I'm all ears......

Orrechietti.  "Little ears."

I first saw them in NYC when I was still working at the hospital.  There was a "luncheon" of some sort and we secretaries were invited....there was also a massage therapist.  I remember that because I was determined not to let that opportunity go by.  I had my massage.....about a year before I had major surgery on my cervical spine (neck).

Anyway...they had a buffet.  Little sandwiches.  Cold cuts.  Cheese.  And salads.  And one of the salads happened to be orrechietti, but no one knew what it was, so they were cute little pastas.

It tasted like any other macaroni salad anyone ever had. Period.

Fast forward to Italy some years later.  There is no orrecchiette in the supermarket.  I don't know where it is.  I cannot find it.  Meh......

Well....it seems that is because orrecchiette in Italy is fresh.  Handmade.  Not manufactured by a company just producing different shapes of the same old same old.  No!  It is .....artisanal.

And....it is at our salumeria.  So...we got some. 

It was awesome.  At total and completely not at all like regular what you would think you were buying pasta in the US.  It is....sublime.

It has....texture.  It's HEAVY!!!  A little goes a long way.  We had a bag....we got four meals for two out of it.  

First time I used broccoli and chick peas ( ceci) with parmesan and oil.  Second time I shredded some chicken sausage, added my spaghetti sauce and the pasta.  Parmesan on top.  Both were two meals, both were filling and stupendous.

I have discovered a secret.  I'm sharing......but I'm so sorry those who aren't here can't share the texture and taste of real, hand made orrecchiette.  They are....stupendous.

I plan to use them in summer salads....to be used sparingly, of course.

Operator...can you help me make this call?

 After several years living here and bopping around from place to place, I finally found a hairdresser I really like and I am comfortable with.  She doesn't, by the way, speak a word of English.   Anyway....

Since I was hospitalized and operated on and so on and so on....my hair started falling out....then finally stopped falling out and now, at long last, is growing back in again....slowly.  Everything is getting better, but at a snail's pace.  I guess that's because I'm not so young anymore.  But it is growing back and I am getting better.  Yay.

Sooooo, it was time to call the hairdresser.  I hate going out in the cold.  I hate going out in the rain.  And this winter has had a lot of both.  So I watched to forecasts closely and it looked like this week would be a decent opportunity to get out and get my friggin' hair cut!!

I called.  After a couple of rings..."Pronto!"...the Italian version of "hello" which actually means "ready."  I said I needed an appointment.  I could hear a hair dryer, rather loudly, in the background.  She answered me and I couldn't understand what she said...then..."Pronto!  Pronto!"...aggh...I tried again, she said something....more hair dryer and "Pronto!"  Then she hung up.  What a disaster!

I gave up.  I felt stupid.  Incompetent.  I'm not Italian.  I don't speak fluently.  I tried.  I failed.

Then it was the weekend.  I sort of decided I would walk there (it's just around the corner) and make the appointment in person.  However, the weather didn't cooperate.  It was bloody cold today, even though the sun was shining.

So I mustered up my courage and tried calling again.  I called in the early afternoon, when I know it is usually more quiet since that is "pranzo" time...lunch time, in Italy.  She answered right away and thank goodness, the line was clear...no background noise.  I said "Buon pomeriggio"....good afternoon....and asked if there was an appointment this week.  "Si!  Domani o giovidi??"  I said I preferred afternoon.  I was given an appointment on Thursday in the early afternoon.  Hallelujah.  

The moral of the story is....I am not stupid, I can speak Italian fairly well, and she just could not hear me the first time.  I beat myself up for no reason.  And I will look human again on Thursday.  Hurray!

Deja vu

 It seems we are back in the business of acting as the town spay and neuter clinic.  

Sometime early last year another black cat showed up and ingratiated herself with the local gang.  I was in the midst of health and hospital issues, so I don't remember precisely when that was.  But late in the spring or in the early summer this cat, named unoriginally "Black Mamma" had a litter of three.

