To Market, To Market… To Lunch?

Ortofrutta vendor with Cheese vendor in background 

The morning began early, as I couldn’t sleep past sunrise. I did the usual email check, Google News (morbidly watching for news on Jimmy Carter), and peeking into Facebook. My phone hasn’t been charging, so I’m trying to use it sparingly. 

I took a picture this morning, of the terrace across from us in back. It illustrates a small part of Sicilian town life. There are terraces for entertaining and relaxing, and terraces for utility. Our back faces their back (both “utility”), and you can see they have plants with crumpled foil (to stave off the swallows), a small task sink and soap jug, curtains to draw if “unmentionables” hang on the line, and tucked away in the corner is a chair, where I’ve seen a woman shelling peas, and also where she’s dragged out a sewing machine and, one time, the ironing.

Then, just because it always makes me smile, another picture of the “falling man” or “starfish city” of Centuripe, from across the rooftops.

I worked more on my landscape project, all quiet here except for the vendor cruising the neighborhood, loudly blasting “Racolta ferro vecchio!” (Collecting scrap metal!) as he’s driving down the street. 

Joe and I went to the Wednesday market, seeing Pina and Maria Teresa, but buying nothing. We walked home, got some excellent bread from the San Giuseppe bakery on via Vittorio Emmanuele, and (along with a fun discourse) some celery, eggplant, olives, and two special things from the ortofrutta near our place— first, Pachino tomatoes. When we were in Marzamemi over the weekend, I told Joe I thought it was a big tomato-producing area. Marzamemi is in the province of Pachino. I asked the vendor about them; he said “buonissimi questi,” which translates to yum, and now that I’ve eaten them, I can say they were 100% right on that! Ringing up my order, the cassiera asked if that was all, but then I noticed the “tortorella,” or, as my Nonno would’ve said, “tertadill”. The sweet cassiera (vendor sister?) confirmed they were what I thought (though called otherwise in Sicilia), so I added them to my order. Back to the apartment.

No word from Elena or Vincenzo on what was going to be lunch at the Sushi restaurant, so we enjoyed our new goods, mortadella, seeded bread, olives, and last night’s grilled peppers as sandwiches , which were deliciously satisfying.

I noticed my manicure of several weeks ago had become a disaster. I did the lazy-woman’s hack of painting over it. As my polish was drying, there was a knock on the door. Vincenzo, ala Babbo Natale, came in with Ettore, and carried a big sack of fresh lemons and oranges (from their orchard) and a huge bottle of olive oil (from their grove). It was fun having a moment to talk with him. I do love him dearly.

Ettore was today again very vivacious, and my energy level, for no apparent reason, was super low. We played and learned a lot, but I cut myself some relax time with him, after he said in clear English, “Watch Underdog”. Thanks, YouTube! Ettore loves Spider-Man, Batman, and Superman. After trying to explain the Cold War relevance between Superman and Rocky & Bullwinkle, he gave up and demanded Underdog, the cartoon of my youth I exposed him to. I love that he loves it.

Elena didn’t arrive until past 7:30, making me realize that I need to find more things to entertain Ettore on these long afternoon-evenings. He’s a happy kid, and a smart kid, which is fantastic—and he is an incredibly active kid, which is also fantastic, but sometimes exhausting. Happy hours are essential afterward, for Joe and I. In fact, I just said to him  “WTF, the wine is all gone???!!!”

Throughout all this activity, I got a text from my very first friend in this world, Marydawn, whom I love, and whose fierce parents I love. Her mom, Shelley, died today. I’m both pissed and heartbroken. I loved and feared Shelley. She was amazing, powerful, gorgeous, talented, intelligent, and loving, all at the same time. She often set me straight in no uncertain terms, laughed with me in uproarious like-appreciation moments, played concert-style piano, was an accomplished painter, and vocally and physically championed for the Democratic Party since the 1960s. Marydawn would hold her arm straight upward, telling us, “This is how I remember my childhood,” (holding her mom’s hands through rallies). I’ve been bending Joe’s ears tonight with Shelley stories. RIP, beautiful momma. You’ve led me through more of life than you may have known. What an example for women!

Supper tonight was simple but splendid. Pasta Gricia followed by a tortorella-Pachino-oregano salad, and accompanied by an Etnaean white wine. It hit all the right spots.

Tonight, I’m really missing my sister. I love my life here, but it is hard to be away from her.

Elena and Giuseppe and kids, along with Mariella and Vincenzo, have all confirmed they’re coming to our wedding.

I have a LOT to do in a LITTLE bit of time! And, I could not be happier than to have them there with us❤️💚❤️💚