Dreams from Biancavilla

A lot of Italian showers, especially those on islands and ours included, are set up to conserve water. I’ve often referred to our hot water heater as a “dental floss container” size. The process: Rinse down. Turn off water, soap up. Turn on water, rinse off. Repeat as needed for shampoo/conditioner. If you have a constant, steaming hot, American style shower, the next person will not have hot water for theirs. I now know to always get in first. Ahem. We saw Elena, Mariella, and Matteo on the way out to run errands. Elena asked me to stop back afterward, as she wanted to tell me about her new business venture. We took the car to get water and wine and some groceries, but Joe drove home while I walked. It’s a warm, sunny day; a t-shirt suffices. I need the Vitamin D to help bake out this cold, which is annoying me. I saw the burgeoning crops along viale dei fiori, near the spot where sheep and goats grazed yesterday. I stopped into Forno di Delizie to get bread, and my “friend” was once

I slept far too late this morning, which always leaves me feeling a bit behind the eight-ball. I’m still trying to knock out this cold, so I think my body went into a mini coma as a preservation mode. I was still in my pjs, so Joe went ahead without me for cappuccino and cornetto, which was fine. I wiped down the apartment, changed the sheets, and cleaned the bathroom. Get outta here, germs! It’s sunny and warm outside; I want to get out for a walk. Joe returned while I was in the shower, and didn’t want to venture out again with me, so I took the opportunity to go to the “junk store,” as he calls it, to try to find entertainment for Rollercoaster Ettore, and to Vesti Bene, the discount clothing/shoe store, to find something to stretch my Easter wardrobe (which exists as one lone dress) since there are 5 days of festivities, evidently. I got small wooden letters to trace, to spell out Ettore’s name, and a strip of watercolor cakes and some brushes. That should cover 15 minutes. Vesti B

This morning, Joe and I were heading out late, just to get some sunshine, exercise, and maybe un caffe. As Joe showered, there was a knock on the door. Elena had tried texting me, but my phone was on the charger, so I didn’t see it. She was asking if I wanted to go to Ettore’s preschool. Moms or Nonnas were making cicilia with the kids today. Not knowing what this meant, I asked Joe through the bathroom door if he were ok with me heading out for a bit. Mariella drove to the school, parked in a tight and maybe legal spot, put her arm out to stop traffic as we crossed the street, and got us inside the school, all within the course of approximately six minutes. The cicilia are what are sometimes called ciociara, pupazza, carioti, or pignolati depending what part of Italy you’re from. Mariella brought rolling pins, cutters, and a toque and apron for Ettore. As she busied with getting things out of her bag, I noticed the kid seated next to Ettore had his hands around Ettore’s neck. Not joki

I got to see this as my morning wake up message from the old neighborhood. Megan is my oldest son John’s age and getting married this fall. Knowing how expensive weddings are, and that guest lists get abridged, I never expected an invite, but this gal has had my heart since she was 4 years old. I love her! It’s been a rough morning. I feel as if I were hit by a truck. A head cold is trying to pound it’s way through my eyeballs.  But it’s a sunny day. Late morning, we walked to Artigiana and had a Sicilian breakfast—Granita and Brioche. We each got the chocolate-almond combo. I followed mine with a caffe. After this stellar sugar:fat ratio, I wanted to walk “the loop” back home, hoping to absorb some Vitamin D on this sunny day.  Along the way, we noted some of the bus routes to Catania. Buses are super comfortable here; they’re as if riding on La-Z-Boy loungers to your destination. I want to get into Catania, which is an easy enough drive, but parking is a different story. As we circle

Today, Monday, is a blustery day. The winds rattled the clay tiles (figuratively). We ventured out to get bread and some fresh produce, but that was all. We had a simple lunch of mortadella, olive salad, cheese, and tortorella, followed by blood oranges. Ettore came up, was in a great mood all day (but for one biting attempt—he’s in that group of 50% of all toddlers—and two ‘wanting mama’ moments, because she worked from home today since Matteo has a small fever), and has really ramped up his spontaneous English speaking. Elena is ready for me to start on Matteo. We played, making Play-doh pizzas, and we fenced with mock epees, ate lots of snacks, and I handed out Junior Mints as rewards for great English sentences. For a break, I introduced him to the old Popeye series, reinforcing the importance of eating healthy foods to make big muscles. He loves Popeye! With Popeye, Underdog, and Rocky & Bullwinkle on YouTube, why venture from the 1960s? These shows are classics. Come to think

I tried to sleep in, but the church bells that we learned were silenced for Lent were actually broken, and not repaired until Father Pino returned from Australia. They operated in full force this morning. But I feel surprisingly good. Last night, as we were going to Vincenzo’s car, we saw Alessandro—only the second time we’ve run into him since our return. “Chi è?” I joked (Who is it?) when he greeted us on the street. We were in a hurry to leave, so I asked, “Ci vediamo domani?”— I’ll see you tomorrow?, thinking it’d be our usual Sunday lunch as Mariella’s. She looked a little taken aback, asking if Alessandro would be available. He’s been at his mother-in-law’s on the other Sundays we’ve been here. And we were getting back very late after the show tonight; she may have prepped for the next day’s exhaustion. I hoped I hadn’t forced her hand on a big lunch when perhaps this angelic woman would’ve finally had a day off! Naturally, I decided it best to ply them with wine, and bring migno