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To read the CURRENT month, go to ITALY JOURNAL
We post to the journal several times a month, so if you'd like to be notified each time we post, send us an email: evanne@lavventuraitalia.com
January 1
It's midnight, and do you know what all the superstitious women like me are doing right now? Well, they're outside, baring their backsides to the moon, as if to tell anyone who's interested that we're not gonna' let 2010 get us down. Va bene.
Earlier I told Tiziano that I do this each year, and of course Rosita and probably Enzo and Tiziano, are looking up to see if they can see me in the moonlight. I'm not all that brave, but wave and walk to the door of the balcony and "do my thing." There. I feel better. Do you?
A mere four hours later, we're awake and soon after are picked up by Candace and Frank to take them to the Rome airport for a sojourn of a couple of months. We're back home before 9 AM, and since church is at 10, stay up and attend mass. Yes, I sit with my choir buddies and sing along.
I have no idea what transpires for the rest of the day, but it can't be much. What a strange way to begin the year.
January 2
It's our wedding anniversary, our 7th in Italia, although we've been married more than 28 years. Don Francis officiated at our Italian wedding ceremony held in the church at La Scarzuola in 2003, with Brian Pentland serving as altar server and Lore and Alberto as our witnesses. What a freezing and jolly day that was!
The Apple store in Roma Est. has the part we need for our computer, so we drive to the shopping center to drop it off and what a wild day it is to shop! Everyone in Rome seems to have converged on this shopping center on this day, and there is "eye candy" wherever we look. Sofi remains in the car, for dogs are not allowed at all in the shopping center, although we see a man with a dachshund in his arms standing inside the enclosed mall.
Remember, Italians ignore rules. That is why I think it's somewhat humorous and yet very serious that Italians talk on the phone and even text while they are driving. One would have to lose their driver's license for the penalty to be great enough to force them to change.
One can lose their license for driving in the break down lane, although cars drive that way when there are codas (lines) of traffic. In such a mess, how would a police car see them to confiscate their license? This is a truly complicated country, with laws and rules so convoluted it is palpable to think that one can get away with...murder? No. We just watch too many crime shows on TV at night, while logs in the fireplace burn bright. Don't even think of it here.
We'll be without a computer for several days while the geniuses at Apple repair something in the hard drive. We have posted for the end of the year, so that people who are silly enough to read our journal on an ongoing basis (we're amazed that there are lots of you, thank you) will have their fix. In the meantime, Dino will bring out an old computer and see if he can fix it up.
We love "eye candy", loving to look in stores but not interested in buying much. I buy a few things in Sephora, which is a good place to purchase makeup. We walk around Panorama, the grocery store (all malls in Italy have a grocery store as their prime tenant), but don't buy much.
There is plenty of traffic on the way home, but we arrive home and have pranzo, then rewrap the lemon tree, which does not look healthy. I think it needs more wrapping. I remember the lemon trees outside a huge garden near Rome wrapped to look like orbs of cotton candy, and Dino agrees to use twice the amount we usually use for our largest tree.
In my dreams, we'd have a lemonaia (special room for the protection of citrus trees in the winter, next to a garden). In wintertime, I dream often of what I'd like our outdoor space to look like, and I'd love to have even more gravel and mounds of evergreens and even more glicine (wisteria).
I've been going through magazines and taking pages out where I find inspiration, for painting and for gardening ideas, and find one last magazine hanging around the house from years ago. It has the glicine we're growing on the front of the house (pink ice) and it is really beautiful in flower. I had no idea it was so pretty. It has still not bloomed and we have owned several of them for I think several years. No matter.
Let's look at simplifying our terraces even further, including the far property. I want to move the apple tree; it has only produced fruit twice in the six or more years we've owned it, and even then, little fruit. Perhaps we'll even move the two olive trees.
Earlier this afternoon, Dino greeted a group of Mugnanese ragazzi(children) who were walking down the path to San Rocco. It's probably an annual trek they take and yes, we'd love to see San Rocco restored. Perhaps those grand Ecomuseo folks will take the project on. Va bene, ma magari.
Dino tries to open up a couple of old computers and can't get the MAC to open, until he knocks it a couple of times with the side of his hand and voila! We can at least pick up email and I can continue the journal while we wait for our regular computer to be fixed.
There is a program on the autostrada called Tutor, and it consists of cameras at the toll staions on the A-1 that take photos of auto license plates somewhere between the ramps where cars enter and exit. If the average driving speed is no more than 130km an hour (80 mph), they're fine. If the speed is more than that, they are sent electronic tickets.
Want to know the Italian way to beat this rap and still drive fast? Just stop at an Autogrille during the trip and hang out long enough for the average time to slow to under the speed limit and you've beaten the system again.
The day started out as overcast and drippy, but there's sun as we drive back, and it's clear over little Mugnano when we reach home.
January 3
It's cold and clear, and although I'd like to walk up to church, we're driving so that we can drive on to Nando's for glassata and shop for groceries at the nearby Superconti.
There are only four of us in the choir this morning, and with Giovanna tending a bad cold and sore throat, I tell her about our magic potion: grated fresh ginger in a mug of hot water with lemon and honey. She and Francesca chatter about that, for it's a mystery to them. I tell them it's also delicioso, so perhaps they'll try it.
After the most realistic nightmare I've ever had last night, I'm a bit shaken. Let's leave it at that and hope that it was not an ominous sign.
I've been dreaming about changes to the far property, and Dino tells me they won't cost much, so after pranzo we'll walk out there and talk about it. It has to do with grading the space into more of an undulating surface and moving the apple tree.
Perhaps there is an answer to the fallen wall of huge ancient stones as well: if we can convince the Ecomuseo or Università Agraria folks to provide the labor, we'll provide the supplies. It all has to do with a controversy between Università Agraria, who owns the whole bank, and the Comune, who owns the path between the bank and our property. Because the Comune has not maintained the path, the land has lowered and our wall collapsed. The sindaco tells us they have no money to fix it but yes, it is their responsibility.
It's important to fix the wall before doing any major re-grading, and I'm hoping it can take place before any Spring rains cause a major disaster, closing the entire road into the village and to our property. Yes, there is always an adventure here, but as quasi-Italians these days, we're finding ways around the bureaucracy. Va bene.
The bright blue sky feels like an embrace; the villagers want to be outside in the sun. I hear a loud sound from a bird, and then the chugging of a tractor standing still. The driver of the tractor must be happy to be outside, tilling his land or just driving the tractor.
Not long afterward, Maggiolino honks below, while Peppino is there to feed the family of asini (donkeys). Earlier, on our drive to Il Pallone, we passed a number of white horned cows, lying in the sun. Winter has just begun, and yet...
Each hour of sunlight recalls the days and the years of tranquility in this happy place. Soon, soon...we all think. Can Primavera be long away? No matter. A smattering of these glory days is enough to take us through the dark and dreary ones, and I'm ready to return to the canvas...
January 4
There's no snow on the ground, but in Guardea there is enough snow that Dino's meeting has been cancelled. When the call comes in, Dino walks out to notice that there is also snow on Bomarzo rooftops, but since our altitude is not as high as Bomarzo's, we can only boast of rain. Perhaps today is not the one day a year day for snow in our village.
We're using lots of firewood, and by next month we'll be perilously close to being without any dry wood. So Dino will look around, but tells me we'll have to wait until the beginning of February to buy more.
I'm finally returning to painting, and it's a good day to take out the paints and resume the painting of Salvatore and his father. But there are old files on the computer to review, and it takes the morning to do that. There are stories about my family and growing up that our nieces should have, so perhaps we'll send them along.
January 5
Bills, bills, bills...there are so many that are due at the beginning of the year that I ask Dino if he can request that some of them are graduated, so that we can pay them from month to month.
He laughs at me. ENEL, the huge energy company in Italy is not very well organized. We are told that we pay based on consumption, but they seem to bill us based on last year's activity, with no actual meter reading being done. I thought that work was now reorganized into the "home office", and readings done there, but evidently it is not.
During months in which there is low energy usage (warm weather), the bills lag months behind. But during winter, the bills are more current, well, they are based on the activity last year but don't lag as far behind. We often have to check the meter ourselves, and let the company know if they are charging too much.
We're also using more wood, enjoying fires in the early evening. We should not be burning wood at all, but those energy efficient burners that sound like popcorn popping are not my idea of living an Italian life. We love enjoying fires in the fireplace and for the present will continue as we were.
I spend a little time painting this morning, but most of the late morning is spent working on a squash, and making a pasta dish with it that is quite tasty. It needs a "bite", and we have plenty left, so for tomorrow, when stores will be closed, I will come up with something to spice it up.
Tomorrow is Epiphany, with mass in the morning and in the evening. The evening mass is my favorite of the year, with the blessing of the saints. Oh how I love Vincenzo's a capella chanting of the saints' names!
This afternoon I return to painting and Patrick is so right. Adding Liquin to each dab of paint does even out the paint and give the result a better finish. I work on Salvatore and Mauro's faces, but am intrigued about painting a man standing in the dark background, smoking a cigarette and looking at me.
The photo was taken at nighttime, so the man is partly visible as a kind of shadow behind Salvatore. I see him as almost a demonic figure, and he and Donato, who is viewed walking off the canvas to the left of Salvatore and Mauro, provide the characteristic triangle that will make the subject of the painting credible. Well, at least that's what I am hoping.
The Mugnano tree project is on my mind every day, and after doing a little more work on this canvas, I'll draw out the format of the tree, which remains clear in my mind. But it is only when we have the actual names of the people to be on the tree and map them out that I will be able to paint the tree as it should be.
I'm waiting for more word from Paola and Francesco regarding more names. Right now, we are just over 700 names, and at best will include 300 on a tryptich 3 meters wide, and possibly 4 or 5 meters tall. There is room in the school entryway for it, so let's finish what we are working on while we wait. I am SO happy to be painting again.
Dino wants to talk about reading, and asks me if we begin to "lose it", will we still be able to read? I suggest that he do as much reading as he can these days, for who knows? Perhaps we'll retain the ability to read, but not the interest.
January 6
Helicopters hover overhead, and they are of a military sort, so it must have to do with the Tevere (Tiber) River flooding its banks, due to water runoff from the mountains and a lot of rain. For the past few days the bridge has been closed.
"How will you get to the train?" we ask Paola after church. She and others from Mugnano work in Rome. She and Antonio and Alberto Castori will drive to Sipicciano and across another bridge to the train in Attigliano.
January 7
Skies are foreboding, but there is no rain. Cold temperatures remain, and that means we're staying inside, painting and thinking about the Mugnano tree. I've decided to put more work into Salvatore and Mauro's painting, and am intrigued by a man standing in the dark behind them. We'll have to ask his name, for he must be someone from another town.
It's risotto time, and this one is made with porri (leeks) and chicken. I don't like competition, but I'd enter any one about risotto. Dino swoons with the first spoonful and "Io sono contenta." (I am happy.)
Dino tries again to meet with a man a few towns away, and he is usually a no-show, with not even the courtesy to call. Let's hope today's the charm.
I continue painting and realize what I need to do to make Mauro's face more realistic. Sometimes putting a canvas away for a while helps with a fresh perspective.
Let's set it aside and draw the tree. It's going to be the campion (sample) to use to mock up the final design, which depends on the number of families needed (branches) and where they cross each other (indicating a marriage took place between two of the village families). There are many, and in the next few weeks the most difficult part of the project will take place.
At the same time, we are beginning to cull names for the first draft. I don't imagine there will be more than three hundred names, but it all depends on how much room we have and whether we spell the names out next to their light or give it a number.The actual number may need to come down to 200, but I hope not more than that. We've decided that the time frame extend from 1900 to 2010. Magari.
January 8
There's rain again, but it looks as if it snowed earlier, changing to rain. Dino drives to Viterbo for shopping and to buy a roast chicken, but the roads may be dangerous.
Here at home I sit and make a colored pencil drawing of what the final Mugnano family tree will look like. It's actual branches and how they cross will depend on the number of people on the tree, and how the families intersect with each other.
Now we are sure that it will be important to have marriage dates to determine the year of the marriages, indicating the place where one branch will overlap with another. The church list may be important, and Don Luca told us that we are able to reference his data. Now that Don Renzo is our new priest, we'll have to speak with him about it.
I place tiny gold balls on the tree just as a test, and 250 looks as though it's the right number. Perhaps we'll copy the drawing into thirds and have one or more blown up in black and white, 1 meter wide, to see if there is room for a name next to each light, or a number.
There will be a key, and I'm hoping we can also rig up the lights so that when a certain button is pressed, one's entire family's lights will light up. We'll ask Mario Fosci to help us on this part. He works for ENEL on the electricity side, and when we first mentioned that I'd like LED lights, he was quite positive about helping to work out the grid. Va bennissimo!
Sofi is rolled up like a croissant, and even after she eats a little chicken for pranzo, seems unwilling to gambol about or to go out in the rain. I give her a hug and notice a small lump near her rear, so we'll take her to the vet next week to have her checked out.
I return to painting while Dino does work on the computer. We have a lot of photos to go over and name. It's a rainy day project, and we expect many of them this winter. So no need to rush.
January 9
Rain continues, and it's a part of our winter schedule. Those poor folks in England are covered...every inch of it. So sorry, Don and Mary.
Ovidio arrives mid morning to take our shutters away and rework them. They were installed a year and a half ago and were a problem from the very beginning. They'll be returned in a light gray as a base coat, and we'll have to paint them the blue we've wanted. Perhaps we'll leave them gray. I don't imagine we'll paint them in the wintertime, regardless. But then, Dino may have another idea, and he's free to do what he wants.
Dino loves casseroles (what?) and I come up with a chicken and rice one in a kind of béchamel sauce (mostly chicken and vegs, little bŽchamel) and spice it up. It's not bad. Tomorrow Dino wants to make it like hash with an egg on top. Va bene. What do Italians do with things like this? Do they improvise? I'm not sure, but I'll let you know.
Dino runs into Peppino, who tells him that at Alviano, the dam is overflowing. That's the Tiber River we're talking about. When that happens, the bridge between Mugnano and Attigliano closes. We have fire for the fireplace, and my boots are warm, so I happily paint and Sofi snoozes. There's no need to shop. Today I also do a little drawing while Dino watches football.
I've found an online painting coach, so I'm going to give it a try. He speaks English, which is such a joy. So I'm to send him photographs of what I'm painting and he'll critique me. It's a reason to want to paint every single day...I'm jazzed about that.
January 10
It's Sunday, and we drive up to mass and then have coffee with Paolina and Peppino and Candida, while we take out our computer and see if they can help us figure out more Mugnano family names. Their family, the Fosci's, are an important family.
Unfortunately, while I type away, the battery shuts the computer down and some of the information is lost (Apple should be embarrassed that their computer batteries are so weak!). We rework some of it and figure out most of it, but decide to return to this at another time.
Back at home, under gloomy skies, we spend the rest of the afternoon working on projects and yes, I do paint some. It feels good to be back at work, and I think I'm going to spend more time on the painting than I originally planned.
January 11
Here's that ugly "underbelly of Italia," again", this time drawing attention to the age-old class struggle for freedom and civil rights between the "haves" and the "have not's", courtesy of today's New York Times:
"The images emerging from Calabria over the weekend - of torched cars and angry African immigrants hurling rocks - were the most vivid example of the growing racial tensions in Italy, which have been exacerbated by an economic crisis whose depth has only recently been acknowledged in the national dialogue. Both the official and underground economies increasingly rely on immigrants, while Italy remains torn between acceptance and xenophobia.
"The riots also shone a bright light on a side of the country rarely seen in tourist itineraries. On Sunday, the authorities began bulldozing the makeshift encampments outside Rosarno where hundreds of immigrants live in what human rights groups describe as subhuman conditions. They are often paid less than $30 a day picking fruit, a job that many Italians see as beneath them. Organized crime syndicates are known to have a strong grip on every level of the Calabrian economy.
"This event pulled the lid off something that we who work in the sector know well but no one talks about: That many Italian economic realities are based on the exploitation of low-cost foreign labor, living in subhuman conditions, without human rights," said Flavio Di Giacomo, the spokesman for the International Organization for Migration in Italy.
"The workers live in "semi-slavery," added Mr. Di Giacomo, who said, "It's shameful that this is happening in the heart of Italy."
Dino and I are also immigrants, albeit legally here, and I'm wondering if the latest news will have a deleterious impact upon our pending citizenship applications, which were filed one year ago. I'm not sure how to check on the status of them, or if it's a good idea to do so. We'll ask around...
I have still not donated the painting "Fortezza" and am surprised that it has not been easier to do. I'm such a dreamer that I'd hoped the image would be used to inspire women in developing countries to remain courageous and strong through adversity.
In a strange twist of fate, I'm reminded of my mother's ashes, which we held in an Asian ginger jar on top of our TV console (that's how tv's were housed in those days) when we lived on Mount Tam. After a year or more, one day I looked at the jar and realized it was time to take the ashes to a spot on the beach at Stinson, facing toward China.
When she was alive, Hildegard told us she always wanted to live in a shack on the beach facing China, where she'd dream of "taking a slow boat...". I believe I will know when and where it's time has come for the painting to find its next home...
I awake with a headache, believed to have something to do with neck pain and stiffness during the past day or so. Taking a "difmetre" helps somewhat. Weather remains cold with a colorless sky.
Dino drives to Viterbo, for he wants to prep, caulk and paint the wooden window casings before the shutters are returned to us, hopefully in two weeks...magari! When he returns he reports that the water in the Tevere has receded to the point that they have reopened the bridge.
I continue to recheck the Mugnano tree chart, wanting to be sure that all the marriages have been recorded correctly. We're hopeful we'll hear soon what Francesco thinks he can do to help provide more cross checks.
There's been a new epiphany: this time I see the tree as being comprised not only of all people living in Mugnano during 2010, but concentrating on a dozen or so large families, since we need to cull the 750 or more names down to around 250 or so. These families comprise the character of the village over the years, so the adventure continues.
I have choir practice tonight for an hour, and wish I could say I look forward to it. It only takes an hour, so what's to complain about?
Practice really is fun, but begins with Don Renzo trying to convince us to merge with the choir in Bomarzo. Ha.Ha.
I stand silently and witness the women, one by one, tell him that Mugnano is NOT Bomarzo, and has its own character. Being a gentle sort, he caves, and with a "Va bene..", we begin to sing. He even lets us decide what we'll sing at the celebration in a couple of weeks honoring one of our patron saints, San Vincenzo.
January 12
While Dino remakes a kitchen shelf and paints it in the perfect color, I do a little painting myself. How the light figures into the painting is a key, and I am just not sure. The scene takes place after dark, so the light is from the moon as well as from street lights. Mauro's bald head needs work, and I'm just not sure. Since I've discovered an online artist in England to help, perhaps I'll begin this week with him. He can tell me easily where the best source of light should be. How very interesting this process is.
I felt better today, but tonight take a headache cocktail, for symptoms of another headache return. The fires in the fireplace must have something to do with it.
January 13
Short ribs are on the docket today, and I use an old white French iron casserole, one that used to be my favorite. I add half of a fennel bulb, sliced thin to the onion and a little balsamic vinegar to the basting sauce. Dino wants Pappardelle (wide noodles) to eat with it, and we'll eat late again, which I like to do on cold winter days.
This in from the New York Times:
ROSARNO, Italy - The official figures show there are 1,600 agricultural workers in this town, all but 36 of them Italians. The reality, exposed by the raw and violent riots here last week, was far different: Some 1,200 foreigners, most of them Africans, earned about $30 a day under the table picking oranges and clementines. Now that the town is largely cleared of foreign labor, the fruit remains on the trees.
Demographic reports hide just some of the truth about Rosarno. In other places, $30 is not a living wage. But this is one of the poorest parts of Italy, and many local people do not earn much more, even if most will not pick fruit.
"Who is taking care of us?" asked Maria Amato, 39, a homemaker. "Until days ago, we didn't exist."
In a broad sense, the worst immigrant rioting ever seen in Italy - shocking here not only because of the anger of migrants, some of whom clashed with local residents, but also for the attacks on them by townspeople - cuts to the heart of the nation's difficult evolution from a place of emigrants to one of immigrants.
But it is also a story fixed to this place. The economy is so weak here that locals and immigrants are competitors. In a town where people are reluctant to reveal their last names and often their first, a mysterious element complicates any full understanding of the riots: the ongoing strength of the Calabrian Mafia, or 'Ndrangheta, which has deep roots in agriculture. The son of a local organized crime boss was arrested and accused of wounding a policeman in the riots, suggesting that the mafia may have orchestrated the locals' response to the immigrants' violence.
This town in Southern Italy is far from us, and yet its story figures prominently in the stories of what I refer to as Italy's "underbelly". Thousands of Italians are out of work, made so by illegal immigrants, who are paid in cash for each day's work.
This situation is made worse by the European Union paying landowners for the property they own where produce is grown, instead of the amount of crops they produce. So owners of the land feel they'll make more money if they let the crops rot on the trees; hence, no work for workers.
Italians won't work for the slave wages that illegal immigrants will accept, and this is a situation common around the world. It's a sad commentary, and I have no idea how to rectify it. But I do feel for people who are trying to survive, on both sides of the equation.
The situation is just as terrible in the United States...a nation of immigrants. Here's what truthout.org has to say:
"Clearly, the fight against immigrants has not merely been limited to a strategy of economic debilitation. Stripping immigrants of their human dignity is one of the fundamental means of legitimizing and normalizing any aggression against them. Immigrants are humiliated and relegated to a less-than-human status in order in order to justify giving them less-than-human rights. It begins by branding immigrants as "illegal" beings, a term that has taken on racist connotations of mockery and contempt. This epithet has now evolved from "illegal" to "invader," from "criminal" to "terrorist."
The extreme anti-immigration forces in the United States have poisoned the debate with hatred and racism. The attacks against the immigrant community have begun to express themselves in increasingly aggressive, rude and cruel ways. When it comes to an unwillingness to regard immigrants as fellow human beings, it seems as if ingratitude and perversity have no moral, ethical or spiritual boundaries. It seems as if the forces against reform are trying to make life for immigrants so wretched and miserable that they simply deport themselves out of the country. For this anarchic policy of degradation to succeed, immigrants must be stripped of their rights and their humanity and cut off from all chances at economic survival."
January 14
It's a joyful kind of day here, for we have some sun, and that makes it possible to work outside in the garden. Dino pulls out the tall pole for the paranco (hoist), a pole we use to put up our holiday lights, and we now place it where it will stay until next December, unless we need it to bring up loads of firewood or gravel.
This is one of those marks of ingenuity on Dino's part; when we put in the parcheggio and moved a lot of soil, we realized a hoist was needed to bring supplies up for that project and that the hoist could be a permanent source of saving manual labor. Now that it is capped off for the year, there is no evidence of it, but we know we have it when we ever need it.
The green of the fields is bright, due to all the rain, and, as Enzo told us last week, the fields will be productive this year because they have been flooded, especially those near the Tevere (Tiber).
I paint in the morning, mostly the rope, and begin to research light and shadow as it relates to the canvas on which I am working. That's me, also working to avoid ending sentences with prepositions.
I do need basic technical knowledge of light and shadow, and the more I read, the more I am confused. But in the afternoon I don't return to painting until after Dino leaves to return a huge tool to Lorenzo, a tool he used to install a lock the parcheggio to use when the electricity is not working. I wish I had a photo of Dino painting it, suspended on a bungie cord attached to the seat a black iron garden chair. That's my guy...
It's too early to prune roses, and this year I'm not going to prune many of them at all, finally learning to leave the rampicanti roses alone, just cleaning them up. Today I do a little cleanup, mostly taking off leaves and throwing them in the garbage. Yes, dear Sarah, we never burn them.
A truck arrives in the village, its driver looking up at me while I work. He's delivering firewood, and Dino tells me he's the guy we'll use when we order more. Let's finish this month first.
There is much work to be done, but no hurry. So after Dino leaves to return the tool to Lorenzo, I return to the journal and to painting the rope. Since I've found a person online who agrees to give me advice on painting, I'll begin with him soon. Late this afternoon we have an appointment with Tiziano and his father to go over our growing list of Mugnano folks. We've already passed the 800 mark! I'm telling myself that we'll stop adding at the end of the month, after more people arrive for the feast of San Vincenzo. Magari...
January 15
This morning while reading the New York Times online, I am transported to my early youth.
Oh how I loved those two Boston museums, and the Sunday trips on which my father took me to glow in the wonder of their treasures. Many years later, I returned with Dino, and somehow felt the same. It's a reason to visit Boston, but then this journal is about all things Italian, so lets just say there are Italian masterpieces and not so masterful pieces there.
What a wonderful way to begin the morning! Perhaps it is the sun and blue skies that have me singing "Al-le-lu-IA, A-le-lu-oo-oo-oo-ia. Yes, joining the coro (chorus) was a good idea.
I arrived early for last night's session, but others arrived late and we did not begin until 9:30. At 10 PM I put on coat, to the surprise of everyone else, until I asked, "Va bene?"
The session was at Rosita and Enzo's, for the church was closed and Livio was not around, and as Enzo saw me out I said to him, "I arrived on time and am leaving on time". I am sure I missed a bit, but with Dino and Sofi in the car, it was time to leave. I'll see them again on Sunday in church and on Monday evening.
We finish editing the excel document about the Mugnano tree and forward it to Ecomuseo for any additions. Next we'll ask Don Renzo if we can view the church files for marriage years, which I think is key, although Dino does not agree. I see the marriage year as the year when branches of the tree cross. The project is so very interesting.
We'll also begin to draw up individual family links, and with the feast of San Vincenzo just ahead, can sit with folks who are here just now and then for confirmation. I'm still positive that we can make my February 1 deadline of gathering all the information.
After that, we'll be cutting down the number until we have a representative group that will work on the three meter wide painting. Right now, I'm not sure how tall the tree will be, but it will probably be at least four meters high. That means I'll be on scaffolding for much of it, but so be it. There's much to do before the painting begins, but it must be finished by the first weekend of May. Magari...No. It WILL be finished in time for our main festa.
One of those emails comes in with instructions to send it out immediately, and although I do none of that, do love the message, one I'm happy to share with you:
'May today there be peace within. May you trust that you are exactly where you are meant to be. May you not forget the infinite possibilities that are born of faith in yourself and others.. May you use the gifts that you have received, and pass on the love that has been given to you. May you be content with yourself just the way you are. . Let this knowledge settle into your bones, and allow your soul the freedom to sing, dance, praise and love. It is there for each and every one of us...'
I feel like singing and dancing, so while Sofi sits and wags her tail, I return to singing, "A-le-lu-ia..." and then return to painting as Dino leaves to track down a geometra who is not doing his job as he should...
The temperature seems mild, and with plenty of sun it's impossible to stay inside. So I take out my Felco shears, which Italians merely call "forbice" (think scissors) and clip away, cleaning up dead rose branches and clipping leaves. Is it too early to do this? I doubt it. I'll clip again next month, but it's fun to stand outside while Rosina and then Maria wish me a buon giorno. While I exclaim about the beauty of the day, Rosina nods her head with a smile and responds, "Oggi, si!" as if to say tomorrow is another day. Oh well. Sempre avanti (always forward) we Mugnanese are known to say.
Bird, oh the birds! Cacciarata (gossip and chatter) as if they're all out of breath, so excited that sun has returned. Peppino crawls up the hill on his huge tractor, a little man with a little garage and a huge tractor, which fits with enough room left over for a car and his tools. He's a wonder.
Giuseppa stops below us to survey the Tiber Valley, so I call out to her and she smiles and again, we talk about the weather, but she tells me she's going to feed her chickens and do a little clipping. Come no?
Prime Minister Berlusconi's trial resumes today. Here's a little from ANSA, the Italian News Service:
ANSA/ On Wednesday, Berlusconi said the ''legal attacks'' against him at the hands of politically motivated prosecutors were worse than the one suffered at the hands of Massimo Tartaglia, who broke his nose and two of his teeth with a souvenir replica of the Milan cathedral last month.
After cries of outrage by many judges, the Supreme Council of Magistrates said the remark would be added to a list of other comments by the premier deriding his accusers as leftwing subversives.
The premier's attacks against judges have grown increasingly vehement since a Constitutional Court ruling last October stripped him of his immunity from prosecution, reactivating two trials in Milan.
In one, he is accused of bribing British corporate lawyer David Mills to perjure himself in two previous trials. In the other, he is accused of tax fraud in the sale of film rights.
Here's another part of the story, which is worth a chuckle:
There are two bills moving quickly through parliament which would free the premier from the trials.
