The day after.  Yesterday was not as tragic as it could have been, considering it is the first Christmas without Aldo, and in fact was quite mellow and uneventful.  We had the traditional Christmas lunch with Nonna, her cousin Lena from across the hall, Lena's daughter and a friend of mine from school who found himself at loose ends for the holidays.  There was a lot of eating, a lot of translating and much groaning after each dish had been served.  We had a salad made of fruit, veggies, nuts and cheese, pastry filled with ham, cheese and herbs, small sausage cooked with lentils, cheese stuffed olives and anchovies with parsley sauce.  Those were the appetizers.  These were followed by a light broth with tiny stuffed pastas.  For the main dish Amalia made wild boar in wine sauce that she started two days ago, served with mashed potatoes.  Dessert was a hazelnut cake with a chocolate glaze and fruit.  There were four different wines, sparkling for appetizers, white for pasta dish, red with meat and sparkling rose' with dessert.  This is what Italy does best.  We got home in the early evening and spent the hours before bed lying around doing nothing.  Today we have to pack for our vacation.  We're off to the east, Gorizia, Udine, Trieste and then Slovenia for New Year's.   Happy Holidays to all and I'll be back in 2015!  xxoo me

Ah, Christmas Eve, and I spent the morning in the hospital visiting a specialist because I'm STILL SICK!  My first round of antibiotics got rid of the fever and the headaches but stopped short of curing the sore throat.  And then came on the pain and the THROMP, THROMP, in my right ear.  So I revisited my doctor yesterday and he called to set me up to see the Ears, Nose and Throat guy at the hospital.  (A little aside here.  The word for Otolaryngologist and the word for platypus are very similar in Italian.  This caused much laughter at my expense.)  So now I'm on another round of antibiotics, nose spray and some sort of anti-inflammatory for my sinuses.  The worst part is that I have no appetite and no desire to drink wine and tomorrow is Christmas in Italy!  Oh the waste, the waste.  It should be an interesting day though as we'll be joined by 2 rather odd relatives and a Canadian friend of mine from school who has found himself alone for the holidays.  More on that tomorrow.  Merry Christmas to all!  xxoo me

My darling husband really can be a shit.  He is pleased as punch because this morning there was a delivery for our neighbors, (yes the upstairs neighbors who scream, sing, vacuum, move furniture, play marbles and walk around in heels on tile all hours of the day and night), and they were not at home.  The postman buzzed us and GP said he'd never heard of the guy and wouldn't sign for the package.  He's been chuckling to himself all day.

The weather has finally improved and there have been a couple days of sun.  We're all walking around shielding our eyes saying "the light, the light!".  I drove Grace into the city today to see a friend and took a walk in the center.  There are stands up along the main streets, under the arcades and in the piazzas.  They're selling hand-made crafts and foods for the holidays.  The shops are open on Sundays now and there were thousands of people shopping and eating out in the cafes.  Lovely.  Unfortunately the atmosphere was marred by the howling gypsy.  That's the name I've given to a beggar who I seem to run into wherever I am in the center.  She wails at the top of her lungs and shuffles along with her hand out.  The noise dives me nuts.  It's the perfect storm of irritating sounds, whining and screaming.  You can hear her coming a mile away.  I'm surprised she hasn't been pushed in front of a passing tram.  She is that irritating. 

Back home and time to do some housework.  Ugh.  xxoo me

I'm on holiday!!!  And I'm alive to talk about it.  The horse pills did their magic and I am cured.  Last night GP and I went to the school's annual Christmas party/dinner.  It was in one of the sculling clubs that line the Po in Torino, Circolo Eridano.  This place, along with many of the other clubs, was built in the 1860's during some resurgence of river sports in the area.  They are basically little country clubs with tennis, pools, restaurants and bars where lots of elderly people with lots of money to spare sit around and play cards, smoke cigarettes and drink.  Our party was set up on the "enclosed for winter" terrace with fairy lights and beautifully set tables.  The food was great but as I have eaten so little over the past week I was full after appetizers.  I always choose a table where one of our science teachers, a hilarious Scot called McKenzie, sits.  He is one of the funniest, most inappropriate people I have ever met.  I know what you're thinking but stop right there!  He says things that not even I would dare say.  Strangely, he is always given the job of presenter at these things.  It makes for an entertaining evening.  Last night he introduced the two men leaving the school, one of which he can't stand.  They were to go up to accept gifts and make speeches.  He called up the operations director saying, in a much more colorful manner, that we were saying goodbye to a guy who he couldn't wait to see the back of and for whom he had no words to describe (but if you'd ask him later he'll tell you plenty).  Fortunately the OD is Italian and McKenzie's heavy Scottish accent combined with his use of puns and obscure words meant the victim missed most of it.  We native speakers, on the other hand, were roaring.  Fun, fun.  At 11:30 we came home with a bottle of Scotch Whiskey as a door prize.  xxoo me

I am never, never, never, never, never going to set foot in an Italian post office again!  I waited an hour today to send one envelope.  (The a fore mentioned a-h Christmas cards.)  Every task postal workers do, whether it's mailing a package, picking up a package, paying a bill, has loads of paperwork, all filled out by hand, and 3 documents have to be produced to insure you are who you say you are.  After which the clerks hand carry each customer's pile of papers out back somewhere, where they disappear for a few minutes, (coffee break?), all resulting in 10 to 20 minutes per person!  It's insane.  There were 3 screaming matches while I was there because people were so fed up.  So I ain't mailing nothin' to nobody ever again!  xxoo me

Read this!

http://money.cnn.com/2014/12/15/pf/accidental-american-expat-tax/index.html?iid=HP_LN&hpt=hp_t3


This article drives me nuts.  This is where all of our tax issues stem from.  We pay taxes in the US on monies here.  Why doesn't the IRS spend more time fighting billions of dollars in corporate evasion instead of harassing some guy in Israel who doesn't even want to be American?