Only one of those kittens survived, and I think it is a female as it appears to be one of those mottled calico types.  I call her "Callie."  

Yes, not very imaginative, but when you have had a plethora of stray or feral cats, many of them looking quite similar, you tend to find a way to differentiate.  Ink is short for "Incubo" which means "nightmare" in Italian.  She was hell to trap and we had to release her even though I had hoped to keep her inside.  Black Mamma, obviously, became a mother and her body shows the wear and tear.  "Fat Tail" has....a fat tail!! Three black cats, 2 female, one male.  Now both females will be spayed.

The vet arrived today and took Mamma.  He will spay her and bring her back, still knocked out, so we can transfer her to a recuperative cage with a pan, food and water. 

As soon as we can we will have to trap Callie.  She is old enough now and this piazzetta doesn't need any more kittens.  Her mother, Mamma, had a second litter recently.  There are FOUR of them, although it is unlikely all will survive as it is winter.  It is horribly sad, but there is nothing we can do about there.  There is no "service" in these small hill towns, no organizations, nothing.  

And I certainly don't want whoever the sicko is who occasionally sprinkles freaking poison around because of the burgeoning cat population to do it again!

                                                               *********************

On a lighter note, I had a short but wonderful reunion with three dear friends from school....junior high and high school.  Short because of different time zones.

We were able to "Zoom" together in spite of being in radically different places.  

We filled each other in on some current stuff and also clarified some old stuff as it seems our memories all have some blank spots.  Luckily, the blanks are in different spots!

My father left, my parents divorced when I was twelve.  My older sisters were out on their own already.  I was left alone, bewildered, hurt and angry.  These girls, my friends, were my lifeline in those days.  I am deeply grateful to them.  

Yes, I choked up a bit when I had to "hang up."  Seeing them all, hearing their voices, remembering how important they each were and are to me.  💕

It's that time of year

 Slowly, slowly...I am recovering from an entire year in hell.  I have come full circle, now past the time when this terrible cycle began.  Happy to be slowly reclaiming my life again.

The weather lately has been very wet and miserable.  We have been in deep "Transylvania" for quite a bit.

However, I have been willing myself out several times a week in spite of the weather, and the week ahead is predicted to be unseasonably warm and sunny.

Decorations in town are up.  Sadly, a long time sundries store...he has everything...from safety pins, ceramics, garbage pails, cleansers, wine in a box, cat and dog food, shampoo, in home garbage pails...all kinds of stuff, is leaving us.  Donato, and his wife Antonetta, are retiring after he suffered (somehow, we don't know the details) an accident to his hand, leaving him minus the tops of several fingers.  I am determined to make it there in a couple of days to wish them well. 

The town is decked out for the holidays.  The ridiculous ice rink...even slightly bigger this year than in years past....(Why?) and the lovely lights. 

I am now preparing, or should I say pre-preparing the stuffing, since we just get a turkey breast...more than enough for just the two of us.  Already planning my post-Christmas meals.   Turkey pie, turkey soup....and sandwiches!!!  

We will walk to the now only open pasticcieria (bakery) here in the "old town"...to pick up our cakes later this week...one for us, the others are gifts.  

I have to mention that the house is kind of chilly...we have set the thermostat lower due to the war in Ukraine and the gas shortage....we do have two electric heaters....but they only do so much, with plaster walls and ceramic floors.  So, I wear several layers on my feet and body.   We are lucky the weather remains mild.

We snuggle up to Netflix, have kitties all around us....good, clean, unadulterated food...its all good, really.  

My sincere wishes to everyone for a happy holiday season and please, please, let it be a better new year!

It's a new day, it's a new dawn

 Yeah, I know my posts have been a downer lately.  My life has been a downer for just about over a year now.  

However, I believe the tide is changing.

I have started to feel better....more...."normal."  

I have had less pain, and when I do have pain, it passes more quickly.

I have reintroduced vegetables into my diet and all is fine.  I have been getting out and about a bit more, although I am still very weak.

