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.