Obviously I have too much time on my hands, stuck in bed as I am!  I think the horse pills the doctor gave me are finally starting to take effect.  After 5 days of dragging myself from bed to bath to kitchen and back again, I am a sight to behold.  If the sun would come out I'd bundle up like a babushka and open all the windows.  The air is cloudy with microbes.  MUST GET OUT.

xxoo me  

I'm still in bed!  Four days of headache, aches, pains and general crappy feeling.  Tonight I'll go to the doctor for my "excuse note" for work and something powerful to knock this out of me.  I need to find a book for my wait.  I've read everything in the house and watched endless hours of QI, my new fixation.  It's a wonderful quiz, comedy, panel show from Britain.  I really could watch it endlessly but I have so much to do.  I'm sending out the warning now.  I still have not sent out Christmas cards so you should be receiving them sometime in March.  I had one small pack from The States that I dutifully filled out around Thanksgiving and then I began my search for cards here.  In the past I've bought UNICEF cards that they sell at the post office.  There are none this year.  Of course they don't know why and can't tell me where I can get them.  I've tried every stationary, gift shop around but cards are only sold individually and cost 3 euro each.  Nope.  So it looks like A- H friends and family will get paper cards, the rest of you an e-card if I can get around to sending them.  I missed out on Mother-in-law's big lunch on Saturday because I was/am ill so the whole thing was called off with much melodrama, "Not without you!!", and my fear is I'll be made to pay.  I'm already feeling guilty....  Poor Nonna.  This will not be an easy Christmas.  xxoo me

Have I mentioned the lovely little sadistic Brazilian woman who is teaching Pilates at school?  Her name is Rosie, such a sweet name, and she's married to our new PE teacher.  She probably weighs 97 pounds soaking wet, wears her straight black hair in cute little bow barrettes, has big round glasses that make her already large eyes enormous.  She's adorable and the devil.  I've been going in to school an hour early twice a week since the end of September for her classes.  I thought that after a few weeks the muscles would adjust and the pain would go away,but no!  It's constant.  Every time I stand up or squat down, (oh how I've come to hate the word squat) I moan.  I had a class yesterday morning and it was a particularly tough one with lots of abs.  So last night when I noticed aches and pains I didn't think much of it.  We had friends over for dinner and as they were leaving I suddenly felt a fever come on.  It was so fast!  I'm home in bed today, all hot and cold and head achy.  So much for my vaccine. 
Speaking of vaccines, this weekend we are taking my mother-in-law out to lunch to celebrate her Saint's Day.   Saint's Day, Onomastico, is the celebrated day of the saint you are named after.  Every day of the year has a saint or two, and every name has some sort of derivative to connect it to one of these saints.  Saint's Days are much more celebrated than birthdays.  Tomorrow will not be a happy occasion.  It is her first celebration without Aldo and she has chosen to go to lunch in the same restaurant where last spring they celebrated their 60th anniversary.  The woman likes her pathos. 

xxoo me

It's wrong!  Wrong I tell you!  It is supposed to be Christmas season but it's hard to get in the mood when it's 50 degrees and pouring!  The leaves have finally fallen, I think from exhaustion, but the fields are still Irish green from all the water.  The most googled words in Italy these days are "bad weather".   Not joking.  2014 has had 4 times the normal annual rainfall and this November was the wettest on record.  All I want to do is cuddle up under covers and read.  The only time I feel like venturing forth is at night when grey skies matter little.  Last night we went out to dinner with colleagues of GP's for a nice fish dinner in an area that was once "no man's land."  Up until the Olympics this was a high crime, poverty stricken, immigrant populated area.  It has since become chic and there are tons of restaurants, bars and renovated apartment buildings.  It's a very cool area in the heart of the old center near the church where they house the "Shroud of Turin".  In fact the restaurant is called "Spirito Santo" or "Holy Ghost".  It's now high food intake season so I have to control myself.  It's way too easy to pack on the pounds and way too difficult to take them off again.  For vacation we have decided on the northeastern part of Italy, Gorizia and Trieste, and Slovenia, with New Year's Eve in Ljubljana.  I'm praying it will dry out!  The tree goes up today and I'll do some baking.  I'll close the curtains and pretend it's snowing.  xxoo me

Italy has very strict employment laws to protect workers and employers alike.  As once one is employed with a "permanent" contract it is almost impossible to be fired, employers are hesitant to hire.  Consequently there are a lot of temporary contract workers out there.  To prevent the workers from being taken advantage of, by law after 3 years the company has to let you go or offer a permanent contract.  In our school, assistant teacher contracts last 3 years.  (Teachers tend to be foreign and stay only 2 or 3 years anyway). After 3 years an assistant disappears and a new face appears.  This is my 3rd year and I have an assistant status.  I went to the big guy yesterday and said I'd like to stay on.  I was hoping for one more year while Grace finishes up with some sort of consultant or tutor contract.  Instead he offered me permanence.  I don't want permanence.  I have no intention of staying there once Grace is out of school.  Of course I said, "Oh, how wonderful!"  There is so much bull flying around that school that a little more won't hurt.  Today the head master brought a guest into the library while touring the school.  He went on and on about our collection of classics, (OLD yes, Classics, no), about our students doing most of their reading on tablets as we are aiming at being a paper-free school, (we have NO e-books and teachers photocopy textbooks as new ones aren't in the budget), and our expert media personnel, (our internet is down on a weekly basis).  I just smiled and waved.  Not gonna risk my contract until it's good and signed.