One would cap the length of all trials and the other would guarantee that Italy's top officials would not have to attend trials, effectively halting them. Though the government has sworn off ramming through judicial reform with a decree, Senate whip for the Democratic Party Anna Finocchiaro said the opposition was through negotiating.
''This is the 18th time in 15 years a center-right government has used legislation to favour the interests of a single person''.
She added that the latest version of the trial-shortening bill had a number of ''alarming new clauses'', including one that would annul ''thousands of cases of accounting fraud under the statute of limitations''.
Finocchiaro said the center-right wasn't interested in ''serious judicial reform, but in keeping a select few trials from reaching a verdict''.
Regardless of the outcome, it's Italian's favorite real time soap opera.
Here's another note, quite unbelievable, about Italian Scientists and a discovery. Think, "Yuk!"
Giant cows bred back from extinction...Italian scientists to 'recreate' forerunner to modern cattle 13 January,
Giant cows bred back from extinction (ANSA) - Benevento, January 13 -
Extinct, giant cattle that once roamed the fields of Europe could graze again according to a team of Italian scientists at the forefront of a project to breed the ancient beast back into existence.
The forerunner to all modern cattle, the hulking Auroch averaged a metric ton in weight dwarfing even the largest steers known today. According to Donato Matassino of the Consortium for Experimental Biotechnology in Benevento, the last known specimen died in the forests of Poland in 1627, leaving behind its smaller, gentler descendants.
Mattisino explained the project to revive the Auroch is based on a scientifically controversial technique called ''breeding back''. Scientists will attempt to recreate the Auroch through a process of selective breeding between cattle with different elements of its genetic makeup.
The experiment was attempted before by a pair of German zookeepers in 1930-40s with the dedicated sponsorship of a Nazi government eager to put its theories about eugenics and racial superiority into practice. The result are a still rare variety known as Heck cattle, a breed physically similar to the Aurochs, but genetically very different.
According to Mattassino, this is the first attempt to back breed the ancient stock with the use of modern genetics. ''We were able to analyze Auroch DNA from preserved bone material and create a rough map of its genome that should allow us to breed animals nearly identical to Aurochs,'' he said.
''We've already made our first round of crosses between three breeds native to England, Spain and Italy. Now we just have to wait and see how the calves turn out''. Mattasino called the endeavor a ''long-term project'' explaining that breeding back can take several years before the sought after genes come together in a single generation. But he said it was worth the wait, as large Auroch cows would produce more milk and yield more meat per acre.
But I'm wondering, "How will the meat taste?" The article continues:
Ornery creatures with long horns and short tempers, Aurochs were phased out by early-modern farmers in favour of their more docile kin. But Mattisino argued that ''today, our focus is sustainability and bigger animals will be a help with that''. Launched in 2008, the Italian project is one of two in Europe to resuscitate the storied breed.
Another, in Poland where the bull is a national symbol, aims at cloning the bull from DNA gleaned from the 300-year-old skull of the last known Auroch.
If you're thinking of coming up with a Polish joke about their national symbol, just quit it!:)
So how much does Moona Lisa weigh? I'll assume around 1,200 pounds. The average cow can weigh 1,500 pounds up to a ton. So I suppose this idea of cows weighing a ton or more is not all that unusual. Aren't you glad you learned this little bit here?
Have you wondered about the longevity of Italians? Here's what ANSA has to say about the people living in this country:
Italians long-lived and multiethnic...But too few women at work, statistics office says 12 January, 18:17
Italians long-lived and multiethnic (ANSA) - Rome, January 12 - A snapshot of Italy in statistics released Tuesday depicted a healthy though ageing nation where immigrants represent an ever greater part of the economy but where women still struggle to make headway in the workforce.
The study by national statistics bureau Istat showed life expectancy in Italy among the highest in the European Union, while birth rates remained among the lowest.
Italian women live to be an average of 84 years old putting them in third place behind women in Spain (84.3) and France (84.4). The average Italian man can expect to reach 78.6 years, second only to men in Sweden who live to 79.
However, birth rates in Italy hover near the bottom of EU averages at 9.6 per thousand, just slightly above bottom-ranking Germany. As a result, seniors over 65 outnumber kids under 15 by 1.4 to one, making Italy the second 'oldest' country in the EU, again after Germany.
The Italian population nonetheless continued growing at the rate of 0.7% thanks largely to a surge of nearly half a million immigrants last year.
Istat estimated a total of 4.8 million immigrants in 2009, some 6.3% of the Italian population (60.2 million) and nearly twice as many as in 2001. Immigrants also shored up the size of the Italian electorate with over 44,000 gaining citizenship in 2008, most of them after marrying an Italian.
IMMIGRANTS A GROWING PART OF ITALIAN ECONOMY.
Two out of three immigrants are legally employed, some 67% against 58.7% of native-born Italians.
Foreign citizens make up an estimated 8% of Italy's labour force, Istat said. The unemployment rate, described as the percentage of people actively looking for work, was also higher among immigrants. Some 8.5% were estimated to be job hunting against 6.7% of Italians.
Istat explained the findings were typical of countries with a relatively short history of large-scale immigration and thus comparable to figures in Portugal and Spain. In other countries like France, Germany and the Netherlands the trend has since inverted with the immigrant employment rate dropping below that of native-born residents.
The report confirms estimates released earlier by Catholic charity Caritas estimating that immigrants produce upwards of 10% of Italy's gross domestic product and contribute over 10.2 billion euros in income tax revenue. Despite the ever greater presence of foreigners in the workforce, women are still largely underrepresented.
Fewer than half of Italian women work compared to 70% of men, the study said, confounding targets laid out in 2000 aiming for 60% by the end of the decade.
According to international credit rating agency Fitch, low levels of employment among women are among key factors hampering productivity. Another is the enduring spectre of illegal labor, a phenomenon reaching epidemic proportions in the nation's economically flagging south.
Istat estimated that one in five jobs in southern Italy are off the books compared to a national average of 12%. In Calabria, over 27% of workers were estimated to be earning under the table. Undocumented labor is more than twice as common in the regions south of Rome than those north of the Po River, the study added.
The central regions in between averaged just over 10%. The report said the illegal work was most concentrated in the agricultural sector and that more than 25% of farm laborers worked illegally.
"These figures fail to overturn the stereotype of virtuous employers in the north and unscrupulous ones in the south," Istat said.
There we go again, ignoring the rules...
January 16
Yes, it's a lovely day, and while I paint with fresh guidance from my painting mentor online, Dino clips the plum tree before leaving to show a house to a prospective buyer. I had no idea what he was doing, so intent was I on guidance from my new mentor on the painting front, where even the small differences are profound.
This afternoon, Dino tells me he'll prune the kaki tree, but it is as tall as the house with all its branches shooting to the skies. He leaves with the two-story metal ladder leaning against the tree, and I'm nervous. We know of more than one story of a robust man falling out of a tree, one changing the man's life forever. Let's not be morose.
I'll put painting aside and stand at the foot of the ladder, ready to rescue him. What? Well, I'll have the medical emergency number to call, as well as my driver's license at hand. He's not a man to be stopped, and that is what makes me nervous. Might as well "roll with the punches"...
To occupy my thoughts, I take out a cube of leavening from the frigo and begin to make a couple of loaves of Pugliese bread. Is the recipe on the site? There's nothing in the Dispensa category, where it should be, so let's add it. Va bene
This recipe will make 2 loaves of focaccia, or one enormous one.
Dough
By Hand
Stir the yeast into 1/3 cup of the water in a small bowl; let stand until creamy, about 10 minutes. Mix the flour, potatoes, honey, olive oil and salt in a large bowl; mound the mixture in the bowl and make a well in the center. Pour the dissolved yeast into the well and gradually add 2/3 cup plus 3 tablespoons water, stirring the dry ingredients from the side of the well into the liquid. Stir until the dough comes together. Knead on a floured surface until soft and elastic, 8 to 10 minutes.
By Mixer
Stir the yeast into all the warm water in a mixer bowl; let stand until creamy, about 10 minutes. Add the flour, potatoes, honey, olive oil and salt, and mix with the paddle until the mixture comes together. Change to the dough hook and knead at medium speed until soft and elastic, about 3 minutes or so. If you don't have a paddle, just knead with the hooks.
First rise:
Shaping and Second Rise:
Cover with a damp towel and let rise until the dough has doubled and completely filled the pans, about 45 minutes.
Topping:
2 to 3 Tablespoons oil from a jar of sun-dried tomatoes; or 2 to 3 Tablespoons olive oil mixed with 2 Tablespoon mashed plum tomatoes or 1/2 teaspoon tomato paste,
2 teaspoons dried oregano.
Dimple the tops of the dough, letting your fingertips walk lightly across the surface and leave little indentations in the dough. Using a pastry brush, lightly wash the tops of the bread with the oil and sprinkle with the oregano.
Baking:
Heat the oven to 400° F (200° C) Use baking stones if you have them (turn the oven on 30 minutes before baking) and place the plates directly on the preheated stones. Bake until the edges are golden, 25 to 30 minutes; take the bread out of the pans and place them directly on the stones or the oven shelf for the last ten minutes. Cool to room temperature, if you can bear to wait, and enjoy.
We have now posted this recipe:
After a very un-Italian pranzo (BLT's on toast, but why, for everything's available here), Dino climbs up the ladder and clips away at the kaki (persimmon) tree, with me picking up the long cuttings and moving them to the other side of the terrace, next to the bins where they will live in the little wood cottage behind the house until they're used to start fires next winter.
I tell Dino that I hope we cut down the tree before he's unable to work on it. We're in our sixties, so those things matter. Sorry, tree.
Sofi keeps her distance while cuttings plop on the gravel, afraid of the noise and the commotion. Speaking of commotion, the bench below, outside our parcheggio, is again in use, as people return from the cemetery and look up at those crazy Americans climbing their tree, then sit down and look at the view.
There's Franca, and Gigliola; there's Augusta, Marieadelaide and Rosina, there's Livio, and they all gather together at the stone benches on this lovely and sunny winter afternoon. Livio looks up fearfully and asks Dino if he is cold. I think he's too afraid as well as superstitious to say anything that could cause a fall.
I return to the kitchen for the second rise of the bread, but even though I've put damp towels on the floury stuff, it does not seem to rise. Let's give it some extra time. You know, that Pugliese bread never rises very high, but its texture and its crust, with its moist interior, is really tasty. Let's hope.
After a telephone meeting, I turn on the oven and decide to cook the bread, no matter the rise at this point. I'd love to have a beautiful loaf or two to show you before we post to the journal...
Whoops! We cut right into them just out of the oven, so will make it again. That said, both breads were delicious, and although they weren't very high, were crispy and we'll make them again...soon.
January 17
In the US, Friday the 13th is an unlucky date, but in Italy the unluckiest day is Friday the 17th. The significance dates back to Roman times.
Note that the number 17 expressed in Roman numerals is XVII. The anagram of the Roman numeral is VIXI, which is Latin for, "I lived", which would mean I was dead. Friday is considered an unlucky day, because Friday is the day on which Jesus was killed. Friday the 17th is considered unlucky; but if Friday the 17th comes in November, that is the unluckiest day of all. Since November 2nd is the Day of the Dead in Italy, November is called the month of the dead.
Well, it's not Friday, nor are we in November, although it is the 17th. I'm feeling anxious. Perhaps its' the lack of color in the sky and the mist around us as we drive up to mass. The choir is at full strength.
Later today we will celebrate the Feast of San Antonio Abate, the Patron Saint of farm animals. But in his homily, Don Renzo tells us that that does not refer to dogs and cats. What! It has something to do with animals that sustain us, but if a guard dog does not protect us, what is he telling us? I'm a little miffed, and tell myself to count ten.
Later, at the bar where we have cappuccinos, an enormous PastoreTedesco (German Shepherd) tries to climb over the wall across the street at the men standing and chatting outside. He is a great symbol of San Antonio, and is quite beautiful. Our little Sofi will indeed be blessed and cuddled on this night.
Dino speaks with Don Renzo and we'll meet with him tomorrow sometime to go over the marriage dates of the locals, to make sense of our tree.
I fix a meatloaf, but am not really in the mood to do much of anything. Sometimes there are personal events and thoughts that don't find their way into the journal. I tell myself a day is only 24 hours long, and if I tell myself "Sempre Avanti" (always forward), perhaps the day will get better.
This afternoon there is an important meeting in Mugnano regarding a digestivo biologica (in this case a cement incinerator) that may be opened near Attigliano. Shelley and Claudio are behind a push to find out if the ultimate reason for the place is to dump garbage from all over Southern Umbria and Northern Lazio. What a disaster that would be! We'll let you know what happens, but hope there is a large turnout. During these winter days, no one wants to turn out for anything.
We arrive at the meeting early so we can enjoy the "Fuoco di San Antonio Abate" which has just been lit in front of the Università building.
He continues to say that it's not his job to oversee the project; that's left to the technical people, the police and the different bodies whose job it is to make sure things go smoothly. "It's not that there aren't rules...it's not clear how to apply them." My favorite is that if the project is not approved, they'll have to cut up the cement and take it away. Michelle whispers, "The project was approved in four days". He continues to say that there won't be dust...but we know the site will burn combustible material and plastic.
Each time he speaks, the Giove mayor is met with chatter in the crowd. He tells us they have moved forward without a study, which we all know is a scorciatoio (short cut) but if this site is successful, he'll approve many of them!
The heroes of the meeting begin with Francesco Perini,
Next on the heroes list are Claudio Cesaretti and Michelle Noon,
"Why are you saying you'll use it for energy? We can put solar panels in for that!"
Umberto, as if waving a flag a la Garibaldi, cries out, "We will put ourselves between you and this project!" to loud applause.
"The residue will seep into the groundwater, affecting the earth and the water and the air..."
A woman named Anna lives 500 meters from the site, and asks the sindaco if it is legal to have a disposal site close to homes.
"Rispondere!" the crowd hollers.
All they have to do is to measure her property's proximity to the site and it will probably end the project to our favor. But this is Italia, so one never knows...
Our sindaco, Stefano Bonori,
As usual, there is a lot of talk among the crowd as each speaker stands up and has their say. This is Italia, and its people have plenty to say, about everything.
So why is this meeting such a surprise to most in our village? We're sleepy souls, minding our business and going about out daily lives without bothering anyone, just minding our fields and our animals.
On this night, while a bonfire flares out front in honor of San Antonio Abate, the patron saint of farm animals, no four footed ones are near, but the two-footed ones are given a rude awakening...
January 18
Dino calls Don Renzo, and we'll meet with him tomorrow morning. I spend a lot of the morning on notes from last night's meeting, trying to digest the mixture of Italian and English and it's giving me indigestion. I wonder if the people from Mugnano woke up this morning with a headache, or worse. No wonder.
Shelly and Claudio are to be commended for their constant vigilance. We take photos, do what we can, but we are far from understanding the vagaries of the language translations.
With other personal things on my mind, this is a good subject on which to concentrate. 2010 has had a very shaky beginning, and I'm feeling as if I'm standing in a doorway, hanging on and waiting for the figurative earthquake to stop shaking.
Here's my take on the background leading up to yesterday's meeting:
In July, Claudio Cecca presented a plan to the government of Giove to construct an agriculture accumulation site, located just two and a half kilometers from Mugnano (between the two rail tracks near the river towards the A1 Autogrille).
Basically, this agriculture stockpile / accumulation site is a huge cement platform and a retaining wall to wash grapes or keep grain. As it stands, that would not be a problem. But now, Mr. Cecca has presented a modification of the approved project and is asking for permission again to build his original project, which is a one-magawatt biodigestore. There has been no study of the possible deleterious effects of the plan, and yet the government of Giove approved it within four days.
So why are we concerned?
This biodigestore would require 50 tons of organic material a day, and will excrete 14 tons of concentrated matter, based on what the original animals ate. But where would the concentrated matter go? Mr. Cecca feels it should be spread around on the local land as compost.
The proposal indicates that the biogestore will digest/burn chemically with enzymes produced by local farmers as well as from his own production of corn, which he will grow on his 40 acres in nearby Penna in Teverina. He will then transport it to the site in Giove.
Where would the 50 tons of organic material come from? He believes the enzymes produced by local farmers would be used. How would this material then get from the farms to the site? Who would pay to do this?
The Italian government likes and supports biodigestores - they have even made special fast track laws for them and subsidize them. Biodigestores are fine for medium to large size farms to get rid of agricultural waste. They are useful where there is a pre existing need to deal with the local farming waste from crops, pigs or chickens.
However, the impact to our area in air pollution from truck traffic bringing the 50 tons of material to feed the biodigestore, not to mention the products themselves, will have a significant impact on our air, land and water.
Mugnano in Teverina is the closest town to this plot, and no one had asked us how we feel about it.
Why we are worried, is that in Italian fashion, this biodigestore will become the dumping ground for all the organic waste in Central Italy. Orvieto, Terni, Roma Nord and Viterbo are all paying huge prices to get rid of their "organic" kitchen garbage; garbage that may have a bit of plastic or a battery "accidentally" dropped in. In addition, MacDonalds needs a place to recycle its French fry oil. The Orvieto waste site is also closing in 2010.
Parca, the mayor of Giove, feels that our local policemen must oversee the site. Who can guarantee that it will be overseen correctly? We are asking for a 20-year guarantee that this site will be used only as presented for agricultural waste, not the garbage from Orvieto, Terni, Roma Nord and Viterbo and other locales.
Perhaps the site should be located in his garden next to his house...he has 40 acres, so why not let it live there?
It takes more than an hour to fix pranzo, and some days I'd like to avoid it altogether. Today is one of those. Afterward, Dino leaves for Viterbo. Once I finish the journal, I'll return to painting. Now that I have an online mentor, I look forward to painting each day.
I do paint, and Roger was right; it is not easy to rework a painting. I'm playing with the main characters' expression, and it is a challenge, to be sure.
Tonight is choir practice, and it's not easy to have a meeting outside at night at 9PM, although the singing is fun and I do enjoy the company of happy women. Tonight Augusta joins us, and it's wonderful to have her join us. Later I realize there'll be practice every night this week to get ready for Sunday's San Vincenzo celebration. Sigh.
January 19
Yes, it's winter, but the sun is at full strength, and there are blue skies in every direction. I am able to paint while Dino clips the tree cuttings and placing them into lugs for next year's fires. Sofi enjoys the sun.
We wrap a small citrus tree, for I believe the temperature tonight will drop dramatically. Otherwise, I think we're fine.
Tonight is what I hope will be a short choir practice. Serena asked me to type up and print one of the Alleluia's. Va bene. I have a headache, and am a bit stressed, but "sempre avanti!"
Tonight is also the first meeting of the smaller advance group to shut down the latest version of the biogestore, and the host of the group identifies the Giove mayor as "una grande brutto figura" (which is as bad as it can get in Italy. Can you imagine...not to make a good impression?) If that were not enough, aptly describes the mayor's manner as "arrogant".
We're behind the movement, but won't attend, as it's too difficult to understand the fast paced conversations. When Italians are excited, they are prone to speak rapidly, and Dino lets Shelly know.
Choir practice is fun, I admit, and rehearsals are a good idea; we sing the new hymn to San Vincenzo, and without music to follow, just the words, we stumble until we're sure we have the notes right.There's a break tomorrow for one night, and we'll meet again on Thursday. Va bene.
January 20
Since I was born in Boston, I pay a little attention to the Senate race in Massachusetts for Ted Kennedy's seat. He'd be so sad to hear that the race was won by a Republican. Is this a wake up call to Obama? I surely hope so.
Back in Italia, it's very cold this morning, but glorious sun shines brightly. It surely helps to have our property facing South-Southwest.
Sofi and I survey the middle garden, and I have a few ideas of plant moves and alterations that won't cost much, but will help the garden. The Teucrium has grown wonderfully, consisting of four separate plants side by side, and we'll be able to keep it in an undulating and manageable hedge for years to come. It's located just behind the pergola and will make a lovely backdrop against the stone wall. The cascading Rosemary behind it at the top of the wall is healthy, and perhaps all of our glicine (wisteria) plants have survived in the middle garden. Perhaps four of our peonies, especially the large tree peony, have also survived.
When Dino returns from a meeting, we go over my ideas, including cutting back the old cherry tree severely; the smaller one that is a volunteer, possibly from a buried cherry seed near it, is growing rapidly, and they will serve as twins welcoming us to the table under the pergola, with a gravel path in between.
Dino also agrees to move the once-blooming but spectacular rose now growing against the far fence. It's a Madame Gregory Staechlin, and will be planted behind the Buff Beauty roses and cascading Rosemary, left to ramble across thin wires that seem to hold the roses in suspended animation.
Although it's mid-winter, there is plenty to look forward to in our garden. So lets remain hopeful about other things that are not so cheery.
Are any of you Facebook experts? If you are, can you email us and tell us how to accept new friend requests if our contact button won't work? I'm not a particular fan of Facebook, liking personal emails or phone calls better, but it's important to keep up with technology. Unfortunately, there is no such thing as "customer service" there. Sigh.
I return to painting, working on the faces of the main characters, and this afternoon we'll photograph and email the latest work to my online mentor. It's progressing...slowly.
January 21
I awake to sun, but with a headache. I have no idea what caused it, other than stress. I seem to have an ability to hide my feelings of stress on the outside, but with the inner rumblings of my system, I usually feel it later in the form of a headache. As the days go by and I remain in limbo about the cause of my stress, I seem to feel suspended. Let's get back to Italia...
Birds chatter and there is one single persistent bird that sounds as if it has a sore throat. Wonder what the bird looks like, and what kind it is...
Sun continues, and I'm able to open a window to the sun for some fresh air. I look out over the Tiber, to see the remains of water overflowing its banks last week. As Enzo remarked, it will be good for spring planting. Let's be positive.
Dino leaves for Viterbo, but Sofi and I don't join him, for I don't think I could sit waiting in line outside at our veterinarians' office with this headache. We'll take her to the vet sometime in the next week.
The more I read about US politics, specifically the Massachusetts Senate race that showed the Independent voters made the difference, the more I am hopeful that people will vote on issues, and not on party lines. Our niece Sarah gives us hope, for she is one of them. Brava, dear Sarah!
I believe in democracy, although the downside as well as the upside is that people are encouraged to voice their opinions. There are so many angry and diverse opinions, however, that the angrier ones seem to be the most visible, although I don't know that they represent any majority. I'm hopeful that the majority of voters did not vote along party lines this time.
Dino and I talk over prima colazione (breakfast) and agree that we sometimes feel as though we're ostriches, burying our heads in the sand by living here, far away from any US politics. This past weekend jolted us out of our ignorance with the proposed biogestore nearby forcing us to pick up our heads regarding the importance of making our opinions heard.
I've been in touch with Gretchen Bloom, who introduced me to Ariana Outreach, and the painting I've offered to donate but it has not been auctioned yet. The painting, Fortezza, will be auctioned soon, and we'll let you know about it, as well as the story behind it.
Timing also has relevance to the situation in Haiti, so you'll be able to read the story behind the painting here, below the auction has been set. If you want to own the painting, or want it donated to a cause of your choice, this time with the proceeds going to Ariana Outreach, it's possible that the painting can be auctioned twice: first with the money going to Ariana Outreach and the painting itself donated to a cause of the high bidder's choice, and second with the actual painting donated again for the second time to a cause of the high bidder's choice. Fortezza represents the women of Afghanistan to me, but could represent women in any country, inspiring strength and courage through adversity. The minimum bid is $400.
Here's the link to the photo of the painting
The ancient Greeks personified fortitude, one of Plato's four cardinal virtues, as a woman wearing a helmet and carrying a sword. In my painting, she is shown accompanied by a lion, the traditional symbol of strength, and in this case, the lion symbolizes the men of Afghanistan.
The lion is a symbol of strength and courage, but also of the danger of its untamed nature. Here, the lion's head and open eyes are visible, symbolizing vigilance; its paws appear, representing force. He is partly exposed to represent the ambivalence of the animal nature, for it is not truly domesticated, nor can it ever be.
Fortezza exerts a magical influence over the beast, but her power is in her hands; for women's hands are more effective than the man's sword; she brings strength and experience to the taming of the beast.
She represents the anima, which mediates between the ego and the beast. She symbolizes fortitude of a different kind, for she exhibits a magical control over beasts, directed not by a wand, but by her eyes and hands. Her power is strong and she has the courage to use it to control animal nature.
Fortezza is manipulating the lion's mouth. She may encourage the beast to close its mouth and cease its primitive roaring; or she may encourage him to open his mouth, and help him to articulate his needs and desires. In this way, Fortezza and the lion can help one another, and exist in a mutually beneficial way together.
Her magic is conveyed through her personal relationships. For it is not possible to reason with a lion, but it is possible to love one, and it's possible for one to love her.
She does not dominate the lion in a masculine way, but forms a cooperative bond with the beast. The result is liberating and empowering for both. Here, consciousness is no longer driven by unconscious, irrational instincts, and the animal vitality is no longer condemned to inarticulate, instinctive behavior. Both benefit, and neither destroys the other.
I believe that it is really only by loving that which is larger than ones self that we actually become enriched. It is the pursuit of the greater good that really makes one's life great, and thus our character is firmly rooted in the choices that we make.
What is becoming increasingly true, is that these women are willing to attack evil, despite temporary setbacks, in order to preserve virtue in others.
The combination of moral strength, courage and endurance is what elevates the character of these women. Their emotional health demands that they aspire to something higher than themselves. The gift of fortitude brings to those who have it a dauntless spirit of resolution, firmness of mind and indomitable will to persevere with a quiet faith in their god's providence to overcome any and all obstacles.
It also brings them courage to persist in the practice of virtue despite trials, illness, persecution, or external failure.
And so I honor these women, as well as all women of the world who continue their quest for a better life for themselves and for their families; a world where we can all live together in peace and harmony.
The opening bid for the painting will be $400 US dollars plus shipping. I'd love it if the painting went to a journal reader, especially if the painting would be auctioned again for a second cause. As soon as we know when and where the painting will be auctioned, we'll let you know.
Now that I read Fortezza's story again, it could also apply to all the people of Haiti, don't you think?
I'm not anxious to return to painting with this headache, so bring one of the chairs upstairs to the studio and re-pin the chair cover originally made for our dining room chairs in California. I'm going to attempt to remake the slipcover, but am not particularly confident that I can do it successfully.
The concept is simple enough, but there is an inside pleat at each front corner of the chair cover and the fabric is heavy. So it is possible that we will take it to someone with an industrial machine, pinned and ready to sew. Perhaps the folks at our local laundry and cleaner can sew the seams of it inexpensively.
There is always something to do...
With today's continued sun, if my headache (I am sure it is a migraine for when I close my eyes there are flashes of light as if several cameras flash in my face at once) subsides, it will be a good day to continue to work with Dino on winter pruning.
Outside the window, there are bees on the blooming nespola (loquat) tree, growing as tall as the house and providing privacy from the uphill neighbors. These trees always bloom in December and January, providing a hopeful promise of Spring. I love seeing the bees, hopeful that we are not losing bees to global warming.
There is choir practice early tonight, but nothing else on the agenda. A local realtor stops by to tell us that the two pieces of land across from us and below on the other side of the road are now for sale; they have been re-documented to allow one person to buy them both, turning the two narrow pieces into a more manageable plot. We're not concerned, as any allowed construction won't be allowed to block our view.
Sofi continues her afternoon sun-tanning on the terrace
News from the United States has us wondering if people living there are ready to bolt. It's such an angry place, or so it seems these days. No one seems content, and there is so much chattering of opinions that it must be difficult to see clearly. The man who many thought was the once and future king of the world has been dashed to the stature of a mere mortal. How could anyone live up to the expectations put upon this man?
Well, he is responsible for some of it himself. He was a public relations dream, and now that we know that President Obama is just one of us, what are we doing to help him? As is our nature, we're just destroying him.
I suppose if we still lived in the U S, we'd welcome the chance to move to Italy. We'd never move back, nor could we afford our previous lifestyles. Our home is here, although we sorely miss our family in California. If you're considering a leap, email us with any questions you might have. We're here for you.
Dino works on a project, then stops to do more clipping for his firewood basket storage, as the sun is warm. I return to painting, understanding now how to tone down the background of my current work in progress. I'm advised to add more people to the background, so research photos of the tree raising last year, and print out a few photos for reference. I'll give it a try, realizing the painting itself is changing, hopefully for the better.
Dino leaves for a meeting with a muratore in Bomarzo, one who promises a preventivo (quotation for work) on Tuesday. We've not worked with him before, but the project Dino has is a simple one, and it would be good to get it going before Spring.
Back at home, Dino's welcomed to chicken risotto, a mouth-watering pranzo of it with yesterday's roast chicken and fresh sage from our terrace. We're drinking a €2.49 red wine these days from Umbria, and it's very drinkable.