Tonight I made a freaking wonderful pasta casserole with chicken sausage and mozzarella, and my own homemade spaghetti sauce.  It was fantastic.  

This week, in the US, on Thursday, it will be "Thanksgiving."  We obviously don't do it like we used to.  First of all, it's just another day here in Italy.  But, it is also just the two of us and neither one of us is up to conjuring up a huge meal and tons of leftovers and what for?  It's just the two of us!

So, I will make chicken cutlets....breaded.  I will make gravy (I have McCormick mixes), mashed potatoes (something surprisingly available in Italy, even instant....and quite good!) and some green vegetable.  I will also make biscuits from scratch (something I am quite used to doing) because no one in Italy has ever heard of a biscuit.  

What they do have, however, is a box mix for freaking lava cake, and that will be our dessert.  

Now that I am feeling better (finally!) I am actually looking forward to this!

So, Happy Thanksgiving, America and all my American friends and relatives!!!!  Things are looking ever so slightly "up!"  Keep the faith!  Have a wonderful holiday!!

The road gets rougher...

 I saw the rheumatologist.  It was a bit strange.  The office was on the main drag in Pescara, but when we got up there, it was open but dark.   I ventured further in, opened a door and interrupted a man speaking with the doctor.  I apologized profusely and at least informed my husband we were in the right place.  We switched on a light.

In a few minutes, the man left and the doctor called us in.  There was a big table and he was at one end behind a partition (for Covid).  I explained the situation.  He got up at one point and looked at my hands.  (See?  I'm not kidding!)  

He started me on Plaquenil (a drug I took ages ago) accompanied by some Neurontin.  What he did was write a note, not prescriptions.  He wrote a note to my GP in Penne.  I thought that was somewhat strange, but...what do I know?  Maybe that's how it works here.  Then we paid him and left.  I had some hope of feeling better, at least arthritis wise.

HOWEVER, I had been having some quite severe stomach cramping and pain for a while.  I had to wonder if my old umbilical hernia was rearing its ugly head again.  I was hurting pretty badly and afraid to eat and I convinced my husband I needed to get to the Pescara emergency area.  We called a cab.

I was examined immediately, put on a gurney and wheeled to a large room, like a "holding area" where there were about 10 other people in various states of not-feeling-well on gurneys as well.  

Eventually I was sent for a scan.  And then back to the holding room. I told my husband to leave as I had absolutely nothing with me...no pj's, no toothpaste, no brush...nothing.  He got home rather quickly and somehow it ended up that our friend (and insurance agent...who is also vice-mayor of Penne) would come with a bag of supplies for me, since he and his family actually live in Pescara.

I don't know.  It seemed like forever.  Staring at walls.  Watching other people get fed.  Staring at walls again.  Pain, pain, PAIN!  

Then I saw our friend. !!!!  He had a bag with pajamas and everything else for me.  We talked a little, but it was difficult for me.  The pain...the uncertainty....I was crying.   So, he somehow managed to speak to the doctor on call and within five minutes I was taken into the "exam" room with the doctor and a nurse.  My friend was there, too.  I was examined.  The two of them talked.  Next thing, I'm getting an IV and pain killers.  YAY!!!  With that, he left and I was taken up to the surgical wing.

The doctor there explained to me that I would be under observation.  The problem was scar tissue and operating on scar tissue creates more scar tissue.  So...they would "watch."

I was helped into pajamas, given a bed and was finally able to sleep.

The next day, I was taken to a different room that was occupied by one other woman.  She was very nice...and busy a lot calling her  husband, her daughters, her son, her young grandkids.  

After a couple of days, I was back on mashed potatoes.  I was also receiving antibiotics.  Mashed potatoes became a piece of chicken and mashed potatoes, or a small hamburger and mashed potatoes.  Finally, a burger, carrots and mashed potatoes.  And a roll.  I felt fine and after a week they sent me home.