Grace leaves with the Model UN group for Paris in the morning.  Four days in the City of Lights arguing Human Rights and such.  I went to the Museum of Art in Boston once in school.....

xxoo me

Two wonderful days in France.  Who wudda thunk?  I've never hidden my qualms about the French but this time I must admit we only met two people who would qualify for the "seriously have a stick up their a**" award.  My old Irish friend Karen, from way back when I taught in language school here, joined me for an overnight in Menton.  Menton is right over the border on the Mediterranean coast, where the Maritime Alps meet the sea.  We took the train down early Friday morning as I had the day off.  Apart from the rain it was great.  The temps are always mild and there is that wonderful clean, sea breeze and amazing light that has attracted so many artists.  A nice change from inland city air.   Menton may be only 5 kilometers from Italy but it is different in a thousand little ways.  The food (more garlic), the wine(lighter), the clothing styles(questionable).   It is an old, old city with an ancient center that winds up the hills via steep staircases and pedestrian roads.  How these people move houses is beyond me.  The newer part of the city has a casino and dozens of seaside hotels and restaurants.  Most were closed for the season but there were enough places open for our needs.  We ate lots of seafood and drank lots of wine and shopped for Marseille soaps and Chevre.  Yesterday we walked up all those staircases to the top of the old village where there is a wonderful terraced cemetery called the Vieux Chateau.  Cemeteries can tell a lot about a place, in this case showing how long the area has been a tourist destination.  It is at the top of a high hill overlooking the sea with gnarled maritime pines and flowering vines growing along the paths.  The tombstones are all bleached very white from the strong sun.  It's gorgeous.  What a resting place.  But what I found most extraordinary were the number of foreigners buried there.  More than half the names were English or American, German, Russian and Spanish with each nationality getting it's own terrace.  Of course there were a lot of Italians as well as that area has for centuries gone back and forth between France and Italy.  Mind you these are not recent graves.  The oldest dated back to the late 1700's and only a few family tombs had recent additions.   There is a huge mausoleum belonging to a Russian prince who died in 1880 something, another smaller mausoleum for an American and his French wife sporting both flags.   I loved it.  We also visited the Jean Cocteau art museum.  I remember loving his work years ago that was nautical based colorful paintings but this time around they had a display of his theater and "erotic" pieces and I wasn't thrilled.  He was gay and liked to draw men with extremely over-sized appendages.  That was enough culture for me!

Sunset

old cemetery and eternal view

the walk to the top

view of old Menton and the port

Coming back last night we had quite the adventure.  On Saturday evenings evidently the trains coming into the cites are populated with kids from the smaller towns going to party.  At alomost every stop more people got on and they were already well on their way to enjoying themselves.  There were African guys selling dope and dread-locked Italian alternative types buying it.  There were Eastern European immigrants drinking liter sized bottles of beer and running out at every stop to have a cigarette or have a pee.  All these people were singing and yelling and generally carrying on while Karen and I and one other couple shook our heads like old people and wondered where the police were when you needed them.  I didn't feel at all threatened as they paid us no attention at all but I wouldn't have wanted to be along with that crowd.   Finally after a couple hours and multiple stops a conductor got on and started threatening them all but I think he was afraid to really do anything as he was seriously out numbered.  They all yelled at him and gave him the finger and waited for him to turn his back before lighting up another.  What excitement.  Karen looked very severe and scowled tight-lipped the whole trip.  It was pretty funny. 

We made it back safe and sound and today is rest.  xxoo me

Happy Thanksgiving one and all!  We went to the dinner at the school.  It was Thanksgiving Italian style.  There were typical local appetizers and sparkling wine before dinner followed by boneless stuffed turkey, mashed potatoes and gravy.  They had something they called American potatoes that were vaguely sweet but greenish in color and a strange but tasty corn bread made from polenta.  The wine was made next door at the agricultural college and the desserts were all Italian.  Not a pumpkin pie nor an apple crisp to be seen.  It was a good time though with about 200 people of all ages packed into the cafeteria.  Now to sleep because I'm off at the break of dawn tomorrow with an old friend for a 24 hour trip to Menton on the French Riviera.  More on that later.  xxoo me

After two years and 3 months I may, may, have found the hairdresser for me.  I got a very short cut today to take off all the dry, frizzy stuff left over from my tiger coloring last spring.  This new guy gave me a good cut, it's conveniently only ten minutes away and they give really nice head massages!  It was on the expensive side but at this point I don't care.  I go to the hairdresser so rarely anyway. 

GP and I took our river walk this morning and saw he who we have come to call "Lobster Man".  This is because of the weird orange-red skin color he sports which is so unnatural it obviously comes from tanning cream.  That skin is  pretty evident as all he wears are an obscenely short pair of running shorts.  He also has long bleached hair and a very fit and muscly body.  He's always running or working out along the river paths, sprinting up and down the stairs and stretching on benches.  GP is convinced he's a porn star.  He seems to think that only porn stars would be so falsely tanned and bleached and in shape.   He's never been to the Jersey shore.

We are still waiting for the cold to set in.  Still damp and 50's.  We just removed our screens today but may regret it.  Weird weather.  xxoo me

Oh!  I am all a dither.  I discovered two things today at school that have left me in this state.  The first is that our "business manager" is resigning and taking a job elsewhere.  That doesn't sound like much but in a smallish private school environment it can mean lots.  He is more than just the business side of the school.  He is pretty much the Prime Minister to our Head Master's Queen.  (If you met our Head Master you'd know why that is sooo apropos. )  There was much whispering in corners and many coffee and bathroom breaks for the teachers today.  Gossip was swirling.   What with his having a hand in all the dealings in the school, changes are sure to come.

Then, a colleague mentioned that two mothers of students in our school believe their children to be Indigo Children.  Am I the only person who had never heard of this?  It's some sort of new age belief that aliens are seeding children born from 1990 onward to elevate us to the next level of consciousness.  They are called Star Children and under that title are divided into Crystal Children and Indigo Children.  Look this up.  It's fascinating.  Some genius thought this up and is now probably making gabillions on books and DVD's and public speaking.  Call me a cynic yet again but really?  What the #$@%$?  Anyhow, these two mothers have been pushing the school to treat their children as special entities and to see them for what they are, (emissaries from planet looney?)   I know one of these kids and in fact she is in Grace's grade.  This explains so much!  She is very serious and kind of a control freak.  It's probably her way of dealing with her insane mother.  Whoa. 

