, healthy and silver.  But it is MY hair, not anyone else's...and I wear it as I wear it for my comfort.

Strange, isn't it?  How these miserable ghosts can continue to haunt us for entire lifetimes?

Welcome to...my little corner of the world

 Five and half years ago we retired to Italy.  Why?  Well...for the adventure, for sure, but also because of clean air, clean water and unprocessed foods.  And, for me (and even more important) guns...or the lack thereof. 

The last time we went to a movie theater, in New Jersey, was one Christmas and we were with my daughter.  It was a "Star Wars" film.  I never cared too much for "Star Wars" (I was a "Close Encounters of the Third Kind" type of person) but it was the holidays and so-called blockbusters were all they offered.  The film, in my opinion, sucked.  What didn't help at all was that from the moment we arrived until we got home, I was a quiet wreck.  I didn't let on, I said nothing, but I was terrified.  Popcorn, big Coke and fancy, plush recliner seats and all, I was very nervous.  The only thing I could think about was if we had any chance of escape if someone should decide this was the place and time to use an assault weapon.

So, anyway, here we are, in the middle of Nowhere, Italy.  My daughter has visited several times.  The first time it was all about this town, which, at that point, was considerably livelier than it is now. (Covid took a toll here and we lost several restaurants and I don't know how many people).  Subsequent visits found her here for a bit and then in Rome and then up to Germany to see people she knew.  It's a VERY quiet little town.

So, imagine my surprise to have someone come here...just to see us!!  And even more surprising...she is a Facebook friend whom I have never met face to face.

They are on a whirlwind and globe spanning trip of a lifetime as circumstances occurred for them to just say....let's do it!!

That's us having some prosecco (I'm on the left).  We "met" online when Bernie Sanders ran for President the first time, so it's been quite a while.   The weather has not been cooperating, though, and it was a bit rainy and chilly, as it has been for several weeks.  Climate change is making itself known even here.  

It was amazing to sit down with someone and talk easily while still realizing that we had never, ever met in person before.  She is the ONLY virtual friend I have that I have ever met in person, so I felt very honored, especially since this is not the most popular place to visit, for sure.  There are a lot of British people, although more and more Americans seem to be trickling in.  Most people tend to flock to Pescara, the local beach resort, filled with hotels, bar and restaurants and...beach. 

We had lasagne and meatballs and then walked down to Con Amore for gelato.  "We haven't had gelato yet."  WHAT????  We all had a cup.  Mine was fondente (dark chocolate) and hazelnut.  Her husband, seeing the fondente, went back for seconds!!  I guess he liked it *snorfle. 

I know my New York-ness came out several times, but no one seemed to mind too much,

This is my thank you to her for going through the trouble of finding this tiny hamlet and giving me the opportunity to meet a kindred spirit.  Grazie mille!!!  Kind of amazing, in a good way for once, what technology can do.