Coffee, Pranzo, Flebo

An unusually cool 75-degree day has me in a long linen shirt and leggings!

A nice breeze over the rooftops

I woke up to a sunny, beautiful day; breezes blowing through the apartment. I was becoming so accustomed to the heat, today feels almost cold! It's nice to pull the linen shirt and leggings out of the wardrobe, as I know this little respite will not last.

Ettore, although feeling much better, wants to play at nonna's this morning. I said ok; I will go work on the shower drain, which I think is full of my hair. Elena said, "Go to the store, even at CRAI; there you will find Mister Muscolo in an orange bottle. It will clear it, even the hair". If this is true, I will bring back a suitcase of it!

Before going out, I checked some bank statements and read some of the latest information on Joe's grandson Everett, who is still in the hospital. As I finally put on my shoes to leave, I heard a soft knock and "Kah-ren, are you there? Have you seen Ettore?"

It was Elena (holding Ettore), followed by Mariella. They came up to say hi. I said, Wonderful! Now I can make you some American coffee, if you'd like! Elena said yes; she would like that.

I brought some Peace Coffee from home, and I defaulted to scooping in more grounds versus less, for a strong coffee. But I had a taste and--- oh my God, was it strong!!! I love a solid cuppa Joe, but this one brought tears to my eyes. I apologized, saying let me try it again; this is a new blend to me and I didn't get the proportions right. Elena said no; I will try it. She was very polite, and managed to drink it after adding some milk and a lot of sugar. Mariella took one sip, and said she had to go take Nonno to his appointment. I could barely drink it. I had set out some cookies, and ate a couple to wash away the taste.

After a while, Andrea came up to bring Ettore to his lunch. I offered her coffee, saying I want to offer to be polite, but it is so terrible, perhaps I'm not being very polite. She looked over at the pot and said, I have an American coffee maker at my house also. Yes; I'll have a cup. Ok, Andrea--you'll need sugar! She shook her head no, and chugged down a mug as is. She liked it. This woman! XOXOXO!

We were all very busy talking about this coffee, and about brushing teeth with bicarbonato. I have a picture only of the detritus after everyone left. 

And Elena invited me to lunch at her mom's today.

I had found a cool postcard a while ago, with a photo of a smoking Etna; I want to send it to Everett. I spent the next bit of time writing it out and finding an international stamp. I tucked it in my purse and headed to the Post Office, which is a little bit of a hike from here. I had just enough time to get there and back before lunch at Mariella's. On the way down to the street, I was greeted by Maria Teresa and Agnese in the entryway. "Buon estate!" I greeted -- Happy Summer! Because today was the last day of the school year. I saw more evidence of this on my walk to the Post Office, as kids and moms crowded around school entrances, talking about summer plans, and bidding each other "a Settembre!"

I managed to hoof it back just before the usual lunchtime of 1:30. I walked into Mariella's kitchen, where Nonno, Ettore, Maria Teresa, and Agnese were seated around the table as Mariella cooked her magic at the stove. Rachele was on the sofa in the kitchen's sitting room, taking a power nap. Soon Elena arrived with Matteo, and Vincenzo came home. Maria Teresa and Ettore had bowtie pasta with cucuzza (Sicilian zucchini), and the rest of us had linguine with clams macchiato, which Agnese loves, despite everyone else in her family not being into seafood that much.

Then for the second course, we had swordfish, fresh from the fishmonger this morning. Drizzled with olive oil, it was salty and tender and almost sweet.

As always, Nonno asked about Joe, and what he's been up to during his time in Rome. I explained that today he is with his grandson at a "How to be a Gladiator" lesson, and then they are going to the Colosseum. With all the other things I've suggested for their time in Rome being a bust, I'm not going to ask how it all went. I've hung up my hat as [an errant] travel agent, since the pay is horrible, and the reviews can be devastating.

Giuseppe G stopped in, and I showed him the list of wines I bought at Wine & Charme, asking his expert opinion on them. He said they were all excellent wines. The one side note he had was that the best Etna Bianco is actually right here from Biancavilla. Now I have a new mission. I must find a bottle and try it. 

And speaking of bottles, Mariella will be bringing me some of the family's olive oil from their grove later. It's hard to have any other kind after tasting theirs.

Elena is preoccupied about her dog, Lilo, who is quite sick. The poor woman can't get a break. She and Mariella were talking about various courses of action for Lilo, with Mariella rocking Matteo in her arms. She said, I'll hand Matteo to you, go wash your hands (we've been excessive hand washers with Ettore being super sick). It was then I noticed Ettore in the corner of the dining room, and -- this happened yesterday as well -- his still-recovering tummy was giving out on him and he had a little accident. Thank goodness for tile floors. I called Mariella over so she could take care of getting Ettore some clean shorts and I asked where to find the disinfectant, while I started to clean up. Elena shouted No, Karen! You did this yesterday! Which, true; I did, but who cares? It's not as if I haven't had to do this with my kids and nieces/nephews (and my dog) over the years! We got all that taken care of, Mariella cleaned up Ettore, I scrubbed my hands again, and went into the kitchen to finish loading the dishwasher and start on some of the pots and pans, despite the protests. Elena was feeding Matteo while Mariella sang Ettore to sleep in her arms. As I was scrubbing away, Mariella called to me from the kitchen sofa, Kah-ren, Kah-ren...., she said, motioning her head towards Elena, who was softly almost crying, saying (in English) she is just trying to do things right, to keep it all together, to keep things going well, and everything is going wrong. She feels terrible relying on others and asking for things, especially from her mom, all the time.