I am off to hide in the dark of my room and watch some television.  I don't want to have to think right now.  My head might explode.  xxoo me

It's not a day for man nor beast!  It's rained so much, the low areas look like rice paddies.  Good day to stay home and recover from a wee bit of exaggeration last night.  We went to dinner at an old friend's house out in the wine region.   R is a real renaissance man.  He knows a little bit about every topic, he studied Classics, he plays the piano, sings, he's a fantastic cook and dresses like an English country gentleman.  Even as a young guy he wore wool buttoned vests and ties on all occasions.  He has had about 10 careers, from door to door air conditioner salesman to hotel owner.  He's successful at everything for a year or two and then gets bored and moves on to something else.  When we lived here the first time around he had a wonderful restaurant that was our favorite weekend haunt.  We could tell it was coming to the end of a good thing when he spent a Saturday night watching a football match instead of in the restaurant dining-room.  Now he works for a customs office and remarkably has been there for some years.  Anyhow, he cooked us an amazing dinner with stuffed pasta in mushroom sauce, wild boar cooked with pears, carrots and zucchini, and lots and lots of wine.  His uncle shot the boar, many of which live in the wooded areas around the vineyards.  The boars, not uncles.  R entertained us with stories all evening which got progressively hilarious with each bottle of wine.  Fun was had by all.  (Not that I'm encouraging drinking mind you.  Not with all the pickled apples on our family tree!)  This is what really struck me however.  R had an accident last week where he hit a guardrail.  As he is covered only by liability, he'd have to pay a bundle to repair his car.  But being Italy, he asked around and found a friend who "knows a guy".  This person is a mechanic with an auto body shop who sets up fake accidents.  He finds a customer who is willing to take the blame for an "accident", does what needs to be done to the cars for the insurance photos, charges the insurance company 3 times more than he normally would and splits the profit the "guilty" driver.  R gets his car repaired at no cost and everyone is happy.  Serious insurance fraud and the way of the world here.  In Italy it's very important to "know a guy".  Everyone does.  Except me.  GP always asks, "don't you know a guy who...?".  Nope.  In the States, as far as I know, that kind of guy exchange doesn't happen.  At least not in my world.  I felt like I'd been transported to the set of The Sopranos listening to them talk last night.  I said, "Since when do you know GUYS!?"  And lovely poetry quoting, ballad singing R answers, "Oh I know guys alright.  Or at least guys who know guys."   Gadzooks!  xxoo me

So, what do you think would happen to the radio station in the US that played a song making fun of "Little People"?  A song that has a line, and I quote, "because your heart is too close to your asshole".  Little bit of lawsuit maybe?  There are no defamation laws or libel laws here.  Or not that anyone enforces.  There is practically no attention paid to minority rights groups, (unless they are immigrants).  Handicapped people are still hidden away and people still use derogatory terms for races and genders.  (Have I mentioned that my lovely, warmhearted mother-in-law still calls blacks "Moors"?)  So back to the song.   I was driving to the tennis club to pick up Grace this afternoon and turned on the radio, which is rare for me because I like to drive in silence.  Good think time as I have so few occasions to be alone, squished as we are into a 4 room apartment and surrounded by 500 screaming children all day.  I digress, excuse me.  Most music here is the same stuff we listen to in the US.  American and British musicians rule the airwaves.  And most Italian pop music doesn't interest me, so I tune it out.  I was planning dinner when the above mentioned line was sung and I literally, sat up and listened.  The song is about a dwarf, midget, little person, vertically challenged individual, whatever, who becomes a prosecutor in order to get back at all the people who had teased him growing up.  Weird but not unusual.  There are a lot of comic singers on the roles of Italian entertainers.  Most are just amazingly stupid as Italian humor is pretty lowbrow, but some are very offensive.  I'd say this one falls in the offensive category.  I remember a song from the '80's that said something like, "a hen is an animal that is not intelligent".  I'd say the guy who wrote that song is an animal that is not intelligent.  GP and friends love it.  It's that Italian humor thing.  Off to make dinner.  xxoo me

We're getting ready for winter though it's still in the 50's and 60's.  We bought our flu shots at a pharmacy on Sunday and stopped by the mother-in-law's place so she could shoot us up!  Most families have a shot-giver amongst them as doctors don't give shots unless requested and paid.  (It's not part of their explicit duties.)  The elderly and infirm can have nurses come to their homes but most people find a friend or kin.  Amalia is popular.  She injects people all over town.  Years ago when she took on the responsibility she would practice on grapefruits. She especially likes bums.  She gives them a good slap before the needle goes in and says you don't feel a thing.  (I get mine in the arm.)  She's pretty good, though she did get my bone this time and I have a painful lump.  Tonight we put on our snow tires which are real overkill as it maybe snows an inch a year here.  We only need them if we go in the mountains.  By law however, we have to have them on by November 15th so there you go.  Other winter plans include planning where to go for the holidays.  Christmas day will of course be spent with Amalia but we still have 10 days off after that.  Last year I chose Morocco so this year the choice is GP's.  That means cold.  Damn.  Good thing we have snow tires... 
xxoo me

My new cuckoo clock!

This is how the argument between mother and son upstairs ended today.  She had been, as per her usual, harassing him endlessly about making a mess when he had finally had enough and yelled, "Stop vexing me with these rhetorical questions!."  (This kid is eight)  She then whacked him for being disrespectful.  He stomped off into his room but before slamming the door he said, "And I would  never have thought to have a mother who would hit me!"  They are a very theatrical family.  It's like living under a highbrow soap opera.  xxoo me

Germany: The final installment:  (Ooooo.. just like Star Wars!)