There are inexpensive wines to be had in Italy, but one needs to know where to look, or have the time, as we do, to experiment. I suggest to Dino that we take a ride to the winery, but he warns that the prices at the winery will probably be higher. If so, let's leave it at that.
A friend who has to sell her family home, owned for generations, would rather sell to strangers than have people she knows living in her house with all its memories. We understand, but if she has to sell and can sell to Italians, why not move on?
After pranzo it's still sunny, so we clip two sour cherry trees and the peach tree; then Dino continues to work on different parts of the middle garden. He tells me that somewhere on the far property there are signs of digging, either by a cinghiale or a big animal. Surely it was not Sofi, whose holes are long and narrow, just like her.
I make the mistake of looking on the internet for information about pruning these trees, and am sorry I did. Some say prune after blossoming, some say before when dormant, and some say don't prune after it's come from the nursery, for disease can enter any cut. I think less is more.
So it's too late for the sour cherry and the peach, but we think the shape of the trees will be lovely. This area is known for peach tree blight, so we have to paint it or spray the peach tree in February with a special substance. The peaches are really delicious when they do ripen, although the initial leaves shrink up and look diseased. It's only later when the peaches grow and produce their beauties that we realize the tree is fine.
By now you realize we have a sense of humor about the place...we make honest efforts to do the right thing, but don't obsess about it. We're here to have a slow and peaceful life, so why mess it up with worrying about things we can't do anything about?
I return to the journal, and to painting, and work on adding people who were at the tree-raising last year to the current canvas. I'm counseled to add more faces in the background, and for me they should be actual people we know, with the exception of a man I've already painted in, smoking a cigarette and looking on. Pentimento...
That's me...changing my mind about the painting I'm working on midstream, taking it in a different direction. I love the word, and think of it as layers upon layers, when pentimento is not exactly that. I wanted to name our house pentimento, but thought people would think we were nuts; they do think we're eccentric, naming our house L'Avventura (the adventure).
But then, everything related to our search for a home and our life here has been just that. Since L'Avventura also means "the affair", do strangers coming upon our site think this is a house of prostitution? Boh!
Clouds move slowly from the North to the West, and they are pink and violet as the sun begins to set. I ask Dino to take a photo of the canvas I am working on to email my painting mentor, but the paint is too wet, and all we get is a flash. We'll shoot first thing tomorrow and email it.
I've toned down the background, adding a bit of orange to the blue background to tone it down...and it works! I've also added three more figures, Stefano, Italo and Giorgio, holding the rope further back and waiting for their cue. Let's hope I finish the painting before this year's tree raising on April 30th!
We're expecting below zero temperatures tonight, and with a late choir practice we'll certainly practice in front of the heater in the little church. Day by day, we're singing better and know the music more, so yes, practice has been good for us.
It's so cold that we're actually huddled in the waiting room of the Università office, where the village doctors have office hours twice a week. Well, one comes during the week and the other, Dr. Fagioli (Dr. Bean) comes on Saturday mornings. Most of the older folk go to Dr. Bean, but we have not.
Since Dottoressa Onofri moved to Perugia, we've been going to Viterbo to Dr. Stefano Bevilacqua, a Yale-educated giant of a man, always interested in us. We're thrilled to have him as our "capo", for he speaks excellent English, is on the Italian public medical system, and best yet, is an excellent doctor. So it's worth driving twenty minutes to his office, instead of walking up to the borgo.
January 23
Maggiolino honks below as a welcoming sun covers the sky. We're due to have good weather for the next two days. Perhaps we'll be able to work on the window frames, which need repainting in the color we chose before the shutters are returned.
I realize that's a dream, for Dino wants to keep after the cuttings. When he wants to paint, he'll paint. The shutters probably won't be returned on time, anyway. End of story.
I'm learning more about canvas oil painting techniques these days, for since I'm mostly self-taught, usually wind up figuring out ways to accomplish something instead of using traditional methods. With the new mentor, I'm able to use some of both. Now, I'm learning about tones, about using a little orange to tone down blue or a little blue to tone down orange. It really works!
I don't know if we'll be able to make any headway tomorrow regarding the individual village family trees, so perhaps we'll draw ten or so out and take them to different people for editing. My self-imposed deadline of February 1 to choose the final number of people on the tree is looking more and more unreasonable.
Tomorrow we'll track down the Ecomuseo folk and see what they can do to supply us with more information, or better yet, have already done, with the information we've already supplied to them. I'm realizing the old adage, "Everything changes except the deadline," is truer every day.
It's Saturday, so sporadic gunfire can be heard in the valley below, purtroppo. I sometimes wonder if an errant bullet could find it's way here, and Sofi's not pleased. She's feeling brave this morning, and barks at the hunters, although we can't see them.
I refrain from commenting on the world situation by returning to paint. You don't want to read about it here, anyway. Since our readership is growing, I'm mindful of that.
I spend a couple more hours painting, and feel so fortunate to have something on which to spend time that I really enjoy. Enjoy is hardly the word for it. When I paint, I'm transported somewhere else, as if I'm not really here at all; just dreaming and letting the paint brush move itself.
It is SO cold when Dino and Sofi drive me up to the borgo for choir practice. We practice in the main church, and the sound of our loud voices reverberates around the room. The space makes us sound better than we probably really are.
We are a good group, enjoying each other and finding things to laugh about. At one point between hymns, there is a discussion about someone not in our group, and after a few minutes, I utter, "Let's sing!"; Federica smiles at me as I then begin to sing one of our hymns. Everyone follows and it feels as though they are all falling into step. Va bene!
If you recall, I work every day at not judging others. It is an interesting exercise; whenever I feel myself beginning to fall "off the wagon" and making a judgment about someone or something, I switch gears and give myself an invisible pat on the back. It works!
Back at home, I realize I have the beginning of a headache. Groan. After a dose of difmetre and 1000mg. of tachiprina I know I'll soon feel better. I can't seem to get interested in any of the movies on T V, so go to bed, knowing the medicine will keep me awake. At least I can rest and do what I do best...dream.
Earlier, Dino and I worked on family trees, and copies of all but one are taken to choir practice to distribute as competiti (homework). Each woman takes her own "tree" and agrees to fill in or change what needs to be changed. We hope to have them completed within the week. Dino loves working on the new software program we have for it, so we may make my deadline...yet.
January 24
Today we celebrate a patron saint, San Vincenzo , with a special mass and procession. It's cold with dark clouds rimmed with light as sun begins to break through at eight o'clock in the morning, when cannons blast to honor our patrono (patron saint). Sofi is clearly frightened at the noise and hides under the bed.
It's -2°C. Brrr.
We drive to Bar Nando for our Sunday cornettos and cappuccinos; then stop at the Superconti for today's pranzo. Back at home we spend a little time with Sofi and then leave her to walk up to the borgo.
Earlier, the band arrived and paraded through the village, playing music all the way. I believe the seminal instrument in this band is the tuba, and the group is much improved. A tall serious-looking man guides them around, spreading his arms in a top-of-body dance.
Those of us in the choir gather at the front of the main church, but Laura is sick. So there are eight of us, including Augusta, who it seems has joined us for sure. Wonderful.
Rosita still has no voice, but shows up just the same. I'm in the front row, and there is much frivolity as we wait for the mass to begin. There is a row behind us with no people, and it remains empty for a while. The sindaco (mayor) and Tiziana Gasperoni arrive, along with the police detail in full dress, and they sit in the front on the opposite side.
We decide that the Confraternity men can sit behind us, instead of in our seats, and that is what they do. Dino and Mauro and Fabrizio are on the altar, for they are the big whigs.
We sing all our music, including the Padre Nostro (Our Father) and by the time we sing the hymn to San Vincenzo, we've sung it so many times we sing it correctly. Practice has been good to us.
There is a procession, and if you have never been involved in a procession in Italy, especially if you live in the town or city, you are really missing a central element of Italian life. The slow sing-songy beat of the tuba and the Napolitano music are right out of an old movie. The difference is that we're in the midst of it.
The first time I walked in a procession in our village, I wept with emotion. Today I feel a similar emotion down at the very bottom of my soul. Dino and I are so much a part of the village that if it were to disappear, we would as well.
We now know the script, the words to repeat and when to repeat them. We know the beat of the music, how slowly to walk, and the collective ooze of us moves as if we're spilled honey; around the bend, down Via Mameli to Giustino's building and back again; then around the main piazza and on to the main church, where the band continues to play as the women file inside for the hymn we've been practicing for weeks.
We're in good voice, as an Enzo from the band tells me later, giving me a kiss as we walk home. I ask Dino why he kissed me and what he said, and it had something to do with the Coro's effort, as well as Dino's belief that it's Enzo's excuse to kiss another woman. I don't think I've seen him before, but since he's in the band, I surely have.
Back at home, we're in for the day and Dino builds a fire while I prepare pranzo. The weather remains cold, and perhaps we'll do more work on the Albero di Mugnano, or perhaps not.
January 25
It's a cold and colorless sky, perhaps that is why we realize we are in the "dead" of winter and I begin the day with trepidation, but don't really know why. Soon, Dino walks outside to read the gas meter, and returns to call ENEL regarding our actual usage vs. the bill we've received for the past two months.
He blows any negative feelings I've had with a joyful tale that our energy bill for the past two months is only about €100. I've never heard of such a low bill, but part of it is due to the mighty ENEL overcharging us previously. I ask Dino if it was easy to negotiate the huge behemoth. He is a bit dazed, for he called the telephone number of ENEL and reached a woman who told him to call back and press "3" twice. It was as easy as that to begin to negotiate his way thorough the maze. Worried that we'd have a huge bill, although we only turn the heat on for a couple of hours early each morning, we're relieved.
Dino leaves for a couple of errands (he so loves gamboling about in the little yellow car) and I begin a pranzo of short ribs. They'll bake in the oven for 2 1/2 hours and it will be a comforting meal in the middle of the day.
I have not written much about the immigrant situation in Rosarno, in Southern Italy, but today's NYT, in which he refers to the immigrants as "Italy's African heroes", contains a good story about it. Written by Roberto Savio, who has also written a book about the Mafia, here is a little bit about it:
"Italy is a country that's forgotten how its emigrants were treated in the United States, how the discrimination they suffered was precisely what allowed the Mafia to take root there. It was extremely difficult for many Italian immigrants, who did not feel protected or represented by anyone else, to avoid the clutches of the mob. It's enough to remember Joe Petrosino, the Italian-born New York City police officer who was murdered in 1909 for taking on the Mafia, to recognize the price honest Italians paid.
"Immigrants come to Italy to do jobs Italians don't want to do, but they have also begun defending the rights that Italians are too afraid, indifferent or jaded to defend. To those African immigrants I say: don't go - don't leave us alone with the mafias".
Every country in the world has problems with security and protection. An American commenting on CNN about the US role in Haiti, comments, "We should be bringing doctors and not armed soldiers!"
That person does not have any idea how important security is, for in the same newscast is a story about guns and looting, the guns held by citizens looting stores for things to resell at exorbitant prices. Haiti has little infrastructure and its share of corruption, but until there are people to enforce laws and protect the people honestly, corruption will foster and another Mafia will take hold in Haiti. It's probably bubbling up as we speak.
So for the Haitians, there are doctors and doctors and more doctors now, but few nurses and supplies where they are most needed. I would have thought by now that there was an international organization to deal with disasters who understood logistics and how to get needed supplies to the needy.
Here in our village, the looming project for a biodegestore just 2.7 km from Mugnano covers all the towns around like a dirty blanket. Michelle mobilizes people to do door-to-door canvassing, but we're not good candidates, for our inability to converse seamlessly in Italian with our neighbors makes our involvement a liability; let us take photos at meetings and post on this site to do our part.
Here's a photo of the location, just beside the Autogrille on the A-1; can you imagine how the air around the Autogrille will be affected? Perhaps Michelle should contact them...
We watch a wonderful TV movie, Into the Storm, about Winston Churchill during WWII, so eat quite late. Afterward, it's a couple of hours in bed for me, with another headache. I do want to paint, especially with such good advice lately, but that will have to wait.
Earlier, I gave Sofi a mini bath, to ease an intestinal problem. As I finished with her at the bathroom sink, her tail wagged and wagged, as though her energy has been restored. Poor dear.
January 26
With below freezing temperatures during the night, and colorless skies, we await delivery of more firewood. We have not turned on the heat, except for a few hours early in the morning, and have fires in the fireplace in the kitchen for warmth, especially in the evening, knowing the high cost of regular heating.
Yesterday's short ribs were excellent, but we did not buy enough ribs to last a few days, so Dino will return to pick more up and we'll have them for pranzo today, too, stretching yesterday's sugo for a couple of days. The recipe called for more meat than I used, so this makes sense.
Dino returns with the ribs, but it's too late to make the recipe for pranzo. Luckily, we have jars and jars of tomatoes in the larder and there is always pasta.
Think security. The more we learn about Italian history and Italian emigration issues in the United States during the 20th century, the more we realize that a lack of security has been used for centuries to blackmail innocent people around the world into accepting protection. This is also a sign of the emergence of dishonest groups to foster fear and expand a power base.
In Haiti, I think there are two issues for which it is interesting to follow. That's me, finding an awkward way to avoid ending sentences with a preposition...
Honestly managed security as part of Haiti's emerging infrastructure will help the people gain a sense of order in their lives. But now, companies like GAP can also take advantage of the people of Haiti as an American alternative to "made in China" clothing. Setting up shops where people can make clothing could be an interesting way for the country to flourish and provide much needed jobs. That's me with my glass half full.
Dino helps unload the wood in the rain, and tells me he'll start fires with dry wood; then use the new wood once fires are hot. I wish he'd get some help to bring the firewood up, but he tells me the paranco is too heavy for him to set up, and I realize I'm not strong enough to provide much backup.
I do a little painting while waiting for Dino to return, and work on painting shadows on faces, using a bit of blue to tone down the faces on their "shadow" side, since blue is a compliment when used with orange. If you are not a painter this must seem strange to you, but it somehow works...
We're ready to put "Fortezza" up for bid on ebay, finally, to benefit the women of Afghanistan through Ariana Outreach. Here's the photo and story of Fortezza, and it will have a minimum bid of $400. Hopefully, it will bring in a lot more.
No, I was not brought up in the military, but Europeans think of time on a 24-hour clock, so we now think that way, too. To check our feeble brains, however, we have two sets of Pottery Barn clocks, one upstairs and one downstairs, where we've set Mugnano time as well as East Coast time and West Coast time in the US. I have never seen a similar set of clocks here, but that's not surprising.
Since we have sun, Dino toils in the parcheggio, moving the dumped firewood from yesterday to the bottom of the stairway, so that there is room to park Pandina, our little car. He has a blue tarp to cover the wood, although it's not really dry.
Buying firewood this late in the season is "iffy". It's always wet (green), for even if it is last year's wood, it's left out in the open until it's sold. Last night we were able to burn a couple of pieces after getting the firebox really hot. It's not the wisest thing to do, but we under-bought wood last summer.
I'm wearing a turtleneck with a sweater over that, and it is a kind of dark peach. Worn with blue jeans, I understand the relationship between the two colors, now that I paint with them.
Perhaps I can sneak in an hour or two while the ribs meld in the oven with the tomatoes and herbs and onions and carrots. We'll have another tasty pranzo today, that's for sure.
I'm worried about Sofi, for she acts frightened and does not eat her breakfast biscuit. She sits under the table while we have toast and cappuccinos, and looks sadly up at me, but her nose is cold. I'm hoping we can take her to the vet this afternoon. I begin to worry and then force myself to think of something else.
With an open window, even though the temperatures are low, the air is fresh, and since we face South, the sun warms us even on cold winter days. Birdsong from hundreds of birds warms my heart.
Dino stages wood in the parcheggio, and has a system. Since it's sunny, it's a good morning to do this. While he's there, Luigina walks by, on the way to her orto to feed her chickens.
Dino explains his method, as all the neighbors love to witness our methods for the simple daily chores of our lives. Later, there will be stories, perhaps over meals of pasta or minestrone. Contadini eat simple meals during winter, especially when there are no ospiti (guests) to share it with, but we're probably often fodder for stories.
After a pranzo of our drop dead delicious short ribs, baked for 2 1/2 hours until the meal falls from the bone, we drive to Viterbo to the vet for Sofi. The vet remains open during pranzo, which is the best time to take her.
She's really fiacca (lethargic) but has no temperature. It's time for a rabies injection, and they also take a vial of blood by wrapping a rubber tube around her chest first. Dino holds her head while I turn my head and gag. I'm frightened of these actions; frightened for little Sofi. She does not make any noise, so I think she can't even feel the needle.
The doctor returns a few minutes later with the analysis of her blood, but all is fine. We'll return in a few days for the injection and will give her a pill each day with her food, watching how she behaves. I think she's fine. It's a great relief.
These days, Dino downloads podcasts of "Wait, Wait, Don't Tell Me" and "Car Talk", so that when we (especially Dino) are out in the car, we listen to them.
Back at home, Marieadelaide and Augusta sit on the bench and Sofi and I stop to greet them. It's a great place to sit, with the sun streaming toward them as it lowers in the sky. It's good to see them back here. We take great comfort in having our neighbors sit here.
It's time to work on the Albero Geneologico di Mugnano, so perhaps Dino will do a little work with the software while I paint. We're coming upon February 1 very soon.
No word about the ebay auction of Fortezza...
January 28
I remain completely frustrated by Facebook, for during the past two months I've been unable to add or confirm friends. If anyone has a solution, do let me know. The popup windows won't work. So if you've asked me to add you as a friend and I have not responded, that's why. Sorry.
The forecast is for sun, but streaming clouds cover the sky and it's very cold. Perhaps later we'll have sun. I'm making very slow progress with my latest painting, but the shadows are beginning to work; piano, piano (slowly, slowly).
I'm mystified why the US is proposing giving Taliban "fighters" jobs, when no jobs are proposed for non-Taliban fighters in Afghanistan; but then, I don't understand the premise for the war to begin with.
As the lion in The Wizard of Oz sang, "If I were king..." I would devise a master plan for the rebuilding of Afghanistan, in which jobs would be provided to rebuild the infrastructure and a code of mutual respect and love for one's fellow man would be posted under an umbrella that says, "Living with honor through peace and respect for one another". Posters for a New Afghanistan would appear everywhere, with schematics of what the new infrastructure with jobs for all who are able to work would look like.
Sofi feels much better, and is back to the Sofi we know and love. Well, we love her anyway but are happy she's feeling better.
Niece Sarah emails me back to look at popup windows on Facebook, and that's a great idea. I do, but still can't manage the buttons. We've been given an insider's email address at Facebook, so I've emailed the person. This is a good place for the Italian word, "Magari!" (If only that were so.) It's used often in Italy, but I try not to. Whenever I say the word to neighbors, they smile and usually agree.
I recommend that we work on the Mugnano family tree, because it's too cold out side to work. I spend a couple of hours painting and wonder if this is the most difficult painting I have ever done or if I am just getting old. I of course favor the former.
I paint until I can't see straight, and that's a sign that a headache is near if I don't lighten up. Because I've made a mistake with the journal, opening the document itself and working on it instead of using the "alias", I foul it up. Luckily Dino catches it, and when I stop painting I fix it. Have I slowed down? Have I taken a break? Magari!
Dino fixes a fire, not really interested in working on the tree, so I work on the tree project myself (yes, I am nuts), trying to determine which family names will be included in the tree instead of taking names from here and there. The number of people on the tree must come down to at least 300 (It's now over 800), and although I'd love to add every last person, it's not possible. The tree is a representation and not meant to add each one, so let's see what I find.
January 28
The situation about the proposed local biodegestore is heating up, and my story about it will appear on Italian Notebook, probably next week. Meanwhile, all is silent in Mugnano, the freezing temperatures even cracking one of our favorite pots in the garden.
Dino wants cheeseburgers, and since we have plenty of potatoes, I bake "fries" in the oven, after slicing them and putting them in a plastic bag with oil and shaking them. After that, I scatter them on a baking sheet and put salt and pepper and a little oregano on them. I've fixed too many, so put half of them back in the plastic bag to cook for another meal. I feel somewhat like a prairie wife, using what we have to make more than one meal.
January 29
New York Times: Battling an Image and Reality, Berlusconi Takes on the Mafia (Real and Fictional) ?By RACHEL DONADIO ?Prime Minister Silvio Berlusconi of Italy unveiled a 10-point plan to fight organized crime and praised his government's efforts to crack down on illegal immigration
ROME - It seemed a spirited defense of his nation's reputation: calling organized crime groups "a terrible pathology," Prime Minister Silvio Berlusconi on Thursday criticized movies and television shows that fictionalized the Mafia for giving Italy "a negative image abroad."
Such shows, he said, were "an ugly trend" that he hoped would end soon.
Yet if anyone can help stop the trend, perhaps it is Mr. Berlusconi himself. His Mediaset company, Italy's largest private broadcaster, showed "The Sopranos" to great success on one of its pay channels, while its Canale 5, a free channel, has shown "The Boss of Bosses," a 2007 miniseries about the Sicilian Mafia boss Salvatore (Tot˜) Riina, and "The Last Godfather," a 2008 program about the Sicilian boss Bernardo Provenzano.
In baroque Italy, where image and reality are so intertwined that the term hypocrisy seems inadequate, many did not even blink. "Those are the typical things you say when you go in an area with high Mafia density," said Gianluca Nicoletti, a radio commentator. Besides, he added, "I don't think he said it with great conviction."
This month, immigrant day laborers living in squalid conditions clashed with residents in Rosarno, a Calabrian town in the grip of the Mafia. Analysts are still debating whether organized crime groups set off the riots to force the immigrants to flee, or whether they helped quash the riots.
Berlusconi is a strange character, but understanding him gives one a good sense of another side of the Italian character. I'm not sure we understand him, or his motives. Greed has plenty to do with it, but power reigns. Perhaps that is why the underworld thrives under its supposed umbrella of "protection". It's really protection from itself that underscores much of the rhetoric, as well as the action.
Am I tired of painting, or perhaps my eyes have glazed over, so I move to another project, spending a few hours on the Mugnano family tree. I work on refining the marriage lists that link families to one another. Tomorrow, Dino agrees to map out some of the larger families.
While he is out picking up things for me to cook for pranzo, he sees a death notice for dear Modesta, who did not quite make it to her 100th birthday. Yes, these Mugnanese live long lives, but she was our oldest. Now her brother, Giuseppe, will hold the title for the eldest in the village. He's about 95.
Duccio has a lot of experience with these things, and believes that if we insist that a monitor be put on this one to indicate if the levels are too high for safety of the nearby citizenry, and the site is used just for local farm refuse and not for all the garbage of Central Italy, we will be all right.
He also knows that finding a place for garbage and refuse of all kinds is a real problem all over Italy. Since we are a relatively small country with lots of people, there aren't a lot of places where they can be easily installed, away from population sites. And don't forget that we create almost all the garbage ourselves. It has to go somewhere.
The bitter cold continues, and now we have rain. Ovidio shows up after dark with our shutters, which have been remade and repainted. They are wrapped in plastic, but will be installed next week. It's a good thing to look forward to; we hope they have been treated and reworked. The first batch were a disappointment, and that's me, taking the high road.
Dino tells me they were even painted in the factory. The last time, Ovidio and his crew painted them, and did not do a thorough job, which may be what the problems stemmed from. He's a good man, so we are hopeful.
January 30
An email arrives as we wake up, filled with drama:
hello to all here 'this is a very serious are very powerful and this morning at 12.15 del29/01/2010 years already put the gru and there are many trucks for transport.
This is a literal translation from Italian on Google. I want you to see what is happening for yourself.
After much thought, I've decided not to write a story for Italian Notebook about the local biodegestore. We're not rabble rousers, and if someone else wants to write the story that's fine with us. It's all too hot.
We're suggesting that a controller be installed in the system to monitor any potentially dangerous chemicals and fumes. Who knows who will monitor it? Like a snail, I'm retreating to my shell.
Dino drives me to the site, and it is quite unremarkable. Yes, there is cement poured and a gru, but no camione (trucks). Perhaps the trucks were there yesterday for the construction. The site is not visible from the A-1, as it is low on the ground. Dino asks me to hold my opinion regarding a story for Italian Notebook until after tomorrow's meeting. That's all right with me.
There's dear Modesta's funeral this afternoon, but a soft rain persists. I'm not sure what the protocol is for Italian funerals in the rain. But I do know that Dino will change to put on his best jeans to wear under his Confraternity garb.
Dino mentions over a cece (garbanzo) and pasta soup that Italians don't dress up for funerals. They only dress up for festive occasions, namely feast days or weddings. Even then, some just have one costume, and it includes jeans. Old Levi Strauss would have been proud.
While I'm fixing pranzo, Dino works on the Pannucci family tree, of which Modesta is a part. He speaks about the Farina family, and tells me that several generations back, a couple begat (reference your bible) eight children, mostly boys. Those boys stayed around, and that is why the Farina family is the largest in Mugnano. The Pannucci family is not far behind.
We walk up to church and I join the Coro, while Dino walks into the sacristy to dress. He and Enzo will be on the altar with Don Renzo and afterward he'll carry the microphone box for Don Renzo.
With a hug for both Gino and Miriam before, and nods to the individual family members as they follow the hearse with Modesta afterward, I participate in the procession as far as our house. Dino is with it to the end, and there are drops of rain now and then, but ahead the sky breaks directly in front of the procession, opening up for her, and we know that Modesta will join the Lord for her 100th anniversary of her birth. If only she hung on a few more days until February 3, she would have seen her 100th!
We sung a few hymns during the service, and I am sorry we did not include Symbolum, a hymn I think would be sweet and dear. It's not important in the grand scheme of things.
I think of our deaths, and am secure in the belief that we will rest here in Mugnano until the end of time, or until cemeteries are no longer of value. With the world changing as it is, who knows? I certainly don't.
I did not participate in the entire procession and service, for I have a board meeting and a shareholder meeting for my father's building, and am waiting for confirmation that they will take place soon. I think I need to be available, until there are no emails right away, and I am sorry now that I did not follow Modesta to the cemetery. Dino reports that Don Renzo said under his breath to Dino as a ray of sun shown on Modesta's casket already in it's vault - "The sun is giving Modesta a final kiss". Also proud Dino tells me that the photo of Modesto on her tombstone is the one that he took of her last May. Here it is again:
January 31
Forecast is for thunderstorms, but the bright blue sky emerging from expansive clouds tells a different story. We drive up to church, and there are only four of us in the choir: Anna Farina, Rosita, MarieAdeliade and myself. We sing slowly and I think sweetly, although I'm disappointed that we don't sing "Symbolum".
Afterward we drive to Il Pallone, and have glassatas and cappuccinos at Nando's, then shop for pranzo. Dino puts on a podcast of "Wait, wait! Don't tell me!" and it's fun to listen. We use our IPOD in the car for podcasts, and really enjoy them.
I do a little painting before preparing pranzo, and afterward see the skies to the North are foreboding, although those to the south remain sunny. Our meeting later is to the North, and I'm expecting much divisiveness. With Duccio's warnings, I fear the concerns won't mean much, so hope we can help find a way to put in a controller to monitor what comes out. The problem is much bigger than the biodegestore. Let's see what everyone has to say...
I return to painting to take my mind off the problem, with Sofi lying by my side. Today I'm painting rope; the rope that is used to raise up the tree.
But first, I'm thinking about Symbolum "77". I've researched it in English, and now am learning it in both languages. Well, I know it in Italian, and it's one of the sweetest pieces of music. When we sang it during Communion, it really moved me.
As Luigina walks back from feeding her chickens, she meets Dino opening the gate, and asks him if we are going to the meeting. She tells us she will go as soon as her husband gets home. We're all together in this...
The meeting has been moved to the church hall from the Comune, and Francesco and Alberto stand outside the door, talking with other men we don't know.
Inside, the man we think is the mayor of Attigliano has no one to talk to; so he talks to us. We sit down in front of Rosita and Enzo, and the meeting is a real experience. For most of it, Rosita and Enzo laugh and jeer.
Here's a photo of the men on the podium. They are either experts, the president of Ecomuseo (Alberto) or Signor Cecca, who has the permit for the biodegestore.
The mayor of Giove sits in front, as does the mayor of Attigliano (he is not the man we thought he was), but Stefano Bonori, the mayor of Bomarzo, is not here.
We're pleasantly surprised when Roberto Multineddu is on the podium. He's a Mugnano resident, an agronomist, and an expert, and is a helpful addition. No politicians are on the podium, and Dino thinks that Francesco is now Bomarzo's Technico. He repeats his excellent presentation for the benefit of the audience.