Tired mom of a preemie newborn, who does more things in one hour than some people do in a month, is saying this. I went to her and kissed the top of her head. "You have had a lot of things happen, all within a month. You're a mom, you're a woman, you care, and you do a lot. Nobody is complaining. We want to help. Allow us to do that!" Mariella shook her head a little, and asked what we just said. I explained in Italian, tripping over my words somewhat. Mariella had a blank look. I said, I know I didn't say that very well, and Elena laughed. At least I'm able to provide comic relief for her on occasion.

After drying the dishes, they sent me off upstairs, with Elena thanking me again for yesterday and today's Ettore clean up. "Niente," I said. She said, it's been two times now, and you know what they say in Italy...

Yes; I do.

Mai due senza tre. 

Never two without three (the Italian version of 'bad things come in threes'). Good. That means the unlucky streak is almost finished.

I had told Elena I didn't need a nap, when she said go upstairs and rest, but darn it if I didn't fall asleep once I put my feet up! I'm getting good at napping. My sister would be so proud. She's one of the best nappers I know.

After that little siesta, I freshened up, changed clothes, and put on some jewelry. I was going to see if I could play with Ettore for a bit, then perhaps go to Deco to get a nice bottle of wine for Alessandro. Being a Friday night, it was good to spruce up a little if I were strolling through town. First, check on the family -- I had a feeling they'd all be at Mariella's, so I popped in to see what was happening. 

"Look at you, you are dressed nice with earrings and everything, and mommy looks shitty and I look shitty, so you too are supposed to look shitty," was my greeting from Elena.

I said I came to check on Ettore, but Elena said I looked like I was going out. To my usual place; Deco, I said. Ah, but at least you go to Deco. I only come down here to mommy's.

Ettore is doing fine. He has a rash on his cheeks, so they think it is Fifths Disease. His spirits are good, but he is still a bit under the weather. And then there is Lilo, the dog. I'm not quite sure what his illness is, but he needs a "flebo," an IV drip, three times a day. Mariella, who is the chef, the doctor, the vacation-house readier, and the mom/wife/grandma with all the hugs and answers, is evidently also a veterinarian at the ready. She ordered a 'flebo' and administered it to Lilo, who took all of this patiently and calmly, sitting on a dining room chair. The drip was hung from the window hinge.

Look at that little paw on his folded patch of red gauze fabric.

During all of this activity, Matteo was fussing. I washed my hands and picked him up. He stopped crying. Elena, in between marking the IV bottles for doggy dosage amounts and making Ettore's supper, walked by me and said, "He likes you". She insisted I sit down, but I told her, as soon as I get comfortable, he will start to cry. "You know this?," she asked. "Elena, I raised three babies!" She thought I knew this specific trait about Matteo, since that's what happens when she sits down with him. But look at what I got to do when everyone else was attending to others: 

I will never get sick of this precious time, even if they're fussing. Do you hear me, my kids :)?

Nonno started asking about his dinner, and everyone shushed him, saying that the little ones come first, he can wait ten minutes. By this time, Giuseppe and Vincenzo were home from work and gathered 'round. After everyone got situated, and Ettore was being fed, I put Matteo into his stroller/bassinet and bid my good-nights. Mariella gave me an enormous hug and told me I am a sister to her. 

Oh; and through all this, poor Rachele has a fever and is down for the count!

I grabbed my purse, walked to the edge of town to Deco to buy Alessandro's bottle of wine, only to find they closed at 8:30. Sigh. Tomorrow, then.

On one of the side streets this Friday night, I saw this. My video is a very short clip, as I didn't want to be seen intruding on their fun.

Walking back home, I noticed a cute spot that hasn't before hit my radar, called Amuni. It is no bigger than a caffe bar, but tables are set on the front patio, and it's beautifully lighted inside and out. There must be some sort of menu, since the people I could see through the shrubbery were dining off plates. We will need to check it out.

Tonight, however, I stopped at Simponino, a food truck that's planted year 'round in front of the play park, near the corner of Cristofero Colombo and Viale dei Fiore. It usually opens around 8 pm. They have porchetta sandwiches, and since this sort of dinner hasn't ever appealed to Joe, I took his absence as an opportunity to grab a bite there tonight. With a heaping order of patatine fritte added to my porchetta sandwich, I'm living it up. It's Friday night, and life is short. The sweet young man behind the counter temporarily batted away the throngs of young folk while he spoke to me in slowed-down Italian. Do I want this or that on my panino or fries? I answered his questions, adding that I want it porta via-- "take away". He got my order ready, which weighed about as much as Matteo, and charged me all of two and a half euro. Wow. Once I got home, I unwrapped it, and it was still piping hot!

Just as I sat down, I got a text from my sister, who said that the visitation for my Aunt Helen (my last aunt, who just passed away) went well. I called and talked to Lori while I ate; it was nice having company with dinner!

And now it is half-past midnight. I caught up a little with American news this afternoon, specifically the hearings on the January 6th insurgence. As I told Lori, "You can't make this shit up".

Living outside of the dystopia makes it even harder to explain to the more rational parts of the world. Thank God for the eye roll, as it serves where words fail. 

On that note.