Our last full day was Friday and our friends took us to a wine region along the Rhine about 40 minutes away.  We visited a couple of cute little towns and a lookout over the river where a huge statue called Niederwalddenkmal - try saying that 3 times fast! (It is "Germania" the female representative of Germany)  was erected after a war between France and Germany in the late 1800's.  She looks like a very butch Statue of Liberty.  It is pretty impressive.  On the way home we stopped for a late lunch and a look at a monastery where parts of the film "Name of the Rose" were filmed.  The monks produce wine and beer which of course we partook of in their restaurant.  That evening was Halloween, a holiday that has only recently been celebrated in Germany, brought to the country by Americans.  They certainly don't take it as seriously as we do but the little kids were excited and B took them to the US base to Trick-or-Treat.  Non-Americans are permitted onto the residential part of the base but not inside the houses (?), so the families there had set up tables and spooky displays on their lawns so the German kids could participate.  They came home with bags full of crap and we all sat outside around a fire and drank mulled wine.  All of B &P's friends speak English, and well.  Even the children could converse with me. The US really has to get on top of this language thing.  We are seriously being left behind.

View over the Rhine.

Germania

Monastery

Water trough for dogs.  Says "Hund" with a "P" for parking and a place to tie them up!

All in all it was a nice trip, especially seeing my Germans again.  But to be honest I'd rather travel somewhere warmer and sunnier and maybe a little more exotic.  Germany really doesn't feel very foreign.  In that modern, busy, wealthy part of the country there are so many similarities with The States.  We went into a pharmacy one day and I could swear I was in Walgreens!  xxoo me

Last night we invited my mother-in-law for dinner.  She brought it.  As in dinner.  Everything from appetizers to dessert.  I only provided the wine and the bread.  I should probably be incredibly insulted as her opinion of my cooking must be pretty low but to be honest it works for me.  I got a great dinner, didn't have to cook and didn't even have to change out of my sweats! 

Anyhow...back to Germany.

Part three:  Directly across the street from one of the entrances to the US base is an organic farm that raises animals and grows produce that they sell on premises.  There is a bakery, a butcher, a dairy shop and a vegetable shop all located in lovely converted barns.  The animals they raise can be visited and petted which is sweet until you walk into the butcher's and realize that the cute little bunny you named Petey will be trussed up under these glass counters some day soon.  It's a bit disconcerting.   The bakery is frickin' amazing and it was all I could do not to buy everything in the place.  I settled for a humongous apple fritter type of thing.  We went with the sole purpose of buying a pumpkin for Halloween and left with bags of food.  Not Petey.

I need a haircut and I was cold, OK?!

In the afternoon we drove the girls into Frankfurt where they had a concert to go to and B and I wandered the city all evening, drinking beer and eating ridiculously heavy, gaseous food.  Frankfort's main square is beautiful, with a huge pink "Romer", the city hall, dominating it.  It really looks like a frosted cookie.

Frankfort by night

xxoo me

Part 2:  Wiesbaden is a beautiful city with 250,000 plus citizens and an American army base that houses another 5,000 or so.  As GP would so politely say, "It stinks of money".  It's in an area where you can't drive more than 30 minutes without running into another prosperous little, or in the case of Frankfurt, not so little, city.  It's highly touristic, houses a US base and it's the center for many German companies.  But the city maintains a wonderful charm.  The architecture is fabulous with older buildings of wood and plaster (Neo-Gothic??) and Classical and Belle Epoch all tossed in together.  It was once a famous spa destination and in fact there are still some spas functioning.  Hot springs run all under the city so there are fountains that spurt scalding water into the air and steaming manholes all over the place.  Kinda freaky.  The town center is in a hollow, like the bottom of a teacup, with five valleys leading up into the hills around it.  Each hill neighborhood has it's own character.  Some areas are very austere and elegant and remind me of Kennsington in London.  Others are mainly brick and granite and are more like Back Bay in Boston.  There are hundreds of incredible mansions that I can't imagine heating and neighborhoods of smaller, old traditional houses that look like they come out of a fairy tale.  In the center we went to a famous Cuckoo clock shop where I played American tourist and a very old, very beautiful Viennese style cafe' where we stopped for cake and coffee.  As I found in Austria, the cakes look better than they taste.  The bread however is another story.  Germany has the best breads anywhere.  Bread with nuts and seeds and grains and apples and spices.  Gad it's good.  That plus the beer tightened the jeans a wee bit.

Here are a few of my favorite houses.

The city literally abounds with these beauties.  Ah well.  They do have to put up with the weather.  xxoo me

The "Golden Church", an orthodox Russian church on the hilltop over Wiesbaden

View from the hills looking down on the city of Wiesbaden

Called "The White House" built by wealthy local for his American wife in early 1900's

Giant cuckoo clock around window of a local shop

Wonderful window display of oldest cafe' in Wiesbaden

Enjoying our pastries is aforementioned cafe'!

I bought a Cuckoo Clock!!  And all the Germans laughed at me until I pointed out that the walls of their home are lined with lovely wooden masks from Africa and their shelves are covered in knickknacks bought in Thailand and Australia.  That shut'em up.  So we are back from our 4 day trip to Germany.  It was a lot of fun but I'm glad to be home where occasionally the sun shines.  Damn is the Rhine Valley a damp, mossy, gray part of the world!  It's the land of Gnomes and Riesling and automobiles.

Part 1:  We left by car on Tuesday, an eight hour drive, and stopped in Vevey, Switzerland to lunch with Bette who worked with me in the library last year.  Let me just say that she made the right decision to move there.  It is GORGEOUS!  It's a small city, not far from Lucerne, on lake Genevra.  It was sunny and warm and it's so clean you could eat off the sidewalks.  Ok, maybe not, but almost!.  The long lakefront walk is lined with trees, including palms because of it's micro-climate that keeps it temperate all year.  Across the lake stand "the Alps in all their majesty" and Evian, France where the overpriced spring water comes from.  Bette's apartment is big and airy with views out every window.  (Of course being Switzerland it also costs over $3,000 bucks a month but salaries are quite high.)  There is public art in every park and along the lakefront and seating built into the stones along the waterfront for picnickers.  I loved it and I'll definitely go back when I can spend some more time and have saved a lot of money....