I was fine at home, too, until the meds wore off.  So I found myself making mashed potatoes quite a bit.  

So, I know what it is and if I am lucky, the pain will dissipate with time.  It seems to be happening, but very, very slowly.  I can eat pasta, a piece of toast, ground turkey or chicken.  Sometimes I have horrible pain, other times I am ok.  Ice cream...gelato, sits well, too.

I have completely maxxed out on hospitals.  The Plaquenil is helping.

I can see clearly now, the rain is gone....

 Eight, nine weeks ago, I had the most enormous surgery of my life.  It lasted four entire hours.  The doctors put my insides back together.

Prior to that, I had had pneumonia (also life threatening) and gall bladder surgery.  Prior to that, I had had a hospital stay of a week, where surgery was daily dangled as a possibility but never happened.

Slowly......slowly....I am getting better.  It is frustrating for someone who was always very independent.  It makes me sad.  

But, after all these weeks, I get dressed everyday.  I take showers.  I now feed the clowns (cats) every morning once again.  Sometimes I clean something I can manage, like the stove, or a window. 

I have started to abandon the "surgical belt" they had me use in the hospital, it is no longer necessary. 

I try to "get out" twice a week...soon to be more....to walk to a cafe for a glass of wine, some bread and cheese.

Soon after my discharge from the hospital for pneumonia....I still didn't feel all that well.  As I plodded through that, one evening, at the dinner table, a piece of a molar fell out.  I believe I swallowed it.  Oops.

So!  I searched for a dentist and found one online here in town.  I knew there was a man around the corner, but I was not keen on seeing him....because he is a male Italian (sorry) and because he is older and I have seen him hanging around town with other "power" males.....no, sorry....not for me.

I found a female dentista..her website was encouraging and I made an appointment.  I will add, I was not 100% at this point, not by any means. My husband...who can be spotty.....decided he knew exactly where the office was.  It was not.  We walked to where he thought it was.  It was not.  We called her.  Turns out, she speaks English!  That was the good news.  The bad news was, there was no way in hell I could walk to where her office actually was.  There are TWO....TWO streets in town with basically the same name and hubby didn't check the fine details.

That was in June.  About a week later, I was unable to move and was taken by my sweet neighbor, to Chieti hospital, where they did an emergency laparotomy and kept me for two weeks. 

So, in mid-July, weak, tired...scared...I got home. *Also about 35 pounds lighter than I was when this odyssey began.

Finally feeling a bit stronger....slowly...I knew it was time to take care of this tooth, whatever that meant.  Pull it?  Cap it?  What?

We had a friend with a car take us there...she is up a ways from the veterinarian...but it is all uphill and no way I could manage it on foot.  

The office is on a street a ways from the center of town.  The building is 5 stories and rather modern but the elevator didn't work and her office was on the fourth floor.  Oy.  Ugh.  Here we go.  One step at a time...thank goodness I had my knee brace on and these Italian steps were not as deep as regular US steps are.

Finalmente!  Floor Four...and her office!  And the office was immaculate.  A tech came out of a door and asked immediately if I was "June."  Yep.  Ok, I sat in the waiting room, a sun filled, marble floored, shiny gem of a room that, honestly, needs more chairs.  A nice gentleman got up for me to sit down.

In about 10 minutes I was called in.  I apologized profusely for what had happened, and she waved it away...what happened???  So, I filled her in...and she agreed that the hospital here, in this town, is a nightmare and needs to shut down.

Turned out, all I needed was a replacement filling and voila!  we were done in less than an hour from start to finish!  

The differences here and the US?  They do not lock you into a full set of x-rays, nor into a thorough cleaning afterwards.  So, no x-ray fees at the start if not necessary.  She fixed the problem and I was done.  I can, if I choose, schedule a cleaning.  Otherwise, a completely professional, gorgeous office with state of the art equipment, staff and a totally competent and capable dottoressa.  

My tooth is fixed and we have a dentist.

Next stop......the rheumatologist.