Feathers fly when questions are raised. One woman tells Cecca, "Bomarzo doesn't want you, Mugnano doesn't want you, Bassano doesn't want you, Attigliano doesn't want you, what do you think about that?"
The owner tells us he will not burn garbage, no matter what. When he's asked what he will do when he does not have enough matter to put into the biodegestore to turn into metano, he does not really answer.
He tells us that there is nothing secret happening there, and it's possible to visit. We suggest to Enzo and Rosita that we have a gita, a pilgrimage, with a busload of folks. Each year there are religious trips, and we suggest this as an option. Everyone is laughing and talking. No one wants to be polite today.
During the entire meeting, the owner fiddles with his pen, resolute with eyes half shut, as though he's not going to give up. He appears to hate everyone here...except the mayor. We're sure the jolly mayor of Giove tells people what they want to hear; in this case, he's probably told the man to sit tight...he'll be able to go ahead regardless.
The mayor of Attigliano stands up and tells Cecca that the mayors in the towns affected would certainly have appreciated being asked to meet together to discuss this site in advance. He's angry, and so is the audience.
The last to comment is Claudio Cesaretti, who says that we want a guarantee that he will not burn garbage. The audience cheers and claps, and we're hoping that will happen.
We drive home, feeling a bit better about the biodegestore. If there is a guarantee, and if there is a monitor, the citizens will surely watch what happens and respond.
It's as good a time to end the month as any, so after a call from our dear friends, Don and Mary, who are almost snowbound in England, we have their next visit to look forward to. With temperatures expected below freezing, we snuggle up for a good night's sleep.
FEBRUARY 2010
February 1
We're greeted by cold and sun, and dress warmly, for we only keep the heat on for a couple of hours each morning. Sofi is back to her old self, and gambols outside on the terrace and then waits for me to take her upstairs while I paint.
I paint rope and hands this morning, having Dino take photos of me holding a long brush handle for a new perspective. I realize I have made a mistake in drawing one hand, so slowly rework both hands. I love painting hands, for some reason.
Right after pranzo, we take Sofi to the vet, and all signs are good. Dottoressa Paola gives Sofi a Rabies shot and clips her nails. Since they are black, we don't cut them ourselves...it's too difficult to tell where to cut. Sofi wags her tail and we're out of there quickly. It really works to visit the vet during the middle of the day when everyone else is having pranzo.
On the way back, we stop at a muratore's location in Bomarzo to pick up a preventivo (quote) for a client of Dino's, but he is not there. So Dino takes us home and returns to pick it up. One reason Dino is so effective is that he methodically keeps after suppliers. This muratore probably is avoiding him because he does not want the work. Stay tuned for a very high quote.
Tonight I have choir practice, and look forward to it, even though it will be very cold in the little church. We'll all huddle around the heater.
Huddle we do, and we're introduced to a new hymn; a beautiful one. I look forward to singing it in church soon. Tomorrow is the Blessing of the Throat mass. The word for throat in Italian is "gola". I think that its aim is to pray for good health, during winter when sickness is more common.
February 2
It's Groundhog Day in the United States, and thinking of this day during my childhood and early adulthood makes me smile. During those years, my grandmother, whom I lovingly referred to as "Nana", and I celebrated this day; so I blow you a kiss, dear Nana in heaven.
It's cold here, but there is no snow. So there's no shadow for the groundhog to see, indicating that the rest of winter may not be too bad. Actually, on our terrace, it's warm and sunny. It's a good day to work in the garden, but I'm working on painting Salvatore's hands instead.
After a trip to Viterbo to pick up regular prescriptions from our doctor's office, Dino meets with the Bomarzo muratore, who finally has a bid for him. The bid is so high that the man obviously did not want the work. Dino had to keep after him and after him; it's taken a long time to get even this bid.
Earlier, Dino convinced me to slow down on the tree project. Our neighbors are a little slow getting back to us with information we need and do not have, but we're going to continue working on the project methodically ourselves.
Perhaps it will take one more festa weekend in May and perhaps even Ferragosto, the iron (hottest) days of summer in August, until we have all the information we need. The delay makes the project more fun, less stressful. Joy!
In the meantime, Dino tells me he can find paper one meter wide by three or four meters high. Three of those side by side will represent the size of the finished tree, but Dino thinks we might as well purchase the wood, or whatever we will ultimately use, as the background in advance. We'll meet with the Ecomuse folks about that.
I see the size of the tree as three panels wide. Before I begin to sketch out the tree, I need to see the entire expanse, as well as determine with Ecomuseo how many names will be used. Piano, piano (slowly, slowly).
After pranzo I return to painting, while Dino continues bringing up firewood from the parcheggio and placing it in the little building around the corner of the house built just for that!
Late in the afternoon is the traditional mass for the blessing of the gola (throat). The legend of St. Blaise (San Biagio) tells us that he was born into a noble family and raised as a Christian. He became a bishop at the beginning of the 4th century. Later, a new persecution of Christians began. He received a message from God to go into the hills to escape persecution.
Hunters discovered a cave surrounded by wild animals that were sick. Blaise walked among them unafraid, curing them of their illnesses. The hunters recognized Blaise as a Bishop, so they captured him to take him back for trial.
On the way back, he talked a wolf into releasing a pig that belonged to a poor woman. When Blaise was sentenced to death by starvation, the woman sneaked into the prison with food and candles, in gratitude. Unfortunately, it did not save him.
Saint Blase is the patron of physicians (along with Damian and Cosimo), sick cattle, wax- chandlers, woolcombers, and of wild animals because of his care for them and of those with throat maladies.
As one of the Fourteen Holy Helpers, Saint Blase was much venerated throughout Central Europe. Very little is known about his life. According to various stories, he was a physician before becoming a bishop. His cult spread throughout the entire Church during the Middle Ages, for he was reputed to have miraculously cured a little boy who nearly died from a fishbone caught in his throat. Since the eighth century, he has been invoked on behalf of the sick, especially those afflicted with illnesses of the throat. It's time to fill you in on Italian News that we think you may want to read:
(ANSA) - Italy is determined to get a recent European ruling against crosses in Italian classrooms cancelled, Foreign Minister Franco Frattini said Tuesday.
Speaking ahead of a meeting with French judge Jean-Paul Costa, who chairs the ECHR, Frattini said he hoped Italy's appeal would be declared admissible.
"We are going to the court to defend a very deep sentiment of the Italian people, a fundamental principle which affects the identity of our country". "We are going to the court to defend a very deep sentiment of the Italian people, a fundamental principle which affects the identity of our country".
Frattini said it was even more important to safeguard Italy's "Christian identity" after Italy and other Catholic countries failed to have a reference to Europe's Christian roots included in the European Union's Constitution.
Italy and several other Catholic countries fought a long and hard battle for the insertion of such a reference but in the end the Lisbon Treaty, drafted in 2004, contained only a generic reference to ''religious'' influences as having shaped the continent's values.
"We lost that battle, for the moment, but now we must defend that identity". Italy had garnered support from "many European countries" for its appeal, he said, without naming them.
However, he said they had agreed to speak up against the ruling and cited an "important" declaration adopted by the Polish parliament.
'Live excavation' at Pompeii (ANSA) - Pompeii, February 1 - Visitors to the archaeological site of Pompeii will soon get the chance to observe the complex excavation process involved as it happens.
Excavation and restoration work at the House of the Chaste Lovers, which resumed a few months ago following ten years of neglect, will open to the public from the start of February.
Visitors will be allowed to enter sections of the building and watch archaeologists at work, gaining a deeper understanding of the effort involved in bringing 2,000-year-old remains to light. ''This is a project of immense importance to us,'' said Pompeii's emergency commissioner Marcello Fiori, recalling it was a priority on his works programme, approved by the culture ministry in November.
''These 'open-door' excavations will greatly enrich the opportunities provided by Pompeii. ''They will provide visitors with a different kind of experience, in which they have the chance to observe the fascinating work of archaeologists in action, as well as seeing recently unearthed items in situ''. The site will be protected from damage by glass screens. Interior panels will provide visitors with practical information, while technology will offer a virtual reconstruction of the premises as they probably looked prior to their destruction.
Italy launches new anti-mafia plan (by Denis Greenan).
(ANSA) - Reggio Calabria, January 28 - Italy on Thursday unveiled a new anti-mafia plan putting together all current laws against organised crime and setting up a national agency to oversee seizures of assets from the Mob.
The cabinet met in Reggio Calabria, where the new agency is to be located, shrugging off recent threats from the Calabrian crime syndicate 'Ndrangheta.
The plan, drafted by Interior Minister Roberto Maroni and Justice Minister Angelino Alfano, will collect and streamline all existing anti-mafia legislation.
''This new code can be used by all law enforcement groups to fight the mafia,'' Italian Premier Silvio Berlusconi told a press conference.
The plan will draw a national map of mafia assets, set up a new data base and stop organised crime infiltrating public tenders, he said.
"Firms will have a black list of companies so they know who not to sub-contract work to," the premier said.
Maroni said the plan would also target illegal waste disposal, one of the mafia's biggest earners, while Alfano said a state insurance net would be created for extortion victims.
But the cornerstone of the plan, Berlusconi stressed, will be the agency to control the seizure of assets from 'Ndrangheta, as well as the Camorra in Naples and Cosa Nostra in Sicily.
Unlike the other measures, which were put into bills to be presented to parliament, the agency was established by decree, effective immediately.
It will be ready to start work "in two weeks", Maroni said, stressing the importance of asset confiscation as "a fundamental tool" in the anti-mafia battle.
Asked about the possible danger of the mafia buying back assets at auction, Berlusconi replied: "We'll seize them again".
Berlusconi also stressed the importance of keeping the number of illegal immigrants in Italy down because ''they swell the ranks of criminals''.
This prompted a sharp reaction from the opposition Democratic Party (PD), with PD Senate whip Anna Finocchiaro, among others, accusing the premier of criminalising migrants.
The premier also repeated his conviction that TV shows about the mafia were "hurting Italy's image" and "this bad habit should be stopped", prompting a Catholic TV viewers group, Aiart, to note that the premier's Mediaset group had produced and broadcast two of the highest-rating recent shows including one on jailed ex-Cosa Nostra chief Toto' 'the Beast' Riina.
In other reactions, National Anti-Mafia Prosecutor Pietro Grasso said he would discuss the merits of the plan when he had examined it, while the small opposition Communist Party accused the government of staging "a publicity stunt". After the cabinet meeting, the premier met with Reggio prosecutors and said they "did not seem at all worried" about the recent 'Ndrangheta threats.
'Ndrangheta, now reckoned to be Italy's strongest mafia, has sent three apparent warnings to the government ahead of the cabinet meeting.
The fire bombing of the entrance to the main courthouse in Reggio on January 3 was followed a week ago by the discovery of a car containing rudimentary explosives a few hundred metres from Italian President Giorgio Napolitano's route to the airport after a visit to the city.
Then, on Monday, a bullet was sent to a Reggio prosecutor involved in key probes and trials against 'Ndrangheta.
Maroni said Thursday the new confiscation agency will be a "key in dismantling the economic power" of the mafia, which according to a survey Wednesday generates business equivalent to almost 10% of GDP, making it "Italy's biggest private enterprise".
Homes, farms and other assets confiscated from Italy's mafias have been turned to public use in recent years including a Riina villa which has become the Corleone tax HQ.
On Wednesday police made the third of three recent massive assets seizures, totalling some 1.4 billion euros ($2 billion), against businessmen linked to Cosa Nostra head Matteo Messina Denaro, who took over command of the Sicilian mafia in the wake of the 2006 arrest of boss of bosses Bernardo Provenzano.
Asset seizures have also played a key role in the state's fight against 'Ndrangheta, including a Dolce Vita landmark café in Rome, and the Camorra, including numerous construction and waste management firms.
Italy has caught many mafiosi on the most-wanted list in the last two years.
Those arrested have included most of Provenzano's would-be heirs and most of the remaining leaders of the Casalesi clan, exposed in Roberto Saviano's book Gomorrah, whose jailed chieftains recently saw their life sentences upheld.
Several 'Ndrangheta figures have also been caught including those responsible for the Duisburg massacre.
There is still more news about the Mafia:
Mafia rides recession to new gains
More loan sharking, greater brand counterfeiting, different kinds of protection rackets and expansion in its traditional construction mainstay helped organised crime generate 135 billion euros in turnover, or almost 10% of GDP, a business report said Tuesday.
'Mafia Incorporated' - formed by the Camorra in Naples, Cosa Nostra in Sicily and 'Ndrangheta in Calabria - made some 70 billion in profits, the Confesercenti retail association said.
Some 200,000 businesses were hit by loan sharks last year but the cases topped 600,000 because many merchants or entrepreneurs were taking loans from "as many as three sharks at a time," the report said.
There was a rise in one-day loans with an interest rate of 10% in 24 hours, Confesercenti said.
Income from protection rackets stayed more or less the same but only because more businesses were being taken over by the Mob and the recession "cut the number of firms the mafia could prey on".
Still, some 150,000 small businesses had to fork out, with crime syndicates "diversifying from their traditional pizzo" (cash pay-out) to making firms buy calendars, pens and office equipment as well as hire workers and pay for services from mafia-connected companies.
Income from the construction sector "in all its forms" was steady as the mafia's No.1 earner, the report said.
Shopping malls, supermakets and other big retail outlets were being "snapped up" to launder money while the farm sector, hit harder by the recession than most, was under "especially aggressive" mafia attack, Confesercenti said.
The age-old trade of rustling was "holding steady", the report said, with 100,000 animals going missing each year: mainly cattle and pigs but also sheep, lambs and horses.
From the ancient to the modern, mobsters were "ever more involved" in computer crime including cloning of credit cards and phishing, while the market in counterfeit goods was also "strong" as mafia-linked firms turned out more fake designer goods and pirated more software, CDs and DVDs.
Confesercenti that did not consider non-business activities like drug and arms trafficking, prostitution and crimes against the environment such as illegal waste management.
Last year the Eurispes research agency said Italy's three main mafias made 130 billion euros from these in 2008, the equivalent of 9% of GDP, with 'Ndrangheta in Calabria accounting for 3% through its domination of the European cocaine market.
And here's my favorite:
(ANSA) - Agrigento, January 26 - An Italian man has been cleared of growing opium poppies after convincing a judge he didn't know what they were.
Calogero Carlisi, 72, from a small town near Agrigento in Sicily, was given a full acquittal.
"No crime was committed," the judge ruled.
Carlisi's lawyers argued the farmer had no idea what the 250 plants on his land were and in any case did not know it was a crime to grow them, court sources said.
Have you ever seen the hilarious film, A Growing Concern with Brenda Blethen? She fills a large hothouse with grow lights and marijuana plants, thinking the sale of the plants will get her out of debt. When she finds out the police will raid her instead, she sets it all on fire and the police and all the neighbors get high and dance around. She does get out of debt by writing a book about it.
No, we aren't thinking of doing something similar...
February 3
Today is cold and clear. Dino drives to Montecchio for a meeting, and I put on a pot of espresso. We have a container of panna (cream), with a current expiration date, so I put together a frozen dessert made with whipped panna, cacao powder, canella, sugar and freshly made espresso.
I put it in festive glasses and stand them in the freezer. Before serving, I crumble an Oreo (can you believe it?) on top of each one. Ha. I'm really sounding old fashioned, but Dino loves his chicken risotto (what's not to like?) with caramelized onions and mushrooms and then waxes ecstatic about the silly dessert. I don't know if he loves leftovers more or the fact that I can put a meal together with things we already have. Life is good.
I continue to paint, and now that I see that my colors are too "hot", I use a lot of cobalt blue to tone them down. The rope that I thought was finished is too orange, so before it's through it will probably look dull...just what rope should look like.
February 4
Dino's in Montecchio, showing a muratore what he wants for a client and telling him what the client wants to spend for a change. Sometimes this works better than just asking for a bid; the murature has leeway and pads in some 10% usually for contingencies. We'll see in a few days if this is the right muratore for the job.
I sleep in late, although am awakened twice by a nervous client in the US. Va bene. All will work out....Dino to the rescue.
I work on the painting and then email my mentor the background for the subject with the work I've just completed; I would love my paintings of local people to tell a story.
There's pasta for pranzo and then I'm thinking that Dino will take me to the next town to a woman we hope will be my next parucchiere (hairdresser). I take a photo for the mix of color, but perhaps I am too much an artist and too little a realist, thinking shaping colors of paint on the canvas are similar to mixing colors of tint on one's head.
But instead he opens the mail and there is a €500 bill for one month's cell phone service from a new carrier! Yikes! Dino rushes to the office in Viterbo and the adventure continues.
Back at home, I'm also in a bit of a dither. While delicately taking a paintbrush hair off the canvas; one that had been there for possibly a couple of days, it pops off along with a piece of gesso. Now there is a tiny crater over one of Mauro's eyes. Sigh.
I email my instructor to confess, and think I'll move to another part of the painting. Perhaps I'll stop instead and wait for his counsel. I feel as if I've entered a virtual confession booth. What will be my penance and what will be the result?
February 5
We love the effects, the colors, the gentle parts of the film, but you can have all the violence. It has me thinking of the Amazon jungle and wondering if its demise will be the beginning of the end...surely we'll abuse it until it no longer resembles the place it once was and its richness is but a memory of the past.
How do young teens and adults respond to the film? Do enough of them want to rise up and protect the environment? Does the film inspire them? In some cases, the shoot-em-up parts probably inspire young people, especially men, to want to join up, or to embrace violence as a conduit of power. Oh, how I hope the young will embrace peace and find a way to make the world a better place by respecting their fellow man/woman.
I commented to Dino as we waited for the theatre to open up after the previous showing. No one smiled or spoke to one another as they left the theatre. It had me wondering. Now I understand why.
The spirit tree in the film, with its massive root system, inspires me to make the roots of the Mugnano family tree a special part of the project. The more I ponder, the longer it will take to finish the project, and perhaps that is just. The roots of this village certainly dig back centuries. If only (magari) we knew more about how village life centuries ago compared to life here now...
The sky remaines overcast all day, but there is little rain. We arrive home before dark, and it is too late to paint. Speaking of color, my hair turned pinkish in the morning, taupe in the afternoon and evening.
It will take a few days for the color to set in, but early next week we'll return to Rina to show her how much pigment I have in my hair, and give her help in determining what to do with me "a la prossima volta" (next time). If only we had a way to sell the pigment...
February 6
If I were to do a program about Mugnano, what would I say? I'm far too partial for an objective viewpoint. For Dino and me, this place is heaven on earth, its residents a world apart. That is one of the reasons this tree project is so meaningful to us. Whatever we could do for our neighbors to bring them joy, that would be but a tiny reflection of what they have done for us.
There is a joke in nearby towns that the Mugnanese are slow and keep to their selves; that is why they are jokingly called lumache (snails). We're happy snails at that.
I do a little repair work on my painting, but don't feel completely absorbed as I usually do, so fix a "piccio paccio" for pranzo. What is it? We'll, it's what Italians would refer to as "the kitchen sink". Here in Italia it always includes pasta, usually tomatoes and cheese....
This morning, Dino wants to talk about the Mugnano tree. Since he is a forceful guy, and intends to get his point across no matter what, he interrupts me and lets me know that he'd like to see me paint a beautiful tree, with an overlay of the individual family trees on top of that. I laugh and ask him if the overlay can be in neon. He thinks an overlay of clear material, probably acetate, would be great. I roll my eyes and smile.
I'm so happy to see him interested in the project, for his assignment is to take the information and work on the interplay of how the different family trees relate to each other. He disagrees with my approach, telling me that the point at which families merge (marriage) is not important, although I see it as a key to how the families really relate to each other. He thinks the bloodlines are what is key. What will the neighbors think? What do you think? What do YOU think, Sofi?
Dino loves the pranzo, and there is enough for another meal. That makes him happier still. In the afternoon he drives to Viterbo for...I don't know what. Sofi and I watch a movie and I get into bed and read while Sofi secretly lies next to me on the comforter from San Remy. Pure luxury!
February 7
Don Angelo is today's priest, and one day we will invite him for a visit. Since he speaks English, we'll have a lot to talk about.
The minutes before mass begins are always full of chatter among the Coro members. What will we sing? Serena distributes today's list, and when Anna Farina arrives, I invite her to sit next to me, so that I can ask her questions about her parents.
Once she sees the draft of the Farina tree that Dino has provided, she tells me that the main people we have are her cousins, so there are trees within the family trees. I call Dino over so that he can understand for himself.
Once he returns to his seat, she whispers to me that Mansueto is really Isidoro and Dusolina is really Olga. We now know that the names on cemetery markers and plots are generally of people as they are known to each other...not always as "given" names. She also tells me that when she was little, she played in our garden, thinking our house was enormous. Now she knows it is a little house.
I ask her if she went to school in our house and yes, she did. Some day it will be interesting to see if there are any group photos of children at our house, but we don't think photography was as important in the early 20th century as it is today.
After mass, we ask Rosina if her brother, Tommaso, is always here. Yes, but he is in his field most of the day. So we can visit with them together to obtain more names of the Farina family, but probably it's best to do that during late afternoon...perhaps later this week. Together, they know a great deal about the Farina family, as well as other families in the village.
I consider it fortuitous that we purchased this property, a property so important in the lives of our neighbors. One day, perhaps it should be returned to the village. We'll see. At night, when we're cuddled in our toasty bed, I think warmly of the gift we've been given to live out our lives here.
On the way home from church, I talk to Dino about the proposed roof for the loggia, and about the bread oven. It will soon be time to speak with Stefano about it, but I think the oven belongs to the left of the sink, next to the side of the house. We'll need a chimney for it, and it should rise up the side of the house, not causing any problems for Rosina, who lives above us.
But Dino wants us to keep the walkway to the back of the house open, for easy access to the heater...and then it dawns on me. Perhaps we'll move the heater! Why not? Anything's possible. But I do hope we will have a bread oven soon, especially for the summer months, when we can make pizza and eat outside under the moonlight.
I also tell Dino that I think he should have a cantina, a workroom, that would be entered from the parcheggio and be located under the terrace. He's intrigued...
Yes, I am a dreamer. I dream as if we have money to spend. But without dreams, nothing would be possible. With dreams, we can usually find a way, bit by bit, to accomplish them.
Last night I had a dream that I thought I was dying. I had really been bitten by something on my right arm, and there were two adjacent puncture points, surrounded by a rash. I was sure in my fantasy that the bite was poisonous, and that once the poison traveled to my heart that I would die in my sleep. I waited, but nothing happened. That's me, the silent drama queen.
For pranzo today, we ate a baked persico (perch) with potatoes and tomatoes and olives, a dish that made Dino swoon. So do try it some time. It is good to eat fish for a change, and something not fried.
The euro has dropped, and continues to drop, against the dollar. That is very good news for us, so we watch the number daily, and we're on the way to returning to parity between the euro and the dollar, although we have a long way to go.
Sun continues in the afternoon, while I work on the chair slipcover, and pull out the stitches twice. The material is thick, and I'll press on, but think a professional could stitch these up easily.
It's Superbowl tonight, but since we cannot see the commercials, I think it's not worth staying up. The game begins after midnight.
Yes, we attend the meeting in Giove on the proposed biodegestore that seems to be getting built under our noses...
The flyer distributed on the chairs makes no mention of Ecomuseo, so it is run by a group of locals, "Comitato Cittadino Spontaneo "Salviamo il Basso Tevere". On a slide projected on the front wall we read, "Tutti insieme ognuno di noi, per Quello che puo dia il proprio contributo per la ricerca della verita qualunque essa sia...Assemblea Pubblica". Everyone wants to learn what is right and to contribute what they have to say together during a meeting, or something like that. Remember never to take Italian lessons from another foreigner.
So here we sit, and the room is full, so many stand; encircling those seated as if they are decorations on a cake stand.
I know this is serious business, but I can imagine the wheels turning inside the heads of the participants; Italians love to tell a story, and there will be many about this night. We wondered how the people of Giove felt, and they are clearly angry. Tonight is their night...
"L'indifferenza non e piu una virtu! (Indifference is not a virtue) is shown as a headline on a slide. Italians are often indifferent, but in this case indifference could very lead to a community with dangerous pollutants harming its residents.
Two significant facts remain, brought up by Marco Moretti, the same expert who has been to our meetings before:
After 2 1/2 hours we leave; acrimonious posturing continues as we walk out the door. So many people want to badger the Giove mayor, and we don't blame them.
I am sure that Sr. Cecca, who was a no-show, felt there was no reason to subject himself to the anger of the residents who attended the first two meetings. The mayor will undoubtedly let him proceed. Now, can we find a way to insist that Sr. Cecca give the communities surrounding his biodegestore a guarantee?
It's ever so much more peaceful back at home.
February 8
Tonight we'll have cena at our house, with fresh fish Stein is bringing from Norway. Since he's not eaten our baked fish, I may remake yesterday's recipe. Dino loves to eat good things more than one day in a row; he's easy to please in the food department.
Now he's off to Guardea to the bank; he's helping another client figure out what's going on with their bank. It's true that there are a myriad of things that go on here, whether property owners are here or not, and he loves the running around and doing the details.
I've been thinking of the slipcover I sewed yesterday, and today I'll take out the front seam and redo that part; there are inverted pleats at each front corner and they must be finished "just so". Since this chair is a bit smaller than the ones we owned in the U S, I'm adjusting this one from back to front, where we have more material than we need. That's a good thing, for if it were the other way around, I'd be in a fix.
With plenty of sun streaming in the front windows, it's better not to paint this morning, anyway. Sofi sits outside in the sun for a bit, but wants to be by my side. So she can sleep inside near me, with sun covering her like a warm blanket while I rip out a seam and adjust the slipcover. What project people we both are!
Soon we'll drive to Viterbo, probably this week with Candace and Frank's station wagon, to bring back the three huge panels for the Mugnano tree. We'll surely need paper to sketch out the details as well. While I write, Bolero is playing and as the music builds I'm dreaming about the project, which builds with each family verifying the names of their relatives.
Will we be finished by August? We have no idea, and the momentum continues...
The painting of Salvatore and Mauro and the tree raising awaits...while I fix a simple panna cotta (cooked cream) for tonight's dessert.
I fiddle with the chair cover, and realize it's probably almost fine, but the man in Viterbo who made pillows and things for us a few years ago can fix the left front side in a snap. So let's take the chair to him later if his shop is open. Since it's a Monday, many stores and all grocery stores are closed.
We realize that we have a second matching chair, so I'll work on that slipcover first and we'll take them both later this week. Funny, but we don't have a table to use with the chairs as a "dining room table", although we have two other chairs that can serve as dining room end chairs.
I leave Dino to watch the replay of the Superbowl (he does not know who won) and sweep the side steps while enjoying the winter sunshine. Later this afternoon, I'll make Focaccia (Italian flat bread) to serve tonight before our main course. We're looking forward to the temporary return of our dear friend.
This in from ANSA, the Italian News Agency:
Among those arrested were several businessmen who gave the immigrants apparently legal job documents so they could get into Italy and join up with family members.
Also arrested were three employees at the provincial employment office in Reggio Calabria.
Interior Minister Roberto Maroni hailed the operation as "groundbreaking" in showing for the first time how 'Ndrangheta was running illegal immigrants into Italy.
''For the first time the direct involvement of 'Ndrangheta families in favouring illegal immigration has been proven,'' Maroni said at a policing conference in Monza.
''This is a worrying signal which shows how much money there is to be made from the business of illegal immigration''.
He said the operation showed the fight against illegal immigration was not only essential in fighting crime, as Premier Silvio Berlusconi recently stressed, but was also part of the war on organised crime.
Reggio Calabria Prosecutor Giuseppe Pignatone said the operation ''shows 'Ndrangheta's capacity to exploit any opportunity for gain''.
He said the organisation ''used a sophisticated mechanism which included Indian immigrants, corrupt officials, and businessmen in Reggio Calabria province''. According to police, the Indians resident in Italy contacted hundreds of people back home wanting to join their families and arranged their employment contracts through two 'Ndrangheta clans.
The immigrants paid 10-18,000 euros a head and the organisation made more than six million euros, police said.
So did they provide phony identification for this high price? What will Italians do for workers if we cut down on immigration? These days, it's very difficult to find workers for menial work, and those we do find are usually foreigners.
Somehow, Dino found a muratore for a client to put in a deck and a pool that charged a fair price and began...on Sunday! Dino stopped in to see the work on the way home and things are proceeding. While the client is here until the end of the week, the job may even be finished before he leaves. Now that would be one for a story...