Giant Fork in the lake

Statue of Charlie Chaplin, a local boy

The lakeside goes on for miles

Grace and Paula on Bette's balcony.

More later.  xxoo me

Geesh what a depressing day.  It's grey and chilly and dull, a perfect cemetery day.  In fact I took the mother-in-law to the cemetery to prepare the family tomb for November 1st, All Saint's Day.  We moved some big potted plants around then swept and scrubbed the marble.  There were all sorts of folks there doing the same thing.  Families hide brooms and brushes under the slabs and behind planters.  The cemeteries have faucets and racks lined with watering pots, trash cans and organic recycling bins.  Very organized.  I got the lowdown on all of the neighboring tombs.  Who uses plastic flowers,(tacky), who puts out colorful or modern displays, (also tacky), who neglects their tombs, (very bad), and who does a nice job with the upkeep, (good).  Some family tombs are no longer tended because there is no one alive willing or able to do it.  After fifty years their contract runs out.  If it isn't renewed the bones are moved to an "ossario", or bone storage place, and the tomb is given to another family.  Creepy.  There are a lot of strange rules governing these cemeteries.  A non family member cannot be buried in a tomb without first appealing to the town administration.  The family whose tomb it is, has to submit letters saying why they want to let the outsider in.  I think one should be able to stick whomever one pleases in the family box!  I'm sure not going in there.  No trees, no grass, foreigners one and all.....

On the drive home the fields had all been cut back and plowed.  A huge hawk flew right across my windshield.  He was hunting over the stubble left from the corn harvest.  Poor little field-mice!  When I got here I called our accountant in Maine.  She is number three and hopefully the one who will dig us out of this mess.  It's been a year since this tax stuff all started and I am sincerely tired of it!  We leave for Germany early tomorrow morning.  Auf Wiedersehen!  xxoo me

My Germans are here!  Das ist gut!  They are down this-a-way visiting through Tuesday and then Grace and I are driving to Wiesbaden, near Frankfurt, to visit with them for four days.  We leave early Tuesday morning, stop for lunch in Vevey Switzerland to visit with Betty, my library colleague from last year, then continue on for another 5 hours or so.  The trip takes around eight hours if we drive straight through.   I'm very excited!  I haven't seen them yet as they're staying with another German family in the city.  We're meeting tomorrow for lunch and shopping and then Paula, Grace's friend, comes back here with us.  Monday night Birgit and her son, Jaro,  are also sleeping here.  They have to camp out on the floor which will not be very comfortable but we want to leave early and have no other space for them.  I'm looking forward to a week off and a trip away.  It's been a rather intense fall.

It is now Saturday night and I've just come back from visiting with the Germans, bringing Paula, Grace's friend, back with me.   I didn't realize how much I missed them until I had them here again.  There are certain people in your life that just make you feel safe and comfortable.  This family has that effect on me.  They are warm and cuddly.  Tomorrow is a walk in the mountains followed by dinner out.  Then off to Deuctshland!  Oh boy!  xxoo me

The Bora has come, the Bora has come!  The Bora is a type of strong wind that comes from the east, over the Adriatic Sea.  This is the first really clear day since we've been back and it's because it's blowing like mad.  I love it.  The locals hate it.  It is so rarely windy here and today it's "knock your hat off and chase it down the street" windy.   When it blows like this here, there are serious problems in northeastern Italy.  The strongest winds hit Trieste, a city at the upper tip of the Adriatic.  The streets in Trieste are lines with ropes and chains so that pedestrians don't get whipped out to sea.  The roofs are covered in heavy stones so tiles aren't turned into projectile weapons.  I've never been but would love to see it.

At work we have a flummoxing problem.  Three times now, my colleague in the library has found large footprints on the toilet seat in the handicap stall of our bathroom.  This is why we are flummoxed.  The footprints face the wall.  A squatter would face out.  There is nothing on the wall or ceiling to entice a person to stand up on the seat.  I feel like Nancy Drew in " The Case of the Footprints on the Toilet Seat".  We run back and forth a few times a day to see if the prints are back, trying to figure out who is leaving them.  Once we figure out who, we can ask the why!  Work can be a little slow sometimes...

xxoo me

GP’s car was broken into last night.  Usually he parks in the garage, whereas I park my car in a space on the street.  Last night he also left his out on the street.  Silly man.  The very first night we spent in our condo, 150 years ago, GP was too tired to move his car into the garage.  When we woke up in the morning it was gone.   It was found a week later abandoned along the side of a back road, with a missing battery.  I hope at this point he has learned his lesson and never parks on the road again.  He has bad luck.   He also has a nicer car than the ones left out in the elements, like mine.  The vandals smashed the side window and made a mess but took nothing as there was nothing to take.  What a drag. 

I have to say I am getting profoundly sick of the crime around here.   These are just some of the recent stories I've heard.


My colleague, Grace’s Bio teacher, who lives in an independent house, (the most vulnerable type),  has been here a year.  In that year, they’ve been broken into 3 times. The first time they stole electronics.  The second time, only a couple weeks later, they were angry that there was nothing valuable, (the Devil's Spawn having already visited), so they stole all of their winter clothes and pooped in all their bathrooms.  Yup, you heard that right.  I’m not sure what happened the 3^rd time. Then just 2 weeks ago, she was getting her baby out of the car at the preschool across the street when a thief did a “smash and grab” of her bag and drove off in a waiting car.   The family is German.   She doesn’t need to be here.  I’m surprised they haven’t packed up and left.

Another colleague failed to shut her safety shutters in her 3^rd floor apartment.  She and her hubby went out for a pizza and came back to a ransacked house.  The thieves had scrambled up the pipes on the outside of the building.

