Centro Sicilia
As we all had caffe together this morning, Giuseppe G explained that Ettore woke up, hearing a noise around 3 a.m. Giuseppe said, don’t worry it’s only a car. Ettore said, “Oh yes; it’s probably Amazon”.
Joe and I had a good night’s sleep, after our previous night’s rough start. What a difference that makes.
Ettore and I had a playful morning. We picked up sticks, and I showed him how to make a Lincoln Log style cabin (although later, he exclaimed to his mom, “I made a square!”, which is not untrue). He likened this structure to the 3 Little Pigs story, commenting that it was the house of sticks. Evidently his right foot was the huff of the big bad wolf.
With all of the fruit trees, vegetable gardens, and flowers, there are tons of caterpillars, bumblebees, and butterflies. Today we saw an orange butterfly; I’d say it was a Painted Lady, but the wingspan was small. It got close to Ettore and, in fact, seemed to follow him.
On our way to the house, Ettore pointed to his shadow and laughed. “It’s always stuck to you, even if you don’t see it sometimes,” I told him.
Mariella, constantly zipping to and fro on foot or in her white car, pulled up the driveway and unloaded sacks of things. The bombole of gas, a sack of new clothes from Vesta Bene, some games for Ettore, all poured out. She hooked up the gas in our kitchen, and brought a tray of espresso cups, a Bialetti Moka, and a pouch of espresso.
We had a simple lunch of pasta and pesto, since it was only a handful of us at the table. I said I wasn’t sure if it were basil or another type of pesto, when Joe said No; pesto means basil. That, my friends, is simply wrong. Pesto comes from the original method of preparation, which was by crushing leaves (nuts, garlic) in a pestle and mortar. Elena, in fact, makes a zinger of an arugula pesto. Maria Teresa and Mariella confirmed, although today’s pesto did happen to be basil.
After lunch, and upon Elena’s and Maria Teresa’s advice, we went to Centro Sicilia, a massive shopping complex. I needed a fancy dress for the baptism, and Joe wanted to buy a pair of Geox.
We found the Geox store right away. There were many great choices, and Joe’s really happy with his.
On to Rinascimento, an elegant store with Italian-made women’s clothes. We walked in, and two pretty associates approached; one asked how she could help me. Joe and I were finishing a sentence in English as we turned to her, and she called her associate to step near. The look on her face was the kind you see in movies, when someone opens a door and sees crawling aliens. I said, “Possiamo fare un giro?” Can we make a tour/circle of the store? She exhaled loudly and slouched over. “Grazie del Dio—parli Italiana!”
Explaining the event I’m attending, I asked for their advice. She immediately pulled out a dress, with a mint-green skirt. I never wear mint green, so no. Next, a fuschia (FOOK-see-ya) dress, then a dark blue and a brilliant blue one. I couldn’t decide between the two blue; finally choosing the flouncier one. As we walked to the register, I pointed out her first choice, the mint green dress. Joe liked it, so I went back to try it on, and it’s perfect. I bought the dress, then picked out a lot more at OVS. But I need to stop eating like this if I plan to wear any of it.
It was a strange approach to the vineyard. The massive driveway gate was closed, but thankfully unlocked. The grounds and the house were eerily quiet. Then we remembered it’s the evening of Agnese’s dance recital.
I tested out the few things I bought without trying them on first at the store. One of the items is a swimsuit, and I didn’t want shoppers to hear me wail. I’m happy to say, all are good!
Joe took a quick swim and went up to dry off. At this time, an unrecognizable car pulled up; it’s Father Giuseppe! He said Elena invited him for dinner after the recital. As we walked to the dining terrace, we heard Nonno. “Alessandro?” he asked. He was gardening in the lower vineyard, where he has his vegetable plants. I had no idea he was there! It’s almost dark!
Not knowing what to offer Padre, I put some cookies on a plate and poured fresh cold water for Nonno and him. We talked for a while. As he mentioned Mariella, I said she is the person I strive to be. He asked why, and I said she does everything with such great love. She is a beautiful person inside. Father Giuseppe said, and also you, Karen.
Soon, everyone arrived, and the normal commotion resumed. Giuseppe got some aged beef from a client, and grilled it, drizzling olive oil over it at the end. It was fantastic. He opened the other white wine we brought, saying he likes it better than the Zibbibo, which is more of a woman’s wine. Speaking of which, as the air got brisk when the sun went down, Fr. Giuseppe asked Mariella if she had a jacket he could use. “He’s a—how you say? A Lady,” said Giuseppe G, and motioned as if putting on a shawl. Mariella asked if Joe also wanted a jacket. He looked at Giuseppe, laughed, and shook his head vehemently, “No, Grazie!”
The guys were having digestivi—grappa, tonight—and Mariella and I cleaned up. At one point, we both said we’re so tired, we’re going to sleep.
I came upstairs and… the power was out. Poor Mariella. No rest for this woman, ever, but she fixed it immediately.
And now, lights out by choice.
Comments
Post a Comment