Have I forgotten all about my dear friend, Giusi, who gives me the best pedicures? Since my appointments are always on Tuesdays and the salon is closed on Mondays, I'm nervous that I've missed my latest appointment and can't call. This is so terrible, for she loses money when I don't show up and I can't find a December appointment on the journal. First thing tomorrow I will call her.
Dino drives to Orte in Stein's car to pick him up. He has brought a fresh cod and tells Dino that he knows how to prepare it...boiled (!) with potatoes and carrots. There's always something to learn, and now there's plenty of room in the oven for the two big loaves of Foccaccia!
I want to eat late, so that the bread will be ready, but Stein has a particular way to cook his cod, which is fresh from Norway and considered a delicacy there. Early February must be the time the fish swim from the Arctic, or am I making this up?
What I do know, is that the cod, which is put into boiling water, the temperature turned off, and it is served with boiled potatoes and boiled carrots and melted butter.
To say that the cod tastes like lobster, without any chewiness, is an understatement. It's heavenly. The simple potatoes and simple carrots compliment the fish perfectly. This meal surely is a treat, and the sage foccaccia seems unimportant.
I've fixed a frozen panna cotta (is it possible to have frozen cooked cream?) with amaretto cookies on Stein's and chocolate cookies on ours. With just a touch of grappa to finish the evening off, Stein leaves for his Mugnano home and we tuck into bed.
February 9
Don Francis emails from the Molise, and he seems content at last with a parish all his own. In a strange way, our lives are similar, being plunked down among strangers who wonder why we are there and, as time passes, think we've always been a part of them.
Giusy agrees to take me at mezzogiorno (noon), and I explain to her that sometimes Dino has a problem with his appointment calendar, but that I am so sorry I missed my last appointment. I present her with a little token, a colored pencil drawing of jonquils. I also bring her our desk calendar and have her write her name on the next appointment day, which is also my birthday. Now we will see it every day and will surely not let the day of my next pedicure pass us by.
Dino has two appointments after pranzo, so I make a warm potato salad with a bag of fingerling potatoes we brought back from the US (what?)! I notice that a number of them have eyes, so we set them aside on a paper towel and will soon plant them in big tubs. I love digging for potatoes and having them fresh from the ground, as soon as they're washed and scrubbed.
This is exciting, because our Spring Planting will be a reality, even if it's too early yet. We do have an indoor greenhouse and why not chit potatoes in it this month? I love the instructions on planting many things: "Plant two weeks before last frost"...What? How can we know when the last frost will appear?
Well, who is the Patron Saint of Gardeners? It's Saint Fiacre. Perhaps he will tell us; that is, if we are faithful to him. Listen up:
The Roman Catholic Church considers August 30 as the feast day of Saint Fiacre. I think that's a strange date, for on August 30th, we're usually exhausted. It's often so hot we pray for cooler weather then. Sitting out in the garden on August 30th seems an unfair penance for not growing perfect flowers and vegetables. But in the 7th century, when Fiacre lived, perhaps times were different.
Fiacre is also the patron saint of hemorrhoids, but I'll leave it to you to think about that as well as their association with the garden. His feast day is celebrated on September 1st in Ireland and France.
The French call a particular kind of carriage a fiacre, due to the closeness of a hotel named after him to a taxi-stand. So he's also the patron saint of taxi-drivers. But let's get back to the garden...
Europeans have recognized Fiacre as the patron saint of gardeners since the Middle Ages, and celebrate this day with special masses, floral processions and pilgrimages. In France, special floats of elaborate floral arrangements make their way down flower petal-covered streets. In Ireland, citizens sing hymns written in Fiacre's honor.
Although his feast day is not officially celebrated in the United States, statues of Saint Fiacre can be found in many gardens and museums, including Cypress Gardens in Florida and The Cloisters at The Metropolitan Museum of Art in New York.
St. Fiacre was born in Ireland and raised in a monastery. Much of medieval learning and knowledge was brought to monasteries and left in the care and protection of their monks. Travelers brought seeds and plant material, as well as cultural enlightenment from as far away as Rome and the Holy Land.
St. Fiacre's days at the monastery taught him a deep love of silence, the joys of planting and harvesting crops and an appreciation of nature. Drawn to the religious life and the desire to serve God in solitude, Fiacre decided to establish a hermitage for worship. He traveled South and chose a wooded area by the Nore River for his home, with a cave for meditation, a well for drinking water and the river for bathing.
Monks in those days were regarded as physicians of the body as well as the soul. Soon people were flocking to Fiacre for prayers, food and healing. He fed the hungry and healed the sick with herbs from his garden and prayed for everyone who travelled there.
Longing for solitude for his worship, Fiacre traveled to France where the Bishop of Meaux granted him land in a wooded area near the Marne River. He built a hut near a well, clearing space for his garden of vegetables, fruits, flowers and herbs.
The first miracle attributed to Fiacre, which later became cause for his sainthood, occurred when he asked for additional ground for his garden from the local Bishop. The Bishop Faro told Fiacre he could have as much land as he could entrench in one day. Don't you love the bishop's name? Perhaps it should have two "r's".
According to legend, the next morning Fiacre merely dragged his spade across the ground, causing trees to topple and bushes to be uprooted. Word of this miracle spread and people flocked to him for food, healing and spiritual guidance, although it also probably made the 'tree huggers" angry.
St. Fiacre's famous monastery welcomed all who sought his counsel and healing. A culinary garden that fed the poor, a medical garden that cured the sick, a flower garden and an herb garden occupied the property surrounding the monastery.
Even after his death around 670 A.D., people continued to visit the monastery and, as legend would have it, receive physical and spiritual healing. To this day crowds visit St. Fiacre's shrine, where his relics are still believed to contain healing powers.
That's it for today's history lesson. Back in Mugnano, we've found the other chair covers stored away, and now I can work on it to see if I can sew the second one better than the first.
Since we have six chair covers, if we had a dining room table we could have as many as eight people sit around it. Now what I don't know is how we could manage to turn the room into both a living room and a dining room for eight. Perhaps we'll need my little sitting room off the garden after all.
Dino has left to stop at Stein's to tell Mario what Stein wants done. Since Stein has Dino to translate for him, he's not ready to converse with Mario in Italian just yet. Only yesterday he arrived from Norway, so let's give him a little time.
February 10
Roy and Enzo are on the altar this morning with Don Renzo, and I join the Coro, singing the traditional funeral pieces. Don Renzo is wonderful, as usual, saying that her death is a test; I don't understand all of it, but as we grow older we're very aware of a force to believe in, one that guides us and gives us hope.
Since it is raining, we drive to the borgo for the funeral, and to the cemetery afterward. Carla and Vincenzo are buried on the same row as our plot, several spaces further down.
I suppose when we pass away we'll face North, depending on what direction our bodies lie. Does one have a choice? I'm not sure, but I think I'd like to face North, for we're on the far South side of the cemetery, and we'd face all our neighbors. Enough of that.
In the afternoon, we drive to Tommaso's little house, and Rosina, his sister, walks down a few steps from her house to join us. They are members of the Farina family, the largest family in Mugnano, and sit with us to go over what we've found about their ancestors and closer relatives.
Before we leave, I remind them that this project is our competiti (homework); we're doing this to get to know our neighbors, and they think it's a good thing to do. In May, Dino tells them, we'll have the rest of our project spelled out by family, and we'll hope to have everyone take a look and help us with corrections and additions. It will only be after then that we begin to cull the names.
In the meantime, this week or next we'll drive to Viterbo to purchase the panels and the paper for the sketching. But for now, we return home and Dino puts the new information we have gathered into the computer. But where is it? Dino made a copy, but the information he had painstakingly entered is not there. He sent an email to the software company to find out how to retrieve it, but at least he has the information on a hard copy. Sempre Avanti (always forward)! We're not to be daunted.
Giusy has convinced me to ask the doctor about the bad circulation in my hands and feet. After looking up the symptoms on Al Gore's internet, I begin to worry. So let's figure out what to do about it...soon. In the meantime, I wear gloves around the house when I am not sewing or painting.
I've also almost finished pinning the fourth chair cover to the point that the chairs can be easily sewn by an expert. We'll take them to Viterbo, and it should take no time at all to finish them. There are two additional chair covers, but for now, we have plenty.
February 11
Back at home I finish the pinning, and we take a chair and the four covers and drive to the man in Viterbo where we have had cushions and pillows made. We don't know his name, but he lives in Chia and can see our house from his house. Do we think he's doing Sarah Palin talk (She can see Russia from her house)?
He tells us no, he cannot sew the covers. His sister (or is it his wife?) appears from behind a curtain, and she knows exactly what to do. But she won't do it either. They agree that they know a woman who is retired and does work from her home, so they will take the covers and chair to her and we will return in a couple of weeks. There is usually a way if one is patient and keeps the other person talking.
Back at home, a migraine creeps into the picture, and Sofi and I spend the afternoon in bed. Thanks to rest and Difmetre, I'm fine, although my hands are really cold. When we were in Viterbo we made an appointment with the doctor and will return on Monday morning for a solution.
Earlier, Dino took the car out and went around Mugnano, getting signatures to protest the Attigliano biologica site; if we get our petitions in before this weekend is up, we can shut them down, hopefully until a study is done. Its an iffy proposition, but thanks to Michelle, we may be able to do it. Tonight Dino takes the forms to Ernesta's, and she'll have people who come into the little store sign them; many have already signed in Attigliano.
We spend the evening huddled by the fire; it is a good thing we have bought more firewood, for last year's firewood is gone. The fires are so hot that the wet wood burns just the same, so somehow we're doing fine. Next time, we'll buy a larger load of firewood.
February 12
I'm thinking of painting this morning, and looking up recipes to make for Valentine's Day. Since we purchased strawberries yesterday, I'll fix something early, perhaps even today. We're used to not doing things always on the date, and for us every day is Valentine's Day.
It's really cold, and we're expecting a big storm later today, one that will have strong winds, rain, and perhaps snow. We've not had snow all winter.
I make a chocolate soufflé in individual ramekins and slice fresh strawberries, covering them with sugar and Cointreau to put on top. We'll begin with chicken risotto, so it will be a tasty pranzo.
All is well, Dino delivers the petition with 41 names to the Hotel Umbria, where the sindaco of Attigliano will take all the collected names and march up to Giove, to try to stop the project. Ernesta has sheets on which to collect more names, and we'll continue to do so. Already, almost everyone living in Mugnano has signed, either at Ernesta's or in Attigliano. Michelle calls to say we've come up with 306 names so far. Don't know yet what that means...
I paint this afternoon, while Dino shows a property in Tenaglie. Angie Good calls, telling us that Renzo's a grandfather again, and Marsiglia a biz-nonna (great grandmother). It's always great to hear from Angie and we miss her.
It's really cold, or we're really feeling it. I can't wait to get in bed under the covers...No, we don't put on any heat other than first thing in the morning. Any heat comes in the kitchen from the fireplace. Brrrrr.
February 13
Lief and Kari arrive for a short visit, then I return to painting. This painting is taking months longer than I anticipated, probably due to the advice of a mentor in England who advises me by email. It's worth the extra time, speriamo, but I'd like to finish soon. There's another canvas waiting for me.
Sadly, the ambulance yesterday was for dear Candida, who is now in Bel Colle hospital in Viterbo. Italo is also there, with his son arriving from Parma and everyone in the family keeping watch. I love these two folks, and pray for their return to Mugnano really soon.
Dino keeps up another fire in the fireplace, but he's excited about possible work we would do in the loggia, including adding solar panels to the roof. We've taken measurements and he's drawn it out on graph paper. We're good at these projects, and if we're able to, will start this before the hot days of summer are upon us.
February14
Dino presents me with a valentine surprise...a cd by Eva Cassidy that we do not have. I love her music!
There's no mention of Saint Valentine today during mass, but in nearby Terni, he is the city's padrono (patron saint). Hundreds of couples marry in Terni on this date, but to us the idea is troppo carina (too cute).
I have a head cold, and take advantage of the cold and the cold weather to snooze in the afternoon. Dino continues cutting the branches of the plum tree that he clipped recently, as it is warm on the terrace. I'm reminded that this is the time to prune any roses that we have not already done.
Pietro visits us in the evening, not interested at all in the Olympics, except to say that the Norwegians win most of it. What do you think, Sofi? We sit by the fire and drink spumanti.
February 15
We'll make an appointment through our pharmacist, leaving the receipt with Vezio on the way home. This medical system is so good, that we wonder why the American system is such a mess...and so expensive. It's a reason to live here, by itself, although there are so many reasons...
Dino takes Pietro to the train, and we look forward to his next visit, when we hope he will stay longer.
Sofi rides with us, and waits while we have our visit. We're both scheduled for exams now, mine for circulation and Dino for his leg pain. Gee, getting old is complicated. It's a good thing we have such a good doctor, who treats us with respect and diagnoses us in English.
The rest of the day is mellow, with cold temperatures and dreary skies. I have a cold, so won't attend coro tonight; I'm happy to receive word from Rosita that there will be none after all.
Tiziano emails us the words to "Evenu shalom alejem", and I sing it to Sofi when I dance with her around the house. It's a wonderful hymn, enough to make anyone raise his/her arms with joy. Email us if you want to know the words...
We're watching Olympic coverage during these dreary days, and there is much to see. SKY has five channels devoted to it. Does that mean that we can see more coverage than in the U S? I don't know, but remember that one channel usually was awarded the rights, and there were no options. Perhaps that was in "the old days"....
February 16
Dino has driven to Tenaglie to show a property, and if it looks good today, it will be wonderful any day of the year. The couple likes the property a lot, and will choose between this one and one near Lake Bolsena.
Soon we will have a little money to have our cemetery project done and possibly a new roof over the loggia. So during these dark days of winter, it's fun to draw out what the new space under the new roof will look like.
For quite a while, I have imagined a kind of arbor effect once someone reaches the top step and opens the gate under the rose arch. That means two more glicine plants, perhaps, but we won't need pots; they can be planted right in the ground next to iron supports.
There is so much sun on this South/Southwest facing view, that shade becomes very important. It makes it possible for us to spend more time outside during the lazy days of summer. These days, dreaming is the major activity...well, at least it is mine.
As for Dino, he meets with a muratore on a current project, where the geometra is missing a document in order for the job to be granted permission to begin. What? The muratore has started and almost finished the job, but when Dino speaks with the geometra he's not concerned.
Dino likes this contractor a lot, and when he's asked if there are any jobs coming up, he tells him about ours. Much as we love Stefano, he's always over his head in work and does not mind if we use someone else. We'd like them both to look at the work, and to determine if we need a permit to begin. In this case, I want it to proceed correctly, and Dino seems to agree. It will be weeks before we're ready, anyway.
February 17
I think I have mastered painting one of Salvatore's hands, and when Dino gets back from Orte, where he is having blood drawn for a test, we'll take a photo and email it to Roger. Even though a headache persists, I want to paint, for it is what I love to do.
Sofi sits in the sun for a while, but clamors to come back inside to be with me. Perhaps she likes sleeping to the classical music in the background and country sounds outside the window.
Is there a better way to live out one's life? If there is, I surely can't imagine what it would be...
I send a photo to Roger, and after pranzo work a little on a project of my own, then Dino and I drive up to mass to receive our cenere (ashes).
Don Angelo talks about palestra (exercise) and I think he's talking about the gym, but he's talking about a spiritual exercise; one that we need to embark on during Quaresima (lent). I stop worrying about what I'll give up and instead realize that I'll think more spiritually instead for these weeks.
Just before mass, Serena tells me she follows the journal but cannot get into our site. So I tell her that Dino will see if he can help after mass. We walk up to her house, and realize that we have not yet posted for the first half of February. Dino promises to do this tomorrow, for it is already written.
Serena tells me that she and possibly other members of her family follow the journal by translating it on Google. One day, perhaps one of her children, Erica or Salvatore, will take the journal on by translating it. We're always running into people who read it, and that astounds me.
February 18
On this overcast morning, we drive to Viterbo to pick up a paint smock for me. Dino thinks the one I have is looking grungy, but I like it; I like not worrying about spilling paint on it. So I humor him.
The paint smocks either look just like the industrial one I have or are tropo carina (too cute). I don't want another one, unless it has some character. I do have a wonderful French one; purchased a year or so ago in Provence, but I like wearing it as it is as a kind of lightweight coat. So perhaps one of these days we'll return to Provence and pick up another one. Then I'll wear one of them. Until then, we'll see...
We do some errands and pick up some short ribs; I'll fix them tomorrow. Later in the day I paint a little. The rest of the day and evening are spent before the fire.
February 19
It takes the entire morning to prepare the short ribs, but they are tasty and ready on time for pranzo. Made with potatoes and carrots, it's a treat. Try it some time, when you find ribs with good meat on them and have plenty of time to let them cook in the oven. Here's what we do:
I paint in the afternoon, while Dino makes arrangements for our trip next winter to San Francisco. Next winter seems so very far away...
February 20
By the time we return home and re-measure the loggia space, we agree about what the oven will look like...
We're waiting for Ovidio to return to install the shutters, which lean against the house in their plastic sheeting. It will be several days before he can return, and I'm almost wondering if we shouldn't install them ourselves. But then, he's redone them for us at his expense, so we do need to be patient. Let's hope that this time they will be fine.
Earlier, during our drive North from Civita Castellana, we passed a sight I've never seen before: a horse leading a bunch of sheep. The horse moved joyfully, looking back at the sheep, and if I had not seen it with my own eyes I would not believe it.
I'm ready to return to painting; this time, I have some definite ideas about colors. Mauro's shirt is again the dark bright blue of the actual shirt, and I'm seeing light clearly descend from above left. I've also drawn in another figure, and before I do anything else, I'll put definition into his features. Yes, we are in the home stretch. Magari!
Not to be daunted, I return to the painting and take a fresh view of it. Some things I've painted today are good, so at least we're moving forward. I've really made this into a project much bigger than it should be. Let's wrestle it back to reality. Now I've only to wait to hear back from Roger to see if he thinks I'm nuts about changing the background entirely. That's where my mind is racing when I concentrate on it.
Before I hear from Roger I change the background to fresher and lighter blues and greens. He's so right. It looks much better. Now if I can only figure out how to take the detail out of the background characters and mute them. This is such an interesting learning experience...
After a hailstorm, during which Sofi lands on my lap, sun appears toward the West, and unless I look South, it's as if the hail never happened. The rest of the afternoon and evening press on without a drop of rain...
February 21
Too bad, the Roversellis have closed their shutters and left Mugnano without attending mass. We'll see them...next time.
It's a glorious day! I think we're in paradise whenever we have a little sun, and talk about the loggia project. Dino agrees to bring the loggia out to meet the pergola, and we'll move the hydrangeas in their pots to the steps inside the loggia, giving them lots of light and shade during the hot summer months. Let's get back to painting to take our minds off this project unless and until we're able to afford it.
I paint late this morning, after returning from Il Pallone, and Dino agrees to do research on solar panels. Has the price come down? They are, or were, so very expensive.
Yesterday, when talking about the horse guiding the sheep, dear friend Joy emails us to tell us that these horses are called "cowy", because "they can move cattle with ease". Thanks to Joy, here's a little more: "That instinct is very prized in ranch horses. This talent is used for "cutting", "team roping" and "team penning" which are rodeo sports as well as necessary skills for work on cattle ranches. This is poetry in motion, just as beautiful as jumping and dressage"
Yes, dear Joy, and I can just imagine you riding horseback, your hair flying, graceful as a dove. Perhaps some year we will return to visit you again. Perhaps you and Morgan and even John will come to visit us in the meantime...
February 22
Today the Italian Agricultural Minister is praising the efforts of MacDonald's in Italy, where special items using Italian agricultural products are featured. There is a photo of a very large cow, standing next to a display outside a MacDonald's. If the cow only knew...
Here it is cold and rainy. Buds appear on the glicine (wisteria) growing over the terrace, and there is time to de-leaf any roses that have been overlooked...but not today. It is raining, and probably will continue to rain all day.
Painting is again on the agenda for me, and probably Dino will watch the Olympics. Nope...He's driving to the ENEL office in Soriano to speak with them about solar panels. There was something we read some time ago about being able to sell energy back to ENEL. That sounds insane, but in Italy anything is possible. Making sense here is not always the case.
Yesterday while driving to Il Pallone, we saw a headline of a local paper referring to a murder in Civita Castellana, a town we also visited yesterday. An internet search tells me that there were plenty of murders in that town over the centuries, including Sr. Thomas Becket and at least one Pope. But there is no mention of the recent murder.
What I did find is that the Mafia has a "Don't ask, don't tell" policy about homosexuality. This is so insane, that I suggest that you read it yourself if you are interested, on ANSA, which is an Italian News Service, and it is available online in English. The details are most bizarre.
Because "Bella figura" (to make a good impression) is important in Italy, legislation will soon be passed to allow breast implant operations for girls under the age of eighteen.
On a more creative note: On the 400th anniversary of Caravaggio's death, sites all over Rome will offer special exhibits of his work. "For the show's duration, Rome city hall has mapped out an itinerary of the 15 Caravaggios housed in churches and palazzi around the city, including the first public peek at Jupiter, Neptune and Pluto at Palazzo Boncompagni Ludovisi, where the artist used a mirror to put his own nude body into the picture.
"The whole of Rome will become a Caravaggio museum," said Culture Councillor Umberto Croppi, stressing that the works had been left where they are "so people can enjoy them in their original settings". Although the exhibition will draw a clear line between attributed and confirmed works, it will also look at some of the controversy surrounding Caravaggio and his style.
It will examine his technique and debate whether he worked individually, with another artist or as part of workshop. It's definitely a reason to travel to Rome soon.
Dino returns after a good meeting with ENEL. There is financing for the installation of solar panels, and he's quoted an eight-year payout. We'd pay our ENEL each month, and at the end of each year they'd give us a check for about €1200. Are there better options? We're researching, and have a meeting on Saturday with someone who has installed solar panels nearby.
What a wild world it would be if everyone installed solar panels on their properties and they were paid to "sell" electricity back to the power company. Would we then become gluttons for power? Some fantasies foster craziness, and this sounds like one.
With no response from my online mentor, I return to painting in the afternoon, determined to figure out what I need to know myself. Perhaps it's time to scour our art books for background characters...
Tonight is Coro practice, and I'd rather stay home, but it will only take an hour or so.
February 23
Dismal weather continues, so our shutters wait on the terrace in their plastic wraps. Dino drives off while Sofi and I return to painting...well, Sofi sleeps nearby while I try to figure out what to do next. Perhaps without guidance I'll find a way to finish the painting just as well by myself. Come no?
My mentor replies, so it appears I have not been getting his emails. All is well.
Painting is my main activity, and Dino returns to Viterbo. It's a normal day in Mugnano. With a little Olympics watching, we're feeling strangely unconnected with the games. The longer we are here, the less the fights of the rest of the world mean to us. I think that's a good thing, especially with all the acrimony taking place in American politics.
People like to argue, as if each of them is the arbiter of what is right and what is wrong with the world they live in. In my new view of life, I don't take a stand. It seems unnecessary, for unless I can do something to change the world, it is idle conjecture.
What if we did not argue? What if we found a way to compromise, to work together with mutual respect? The world we are leaving to our children seems out of step. I am a child of the "season of love", and in the 1960's, while in college, wanted the world to be a better place, and for everyone to respect one's neighbors. What happened to our generation? Where did the love go?
After months of trying to work out background figures, I agree with my painting mentor to get rid of them. Let's keep things simple, and let's finish this painting and move on. There is plenty left to do.
Dino returns from Viterbo with a chair and four slipcovers that have been reworked to fit our more slender Italian chairs.
The annual blessing will take place next month, perhaps even when Don Francis is here. That would be funny.
February 24
We agree that we'll continue to research solar panels, but not to move forward until the costs come down. Highest on our list is the cemetery project, which we hope to approve later this month.
Just this week, we've received emails from a handful of old contacts that tell us that they read the journal on an ongoing basis. You are all to be commended and it's fun to hear from people who do read what I write and what we think about life in Italy. If you haven't emailed us, do let us know who you are. That's as formal as we get in determining who clicks on our site. Thanks.
I hope to finish the painting by tomorrow, and then will move on to the painting of the two young Andreas, sitting on Livio and Gigliola's front steps inside the borgo.
Rain begins while we wait for Ovidio in the afternoon. Will the rain continue? Will Ovidio show up? In the meantime, I rearrange the studio/guest bedroom to allow access to both windows, and like the idea of the big table in front of the front window disappearing. Less is more. Perhaps it will lean against the side of an armadio, at least for now.
With no ability to paint this afternoon, we dream a little, and write up a list of projects to speak with Stefano, our favorite muratore, about. Who knows if/when any of them will be done, or who will do them? Remember, without a dream, nothing is really possible...Yes, that's me, the dreamer. I dream so well, perhaps it's because I have a lot of experience...
So do we make Mauro sad that he is not our favorite muratore? We love you, Mauro, as you will see very soon when the painting of you and Salvatore is finished. I've spent weeks with you two on my mind as I paint you, thinking of that special night of April 30th, 2009. The painting will certainly be finished for all to see for this year's Alza Maggio! Hope you enjoy it as much as I have painting it.
Yes, now we know that many people read our journal; those who live both near and far. Those who don't speak English translate it, usually on Google. I'm so silly to wonder if our neighbors know how wonderful we think they are.
They all know, perhaps delegating one person in a family to translate and give them all the news, as if they're little birds sitting on the telephone wire, the birdsong reaching across the valley and down the little lanes of the borgo.
Ovidio returns, and three of the shutter panels are still wrong. I believe they are warped, and Ovidio agrees to stand by his work and will take them and repair them, returning next week to bring the damaged ones back and to finish the work of installing them all. Magari! (if only that were so...)
I remain completely confused by Facebook. I am unable to add friends, confirm friends, send notes. Each time I press a button, nothing happens. People must think I hate them. If you have any advice, do email me and let me know. I can't seem to find anyone on Facebook who will help. Dino thinks I should join a chat room (forum) to see if anyone can help there. I'm not ready for that...yet.
February 25
Before noon, we're out in shirtsleeves: Dino sprays the peach tree for protection from peach blight, a common disease here. I think it is biologic, but don't know. Otherwise, peaches in this area have problems with their leaves, which turn color and swell in spots. The fruit also turns gnarly, although it's still tasty. We usually forget to spray in February, but not this year. Here's to an abundant and tasty crop this summer.
We are pleased that we have so much gravel...it is easy to weed, and the many weeds that are air born pull up easily. I'm able to pick up a whole big bin full from the terrace until it feels too hot (!) to stay outside. That is, until I am stung by a nettle and that's it for this morning. Sofi loves this weather, loves staying by my side, even it means she sits on top of weeds I am about to pull.
Dino and I speak again about the loggia project, and his persistence wins; I agree to have the oven face out to the terrace. Score one for Dino.
As we look forward to March, the government continues its march against the Mafia; this time to the benefit of journalists in Sicily:
"Taking assets from the Mafia has a dual significance: a symbolic one because it shows the State is serious about rooting out the phenomenon; and a concrete one because it strips the clans of the economic resources they need to rule their anti-State," said Interior Minister Robero Maroni.
"This will become our home," said the head of the Sicilian branch of the national journalists guild, Franco Nicastro.
"It will be an outpost of legality and a memorial to slain journalists," he said. The seizure and sale of mafia assets is the linchpin of a recently unveiled government plan against organised crime with a new agency to coordinate confiscation and auctions to be based in Reggio Calabria.
Mafia land across Sicily is already run by not-for-profit farming cooperatives while another of Riina's villas, in his home town of Corleone, has been turned into the local tax police's offices.
Riina, the architect of a bomb campaign that killed 20 people including anti-Mafia judges Giovanni Falcone and Paolo Borsellino in 1992-1993, was arrested outside the Palermo villa in 1993 after 23 years evading capture."
The sound of birdsong is everywhere. Yes, one of these days I'll ask a neighbor to sit with me and identify the different birds and their songs. Today I sing in my heart, thankful for the day and for our place here.
I work online with Humira at Ariana Outreach, for I have donated a painting to help the women of Afghanistan and she has just listed it as "Brave Afghan Woman Painting" on ebay. Take a look: it's a way to help these women and to also gain a painting. If you don't want the painting, do think of donating to them just the same.
Dino has copper gutters ready to install above Maria Elena's front and back doors, so Sofi guards the house and I join him, happy to hold the tools and his ladder while he works. Across the street, Franco calls out to see if she is arriving soon. He knows the exact date and Dino confirms.
A few doors down, dear Elisa, who can hardly see, calls out to welcome Maria Elena back. Dino turns and tells her, "Solo operai (only a worker)". I watch her gently put a saucer under a plant on her terrace and slowly walk back inside.