Italians tend to blame the Gypsies and Eastern Europeans but often as not the thieves are Italian drug addicts or petty criminals.  I know the police caught the poopers and they were a gang of Italians.  The sentiment of unease is constant.  Whether remembering to put my purse on the floor behind the seat in the car because at traffic lights people smash in car windows and grab bags off front seats, (two friends), or carrying a purse on the side towards the buildings on a sidewalk because motorcyclists drive by and wrench bags off women's shoulders, (friend of mother-in-law broke her hip from the fall).  You always have to be vigilant.  A gypsy stole Grace's 3 euros change from her train ticket out of the slot in the ticket machine, (Gypsies stand beside these machines begging and obviously thought Grace was an easy target), and an acquaintance's daughter has had her phone ripped out of her hand while texting, not once but twice!  OK, so she's not so bright, but still....

I'm off to lock my windows and doors before going to bed.  xxoo me

This is the underbelly of the church where Aldo's funeral masses were held.  It was open for public viewing yesterday so we peeked in as we'd heard so many stories about it.  During the war, the area around Carignano was subject to allied bombings, not because it had anything to bomb, but because  Fiat factories were being used to build cannons and tanks for the German military.  The Fiat factories were in an area of Torino called Lingotto which is at least 10 miles away but, unfortunately for Carignano, the bombers at that time were not very accurate.  GP's parents were children during the war and remember hiding in the basement of the church during bomb raids.  Families would claim a space and keep mattresses and blankets stored there.  Children were tucked into the arched alcoves off to the sides as the ceilings in those areas had extra support.  Amalia said that some nights they'd be awoken twice, dragged out of bed to run down the streets to the church.  The people who lived outside the town center would leave their homes and hide down along the river bank.  The children thought it was quite an adventure but somehow I think the adults not so much.  xxoo me

The "month anniversary of the funeral mass" was tonight.  The funeral itself was very emotional with Grace on one side sobbing and Amalia on the other weeping, so I didn't really have the chance to look around.  This time I had a good look and the church is quite impressive.  It's very ornate with gold gilt everywhere, ten foot high candle sticks, gorgeous painted dome and murals.  There are gigantic statues of saints or some biblical figure or another in alcoves all around the perimeter.  Huge crystal chandeliers hang down on either side of the main alter.  It's something to see.  The alter area is so large it has three pulpits though the two smaller ones are more like stands, albeit gilt ornate stands.  Apart from the priest, lay people read passages from scripture all through the service.  The space is so big it was like biblical "Where's Waldo?"  Every time someone started speaking I had to search all over the front of the church to find them.  After the service, we took my mother-in-law out to dinner.  There are 25 pizzerias within a mile radius of our place.  We choose one we hadn't tried before and it was wonderful.  Pizza places here run the gamut from take-away to white table cloths and crystal wine glasses.  This place was closer to the latter.  I had spaghetti with tiny clams cooked with garlic, parsley and white wine.  Wonderful.  Tomorrow is the walk and BBQ at school, the another weekend gone!  xxoo me

Finally!  I thought this week would never end.  I probably say that every Friday but this one was really epically long because I've had a lousy cold.  My mother-in-law would say that something blocked my digestion or that I sat by an open window but I assure you it was one of those runny nosed little chillin at school who insist on touching me.  (There is one pre-K tyke who pats my head and says "carina" over and over.  It means "cute".  He also has temper tantrums every lesson when I won't read Simba.  We don't have Simba.  I think there's something wrong with him which would explain the head patting thing.)  I need a nap but undoubtedly the second I lie down THE NEIGHBORS will come home and start vacuuming or worse.  Anyhow I have things to do.  I have to iron a dress.  Tomorrow is the second funeral mass for my father-in-law.  They'll have one every month for a year but after this one my obligations are done.  There's only so much incense, repetitive prayers and uncomfortable seating I can handle.  Sunday is the Istathon, the 4.5 kilometer walk/run behind the school followed by a BBQ.  I've skipped all other school events outside of school hours so far this year, so I really should attend.  Plus there's food.

I was right.  I had just closed my eyes and THEY came home.  Today the kid's a Ninja.  In his bedroom right above my head.  I am plagued by children.  xxoo me

Damn them foul, sneaky bastards! They've tricked me!  Lured me in with two years of blue skies, breezes, mountain views, only to return to grey, grey and more grey.  This is the weather that depressed the hell out of me when we lived here in the 80's.  Damp, grey and hot or damp, grey and cool, or damp, grey and cold.  My laundry has been hanging up in the bedroom with the air conditioner on dehumidify for two days and it's still not dry!  Everything smells slightly moldy and I swear there are mushrooms growing somewhere in the apartment....  The past has taught me that the only way to escape is to go up to the mountains or down to the sea.  The entire Po Valley - the flatland that follows the Po river from the base of the mountains all the way to the Adriatic - is one soggy mess, and will stay so until spring.  Gah. 

All the wet weather has caused terrible floods in Genova, Parma and other areas.  The heavy autumn rains run down the over-built hillsides towards the sea, taking mud and detritus with them.  Mudslides took out roads and killed a dozen or so people.  Every few years this happens.  The canals that take the runoff need to be reinforced and enlarged, and though the monies to remedy the problem are there,in typical Italian style, everything is held up by red tape.  The companies that lost the bid to do the work sued the government saying that the winning company paid bribes to get the work.  That's undoubtedly true but 10 years and a couple floods later the people in these affected areas are getting seriously pissed off.  Can't say that I blame them. 

