Sabato... senza pizza

Today is November 8, and in my mind I had tomorrow, the 9th, as the Festa di San Martino. Perhaps it's celebrated on the weekend, but the actual feast day is November 11th.

Who cares? you may ask.

San Martino is the patron saint of wine! And November is when the Novello is bottled and ready. A young, ready-to-drink, un-serious wine, whose French cousin is called Beaujolais Nouveau. Celebrating San Martino, however, isn't ageist, and wines from baby years such as Novello, all the way up to the heavily-vintaged bottles, are opened, drunk, and enjoyed. We celebrated at a sala during our very first tenure, and Etna Wine Forum was last year, but other years-- nothing. We'll stay tuned to see if anything happens around here for it.

Arrrghhhh and I can't help but lament that somewhere, sometime, during the course of our walk and errands, I lost my beloved coin medallion bracelet from an artisan jeweler in Lipari. Damn damn damn! But I'm trying to let it go and just be appreciative how much joy it gave me when I had it.

Today is sunny, warm, beautiful. We puttzed around the apartment until late morning, then finished yesterday's errands by walking to Lidl (I lost the bracelet somewhere to or from; I also forgot my phone, so missed some cute pictures). I made a quick stop to see my favorite pharmacist, who was busy on this crowded Saturday, but she dashed over to the woman at my check-out, noting that I should get a discount on the hair products I was buying since I'm a regular purchaser. You've gotta love a small town in moments like that!

Back home, Joe got confirmation that he's indeed playing tennis with Vincenzo and friends today.

We prepared a simple lunch of thick  porchetta (d'Ariccia) sandwiches on crusty bread, salad, and Mariella's pears for dessert. I cleaned up the kitchen and Joe's getting ready to meet Vincenzo for their ride to the vineyard.

When he left, I ventured out for a walk, to check out the places on via Umberto that were for sale earlier this year, and what is happening with other homes that were being renovated.

Along the way, I stopped to take pictures of the pretty church piazza, then noticed the bar named for Jim Morrison has closed and is for sale. "You should buy it," Joe suggested later, when I mentioned it. Hard pass.

Further down via Umberto, I saw progress on one renovation, and another place for sale that looks dusted off but not remodeled. Usually, one must call for the asking price. Certain agencies list them as we do in the US, but other places are for sale by owner.

Before I hit viale Europa, my phone rang once and stopped. It was Mariella. She's such a busy bee, I chalked it up to a butt dial. Turning onto the viale, she called again. Where are you what are you doing now ... etc. She had given us a set of keys, so I asked if she needed them. No tranquillo I don't need anything, relax, relax. Ok. That means she needs something. 

Since I had no real agenda, I headed back.

Standing before multiple bins bursting with autumn decor, Mariella yelled at me when I walked through her door. You did not need to hurry back! No; I don't need the keys! I asked if I could help de-autumn the place, or fetch the Christmas things. She shook her head. No Christmas stuff til after December 8th. 

I asked if there were special vitamin shops, or if all were from the pharmacy. I bought Vitamin D for Joe, but I think it's filled with gold. Expensive. Mariella had Dr. Lilliana get hers. I checked Amazon.it and found better priced Vitamins, similar to Lilliana's Rx version. That's fine, as I could also use some.

Marisa (who I nicknamed "Principessa," and who calls me "Gioia,") called, excited that the group of friends will see me and Joe tomorrow evening for pizza. So, no Saturday pizza. Sunday pizza.

Meanwhile, I was checking out the new litter of puppies and watching on TV the Palermitana donna chef (who now lives in Milan) prepare what, to me, looked hideous -- adding a mango puree to a risotto started with guanciale and sheep's milk ricotta -- but Mariella insists she's "brava".

I let Mariella to her packing, which she says is easier without the kids around. She says, I put something in, they take it out, and this repeats all through the afternoon.

Upstairs, chilling on the sofa, I heard a knock on the door. It was Rachele. "Nonna said you're here alone, and anyway, I'm bored," she so bluntly commented, flopping down on the couch with me. I offered tea, water, but no. We talked about a lot of things; tennis, school, dumb boys, Adrano, South Korea, teen birthday parties (Vittoria, her friend, has one tonight), endowments, travelling first/marriage later if at all, Agnese's mathematical prowess and sudden dislike of eggs, her dad's love of Ireland, and how Doug may be a big guy and a little bit old, but she can imagine he'd get good at tennis. We really need to get Doug and Lori here.

Off she went to get a last-minute birthday gift, as the sun began to set. And shortly afterward, Joe got home from tennis. Poor guy took a spill and scraped up his hand pretty bad. The Negroni seems to be helping. And I need to start cooking dinner!

For some reason, Elena stocked our pantry with 9 cans of tuna. Very good tuna, mind you, but there's a lot of it! 

I went to my favorite Italian website for recipe ideas, and pulled together a yummy pasta dish with rigatoni, chili pepper flakes, tuna, anchovies, and passata. We called my mom between bites.

As we finished eating, there was a knock on the door. Agnese entered with a large bowl full of warm chestnuts, sent up by Mariella! We ate a lot of them! Actually, most of what I did today was eat.

Agnese, unusually subdued, hung out to talk with us. Did Mariella give her and Rachele the word that we needed to be entertained tonight? She was sweet and docile, and I could hardly recognize her as the same girl from this past spring. Joe asked what music she's listening to, and she said K-Pop, especially Black Pink. So he found Black Pink on Spotify and played it.

After she left, I cleaned the dinner mess and went to get my jammies on. Joe's cousin's son, Scott, is going to Greece and Italy with his wife in the spring, so we spent some time conversing through Messenger this evening.

Now I'm bed, I'm trying to warm up my toes. A rainy morning is in the forecast, and my body is like a weather antenna, picking up every vibe.

I'm hoping for a bright-eyed wakeup tomorrow. I finally put two and two together -- I'm always sluggish (and thirsty) here the first few days because of, I believe, the high altitude. I'm acclimating. However... it makes for good sleeping!

Buonanotte.