There's Luigina to wave at, and Giovanna and little Lorenzo. Franco stands at their front door for awhile, watching Dino as if to tell him he'll tell Maria Elena every little thing that is done while she is away. He seems bored, and walks inside, so it's just Dino and me to finish the work.
With a minor adjustment to make with a tool at home, we drive home and rescue Sofi; then Dino drives back to finish the job and take photos. Spring is surely not far away, even if the reality is only in our dreams.
These are what Dino calls "the chocolate days", but I suppose it's only an expression to use if one loves chocolate. Every day is a chocolate day here for me; there is something to be happy about, even in the dreariest weather. Having an open window has something to do with it, I muse as I write.
We have so many leaves from the cachi tree that I think they will make good mulch. How about mulch for the roses? Then I look mulch up online and change my mind. It may suck up nutrients from the soil, and the fear of frost is probably behind us. So let's plod on without it, and Dino can see if he wants to begin composting again. All the leaves are now in the compost pile, but we are not good examples of successful composters. Sorry, Sarah.
The good news about our garden is that the one glicine (wisteria) that we thought was dead is beginning to show growth; not much growth, but some. Since these plants are tough, we'll press on, and see how it progresses during the year. Will we have flowers? Only one of eight plants has pods; one had pods but they dropped off. The plants on the terrace have never flowered. Mother Nature, what's up with our wisteria?
February 26
Wind is the order of the day, with trees and plants dancing to try keep out of the way of the gusts. Is this it? Will storms pass us? It's a good day to paint, and to get to the finish of the current painting.
If you've not had a look at Fortezza, the Brave Afghan Woman painting on ebay, take a look:
February 27
It's a gorgeous day with full sun, and it's even warm enough to open the windows. I take a deep breath and breathe out fresh air while listening to the birdsong and a neighbor or two in their ortos. It's heavenly.
I return to painting, finishing Mauro's dark blue shirt and his bald head. It's time to move to their jeans, so I adjust the cavalo (s ) and work my way down the painting. Mixing shades of blue and white, the dance begins...painting shadows and light reflections on jeans is fun, and it's not a precise step, although I must be aware where the light shines and the shadows appear.
Dino returns, works on making photographs to simulate the project we are hoping to undertake with Stefano, who will arrive before pranzo.
Dear Stefano is undergoing therapy for problems with his back, and is still in a lot of pain. He's a joy to work with, giving Dino suggestions regarding how to save money and do a fine job at the same time.
When he leaves, we have ideas to take to the geometra for a permit. Stefano can begin at the beginning of April, magari! (if only that were so), and in the meantime we will apply for the permit and take down the bay tree. We also can plant the glicine, so it has a chance to root before the hot summer months.
Since the bay tree is now taller than the house, removing the tree will take a gru and an earthmover. We're going to see if we can get a local worker to take on the project first, cutting the branches and the main trunk of the tree. Will we leave the roots of the tree? I hope not, but it that has to do with the difficulty of the work. Stay tuned for a project the neighbors will love to watch...
We leave to visit a man in Giove who has solar panels, and although we are not ready to put them on our house, need to do our homework.
Marco is a marvelous man, and speaks a little English, to boot. He's built a separate wooden structure on his property, and the solar panels will be installed on top. He thinks our roof is too small for solar panels, and that it makes better sense to have a larger space dedicated to it. He agrees to send us his documents to study, and we drive on to Pozzo Ciulino and Tenaglie to look at the progress of a few projects that Dino is managing.
Is it worth the initial investment, even though the organization that supplies the energy will pay us every two months for what we don't use? I think it does, but don't like the initial investment, although most banks will finance it, at around €280 a month.
Part of the answer has to do with an impossible conjecture...will the checks continue to arrive at the same level their contracts indicate in succeeding years? What if thousands of property owners in Italy installed solar panels? Would there still be good payback?
On the road across the valley, fruit tree are beginning to flower. What about our peach tree...and the two plum trees and the apple? With the good weather, it's time to spend more time dreaming outside and walking along the property.
So much green! With all the rain, this surely will be a luxurious spring. But back at home, non of our fruit trees are yet in flower...only the Viburnum in our garden is in flower, although bulbs are shooting up their green stalks.
February 28
We end the month with a huge windstorm, but the weather is not cold. Neighbors tell us it will rain, however; the wind here often brings rain from the West. Since temperatures have returned to double digits Centigrade (is it amazing that we now think in terms of Centigrade instead of Farenheit?), we may even pack away our warmest coats. Let's not be too hasty, for March is known for unreliable changes in weather.
Some fruit trees are in flower, as are the mimosas, those little yellow flowers celebrating women (the choice was obviously made by a man) and known to wreak havoc with allergies.
We return to Il Pallone for cappuccinos and cornetti glassata and grocery shopping. When we return, there are no hunters on the road and everything is moving in the wind. We understand the worst of the storm is in France.Only one small wrapped kumquat tree on our terrace has fallen, and its white winter wrap has protected it. The wind continues for hours...
This is the first winter in memory here that we have not planted seeds. We have found a variety of Italian tomato that we love, and can buy the plants already robust at the end of April. So we will have tomatoes from our garden, just not from seed.
I paint after pranzo while Dino takes a nap. I hope to finish the painting in the next few days. As we near the end, it's recommended that I paint in a suggestion of a tree. I like the idea, but it will take some thought not to overpower the characters in the center.
See you next month...
MARCH 2010
March 1
I change some of the background on the painting, and will be ready to finish it this week. Dino tells me I'll have a problem with my next painting, for although I tell him I want to give the finished paintings to the families, Andrea Perini and Andrea Filiberti sit together on the canvas on Livio and Gigliola's front steps. We'll figure that out later...
Dino wants to meet with Stefano again before meeting with the geometra for a permit for our work. That won't happen until Wednesday, for tomorrow we'll be in Rome. The Caravaggio exhibit will be in two specific museums, although many of his work can be viewed in Roman churches. I think these paintings we'll see are paintings lent from all over the world.
Duccio will join us, for Giovanna is otherwise busy, and we'll have reserved tickets, so hope we'll not have to wait in line. Later in the afternoon, we'll pick up Candace and Frank at the airport.
Rain begins after pranzo and continues, although the forecast is for...sun.
March 2
I'm not a good visitor to exhibitions, for if a painting is interesting to me, I'd like to stand and study it for an hour or so. That's not possible today with many in each room with us, so I study a few paintings closely, and am inspired, just the same.
Caravaggio is famous for his use of light, shafting to the most critical aspect of a painting. I'm drawn to his use of folds, the grey color in the "white" of the eyes, and the translucent look of skin on some faces. I want to rethink the eyes of Mauro and Salvatore back at home.
We leave the exhibit through a an elevator in the rear, but first catch a wonderful panorama of Roma - guarda!
With Sofi waiting for us in the garage, we take a taxi there, for Dino tells me that taxis in the center of Rome are not expensive and his legs are bothering him. Va bene.
We pick up Sofi and meet GB for pranzo at a Trattoria La Torre near his house in Trastevere. Sofi sits by us, and I feed her a long strand of pasta while she inhales it, its length growing shorter by the millisecond. She loves pasta, although scarfs up the little meal we have purchased for her at a local grocery store. She's always ready for more.
Rome grocery stores are a wonder. When entering a neighborhood grocery to find food for Sofi before pranzo, we think the store is small... just one room. But as we reach the back of the room, there is a narrow doorway to the next room, full of aisles of pastas and bread and then to the next, where paper goods and cleaning items are displayed. When we reach the back of the store, we find a long counter with all kinds of meats and chicken in front of one wall; a display of fresh fish on mounds of shaved ice stands in a room to the side. So don't be deterred when a store front seems small; often there are rooms and rooms and more rooms of things on display once you step inside.
On this day, where do we find a little meal in a tin for Sofi? We ask, and it's located on a display near the fresh meats. What? Italians have a reason for everything, and the city folk love their little pets, some even hidden in a purse worn over a woman's shoulder as she shops inside the store, always finding something for her little companion. So it's not unreasonable to find a woman hiding something under her arm.
There's always a reason why an older woman shopping by herself finds her way to the front of the line. It appears she has just a carton of milk. But when she's let in front of a line, from under her cloak seven or eight items often appear. She looks down at her purchases and gabs away to herself, as if afraid to let a moment go by; a moment in which the person who let her cut in line will complain.
Older people who are otherwise full of pep, hunker down with their purchases as they reach the cassa, or line to pay. An expression not unlike a sad dog, begging for more treats, they huddle, shoulders bent over and that doglike expression on their faces. The unsuspecting tourist always let them cut in line, for it is the line that Italians most disrespect.
After a great meal with our friend, GB (make sure you subscribe - it's free - to Italian Notebook
for a daily quip, sometimes even mine...), we walk to the car, Candace and Frank's long Volvo station wagon, and drive to the airport.
Sofi loves the airport. She loves the new friends she meets while we wait inside the Terminal for our dear friends. It does not matter which way she faces. Girls walk by or stand waiting for their friends and relatives, and Sofi is always ready to wag her tail and get a rub from one of them.
On this day, as Candace and Frank appear from inside the customs area, I let her go, and she rushes up to her "godparents" to greet them. We've a gift for Candace for her birthday, and once inside the car, packed with suitcases and packages, she opens the envelope to find a pictire of...Sofi! It's on a stand, and a gift from our little dog to Candace, whom she loves.
We're back home and sit in the kitchen catching up over glasses of wine, and end the day remembering how much we love Rome, and any excuse to walk down those cobblestone paths...
March 3
Dino calls to remind me that Caravaggio was famous for his "chiarascuro" practice of bringing light to a subject, bold contrasts between dark and light to achieve a sense of volume in painting three dimensional figures, especially people, but you know all that. Thanks, Dino.
March 4
March 5
Rosina peeks thru her son's undershirts hanging out to dry on her balcony at Silvia's arrival and I look up and tell her it's Sofia's Parucchieri(hairdresser) for an at-home visit. She comments about Sofi's boyfriends and how happy they'll be, until I tell her she has none. Sofi is a very independent dog when it comes to others of her species, choosing to take a sniff but keep to herself.
At the end of the session, I ask Silvia what she thinks about Sofi's weight, and she tells me her weight is perfect! Hoo-ray! I always worry about her long back, and extra weight on her is dangerous. Unfortunately, that means she's usually hungry, looking up at me with those big brown eyes. Evidently my little treats now and then have not affected her.
Luigina walks by with her garden waste...she thinks the newish plastic bins picked up every day will be a stinking problem in our warm summer weather. She may be right. We'll let you know...
Later in the afternoon, Dino meets with Roberto Pangrazi, a geometra (not an architect but capable of producing building plans) in Bomarzo, but learns some disturbing news. Permits for building construction will now come from Rome and it takes probably...a year for the process. We decide to proceed just the same.
Last November, a story of mine was published in Italian Notebook about a children's cemetery in Lugnano
, near us. We have more to add, so if your interest was piqued, here's more:
"Infants during the 5th century rarely received proper burial; instead they were often buried in multiple graves. Several features of the finds of archaeologist David Soren and his colleagues from the University of Arizona led them to conclude that the infant deaths had been caused by a disease epidemic capable of infecting virtually all the pregnant women of the village at the same time. In this case, 47 children were found buried in five rooms of an abandoned villa.
"Christian influence would have been established by then, or people would not have even thought to have a cemetery where newborn children were given proper burials. Since Christians baptized infants and considered them significant humans at least from birth, they could not merely discard the bodies of dead infants or bury them unceremoniously, as had been the earlier Roman practice.
"We're led to the Antiquarium in the town to learn more, where remains of ancient capitals and mosaic tiles give no hint of what we are about to see. Even with advanced knowledge, the plexiglass cases housing amphoras enclosing a few of the heartbreaking remains leave us breathless.
March 6
After breakfast, Dino leaves to meet a muratore, and I fiddle with a recipe for tonight. Someone comes by to ask if we'll bring a dolce (sweet) to the cena. Si, certo. So what do we have at home that I can put together?
After looking at our larder, I think: chocolate and oranges. Let's make something like a brownie with cream cheese and orange...maybe even use a little of Diego's marvelous marmalade!
I've ignored catching up the journal for days, so after reading the NYT online, I come across a travel article about visiting Tuscany in the wintertime and sit at the desk. There's that Tuscany word again. Do I agree?
Well, yes I do. But the word "Tuscany" makes me groan...for so many years our American friends talked about our house in Tuscany, when we're not in Tuscany at all!
Yes, food in the wintertime in Italy is worth dreaming about, especially what's fresh, and in Italy it's always about what's fresh to eat. Tastes seem especially mouth-watering. Those hearty stews, the heady red wine, short ribs, cinghiale, squash risotto, pappardelle noodles with truffles, the fragrant rosemary and sage, the clementines...Ah...
Duccio and Giovanna pick us up just after noon for another adventure, this time to Il Fontanelle in Montecchio, a new restaurant that has been in construction for over a year.
The adventure is a good one, with three of us rating the experience a 7.5 and one (me) rating it an 8 for the ambience. Paparadelle (flat pasta noodles) con cinghiale (wild boar) is a dish that three of us choose, and Duccio chooses risotto con fungi. I enjoy mine so much that I linger over it, even while the vegetables and salads are served.
There are appetizers and grilled vegetables and green salad, but no desert. We'd surely return, and as we leave we run into Emiliano, the Tenagie developer, probably with new prospects. There's not much not to like at Il Fontanelle, although the nearby Il Gelsi has been our favorite place to eat for a long time.
A separate paragraph is warranted for our waiter, who appears out of the glass kitchen door as if he's right out of a Martin Short script. His hair, highly moussed and shaped to a point on top of his head, shows a touch that emphasizes the modernity of the location, although heavy castagno(chestnut) beams and high stone walls provide a counterpoint to several heavy glass walls, allowing us to view the heavenly fields leading up and past the town of Montecchio itself as we dine.
A glass half full; a glass half empty; is this an Italian modo di dire as well and an English expression? Giovanna nods her head; "un bicchieri mezzo pieno...un bicchieri mezzo vuoto". Which type are you?
We return home as activity in the fields below is bustling with the asini (donkeys) cavorting in their field as well as neighbors in tractors mowing their land. Most Italians are happy to be outside on such a lovely day.
Dino has work to do on the family trees and I have work to do on Salvatore and Mauro's painting, so let's take an hour or two for our favorite hobbies...
Another scandal appears in the Vatican, this time A Nigerian man who sang in a Vatican choir arranged gay liaisons for an Italian government official who served in the unpaid role of papal usher, according to transcripts of wiretaps collected by Italian authorities.
Angelo Balducci served as a "gentleman of his holiness," also known as a papal usher or "Vatican gentleman." The main responsibility of the ceremonial position is to welcome heads of state to the Vatican and escort them to see the Pope.
Balducci is one of three public officials who, along with a businessman, have been jailed on charges related to corruption in the public works department. The public officials are alleged to have awarded contracts to businessmen who offered them favors, money, sex, and/or house remodeling in exchange. The suspects, who deny the charges, are in "cautionary custody" though they have not been charged or indicted.
The Italian news media have nicknamed the scandal "grande opere," which translates as "big works." The transcripts of the wiretaps were made public on Wednesday and widely disseminated in the media.
The New York Times Travel Section waxes eloquently about the flavors of Tuscany, haughtily saying that food tastes better there this time of year. Why is that? They think that Tuscan cuisine is winter fare: rich red wines, an abundance of porcini mushrooms, truffles, chestnuts, and hearty pastas with meat sauce. What's more, they think Tuscans are different than other residents of Italy, reporting that "Tuscans eat what's in season, and the best stuff ripens between October and March."
The editor from the NYT Travel Section must really be nuts; or is that person merely arrogant? People from every region relish eating what's fresh. The article exaggerates more by saying that winter is eating season in Tuscany. What do they do during the three other seasons? Take a breath, Evanne.
Elisabetta stops by to ask us to bring a dolce tonight, so I fix brownies with an orange cheesecake top, based on things we have in the larder. It's a real experiment, but the result looks good. Cut in small squares in the rectangular glass pan, we're able to come up with 40. We're sure there will be many other dolci as well.
We take our brownies, dropping them off in the kitchen. Then we're sitting at a corner of one of the large tables and take out the binder for our Family Tree project. Many people are here, so we can get some answers. Dino sends me to speak with Anna Farina, while he takes the list out for another family.
Our neighbors are here for fun, and not for work, so nod at our list and tell us it's done until I ask a few questions about blank spots. Anna and Mirella (are they sisters?) give us some information, but neither of them know the cognomes (family names) of a couple of the moglie (wives). Remember that Italian women keep their maiden names.
That reminds me. There is a new law in Italy that children can be given the cognome (last name) of either parent. That will really make a future family tree a challenge. It is a good thing we're embarking on this project now...
I also walk up to Serena, asking her a few questions about her "tree". Va bene. We're moving along...
The night is fun, the food is quite filling (penne pasta with cheese, grilled pork cutlets, sausage, green salad, bread, plenty of wine and grappa and dolce and coffee...When it is time for dolce, trays of sweets are brought out, and more than one person rushes over to me to tell me that our brownies are ottimo (the best). How do I make them?...with ricotta? No, cream cheese (known by Italians as Philadelphia because of the label).
I want to call them Mugnano brownies, but that won't work. The word for "brown" is "marrone" and "marrone" is considered Castagno (chestnut). I try, "Dolce di Mugnano", for it is my recipe, but that is not right. There are traditional desserts from the village that take precedence.
Perhaps "chocolata e formaggio dolce di Mugnano, but that won't work either, for it sounds as if the cheese is from here. We'll have to think of a name, for since the residents love it, I want it to be theirs. Come no?
Dino takes photos, and here are a number of our neighbors, partying, as they so love to do. Note that the plaid curtains I sewed several years ago have not completely faded.
He asks if I want to say a prayer (what?) and in my inimitable style I indicate that I'd like him to say the prayer with all of us, wishing Don Giampietro well.
There's that word again, "wish". If you know me well, you'll know that I don't wish for things, not even on a birthday when presented with a cake full of candles.
My face lights up when he does say a prayer, at the end of his homily and glances my way. I think we should do more; take up some kind of collection or send supplies to the quake zone, but it's out of my control. The inhabitants of this village don't seem to initiate anything, so it's best I sit back. Remember, seguiri (follow) is what we do in our village; unless, of course, we're referring to the albero genealogical (family tree).
After mass, we walk to Pepino's house to greet Candida, who I've missed greatly, since she's not completely well and does not attend mass. I leave her my copy of today's church service, telling Paola with a laugh that she should probably read it with Candida later.
My dear pretend Nonna sits at the table next to the mellow but warm fire in the fireplace. Her face is a bit swollen, obviously from medication, but she looks good. It's wonderful to see her, and her face lights up when she sees me.
Fulvia let us in, and when we stand over the table looking at the Fosci family tree, Paola tells us there will be an addition to Mario and Fulvia's entries...Wow! How wonderful! They are expecting a baby in August, in plenty of time for Babbo Natale to bring something its way.
Now Vincenza and Augusto will be Nonno and Nonna for the first time. We give Fulvia a great big hug and share in the merriment of this grand occasion for a few minutes. But it's time to drive to Il Pallone for our glassata and cappuccinos and grocery shopping.
As we're walking out of Bar Nando later, with flakes of sugar still on our coats, we're met by eight or so Mugnanese; and with a twisting of my index finger against my cheek, tell them that the cornetti glassata are our favorites. That action with the index finger signifies that it's delicious.
After a bit of shopping at the Superconti nearby, we return home so that I can begin to prepare a large supply of short ribs, a meal that will last three days or so.
Yes, you can view our recipe of short ribs here:
We're not in a hurry to eat, for tonight is the Oscar showing, and the Red Carpet won't begin until 10 PM our time. Strange, for that's 1 PM California time. We'll be up and watching for most of the night, so after a leisurely afternoon and mid afternoon pranzo, we'll try to snooze for a few hours.
Dino works on the albero genealogical with edits from last night and this morning, and I work on the short ribs. Almost three hours later we eat, and yes, the short ribs are as good as ever.
I do some edits after pranzo of the Romoli section of the tree, and then realize we need to speak with Marieadelaide again, for we have more questions. The project continues...
By the time I'm ready for a snooze, it's 5:30 and can hear snoring from Sofi. Both my dears are in dreamland. I like to see the performance of the Oscars on the night it is live, so expect to stay up, all night if necessary.
Dino thinks he'll see it tomorrow, when it is rebroadcast, but stays up until the first awards are presented, at just before 3 AM. I stay awake for the entire show, walking up to bed a 6 AM, with Sofi in my arms. She wanted to stay by my side, so slept snuggled next to me under a blanket while I watched.
March 8
My note on gelato is published today in Italian Notebook, and I hear from many of you that your particular favorite gelataria(ice cream shop) is not recognized. Taste is such a subjective thing, probably in Italia balanced by what's local as well as the recognition of one's own as the best of the rest. Va bene.
Want to strike up a conversation in Italy with a local? Ask their advice regarding the best ice cream, the best pasta, the best of any particular thing and they'll take you on a tour of their own mind...
One of the aspects of the Italian character that I love so is that they don't mind if you don't speak the language well, but are happy to advise you just the same. While they do, it is not important to enter the discussion; you can merely nod or smile here and there...These Italians are the best! Oh. That's me, an Italofile and resident and so very partial...But then you know all this if you read the journal.
With four hours' sleep, I'm happily enjoying the day, and decide to make a double recipe of my gingered carrot flan for tonight's viewing of the taped Oscar ceremony at Candace and Frank's.
The recipe is a mistake, for it does not finish cooking by the time we have to leave, so we try to rescue it after Candace's lemon bread comes out of the oven. It takes an hour more, and although it is good, it was a mistake to alter to the extent that I did. The recipe on its own is quite good.
We have to laugh at our dear friends; although they have a sophisticated system, there is a constant debate between them regarding how to record as well as how to play back a program. They taped the red carpet and not the show itself, although there is a program that can tape it 24 hours later. We program that and watch the red carpet while eating the flan and lots of good snacks.
Sofi loves Candace and Frank, and when we reached the off-ramp at Orvieto earlier, she wiggled in my arms, excited to see them. During the evening, however, it was more about begging for pieces of cheese with a forlorn look in her eyes, aimed at the person who had the closest proximity to the food. Once she settled down between Candace and me, she was fine.
We arrived home around midnight, and with a dose of headache medicine, I followed Dino and Sofi up to bed.
March 9
It is cold and appears to be raining when Sofi and I rise, but during the next few hours, Orvieto is pounded with snow, as Candace tells me as she calls. Dino is in the midst of a snow storm, and calls a couple of times to tell me he has plenty of photos. I takes him 2 1/2 hours to drive home on which is usually a 20 minute drive.
Toward Chia the snow sticks, as it does in Bomarzo. This is our "once a year day", quite late in the season, but nothing sticks unless it is up in the hills.
I fix pranzo to be ready at l'una (1 PM), but Dino does not arrive home until just before 3 P M, trudging down the superstrada to Orte and North to the A-1 to avoid driving down the steep road between Bomarzo and Mugnano. It's been an adventure for him; one in which he was the only person in the shop at LIDL. Viterbo looked like a ghost town.
Pranzo was hot and delicious just the same, and for some reason I have no interest in painting; I'm probably tired after my "clock" tries to adjust to normal hours. Perhaps tomorrow...
March 10
In other words, how can we live our dream if we spend all our time chatting on Facebook?
We sleep in and then watch a movie on T V, feeling so lazy and content. Dino shops and goes to the pharmacy while I fix a chicken Parmesan to have with puntarelle, a lovely spicy seasonal salad, for pranzo. This afternoon I will definitely paint.
Outside it rains a little and is quite frosty. Sun appears to the West, but skies are mostly overcast. Maggiolino stands in the mud down in Pepino's campo, while Pepino drops by to talk with Dino about our common path, agreeing that we'll share the cost of adding stairs and fixing it up.
We'll have to wait for project approval from Belle Arte, which may take a year, to make this our primary entrance. Might as well begin, and the geometra will arrive in a day or so to oversee the changes to this path, which have been approved locally.
Don Francis will arrive for a visit in a few days, so I'll put painting aside while he's here. In the meantime, I'll see if I can finish the current painting, of which you're probably tired of hearing. Yes, this past sentence is grammatically correct, but awkward. What's wrong with ending a sentence with a preposition? Do the words just hang in the air that way? The dreamer in me thinks that's all right. What do YOU think, Sofi?
Is it possible that the search engine, Safari, cured all my Facebook issues? I think so, other than I don't enjoy using Facebook as much as email. It takes so much time, when we could be living our dream...
Right now, for instance, we've finished pranzo, the sun is coming out, and I'm moving to the studio to paint...
"Il meno che posso fare..." means, "It's the least I can do", and is a response from someone who asks me if they can reprint one of my Italian Notebook stories and I ask if they'll give a link to our journal. If you're an Italofile, try to use the phrase sometime and let us know.
March 11
What's to bring? Since Candace is vegetarian, it's important to consider her. So I open this month's La Cucina italiana and prepare to fix the zucca polpeti con pistaccio.
The reality is a mess, even with Dino pitching in to try to use the potato ricer for the squash. The recipe has a number of mistakes, including the time to bake the zucca (squash). We'll see what it tastes like and redo the recipe if it tastes good.
I've been rolling my eyes at news on the computer. People in the U.S. have such a democratic society that they're incredibly cranky. Like spoiled children, they sue each other at the drop of a hat, and complain like mad about the government, yet won't step in to do their part to help make it a better one.
While watching a protest in Rome against Berlusconi on TV, I notice that it is the young who constitute the majority, and even if they are not old enough to vote they want their voices heard.
So what kind of a world will then manage? Why not a peace loving one? Why not a "respect for one's fellow man"? Why not a forgiving one? There is so much angst in the world that if we all turned a few degrees and saw ourselves and the world through others' eyes, perhaps there would not be so much bloodshed.
I work painting Mauro's face on the canvas today, and he is becoming human. The past two days have been enlightening for me. I like being self-taught, and perhaps that is the best way to learn, with a little coaching on the side now and then. I only email my online mentor a day or two a week, but his counsel is helpful just the same. I don't like relying on him generally, but another set of eyes, and those eyes of a practiced professional, are helpful.
The smell of the polpetti is wonderful, and we'll let you know how they turn out. If you have the magazine and want to try it in the meantime, perhaps add a beaten egg to the riced mixture before dipping it in flour, and add plenty more chopped pistachios.
What a disastrous recipe! Our dear friends tell us the taste is good, but it turns out far different than the photos in the magazine. Do I write to the people who plan the recipes? Perhaps I'll try the recipe again, modifying it so that it will turn out better.
The evening is fun, just the same, and the Oscars are fun watching the second time around. We arrive home on the early side and I take meds for a headache, hoping it will dissipate by the morning.
March 12
Sun appears, and Dino fusses about my interest in buying some plants for the garden. "Is it because we're having guests?" he asks. Yes and no. The garden has no life to it, and with the clearer and somewhat warmer weather, I'd like to see a colorful start to Primavera (Spring).
Giovanna rings the bell to tell me that choir practice is tonight, and I greet her from the balcony with paintbrushes in hand. "Dipingere? (Are you painting)" she asks.
My note on San Flaviano, the medieval church outside Montefiascone on the way to Lake Bolsena, is today's note in
Italian Notebook. But you know that if you subscribe. It's one of our very favorite churches to visit.
When walking to the loggia for a jar of pomodori pulpa (tomatoes from the garden processed in a bath), Signora Rosina is hanging laundry in the sun. I wish her a good morning, and comment about her sole di occhiale (sun glasses), glasses that look right out of the Blues Brothers. She smiles and nods. All is well.
This afternoon, Dino takes me to a nearby vivaio (nursery) for plants to brighten up our terrace until the roses bloom; at least a month from now. While driving home in the car, he wishes me a happy birthday, although that date is not until Tuesday. Since I'm not a big gift person, we laugh. But who has the last laugh? It is only later that I realize that at least half of them are cemetery plants! What does that mean?
Well, Italians treat their dead friends and relatives so well, that many visit their local cemetery often, some even daily. Mostly, they bring small colorful plants to brighten the scene and give respect to their loved ones.
Many years ago, when first living here part time, we'd buy flowers and put them in vases. When guests came, they often did double takes, for many flowers available in Italy, especially chrysanthemums and gladiolas, are considered appropriate only for the dead. It was a great embarrassment at the time; now I should know better.
I have choir practice in the early evening, and even though Don Renzo does not attend, the eight of us stand around the heater in the little church, singing away. There is a bit of chattering, but we're all happy to sing, so for an hour that is what we do.
