Stretching Out (my clothes)

I woke before my alarm, ready for the day, until I realized it was 2:45 am. As many of you know, that's a real b!+€#, trying to get back to sleep. At 4:30, I reset my alarm for 8:30 instead of 7:00. I didn't want to trash my day. I woke with a headache, then remembered I, for once, didn't pack Advil. If you can find ibuprofen here, it's not the same. I attributed the 'mal di testa' to my lack of caffeine, and tried some deep breathing and meditation. It must've worked, as my alarm was soon ringing. I promised myself a hot shower and a pot of coffee.

Well into my second cup, Mariella was at my door, sporting her cute Pilates outfit. She asked my plans for the day, and I said it was a delightfully nothing day; I only need to buy dish soap and bottled water. After being admonished for not asking her for these things, she said she'd drive me to Deco to get the heavier items on my list while she's at the hairdresser (she goes every Friday). I thanked her and said I'll be downstairs in the agreed-upon 20 minutes to meet her.

Mariella's delivery via Piera

Ten minutes later, her maid, Piera, who Elena thinks is cantankerous, but who I love, came up with not only some dish soap, but potatoes, tomatoes, blood oranges, red onions, and the message that Mariella is ready for me to get down there right now.

Knowing she does everything quickly, when she dropped me off at Deco and told me to call her when I'm done, I whipped through the store in record time. I even managed a little clothes shopping at OVS next door. The "real feel" is much hotter than the actual temp here, so I want cotton shorts. I called Mariella after all purchases were done and bagged. "Karen, I'm just getting a shampoo now," she explained, in Italian, of course, so I said great; time for me to get a coffee at the kiosk next to Deco that I've wanted to try. I first stopped into the nearby fancy pharmacy to buy my favorite deodorant, then grabbed a coffee and a cornetto (additional thigh poundage) while I waited a few minutes for my crazy driver.

B&W, my usual travel clothes palette

La Rotonda kiosk near Deco

Careening up, still license-less, and honking, Mariella collected me and my things in the classic Cleo. She drove toward Ettore's school, but turned off on a different street. We were going to Pina's house (Maria Teresa's mother; her daughter-in-law's mom) for a Maria vigil. May is the month of Mary, and each parish in Biancavilla has a statue or painting of her, which travels from house to house of some of the parishioners, two days at a time, and each household creates a little altar for it. Friends and neighbors are invited to pray together, at noon, in whichever home the statue resides that day. At the end of the vigil, I was handed a prayer card, as well as this occasion's version of a fortune cookie.

But let's back up a moment. As Mariella parked, then reparked the car, I spotted Pina and her friends a half block away. Her face upon seeing me in the car was that of Ettore's initial in-the-car expression; she was gushing with surprise and joy from afar, then wildly hugging me and saying she didn't know I was coming to Sicily right now; how happy she is to see me! What a beautiful reception. I have to say, it's nice to be warmly embraced and truly, I believe, loved in my Sicilian town.

I was introduced to a group of dear women, and when we went inside to start the vigil, I saw amaryllis in vases everywhere. Pina grows them in her garden! I explained they're a symbol of Christmas back home; many friends and I force bulbs for Christmas blooms. After all, the most popular are red or red/white, and with the green leaves, we have "i colori di Natale". She said here, it is a spring flower.

We said the vigil and visited for a while, then Mariella said it was time to go prepare the pranzo. And I was getting a cooking lesson from her today.

Vendors at every little alleyway

Pina's Maria altar

We got home, and got to work. I deboned the incredibly fresh "muscoli" -- a cross between an anchovy and a sardine-- while Mariella started the sugo. Soaked raisins, teeny cherry tomatoes that taste like candy, wild fennel, mollica (olive-oil toasted crumbs).

Beautiful silvery muscolini

Mariella begins the sugo with wild fennel and sweet cherry tomatoes 

I cleaned out every stinkin bone

Pomodorini and soaking uvetti

Finocchio selvatico

Preparing the mollica

Of course, this cooking lesson does little good for me back in Minnesota, as I'd never find these ingredients, or at least none with this chem-free quality and freshness.

Mariella knows I like this fish "beccafico," 

so she saved some aside to prepare 

this way for me.

The finished dish

Vincenzo and I actually had an at-length political discussion, in Italian. I'm meeting some goals.

After lunch, I tried on my clothing purchases, and exchanged a few texts with Elena, who said I could come get Ettore, of i want. Her helper, Rodi, was there taking care of Matteo, so Ettore had some alone time. Of course I want, I wrote.

He is still a bit wound up, but after a while, we enjoyed some games together, as well as my favorite thing--snuggle reading. Later, I gave him a snack, and he got a bit crazy again, including spilling some juice in a trail from the kitchen to the ballroom/playroom. I got out the mop and bucket, which he wanted to try using, and I agreed he should. You spill it on purpose, you mop it up. He did a good job on the clean up.

Soon, Matteo and Mariella showed up. Matteo is a funny kid (funny, not peculiar), and can be a little devilish (he's two), and also quite sweet. Thank goodness Mariella was there, as both boys hit what I used to call "the witching hour" with my own kids.

Playing the baby shower game of carrying things across the room on a spoon

Nonno working on his latest book of poetry

Leaves from his idea book

Eventually, we all ended up at Mariella's, where Nonno was deeply into his writing and somehow tuning out all the clamor. It was intricate visual poetry, for me, to watch him work.  

After the boys had a couple more meltdowns, and their dad walked in, I took my cue to head upstairs. I wanted to clean up, eat a small bite, and prepare for tomorrow's excruciatingly early departure for Tropea.

As I began tidying, my sons called me from Peru, and I could actually hear them. They were en route to a beautifully restored bar (we video chatted) that's named after some hallucinogenic tea whose effects last about a week. They assured me it was just the name of the place, not what's on their menu.

And now I'm going to try calling Joe, pack for Calabria, and get a good night's sleep. I am, however, cursed with this thing where I know I need to fall asleep quickly, because I'll be worried throughout the night that I won't wake up in time, and for that reason, I won't be able to fall asleep quickly. 

Sometimes it is incredibly weird to live in my head.

Buonanotte.