Torneo (Tournament)

Joe, Karen, Rachi and doubles partner Marco

Champions!

Rachi playing, despite the drizzle.

Final day of the tennis tournament.

We had a nice start to the morning, at Artigiana. I had both a cornetto and a pistachio granita with my cappuccino, because, hey — it's my last breakfast here.

The Last Breakfast

Just because I still want one of these

I wanted to pick up a few things to bring home from Lidl, mainly pistachio flour and sesame biscotti. Joe joined me, and we got a few other sundries; deodorant brands we like, some taralli, etc. He turned homeward after Lidl, and I continued on to Vesti Bene. I bought a bag to replace mine, which is too vertical, and a strap is broken. I found an inexpensive one, but, spoiler alert, I didn't end up using it. That's ok. Many times we make quick overnight trips with Vincenzo and Mariella; it's perfect leaving it here for that purpose.

As I walked home, I felt a sudden sharp pain on my ankle. It felt like a bee sting. This would be my third bee sting (I'm allergic, so, aka fatal bite); I texted Joe immediately as to my whereabouts, in case I dropped. He was extremely concerned for my welfare.

I planned: I'll stop at my favorite pharmacy; the only one directly on the way home. They'll know what to do.

They were closed.

I did box breathing and a lot of praying, although I was also calm and grateful in the knowledge that if I keeled, at least it's in a place I love. It hurt like hell, but after 10 minutes passed, I assumed it was a wasp, and I may just live after all.

Relieved, but still hurting, I felt better until my shoe caught a bag of garbage, filled with an unidentifiable liquid, coating my wound and my sandal. Cavolo! as one would say here.

The powers that be must've sensed I needed a pick me up. Now granted, I was wearing sunglasses, but as I turned up via Alcide dei Gasperi toward home, a man about Joe's age, on a motorcycle, stopped and started talking to me in a friendly manner.

"Cosa?" I asked, just cluing in that he was addressing me. He laughed, saying, oh-- his mistake! He thought I was his cugina! That made my day!

I got back, cleaned up, and changed. We're heading to Bar Tucci, then on to the tennis tournament finals, in which Rachi is playing!

At Tucci, I decided to have my l'ultimo arancino this trip. Joe was lobbying for pasta and olive oil for lunch (all we had left at the apartment), but I reasoned that we can eat that absolutely any day here or at our Minnesota home, but tavola calda is exquisite in Sicily and completely absent outside of Italy. Joe got a final cipollina, and for me, the usual — arancino di pistacchio. So good!!!! I'm embracing the thunder thighs results of these!

Shrouds of smoke and vapors; Etna, as seen from the road.

Off to the vigne. Vincenzo is hosting the tournament on his courts. He was busy as ever when we pulled up, but short on the banquet roll of tovaglia. We offered to fetch more at the Chinese store. Red, he said, otherwise white. Ok. There and back in no time, with red table coverings and some bags of taralli from Lidl. People were arriving.

Sets were played, then there was a rain delay. It wasn't a downpour, but a constant drizzly mist. It eventually slowed, but the courts get a little slick. Undeterred, Vincenzo and others mopped the court so the sets could continue, despite the worry of someone slipping, breaking a bone, and ruining their sports career.

The usual group of tennis guys were there, yelling, "Joseph!!," which was so fun for me to hear. Joe approached Massimo, a favorite friend, to give him a hug, and Massimo said, "Ok, but where's your wife?" (He kisses my hand each time we meet).

As the tournament began, we saw some very good players. Rachele was next, playing doubles with her partner, Marco, who happens to be her maestro's son. They are cute together. Rachi has no interest now, but I hope they romantically get together some day. So does Elena.

Rain caused a bit of an intermission, when we all headed to the garage for drinks and snacks, to see if the wet weather would pass. It eventually did, and court mops came out. The kids used this time to practice somersaults on the trampoline, and I vacillated between watching them and snuggling Giulio inside the big house. I get choked up looking at him sometimes; he brings back floods of good memories about my own babies, a lifetime ago.

Rachi and Marco played, but making errors and becoming overshadowed by their opponents. It appeared to be brutal. I stepped inside, telling Elena that sometimes my superpower was a bad one, making the team that I'm rooting for lose. I walked through the door into the house, and Rachi and Marco scored. Elena marched in and told me to go stand over by the fireplace, admitting I was right.

It worked, because Rachi and Marco came from behind and whomped their opponents, winning the championship cup! I have to rent out my strega power to diabolical people. I'll be rich!

Let the celebration begin!

There were soft drinks and normal drinks, and tons of tavola calda, which, as Vincenzo pointed out was, by this time, tavola fredda.

Maria Teresa approached me and asked how I felt about being a liar. It took me a second to understand that. What? Do you think I lied about something? Yes, she said, deadpan expression and all. She continued, 'I saw on Facebook you posted that you were having your l'ultimo arancino, yet here you are.'

I looked down at my half-eaten arancino in my hand.

"Oops!" I laughed.

"Ops," she said, minus an o. She said I must edit my post or forever be a liar. She is a pixie, and I simply adore her.

We started to say our final goodbyes, making the rounds. When we got to Mariella, she threw her hands up, saying, "Ma c'è la torta!" There's cake!!! You can't leave before eating cake!

But we had to. Final packing, a quick sleep, and an early departure.

Alessandro and Teresa, our drivers, are also the champion's parents, so they continued on, through cake and what I'm sure were many presentations and awards speeches! But they're young.

Rachele is amazing. Actually, who in this family isn't?