I still think it would be easier to learn the hymns if there were copies of the music instead of just the words. This way, we fumble around. MarieAdelaide seems to know them all, so we do learn them.
Tonight it seems especially cold. The temperature should drop to about 2 degrees Centigrade, which is in the mid 30's, and it is damp. So we're happy to hide under a down comforter with a quilt over that.
March 13
With lots of sun, weeding on the terrace is fun. We so love living here that on a beautiful day like today, it's heavenly. Dino puts in the new plants, and they are just what we need to inspire us. In front of them stands a long row of white tulips; they are gifts to use from Catherine and Kees, who now live in tulip country.
Because electricity and gas are cheaper on weekends, we do three loads of laundry, setting them out on a drying rack in the sun. I work on the painting in between other activities, like making pranzo, but keep going back for more.
I'm going to stay with this painting until I feel good about it, and that may mean there will be just one painting finished before our village festa in May. The painting of the two Andreas will have to wait, although the almost life-size drawing on the canvas in the studio inspires me.
There is more information on the tree project to get before we're ready to turn it into a tree, so I have no thought of working on it before May, and there's the construction of the three panels and light installation before I can begin to paint the tree itself. I will need to decide how many lights and where they will be located, hopefully by the middle of summer.
Dino drives to Viterbo to pick up his orthotics, and walks around quite a bit to test them. He tells me when he arrives home that he has no aches in his legs, so we're hoping they are right for him.
Dino also prints up photos of Italo to give to Ivo and Vincenza and the rest of the family in honor of his 90th birthday, and we walk up to present them just as Ivo is walking out of Ernesta's store. Not wanting to disturb them, we agree to come for coffee after mass tomorrow morning.
We've met him before, for he attended the Ecomuseo dinner, sitting next to Alberto Cozzi, who appears on the slate as well. Others in Mugnano who are running for office include Carlo Guglielmo and Felice's son, Renzo, who now lives in Bomarzo and is running for sindaco (mayor). We're not eligible to vote, for our citizenship papers have not arrived, but we're interested, just the same.
We wake to sun and cold temperatures, and are supposed to have a Coro rehearsal fifteen minutes before the mass. Four of us arrive and have to stand in the little piazza outside the church in the sun, for Livio forgot to unlock the church. I open my music book and begin to sing, but the Coro is more interested in chatting than singing. Va bene.
Once inside the cacciarata (gossip) is more fun than singing, so although I try to encourage practicing a little, this group is so much fun, that I cannot take myself too seriously.
Don Renzo arrives, singing a Gregorian chant while we ask him what we should sing, and would he lead a practice? He is full of joy, and so are we. With a few mishaps, we sing our new pieces as well as old ones during the mass, and there is some talk about practice tomorrow night. We have guests arriving, so I'll not be there, unless Don Francis arrives early. No matter.
We stop at Ivo's but everyone is still asleep; they've asked us to stop for coffee, but we'll see them later. It's on to Il Pallone for Glassatta and Capuccinos and then grocery shopping.
Back at home, Dino is in a dither, for he has been unable to watch his beloved Formula Uno on SKY TV. Formula One and Sky have not reached an agreement, so Dino cannot watch it on T V, or on the computer. Would you believe we'll need to find someone in Mugnano with a TV antenna? That's the only way he can watch, unless there is a change with SKY. Boh! Wonder if there will be a rising up of the people...at least the men...We'll let you know.
There's plenty of weeding to do, and Sofi and I do a couple of bins full. Although weeds are easier to pull up with gravel and nursery cloth, it is still work. I stop in time to fix pasta with meatballs, one of Dino's favorites.
There is a meeting at 4PM in the ex-scuola with a proposed new sindaco and his slate. I'd like to write a notebook story about local elections, but the election process in Italy is so complex that it would be impossible to turn it into a 150-word note. That being said, here's some of what we know about what is happening in Mugnano.
Included in Roberto's slate is Alberto Cozzi. He's Mugnano's designate, we assume, and there is a controversy, brought up by Francesco and then by his wife, Laura, that Mugnano is not adequately represented on the ballot.
Stefano Bonori, the present sindaco, tries to explain...
An amazing interaction occurs between Enzo Gasperoni and young Chiara Cozzi. She sits with Dino to go over some of her family tree, and Enzo walks up to her and complements her for speaking out during the meeting. She was quite forceful, although her father, in the front of the room, smiled said nothing.
These two families have not spoken to each other for years. I am hopeful that this is a sign that things just might change for the better between the two "sides". Whatever we can do to encourage this interaction, we will surely do.
We walk home, stopping at the Bus Stop, where Dino speaks with Franco about his family tree. There is always something to learn about one family or another.
Back at home, Don Francis arrives and we sit around and gab while eating his olives and other tasty treats from Isernia, including Buffala Mozzarella, our first of the season.
I forgot to tell you that before the meeting this afternoon, we chatted with Stefano Bonori and told him we're still waiting for our citizenship to be approved. He responds by telling us that when we do obtain our citizenship, he will give us a big party, even if it is after the election, when another person will become our sindaco (mayor). Wow!
March 15
Dino arrives at the market soon after it opens, and there are no short ribs...but he looks up and sees the butcher behind the glass window, with a cart full of meats, including the short ribs. 1.5 kilos of meat later, he returns home to join us for breakfast.
My mind is on the main course, although earlier I made a lemon torte, and it sits in the frigo in the loggia. The short ribs are ready for the oven at 10:30, and that will give us three hours or so to cook them, which should be plenty of time.
With sun in the sky and warm temperature on the terrace, it's a day to have pranzo in the garden, and that's just what we do. Our friends Leela and Majnoon are here to see their dear friend Don Francis, and arrive with a delicious chocolate semi freddo dessert.
Late in the afternoon, our three guests leave for a visit to the Monster Park in Bomarzo. Dino and Sofi and I stay home, for how many times can one visit this strange park?
They return in time for Dino and Don Francis to drive off to wash his car and look for a pellet stove, and our friends hug us goodbye for now. We look forward to a return visit, where they'll stay for a couple of days, perhaps late summer or fall. Va benissimo!
At a little after 10PM, during a commercial break from Mad Men, I pick up an elaborate silver candlestick as my microphone and sing to Dino:
The night ends with me saying good bye to another year, looking forward to what's in store...
March 16
Don Francis has an early breakfast with us; he then leaves to drive back to Isernia. On the drive to Orte, I'm thinking of so many small things that delight me. I can look at the same thing a hundred times, and at least half of those times I cherish the view.
I'm reading a book entitled "The Seasons of Rome" and the writer talks about not seeing things that he's seen many times. It's too easy to ignore things that one knows well.
Is it an artist's eye, or a quirk that when looking in a certain direction, for example, at the tall nespola (loquat) tree outside one of our bedroom windows right now, I can appreciate it every single time. Its new leaves shoot up toward the heavens today as if they're blowing a horn to say, "Look at me!" Yes, I'd love to!
A feeling and an image that is almost the same each night... that embrace with dear Dino as I climb up into our high bed after him, is as if it is the first time, each time. That tender expression of love is not a dream, but many dreams come true. Thank you, dear one.
Eye candy is all around us. On the way home from Orte, while Dino stops at a panificio (bread bakery) for rosettes (rolls in the shape of a rose, sort of Kaiser rolls), I look at a paint flaked wall and ask myself if I see the flaws or I see the pentimento (changes an artist makes over time in something that person has painted). Well, the description is not exact, but you get the picture.
I choose to see the pentimento; how interesting the visual effect can be of a natural occurrence. In this case, the design on the wall as if it was made with tealeaves in a cup. That's my eye-candy view.
At home, I take a look at the painting of Mauro, and the direction of his view has changed...but not his nose! That's what is wrong with his face! I'll change it, but perhaps not today.
I've taken a walk around the terrace and side gardens, and see some alterations we need to make soon, for they have to do with repotting a few plants, including roses, and moving them around. It's late, but there is a peony that won't bloom again this year, and we must move it, for it sits in the hottest part of the garden.
The four roses called Iceberg are rambling things, and are so unruly that they really need to sit in pots. We've already moved them near the gardener's cottage, but that raised area should have gravel and pots, with the exception of one glorious tree peony.
Dino's taken a nap after pranzo, but perhaps I can ask him if we can do a search for good quality but inexpensive large pots in which we'll replant them. Why bother? I'd rather climb in next to him and do some dreaming...
I do paint after all, and Mauro's nose now aims in the correct direction. With an added feeling of self-confidence, now that Don Francis wants me to do four religious paintings for one of his churches in Fornelli, I'll be researching St. Peter the Martyr very soon.
We've lots to talk about, for I'm not in favor of doing a painting of Peter being murdered with a hatchet. Let's see how we can make everyone happy. I want to inspire parishioners, not frighten them...
Skies cloud over, and it is now cool. Skies turn lavender and pink and Dino sets a fire. It's not yet Spring, but I can dream, can't I?
Just before hopping into bed, I read that Nancy Pelosi is convinced that the public option for health insurance in the United States is dead. How sad...how really sad that is. Here in Italy, public insurance is a godsend.
March 17
Houses are robbed all over the world, but the excuse not to have house insurance because insurance companies don't pay is a fallacy. An adjuster for ours in 2003 came to our house and wrote out a check while sitting in our kitchen.
So does it make sense for people from other countries to come to Italy and buy property? We absolutely think so. It's knowing what to do and how to take care of what you have that is important. Now that we've seen both sides, we can help; we can alleviate much of the stress. But living here is not for everyone.
It's a lovely clear day, so we drive South to Orte and then take the E-45. The damage was not as much as our friends feared, with mostly tv's and new appliances gone. Dino surmises it was a muratore who wanted to set up a new house.
We drive on to Montecchio to L'Alchemista, one of our very favorite places to dine. The town is a wonder, and the food worthy of the many accolades it receives. On this St. Patrick's Day, one of the owners is Patrizia, so of course we toast her with Montefalco Rosso, a great local wine.
"Do they have corned beef and cabbage?" Dino wonders. He asks the server, who has not idea what he is speaking about. With an I-phone translator, they figure out that it is beef in a box. What? She thinks it is crazy, but Dino explains the process.
I suggest we wait for our US trip for the real thing, and instead we split three marvelous courses. One, a raviolone with a sauce made with local legumes, is worth dunking pieces of fresh bread.
"Fare un scarpetta", or to make a slipper of the bread and dip it into the sauce, is what we do. What a wonderful description: to make a slipper.
With a hundred or so photos to email to our friends, we return by way of Ripabianca and find four large pots at an unbelievably low price, from the people who made our big square pots on the terrace. Somehow they fit, like peas in a pod, in our little Fiat.
With Sofi on my lap, we drive home past more beautiful "eye candy". The vistas are like heady perfume, and I conjure up fantasy after fantasy, especially while passing abandoned farmhouses, some in an advanced state of decay.
Yes, there are still abandoned properties to buy, but they are few, with many hundreds of them left after WWII, but snapped up in the last decade or more by savvy stranieri (strangers, or foreigners), who now experience stories of their own.
Who is a foreigner? Well, to Italians, it encompasses not only people from other countries, but people farther than their own borgo. Italians are like that.
We arrive home and email photos and information to our friends, who are relieved, now that they know the actual state of their house.
March 18
Back at home, I'm anxious to get outside in the garden, but we have still not posted for the first part of the month, so we'll see if we can get that done...subito!
While Dino works on the site, Sofi and I play in the garden. When cutting back a plumbago near the front of the terrace, I look down to see Luigina walking down the street to feed her pulcini (chicks) at their little cantina. "Lavoro?" she asks me. "No," I respond with a smile, "Questa non lavoro". "Ah, giardinaggio!" she replies with a wave and a big smile. Va bene.
March 19
I have the recurring wide-awake nightmare of a woman in Mill Valley, dressed like a nurse and looking like my Jr. High School Headmaster. This dental technician, I recall with horror, announced loud enough for the entire town to hear that my gums were not a sign of pride. Brrrr. This visit is non c'e male (not too bad).
Dino finds a legal place to park (what a guy) and feeds the meter for a few hours, so we walk the side streets to Piazza Del Popolo before it's time for the dental appointments. As we saunter along, I see a brass nameplate on the door of a tall palazzo, reading: the Association Donne in Campo.
How interesting! There is really an organization with a real office for women of Italy who work the land. Dino wants to walk on, but my feet stand still as if they are made of lead. We ring the bell and are welcomed in.
What follows is a meeting with Serena of the Association of Women Contadinis, and I tell her that I'd like to write a couple of Italian Notebook stories about the group...Is that all right with her? Si, certo!...and does she have photos we can use? Look for our stories on Italian Notebook soon...
Here are a few photos to whet your interest:
March 20
Square one seems the place everyone needs to be right now, but since we don't live in the U.S., we can only look on and shake our heads. I repeat. In many other countries, basic health care is at the top of the list when it comes to reasons to live there, Italy included. And in those countries, public insurance is key.
We would not switch our health care for anything, and here the national insurance shows how much the government believes in it. No matter the other problems this government faces, it will not give that up.
Enough said. Email us if you want to know more.
Dino travels to meet with a muratore about a project for a client, and then visits a property we have had on our site for quite a while. The owner has passed away, and for some time it has been uncared for. Dino visits it with the owner's uncle, and it is a good thing I did not join them.
A thorough cleanup is next, as well as a truck to cart away things that are of no use. Because we know people who are interested in it, Dino encourages the work be done...subito! (right away) Va bene. But it is decided that nothing will be done until we think we have someone to view it and a definite decision of when they'll be here.
Under an overcast sky, I spend the morning painting, and Mauro is close to being finished. Salvatore is in my care right now, and depending on how long it takes to paint his face the way I'd like, the entire painting may be done this week. How many times have I said that about a painting?
March 21
I read somewhere that "glassata" is icing, so we eat cornettis with glassata at Bar Nando in Il Pallone and then shop at the market. Rosina is outside the front door, and tells me she looked all day on Tuesday to wish me an auguri but I never appeared. Sorry, Rosina!
I tell her now I'm really old, but she tells me she old but I am not. I suppose she is like a sorella grande (big sister), thirteen years or so older. We like her a lot, so it is fun having her just above our loggia.
Back at home, I make a Moroccan lamb dish with blood oranges and cinnamon, almonds and raisins...very tasty. We watch a movie, and then I paint some more, until it is time to attend another biogestore meeting, this time in Attigliano. This is the first meeting since the project actually began, so it will be interesting to see what the participants plan to do now.
Dino digs the pit to move the Madame Gregory Staechlin rose, fills it with water and then food. Tomorrow he'll move it, and it will grow on the wires above the pergola in the garden, behind the Buff Beauties. Rose talk, that's what I'm talking. If you're a rosarian, you'll know just what I mean...If you are not, no matter.
We attend the meeting in Attligliano regarding the biodegestore, and remain for an hour, to show our interest in having it shut down. The sindaco of Giove thinks the group is behaving badly, too emotional, while he is ignoring the risks of the community.
We drive home to a quiet Mugnano.
March 22
Birdsong continues throughout the day, and I do some painting and some weeding, waiting for Dino to return from Guardea. We add some grilled lamb, a jar of tomatoes and pepperoncini to yesterday's dish, and serve it with basmati rice. Delish...
The Pope's letter to the people of Ireland regarding abuse by priests has a hollow ring; at least that is how most of the people asked responded. It's one step forward (sempre avanti), and that's better than no step at all.
Last night Michelle commented about the U.S. health care bill. She said that Medicare and Social Security also had rocky beginnings, but this bill is a start, and that's a good thing. We're hopeful for those to whom it will have an impact.
Hello to Giuseppe from the U.K., who tells me he is somewhat addicted to the journal. Don't let him know that there are other more interesting journals to read about Italy...
The house blessing in the village is today, and Dino pulls out the "cheat sheets" with the things we'll have to say in response to the priest's blessing. He's weeding the front path as I return to weeding near the cypress trees on the terrace.
I don't see any growth on the plum tree on the terrace, but there are buds on the plum tree on the far property...for the first time. The apple tree, purchased at the same time in Umbertide, shows not blossoms...yet.
Two glicine (wisteria) show flowers in the middle garden, but none on the terrace. It remains a mystery about what to do to encourage flowers on glicine, and no one on the internet seems to have an answer.
Whoops! Upon more scrutiny, one of the four glicine on the terrace shows the evidence of a few buds. That is a really promising sign. Nitrogen is a problem for wisteria, and the general fertilizer we use is Nitrophosfa Gold. Not a good idea.
We'll be in search of phosphorus...not too much, and some minor cutting back now of the plants. Summer and fall are the times to cut back, and fall is the best time to feed, or so I read.
Birdsong continues, so perhaps they are here for the duration...at least until late fall. I love the music they make. That reminds me. Yesterday I sang one of the hymns we sing in church to Sofi to practice, and she wagged and wagged her tail, so happy the song was just for her.
This afternoon, Don Renzo and Livio come to bless the house. He likes my work, and when I tell him I am obsessed with painting, tells me in September a film will be shot with him wearing a white flowing robe and some kind of headpiece. Yes, he'd like me to paint him wearing that. Of course I agree.
For my painting agenda, Salvatore and Mauro are first, then the two Andreas, then the Mugnano tree, and then Don Renzo, unless some money comes through from Don Francis, who wants me to paint four paintings for one of his churches near Isernia. Perhaps things will work out all right for us after all.
I love the house blessing, even our weeding of the front path as Don Renzo and Livio worked their way down Via Mameli, our street. I/we love everything here, and what's not to love? Wonderful neighbors, tranquil views with a modicum of tractor noise to remind us we're in the country, a wonderful plot of land to putter on, lots to paint, lots of love to share. I say this often, but we cannot imagine living anywhere else.
March 23
Instead, we stop at our favorite bar in Bomarzo for integrale con miele (a whole wheat brioche with a spoon of honey inside) and cappuccinos. Afterward, it's on to Viterbo, to find the cloth for our outdoor table on the terrace. This takes time, for almost every design is too carina (prissy, or over the top with design). At store number eight, we find a yellow and white simple square design, and it will work well with the flowers and the house colors.
After roaming a few new negozios (stores) for hardware items and things we or our clients or friends may need, we make mental notes and drive home for pranzo.
I love sitting beside Dino and imagining myself in these little abandoned buildings on the side of the road and wonder who lived in those places, when and what their lives were like. My romantic ideal is a dream, for the reality was probably much harsher. Nevertheless, Italians who live in the countryside love where they live.
What's the day like? Well, it's cloudy and warm, a normal March day, and we're not wearing coats, so it's wonderful.
One of the things on our shopping list is a molla (spring clip - acco clip); we want to purchase several, and Dino finds them in Viterbo at Buffetti, the office supply store on Via Garbini. Look to us for a variety of trivia related things to find in Central Italy.
We move the Madame Gregory Staechlin rose to a prime spot just above the middle garden pergola, and although it only blooms once a year, it is worth the joy that it brings. Will it bloom this year now that we've messed with it?...Probably, but no matter. We don't worry about these things any more.
Weeds and weeds and more weeds, and cutting back dead parts of roses finishes our garden for the afternoon, for Dino wants to return to his research on the Mugnano family tree, and I want to spend an hour or so painting. Sofi? Well, she loved being outside, chasing for lucertoles (lizards), but if I'm inside, she's inside...time for a rest for her. Va bene.
March 24
Sofi smells a cat in the loggia, but there is no cat. Dino tells me that a cat slept on sheets drying in the loggia last night, so it's scent remains. The little dog searches and searches for it, and I pick Sofi up to show her there is no cat sitting above the counters. She remains undeterred, sure it is hiding there somewhere.
While we're sitting on a bench on the terrace after prima colazione (breakfast, is there a second breakfast?), dear Dino and I begin to speak about the details of our next project: electricity from the proposed main gate, a camera inside the house to see who arrives, a light; Dino is a master of these details. I sit and nod my head, with a question now and then about the aesthetics of it all.
Regarding the roofline, it will change the look of the pergola when seen from the gate, but no matter. Not having a space outside that is shielded from hot summer sun (we face South-Southwest), we remain inside during most of the mid day. Glicine (wisteria) growing on the pergola in front of the house will shield us somewhat, but not enough by itself.
Dino calls the geometra, who agrees to arrive here tomorrow afternoon to measure and consult with us. It's not the first time we've asked him to come...Magari! (If only it were so...)
We're told we can proceed and won't need a permit, for the roof of the loggia consists of decades-old curvy asbestos panels. Men in moon suits will come to take them away. But what we're imagining is a little more complex. We'll see what Roberto the geometra has to say.
In ogni modo (in any case), whenever we've passed a house with a wrap-around porch or a loggia, Dino has looked at it dreamily. It will be a very important addition. So how will we protect the things inside the loggia now?
I have an imaginary nightmare, reminded of the roof disaster we had when we lived in Mill Valley, California. Dino was away on business at the time, the roofers had taken off the old roofand covered the roof with tarps, and the tarps on the roof flew off in a rainstorm. I was in the house with Huntley and Brinkley, our two cocker spaniels, and it was a real nightmare. But enough of that.
Dino drives off for errands, and I return to painting. Using lots of Liquin (a special drying and smoothing medium for oil paints), Salvatore's face is taking on character. I no longer give myself time limits on painting...a painting will be done when it is done.
Weed-wackers continue now and then all day, but it's Spring and that is just something to deal with. You're not alone in hating the sound, although here it's done by the contadini (farmers), so I give them slack.
We both have stiff necks today, probably from gardening. I think Dino's is more severe, but he has a neck brace. Year by year, it's more difficult to do all the work ourselves.
On the painting front, I'm loving Liquin, the drying medium, used with each brush of paint. Salvatore's skin color originally painted on the canvas was too dark, and bit by bit I'm able to lighten it before adding his rosy cheeks. The Liquin adds luminosity and clarity, smoothes out the brush strokes, and makes my mistakes disappear. Does this endorsement sound like a tv commercial?
There. The tractors and weed-wackers have stopped, but birdsong continues. With hardly a car driving into or out of the village, it's tranquil here once again.
Back out in the garden, weeding continues, with discussion about moving roses here and there where they might be happier. I think there are some shoots coming up about a meter from one corner of the garden pergola, so perhaps it is a glicine. Wouldn't that be fun? If it's a viscola (sour cherry), we'll nip it.
Early Spring is a golden time, a time to patiently and methodically weed, move, plant and enjoy what we have accomplished. Once Summer begins, it's too hot to do much of anything, except very early or very late.
We plant two packets of Lobelia seeds in one rectangular planter. I'm hoping it will result in lush flowers, but the seeds are so tiny I'm thinking I should have planted four packets instead. Since they'll come up in a week or so, we've time to plant more. Let's not get carried away...yet. These are probably the dark blue variety, but the light blue lobelia is the type I like best. Wonder where to purchase those seeds locally?
Let's paint for another hour, while Dino drives to give the gardener a key to a friend's garden gate. It's almost time for Mario to weed-whack here, too.
When Dino returns, we work on our oldest rose, the Madame Alfred Carriere, which is quite rampicante (also known as a rambler). I never prune it correctly after its first flower, but this year, I promise. Yes, Sarah, I will.
Tomorrow we agree that in the morning we will pot the other Iceberg roses (4 of them) and ready the ground in front of the gardener's cottage and to the right of the steps for more gravel.
Before going to bed, I look at Salvatore and his face color is better. Tomorrow it will be better yet. I'm sure of it! These days, I feel a pull in two directions...should I paint or should I work in the garden? So I do both, with an hour or so here, an hour or so there...I love these mild weather days, no matter whether there is sun or not.
March 25
I mess around a little more online and learn more than I want to know about how a government can shut down computer networks and definitely will not write about it here. So if you're a terrorist and reading this journal, unless you want to learn how to love your neighbors, this site is a waste of time.
It's a garden day, and although the sky is a smudgy dirty looking space, void of color, the temperature is mild and Dino even wears his first short-sleeved shirt of the year. Will short pants be far behind? Imagine: in the past, short pants were not a symbol of manhood for any young boy forced to wear them...now short pants are "in" for even the most unlikely folk.
Dino wants a haircut, and with his electric shaver, I make the noise of a weed-wacker and zoom my way around his head, competing with at least two farmers in the valley just below us zooming around their land.
Dino thinks one is the same man who roamed his own land yesterday, attempting to weed-whack his entire plot with a "wacker". Hence, the word "wacky"? Our dictionary tells us that it is an offensive term, and means silly. You be the judge, not me.
Bags and bags of weeds are pulled up by "yours truly", including lots and lots of stinging nettles. I hear they're a delicacy, but their sting is enough for me to not want to attempt to fix them. My "fix" is a dump in the weed pile.
Dino methodically moves from one space to another, clipping as he goes. I'm freewheeling, taking on a space here and a space there and back again to pull up herbaccia (weeds) through the gravel.
Yes, nursery cloth and gravel is a miracle of easy gardening; when using them, weeds are airborne and easy to pull up. Was it five years ago that my piece on Mediterranean gardening was published in the San Francisco Chronicle? Does the story still ring true? You tell me.
I'm back in the garden for more weeding after a tasty pranzo, but I've neglected Salvatore and Mauro's painting. So since it is too hot to wear a sweater at this hour, I return inside, promising Dino I'll feed all the roses when I return. This will be the first feeding of the roses for this year, and I thought about doing it earlier, but did not get around to it. No matter.
We're moving a rose that has wound its way around the large olive tree but receives little sun, to a spot on the other side of the upper garden to the right of the steps. I spell these garden things out especially for our dear friend, Sarah Hammond, who was a great help to us at the beginning, became a treasured friend, and still reads every word of the journal. Kisses to you, dear one.
The rose is Ophelia, and has grown so much that it reaches clear across the arch and about three meters past that on the space above the stairs to the left. There is another branch that reaches the gardener's cottage, so we'll have plenty of roses in full view.
In the space where Ophelia sadly lived, in the shade of the big olive, we're moving a lovely and unusual hydrangea, by the name of cerquercia, probably because of its reddish oak leaf shape. Quercia is the Italian word for "oak". It lived next to the huge bay tree in front of the loggia, a tree whose life will soon come to an end...
Roberto, the geometra, arrives after pranzo and walks around, telling Dino what we can do with permission of the Comune and what must be sent to Rome. "But wait!" he tells us, "Until after the elections" (next weekend). He thinks the law that anything that has to do with the front of one's house has to be sent to Rome for a wait as long as a year will fall by the wayside. The other things we want to do will take a month or so, for permits to work their way through the Bomarzo Comune, so the planning can begin and scheduling with Stefano for our project...at least the first part of it.
March 26
Around ten years ago, we had marvelous tufa planters made for us, and they sit atop the parcheggio. Planted inside are white roses and rosemarino. There is a grass here, a menace, called by different names in different places. I first heard about it as "Bermuda grass". Dino would say, "In Bermuda, do they just call it grass?"
It is airborne, and finds its way under the plant and burries into the root system. All day we've been working on one of the two planters, where the grass seems to have created a real mess. One by one, we took out several roses and rosemarino, emptied the trough and are replacing it with good soil. For the plants, we have a transplanting medium that we're putting on the roots. The roses are not taking the experience well.
We love these roses; they are called simply "white" and bloom all summer and into fall. We think both the roses and the rosemarinos, which are huge by now, will survive, and have added new soil, fed them and watered them well. Unfortunately, it is a very windy day, so I am hopeful that no grass finds its way into the middle of the planter while we're replanting them.
At first, we thought it would be simpler to replace the three roses that have the grass growing through them, but after taking them out and working through the root systems to pull out what we think are all the grass from their roots, we think they'll all be fine. We'll see.
I'm returning to painting for a few hours, hoping to bring the natural color to Salvatore's face. It is working so well that I think Mauro's face needs some lightening, too. I'm not in a hurry, but would like to have this finished before Alza Maggio (the last evening of April, when Mugnano has its tree raising).
Earlier, while we worked on the planter, Rosita laughed at the wind blowing across our faces and said that we were all "porta via" (take-away). I laughed out loud, thinking she was being very funny. Before she returned inside, she let me know that Coro practice is tonight at 6:30. That's not so bad, and since we'll sing on Sunday and there will be a procession, it will be good to practice for an hour.
Dino did not wear a hat, and this March sun is quite dangerous. So he'll be good and wear a hat all the time now. I have a after-sun lotion from Sephora that we use on the top of his head.
When I arrive in the borgo, Laura tells me I am "bronzato..da qui?" (Where did you get your sun tan?) I tell her it's from working in the garden. Today I admit I continued as a veritable weeding machine, and no matter how many I pull, there are plenty more waiting for me. I enjoy the time outside, especially with Sofi playing by my side.
