What Day Is It?
Today, Monday, we started slow as usual, perhaps because mornings are the chilly part of the day. As if reading our minds, Vincenzo was at the door, calling “Permesso! (May I enter?),” and I was happy to see he too was still in his pjs. He came to set the radiators for a couple of hours at the beginning and end of each day. They warmed the place up quickly, and sure enough, the temp stayed steady long after they were off.
I forgot to mention that, on the walk home last night (a circuitous one, as we were temporarily lost), there was a slight bumping sound ahead. Apparently an accident occurred, but from what I could see in the dim light, both cars seemed in good shape. Maybe there was a scratch or a small dent. Two men from one car, one man from the other, were talking. As we got closer, they got louder—and it wasn’t louder just because we got closer. At one point, the solo man yelled at the top of his lungs, very angry, making a motion to shove shoulders, but at the same time, I thought he was about to cry. I hurried us past, but Joe confessed he wanted to hang around to see how it would turn out. I’m hoping they all decided to share a pizza.
After Vincenzo left this morning, I cleaned “Joe’s” bathroom, did some laundry, mopped the whole loft, and dusted. Joe did the part of an Italian man.
I thought I heard children outside as I was cleaning. We headed out to run errands, and kids were out and about. No school? I looked up feast days and Italian commemoration days, and all I could find for today’s saint was the martyr St. Cecilia (although she’s so cool, she didn’t burn when they threw her in the fire), and of course JFK’s assassination date. There was rain super early this morning, so maybe that was it? What’s today?
Another Italian answer today, to the question What day is it? is “organics”. That garbage is on the hook. Tonight the plastic goes out for recycling. And so on. You have to divide it up to hang on those little hooks each day.
For buying oddball things, such as an ice cube tray, sewing kit, or construction paper, I was told whenever I asked where to find such items, “Al cinese (at the Chinese [person’s store]),” although I think the official store name is Meno Prezzo (Less Price). It reminds me of my grandpa calling the original Kowalskis “the Polish store”. We found our few things there, went to Delizie for bread, sandwiches, and sweets, and I got a warm greeting from the clerk who now recognizes me. Joe wants pork chops tonight, so we went to our favorite butcher, who is everyone’s favorite butcher, therefore the wait was long, and it was almost 1:30 closing time. So onto the next butcher, with two women behind the counter, one of whom said I speak Italian really well (!). I’ll take it! I wanted to buy fresh fennel at a street stand, seeing the handwritten cardboard sign said €0.50 (about $0.62), which made me laugh because the Polish Store charges almost $4.00 per fennel bulb. When the vendor asked “Uno?”, I said “Sì,” not realizing that meant uno meant one bundle. 5 fennel bulbs for €0.50!!!!! Onto the vegetable vendor for peppers, and as we walked past the caffe bar, got a wave from Giuseppe, our friendly baristo. Then home for a nice light lunch.
I took a stroll, came back and sewed the ripped seam in my sweater, and jotted these notes. Waiting for Ettore, and tonight, braciole di maiale alla griglia! With grilled peppers and fennel salad. I normally don’t care for peppers except the thin Italian fryers or fresh cayenne, but for some reason, these taste wonderful.
Ettore came up with Agnese, who is a little firecracker. Super sweet and 1000% energy. Elena is still a bit under the weather, so Agnese, and later, the lovely Rachela (Rachi, or, “Rocky”) played with Ettore and I; a nice dose of Italian along with mostly English. He had a few crying moments; Rachi is really good at redirecting! She found pictures. Would you rather be a tractor or a blueberry? A turtle or a glass of milk? Ettore laughed, and it turned into a fun game. Grazie, Rachi! When he tired of that and was a bit sad again, I used the old trick of pulling every pot, lid, and wooden spoon out of the cabinets, for drumming and cymbal practice. Joe said, you really want all that noise? I said, it beats crying noise! So we jammed until it was time for Ettore to head home. I’m becoming very smitten with him; with the girls as well.
I’m in for the night. And I still don’t know the significance of today’s date—if any!
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