March 27
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Dino leaves early on this sunny morning to oversee projects at a few locations. I awake with another headache, surely from stress (I don't write about the cause), but it is such a lovely morning that I'm hoping a dose of medicine will help.
Earlier, Dino watched the trials of F-1 on the computer, wearing a headset, so at least he could watch. Perhaps he can find a way to rig the computer up to the T V before tomorrow, the day of the actual race in Australia.
I'm reminded that the Palio di Bomarzo is less than a month away (always held on the 25th of April). Perhaps with a new mayor a new book will be published, and my translation into English will be included as a part of it. Magari! (If only that were so.)
Local elections are this weekend, and since we are still waiting for our citizenship to be granted, we cannot vote. Voting is an honor in our minds, so perhaps it is time to nudge those folks in Viterbo to find out the status.
We have to leave Sofi at home tonight, for it's not right to leave her in the car. I sit with her to explain. Yes, I'm clearly nuts. "When I was a little girl, my parents went out sometimes and I had to stay home. They always came home and loved me".
I know you don't believe this, but she sat and looked at me, and then when Dino put her into her cage she was quiet, not making a sound as we left. She usually whines just a little or gives us a bark. Tonight...nothing. So my "What do you think, Sofi?" does not fall on deaf ears after all. Yes, I can see you roll your eyes.
We pick up Duccio and Giovanna and drive to Porano, where we are to have cena and then attend a free concert at Teatro Santa Christina, a church converted into theatre space, to hear their daughter, Ludovica play and sing.
Dino researched places to eat, and makes reservations for us at Il Boccone del Prete.
What does this name mean? We ask our friends, who tell us that the priest likes the tail of the chicken, the part we used to call "the pope's nose". Can you imagine naming a restaurant after that?
The restaurant is molto caracteristico and very, very good. We will certainly return. But the real thrill of the night is at the theatre. The performance is an omaggio a Gabriella Ferri (in honor of Gabriella Ferri), who died some time ago. The group, Banda Jorona, plays the contrabasso (base), lute, trombone and accordion, to accompany Bianca, their raucous singer.
The many-talented Ludovica wrote two of the songs, plays the accordion as well as the trombone, and this tiny woman plays with an exuberance we did not expect. Here are some photos of the group. We're sure that when Bianca sees the photos of her, she will be able to tell which song she is singing in each picture.
We're home after midnight, and it is as though we just left. Sofi is fine, happy to have us back again.
March 28
We are both involved in the mass today. I sing in the Coro and Dino sits on the altar dressed in his Confraternity garb. Salvatore clearly is the star, doing a reading for the first time while attending as an altar server.
This is a surprise for his parents. Serena, who sits one person over from me on the second banquette facing the altar, closes her eyes and lowers her head when Salvatore's head peers over the lectern. She seems to be holding her breath. Afterward, we all congratulate him for his good reading. Bravo, Salvatore!
There are clouds here and there, and the forecast is for a dreary week, but no matter. Today is lovely. Even the birdsong is mellow.
We work more outside, but today is a day to do some resting. After an afternoon "dolce fa niente" (sweet nothing, or a nap), we take Dino's binder and walk along Via Mameli, for it is time for the daily passagiata (stroll) that most everyone does.
While Sofi gambols down the street, Dino sits on a bench with Giovanna and Franco, then corners Gianfranco to sit over at the bus stop to view his family page and get some answers.
We walk to see if Maria Elena is at her garden, but she is not, nor is her car at her house. So we walk down to Stein's, stopping at Elena and Pietro's first to ask them about the Bellachioma family. While Elena studies their family tree with Dino, Pietro tells me that Mugnano is no longer the same, and the Mugnanese are at fault.
Quite surprised, for we have seen just the opposite in the years we have lived here, I listen as he complains about life here. He'd like to sell his plot of more than 100 olive trees, and can find no one to work the land. His property is right next to Stein's, but Stein is not a candidate. We think he's happy just as he is, with more than enough land and trees to tend.
"At one time, Mugnano was larger than Bomarzo" Pietro tells me. I am sure that was true centuries ago, but can't imagine that after WWII that his statement was so. Nonetheless, I let him speak, and I am truly sorry that he is unhappy.
Ecomuseo has done a really admirable job with this village. It has poured love and attention into every pore of it, including returning young married families and their children in its events; families whose ancestors worked this land for centuries.
The joy and love the people of Ecomuseo put into everything they do is infectious, and many of the doubters have turned upbeat. Just yesterday on the altar, the heads of two warring families had an amiable conversation, after not speaking for years; perhaps decades. Yes, good endeavors can inspire new ways for its citizens to look at this ancient village...and each other.
Back at home, Dino spends a couple of hours reworking family trees; he intends to have a tree for each family, and now we have almost forty!
The painting I will do will have a representative sample, and it will be many months before we decide how many to include, and which ones. Surely the focus will be of the people who are the most active and spend the most time in the village. Unfortunately, we'll need to find a different software program, for the one Dino has been using is not available in Italian.
Weather will be windy and cloudy for most of the next week, but it is good weather to work in the garden. We're both able to put time in, and the difference shows.
We'll need to be cautious, for at times there is a frost in April, but so far the temperatures have been good. It's possible the last frost has appeared, but we'll wait before planting anything susceptible.
March 29
We take three iceberg roses out of the ground, fertilize them and put them in the great big pots we purchased recently. The fourth iceberg did not survive, but that's not a big problem. One will sit in front of the three cypress trees, and the other two on each side of the top of the little stairs to the gardener's cottage.
Tomorrow, Mario will weed-whack, and we spend a lot of time protecting the peonies and other plants from his wild machinations, as well as weeding and pulling grass where we can get to it.
I cut back the backside of the rosemary growing on the wall behind the teucrium hedge. It opens up the areas where the evil white grass grows underneath, and Mario can whack away there tomorrow. It will encourage growth on the cascading side, not that we need it. I also cut this rosemary back to encourage the Buff Beauty roses flanking each side to thrive.
Mario will not work the area to the right of the stairs to the gardener's cottage, for we will clean it up and lay nursery cloth and gravel and give the peonies room to grow there.
The one peony in the middle of the garden will be moved there as well, for the area where it now sits is too hot for it in mid summer, and this year we are sure it will not flower anyway. We're so sorry the peony that Don sent to us did not survive; that would have been a good place for it. No matter.
I return to painting in the mid-afternoon, after realizing I need to darken the bottom part of Salvatore's face, for his head needs to bend forward, just a little. I so love to find ways to enhance a painting, especially after I've worked on it for some time.
Sofi needs a rest, so takes a "dolce fa niete" of her own while Dino putters outside and I paint. Boink! After more than a dozen years, I finally translate the name of our house and our life here back from "L'Avventuraitalia" to English. The Italian Adventure...
I am a real dunce. Yes, the name describes our life, but no, the adventure will not end with us moving back to the United States, as Elena thought out loud to me yesterday. Her eyes opened wide when we told her we had our cemetery plot here. Yes, perhaps we are those crazy Americans...
News about the biodigestore is that the construction was faulty, causing an implosion because it was not built securely. Thankfully it is not yet in operation. Does this mean there will be a delay and a rebuilding in more safe materials and emergency procedures? The citizens are vigilant.
Meanwhile, there is a notice near the two fountains that aluminum has been found in the water. It is thought that using the Brita system that we do will work, but we're hopeful there will not be a situation like that in Orvieto recently, where every bit of the water had to be imported. We'll call Frank to ask him if all is well there.
Does the Comune think that posting a notice is all they need to do? The administration is in flux, as Stefano Bonori has reached the end of his term and we're not sure who the new sindaco (mayor) will be. The new mayor takes place...subito! We'll ask around and let you know.
We pot the three iceberg roses (the fourth unfortunately did not survive), place a pot on either side of the steps to the gardener's cottage and one in front of the three cypress trees. That leaves one more large pot. Is a new rose in our future?
There is more room for the three remaining peonies, (two more are in other parts of the garden) and after doing some major weeding, we'll be able to grade and then put nursery cloth and gravel down in this area. After that, we'll move one peony here. Yes, Sarah, we know peonies do not like to be moved. The one we want to move shows no sign of flowering this year, anyway, so we think it will be happier in its new home.
Who is Sarah? Well, she's our pal, our garden mentor extraordinaire, and in spirit remains a guiding force over our garden. She's been here twice so far: once to work and supervise the original plan and once to visit and enjoy. So we mention her now and then and know she reads the journal.
Sometimes she rolls her eyes at what she reads here; sometimes she nods, "Yes! Good!" and sometimes we imagine her low and exuberant laugh out loud as she reads to Alush some silly thing we've written. L'Avventura would not have been the same without her...and of course that includes Alush's marvelous hands, gently guiding the soil and the plants in concert with Sarah's ideas.
We tie up the roses on the fence to the west area and weed some more. Tomorrow, Mario arrives at dawn to weed whack. He is a great worker, but a bull. We've lost one old olive tree (he fell back upon it) and we've lost a peony or two when he's whacked right through it. So it's like the cleaning one does before the cleaning people arrive, making sure that important plants are protected.
Dino lights a fire right next to San Rocco, and although I am surprised that he makes a fire today (it is windy), the smoke travels back and forth in the gully between our land and the church. He leaves for ten minutes to pick up more gasolio (diesel), and I stop painting to stand watch.
He returns shortly, and the fire dies down. Since everything is pretty wet, I don't think we'll have any problems. No, Dino, I won't write about past burnings on our properties over the years. All is well as we return inside to rest for the evening.
March 30
I don't sleep well, and am awake when Mario begins his noisy whacking at 7 AM on the front path. Dino rises and unlocks the gate and returns to work on an idea for Terence's website. Dino is the web master. Doing something for Terence means the world to Dino, and yes, we miss being so far away from him and from the family.
Mario finished just after 9 AM, and he's a wonder. Everything looks great, and once the grass and weeds dry for a few days we'll rake them and be ready for Pasqua and three sets of friends who'll arrive this next week.
Dino drives to Viterbo to research wood choices for a client and pick up a roast chicken for pranzo, while Sofi lazes and I paint. The wind is quite strong, and Sofi wants to be let out.
I watch her, and she scurries over to the partly deflated soccer ball, which she maneuvers under the back of her torso. I think this means her back bothers her. She looks over at me to show me. We'll pick a soft one up for her to try inside. Sweet does not begin to describe her.
I open up the cartoon used to transfer the drawing of Salvatore and Mauro to the canvas, and realize I can do better by studying Salvatore's face on the paper right next to the figure on the canvas.
I cut out the part I have concerns about, and it's much easier to figure out what I need to change to correct Salvatore's expression. Perhaps I'll do the same with Mauro's face. Will the painting ever be finished? Magari!
March 31
Dino takes photos, blows them up, and calls them to let them know. Yes, they would appreciate Dino investigating. Is this "Crime Scene Investigators Mugnano"?
After arriving there, Dino finds Livio, who lives next door, and they find that a couple of roof tiles and the end of the rain gutter have come off in the wind, causing water damage during recent rains. By the time I write this, Lore will have stirred up everyone involved, and the problem will be on its way to being fixed. Va bene.
Who is the new sindaco (Mayor)? Dino comes across Alberto Cozi, asks him who won and Alberto's proud response is "ME!"
That means that Roberto Furano, the man we would have voted for, won. There is no word regarding who the Vice Sindaco will be, but Alberto would love the job. Comé no?
We believe that means that Mugnano will fare well. Indications were that Roberto overwhelmingly won the support of Mugnanese, with the two other parties splitting the rest of the votes.
What will this mean? We're not sure, but perhaps the permit process for our next project will not have to go to Rome. We'll let you know.
Why have I not written about the sex abuse case in the Vatican? Well, as badly as I feel for the victims, the coverage is so broad that you probably read all about it on your local news outlets. We don't follow the coverage.
Why is that? Well, we are like snails, hiding our heads from the world and basking in the tranquil days and weeks and months of Italian country life. There's no need to rush here, although I paint all morning and want to take more photos of Salvatore and Mauro's faces: I'm missing... something in each of their faces.
After fixing a chicken risotto with peas and fresh basil and mint, I return to the studio to try again. Giovanna comes by to ask why I did not attend choir practice last night and Dino responds that I was not aware there was one. Oh. There is one tonight. Va bene.
I return to painting, reduce Mauro's head and make changes to Salvatore's face. We're moving rapidly along now, so I'm hoping to put this one to bed this week. Oh. It's already Wednesday.
There is Coro practice for an hour from 7 to 8, and everyone attends. We are a self-disciplining sort, practicing one piece after another, based on what we will sing on Sunday.
When we arrive at the singing of Padre Nostro (Our Father), I tell my friends that I think it is prettier sung in English, with its English words. Giovanna tells me to sing it, so I do. What a powerful piece of music it is, especially at the end, although I have trouble hitting every note. Va bene.
One day I'll bring them the music and words and will teach it to them. Won't that be fun? I think it will be for all of us. In the meantime, we'll sing Padre Nostro and no, I do not want to change the mass in any way.
Earlier I stood in front of the cave on the far property with Dino, marveling at our plot of land and the view of the valley. Basking in glorious sun, we watch Sofi meander nearby, and give thanks for our lives here. How fortunate we are.
Mafia Inc. 'still Italy's biggest private enterprise'
Mafia rides recession to new gains (ANSA) - Rome, January 27 - The Italian mafia made more profits than ever off Italian businesses last year despite the recession, confirming its place as Italy's biggest private enterprise.
Sorry yesterday's post was so long; we do think that if you're an Italofile you'd like to know a little news now and then.
At $104 million, a Giocometti sculpture sold this week reminds me of the days of my youth, when my father and I would visit the Boston museums and look at the futuristic thinner-than-thin shapes the artist created, as if the figures stepped out of nuclear holocausts. We loved them then; I love them now. Yes, Italian artists have a style about them.
We've wanted to see the film Avatar in Rome, but had trouble looking up screening times yesterday. This morning there was an update online, so we drive to The Eternal City, a city we love. Sofi sleeps in the car in the garage while we walk down to Piazza Barberini to the movie theatre and have no trouble getting good seats.
Winter dreariness continues, but all is well in Mugnano. Dino drives off twice to appointments, and Sofi and I watch a TV program about Paris and the Parisian people. The narrator, a Parisian himself, tells us that Parisians are beautiful people with big mouths. That's not the sophisticated description I would expect.
With the possibility of sun, we walk up to church, feeling happy. Dino gives me the printout of the Farina family ancestry, so that I can ask Anna Farina, who is in the Coro with me, who her parents are.
-Will it generate enough energy to be meaningful? And
-Will the cost to the health of the citizens be worth it?
Sun, sun, sun, as if it's a harbinger of spring, greets us at our doorstep. Dino fixes one of Stein's car tires, one that needs air as we get ready for our dear friend's arrival for a week.
Calabrian Mob in immigration scam
Interior minister hails 'groundbreaking' operation
03 February, 14:14
Calabrian Mob in immigration scam (ANSA) - Reggio Calabria, February 3 - Italian police on Wednesday arrested 32 Italians and 35 Indian nationals in what officials said was a landmark operation against immigration scams run by the Calabrian 'Ndrangheta crime syndicate.
There are clouds, and there is sun, but the bright sun seems to be winning the race to determine how we will be guided on this day. I fret about Giusy, and am up and dressed early, ready to call her at 9 AM.
Do you have a secluded spot reserved for a statue of St. Francis in your garden and mistakenly believe Francis of Assisi is the patron saint of gardeners? Well he is not: an Irish monk by the name of Fiacre holds the title.
We wake to rain and rain continues with a light mist all day...but it is cold.
Dear Carla's funeral is today. For the recent past, she had been in a Casa di Cura, and then died yesterday, following her husband, Vincenzo, by two years. She leaves a son, Danilo, a daughter-in-law and a grandson. It was good that she lived to see the birth of her grandson Claudio, who is delightful.
Yesterday I ran out of pins while pinning a chair cover, so Dino drives out to pick up some more; simple sewing things are available almost everywhere, including supermarkets. He finds them at the giornalaio (shop that sells magazines and wrapping paper and cards), and since it's like a mini general store, they have the pins.
Yesterday I burned my right hand, just a touch, but now I have burns on both hands, and thankfully we have plenty of Neosporin. I show Dino what is not good about the design of our stove; the heat tube is too close to the door.
There are sunny skies, but it' so cold. We watch part of the opening ceremonies of the Olympic Games in Vancouver, and then I return to painting. I don't like the results of yesterday's work, so remix paint and try again. With the burn on my left hand slowly mending but looking brutal, I'm especially conscious of it.
On Friday, I made chocolate soufflés with strawberries as a pre-valentine treat, and last night Dino used the two we did not eat to make another valentine treat.
We have a doctor's visit this morning, and I'm finally confessing to him about bad circulation, after years of prompting by Giusy. There's an exam (eccodoppler) to do, and our good doctor gives me a prescription.
We are surrounded by a colorless sky, as if the rest of the world has fallen off a cliff, or is it nature's blue-screen? The glicine (wisteria) buds are popping out of their slumber, and although we have few pods, and those on two plants in the middle garden, we are guaranteed to have lots of shade this summer.
A headache appeared last night without warning, and returned this morning. It's a lovely and sunny day, with birdsong outside our open bedroom window. There is usually a beautiful weather week sometime in February, and perhaps this is it. Va bene!
Rain continues, and it is blustery. The cypress trees dance to and fro; branches on the big olive tree in the middle garden thrash about.
We're on a quest for a bread and pizza oven; one that will be installed somewhere in the loggia. Today's jaunt takes us south to Civita Castellana, and there are a number of options.
...as well as where it will be located. Concerned about the chimney and its vent, we'll place it next to the house, with a wall in front of it facing the terrace, and an inset to hide the hose reel. I'm happy with that, for the hose lives sitting in clear view on the terrace during good weather months, an eyesore in what is otherwise a great looking space. Dino re-draws the space and we'll be read to move forward when we have a little money to put a roof on the loggia.
I think Alberto Roverselli's birthday is tomorrow and they're here, so we'll have to walk up and pay them a visit. We know they're here, because we can see their window open as we drive up the lower road. We'll see them in church and look forward to that. Now Dino can have friends sit with him. I'll be with the Coro, as usual, although I do miss sitting with him.
While reading the Italian Notebook post today for Mardi Gras celebrations in Rome, my eyes focus on a display of masks. Instantly, I recall those glory days at camp royanee, especially one year's event during which we decorated masks at an afternoon cocktail event. To those campers who read the journal, does reading this bring back fun memories of those years? Even though they were a highlight of our lives in California, they seem so long ago...
So much for online mentors...mine seems to have dropped off the face of the internet. 
The remaining two slipcovers will be ignored for now, for we have more furniture than we need. When we do most of our entertaining it is warm and the activities take place outside. So these chairs sit in a kind of Miss Haversham's room (Did you read Great Expectations?), ignored unless the priest comes to bless the house or we have winter guests.
Morning skies are colorless, but as the day wears on, clouds appear...those clouds that appear in old religious paintings. Dino drives to Guardea to look at the paving of a project, while I do a little rose tending and picking up weeds. Since we have so much gravel, laid down over nursery cloth, the weeds have been airborne, and are easy to pick up. Yes, lots of gravel has been a good idea.
Temperatures are rising slowly, and soon we'll be able to put out and uncover our citrus plants. Fog turns to sun at 10 AM and it will be a sunny and cold day. Hooray for the sun! Rosina calls out to me and glows while she raises her arms as if in thanks to the sun.
Riina villa becomes journalists' HQ (ANSA) - Palermo, February 16 - A villa in Palermo where bloody Cosa Nostra boss of bosses Toto' Riina spent his last months on the run was handed over to the Sicilian branch of the Italian journalists guild Tuesday.
On this overcast day, we laze about in the morning, watching figure skating coverage of the Olympic games. Outside, Pepino is working in his garden next door, and Sofi bounds to the gate to give him greetings and wag her tail.
We'll try to remember to take this link down after the ebay auction is finished.
Dino rises early and leaves to meet a muratore at a project. Sofi and I sleep in for a little while, then have a cappuccino while waiting for Dino's return.
On the way to church this morning, we noticed an Italian flag hanging from Antonio and Paola's bedroom window.
Note: The Italians ONLY fly their flag to celebrate a sporting event, mostly football (soccer). But we know nothing significant is happening in football. After asking Enzo who we see on the street, he says it is because Italy won the GOLD for Alpine Skiing - Men's Slalom yesterday in Vancouver. (This is the only Olympic Gold for Italia at the Vancouver games.)
Italy loves its sport heroes, who doesn't, and the newest is
Giuliano Razzoli!
Lots of wind and a colorless sky overhead turn to bright blue with clouds. There's still wind, but most of the problems are in France, with devastating floods and wind all over the country. Here it's pretty mellow, although rain is in the forecast for the next week.
Today is a day to spend in Rome. First, we meet Duccio outside the Quirinale, for a visit to the new Caravaggio exhibit. The exhibit is based on paintings lent from museums around the world as well as private owners, and some of them are attributed to Caravaggio, but we're not sure who painted them. 
Duccio leaves us for home, for Giovanna has a meal waiting for him. These days his meals are plain, for his health, but we'll all meet soon for a pranzo at a restaurant, so he's thinking of what he will eat, his eyes growing larger at the thought.
Dino leaves for visits with muratores and then a doctor's visit in Viterbo. An ortho specialist will consult with Dino in our good doctor's office, and he has brought all his old x-rays. I want to paint, but much of the morning is spent writing about yesterday's trip to Rome.
Dino visits work sites, while I paint. This afternoon we take a long "dolce fa niente" while rain surrounds us.
Silvia arrives here for Sofia's stripping, which takes place several times a year. Don't flinch...it does not hurt her. Apparently, the type of hair on her skin is "pelo duro", or wire haired, and afterward she looks like a different dog.
She feels like a different dog, too, almost flying through the air as she gambols about.
We woke to sun, but then clouds covered much of Mugnano. Fortunately, it is still warm enough for Silvia to work on Sofi on the terrace. Somewhere, we were told that dog fur is great for snail protection, so we tell Silvia that she has "un sacco di soldi" (a bag of money) in what's left after she grooms her dogs. She laughs and tells us she'll think about it. We save a little, to see if snails will really not cross over dog hair...
I wake so early I feel like a farmer, but slide back in bed when I realize it's just after 7AM. Sun, bright sun, tells us it's to be a glorious day.
March 7
It's a sunny and cold morning, and we drive to mass with our binder, to ask more questions. While in the church waiting for mass, Don Angelo arrives, and I ask him if he will say a prayer during mass for Don Giampietro, the wonderful priest who spent two years with us. Now he is back at his home in Argentina, and we're sure in the midst of the earthquake devastation.
It's International Woman's Day, a day during which many of the women of the world are groggy after last night's Oscar ceremony. But for most of the women of the world, these television programs are a distant reminder that survival and the welfare of one's family eclipse what they think is a trivial exercise.
Dino rises early; Sofi and I do not. He leaves to inspect a site in Tenaglie and then drive to Viterbo to shop.
Here in little Mugnano there is snow; big flakes mixed with rain, but the ground is so wet that it does not stick. I take Sofi to the door to show her, and her eyes open wide; she is amazed but does not want to step out into it.
I have received so many Facebook requests that I suggest that you not send me any if you have not done so already. It is not my dream to spend my days on the computer, so although I'd be happy to know you, if you want to send me a message, please click on this site or send it to me/us by email.
It's movie night again at Candace and Frank's in Orvieto, for I am the only one of four have not seen Sunday's Oscars, and it's waiting to be re-shown for us tonight.
Yes, the headache is gone, and we're surrounded by fog. Dino leaves to take photos of a property and I work on painting Mauro's face. I like the face a lot, but does it look like Mauro? My decision to sand the canvas with fine sandpaper before painting works well.
Dino has an early appointment in Tenaglie, but Sofi and I stay at home. I realize I've painted Mauro's nose too long, so while the paint is still wet, I need to adjust it. Perhaps that was what I found wrong with his face after all. I'm hoping it will look more like him, for the other features seem to be spot on. Magari.
March 14
I think of writing an Italian Notebook story about local Italian elections, but it is impossible to distill a reasonable story into 150 words. We'll attend a meeting this afternoon at the community center, where one of the candidates will host a gathering.
Beware the Ides of March. I'll be at home all day, and worry about Dino, out very early to pick up the short ribs for me to cook and cook and cook some more in the oven before pranzo with guests.
The meal is tasty, the drinks flow, from prosecco to wine and back to prosecco again, and for several hours we sit in the garden under the pergola and laugh and eat and laugh some more.
"When I get older, losing my hair, many minutes from now, will you still be buying me a valentine, birthday greetings...bottle of wine? When I come home at quarter to three, will you lock the door? Will you still need me, will you still feed me, when I'm sixty four?"
Gardening can have strange repercussions. This morning I awoke thinking I had pains in my chest, but after sitting with Giusi when she gave me a pedicure I am confident it was the result of using different muscles in my back when weeding in the garden. But pain on a birthday?...might as well admit I'm older today.
American friends who have a second house in Umbria, outside of Montefalco, have told us that it has been robbed. They have not been to the house for a year, and the house is way out on a deserted road.
We drive to Viterbo to pick up a coffee pot, for the Bugatti espresso pot that we have had for 10 years leaks on the bottom. After stopping at Il Pallone for glassatas and cappuccinos and then the market for our favorite bread, we drive on to Viterbo to a Lista Di Nozze (shop that is also a Bridal registry), and pick up an Alessi "Cupola" espresso pot.
It's a day for the dentist, our good Dottore Chiantini, and an excuse to drive to Rome. We make appointments with him every six months for teeth cleaning, and he's wonderful and gentle with us, never yelling, "DEEP POCKETS!" 
After our appointment is finished, we walk around the Via Babuino triangle from Piazza Del Popolo with Sofi. We have pranzo and return home by mid afternoon.
I read about the US healthcare bill, and believe it is a real mess, with Democrats wanting to pass SOMETHING at the risk of having to return to square one.
Under a cold and colorless sky again, we drive up to mass with Don Angelo. He is an interesting man, so intense and passionate about his work and so kind with those of whom he comes in contact. There we are with proper grammar again. It sounds so strange, but there it is...
There are plenty of birds outside and the weather is mild, but skies are colorless and cloudy with smudges of dirt stuck there and there and there.
Our documents are not ready for a Notary, which for us is the American Embassy in Rome. So we make another appointment for Thursday, and if they are not ready, we'll change it again. No matter.
Weed-wackers are common in Italy, too, so at times the tranquility is dashed; with birdsong up an octave as if they're tweeting, "Stai zitto!" (shutup!) The sound is angry: "Take THAT! And THAT!" as weeds and grasses succumb to the angry machine, the operator sweating and dust and pieces of weeds backfiring up against his skin. I need a bicchieri (glass) of water, just imagining it.
While we're eating colazione (breakfast), there is a news story about shutting down the internet in Burma. So I laughingly wonder how a government can shut down the internet in its country and then think of a great name for a website: askal.com, in honor of Al Gore, who as we all know invented the internet (ha!). It's a domain search site, among other things, but doesn't tell me the answer to what I'm wondering about.
Fog, fog and more fog greets us as the radiator in our bedroom gurgles and tells us it's 8 A M. That fog means that it will be a sunny day!
My painting of Fortezza is available again, for a minimum bid of $700 Plus shipping, unless the recipient lives in Central Italy. If you live in Central Italy, we'll deliver it free. Let's help those brave women of Afghanistan!
Afterward we meet the group, and Ludovica gives us a CD of Bianca. Soon they will have their own cd, and we'll let you know when. They play characteristic Roman folk songs, you know, the Italian folk music you hear and wonder, "What is that?"
Dino wakes early, changes the clocks ahead, and watches some of the Formula 1 race on the computer. He does not watch it all, for it's difficult to watch this way, and he tells me that's all right. I'm disappointed for him, and hope he can find a way to watch the next race on T V.
As usual, after mass we drive to Bar Nando for glassatas and cappuccinos and then Il Pallone for grocery shopping. At home, I fix a warm spinach salad to have with slices of maiale (pork) and it is such a lovely day that we return outside to "play".
There is sun, but clouds persist. That means it will be a good day in the garden. We agree that our next main gate will be one meter wide, and we have room for it, so after Lorenzo makes the gate, we'll have the work done.
Let's see if I can finish the painting in short order. I'd like to move along, especially since Ivo and his family, including his son, Andrea, who is one of the stars of the next painting, are here for Pasqua. Not that I'd be able to finish it any time soon...
We've noticed what looks like a major water leak next to the closed living room window of our dear Roman friends, Lore and Alberto, who also have two houses here in the borgo. It can only be viewed from the road below.