Off to empty out my bucket that collects the water from the dehumidifier.  Then I will crawl between my hopefully dry sheets and pray for a sunny day.  xxoo me

My blue-haired girl went to Milan yesterday with a friend.  It was an accreditation day at school so the students didn't need to attend.  They took the train up in the morning, shopped and ate all day, and came back yesterday evening.  I was fine, but her Italian buddy's parents messaged every hour, gave her emergency contact friends in the city, and even insisted that she send screen shots of where they were sitting or the shops they were in.  Talk about hovering.  Italian parents are soooo coddling!  I've heard horror stories of mothers still bathing their 12 year old sons in the women's showers of our local pool.  There are 3rd and 4th graders who can't tie their own shoes because mommy always does it.  When they ask me to tie their shoes I say "NO!".  It was getting so bad at school with mothers refusing to leave the premises each morning, that a new rule, "kiss and fly!", has had to be implemented.  It's ridiculous.  I had lunch with an old girlfriend yesterday who has a 24 year old son still at home.  He doesn't go to school because he doesn't want to study and doesn't work because he can't find something that's just right.  His parents are constantly making excuses for him.  Poor thing.  I asked why she didn't kick him out and she said he's still just a child.  Everybody has heard of the Italian mamma's boys who live at home until they are married, when the wife takes over for mamma.  Well it's worse than I thought!  It's girls too!  Our next door neighbors have their college grad at home.  Mom washes, and cooks, and irons for her while she sleeps all day and goes out with friends in the evenings.  I understand the costs of independent living and the lack of jobs.  (The economy here stinks.)  But really!  Have some pride and wash your own undies!  When I mention that I am permitting Grace to meet a friend in London for a few days this spring I think my Italian friends will have conniptions.  How will she change her socks without me?  xxoo me

My Baby!

Yesterday I started my new "get in shape and pain-free" routine.  I started Pilates in the morning which I'll do at the school twice a week and I had a "hands on" healing in the afternoon for my chronically sore hip.  The healer thing is way out there for my cynical self but I'm willing to give anything noninvasive a shot.  The gal who does this is a colleague who needs guinea pigs in order to get her license.  She's been studying and practicing for 10 years and swears by it, so What the Hell?  I found it very relaxing as all I had to do is lie there with my eyes closed while she "moved energy" into me.  She looked at me expectantly after the session but I felt nothing alas.  Instead of energy I practically fell asleep but I must say I slept better than usual last night!  I told her I am a tough nut to crack and lets give it some time and a few more sessions.  Am I supposed to feel guilty about not being cured?  Hmmmm.

Our Pilates instructor is a pretty youngin' from Brazil who came with her husband, the new Gym teacher at the school.  Our headmaster found him playing soccer on the beach when vacationing this summer and scooped him up.  (This in itself is another story for another time.  All speculation of course.)  So anywho, they are a lovely couple of Italian descent.  He speaks Italian and she is picking it up so our lessons are a mix Italian/Portuguese.   They are some of the few Italians who come back for more than just a visit!  Where the US is a country on immigrants, Italy is a country of emigrants.  Huge numbers of Italians left between the late 1800's and post WWI and then again post WWII.  Southern Italians headed north to the US and Canada.  Northern Italians headed south to Brazil, Argentina and Uruguay.  The mafia set up a retirement community in Santos Domingo and the people from Veneto all went to Australia.  That's an over simplification but pretty accurate.  Whereas the people who emigrated to North America and Australia did well and improved their lot in life, those that moved to South American weren't necessarily so lucky.  GP's Great Aunt (or Great-Great?) went to Argentina sometime between the wars and had a son who looked just like my father-in-law.  Years ago GP was there on business and visited Mingo and his wife who he said were living in dire conditions.  From that point on the family here would send them funds to keep their heads above water.  When they both passed away, Mingo's mother's jewels, three pairs of earring from the 20's I'm guessing, were returned to Italy and the only living heir, Aldo.  The other evening at dinner, these earrings were handed on to me and will obviously, eventually, go to Grace.  When I think of the road they've taken I'm rather humbled.  xxoo me

Gaaaahhhh!!!!  I just got home, an hour later than I should have, because got lost twice trying to find my way back from Grace's new tennis lesson location.  The last two years she has had lessons at a charming but shabby little club in the hills.  Spectacular views, unpretentious and 10 minutes from home.  It was great.  For reasons unbeknownst to me, some quarrel or another, Giorgio the coach has moved his lessons to another club farther away.  This club is very nice with fencing grounds and pool and bar and restaurant and and and.  It is 50 Euro more a year which is no big deal but it's a royal pain in the ass to get back from.  I can get there.  I just can't get back.  The club is in Pino which is a obscenely expensive suburb of Torino, connected by a tunnel that runs under the hills.  It's tiny in area, built on the steep slopes of the upper hills overflowing with about 9,000 stinking rich inhabitants.  Because it is soooo desired, homes and apartment buildings are packed into these hills like sardines and there are literally hundreds of narrow, windy roads twisting and turning and looping back on themselves or dead-ending or just going on and on and on.  While getting to Pino is easy because as the saying goes, "All roads lead to Rome, Pino", getting back out is next to impossible.  Imagine a plate of spaghetti.  In the middle is a meatball.  All the pieces of spaghetti end at the meatball but start all the Hell all over the place!  I've driven there twice now and have tried to memorize the road I came in on but can't for the life of me find it again to go back.  Of course there are no signs as that would make sense.  I turned up 20 different roads thinking, "This is THE ONE!"  It wasn't.  At one intersection there was an enormous truck trying to turn into a teeny road where unfortunately another driver was exiting.  There was no way either of them could back up so our entire row of cars coming in from still another road all had to reverse out to let the truck-blocking car in.  Driving here is freaking ridiculous.  She better turn into a damn good tennis player......

xxoo me

Check out this video. 

http://player.vimeo.com/video/70776419

This is also Italy in a nutshell.   xxoo me

My daughter's hair is blue and we went to the sea yesterday.   The only connection between those two statements is that she had her hair dyed while we were at the sea and actually, now that I think about it, the hair blue matches the color of the water at the beach perfectly.  If you drive directly south from Torino for an hour you get to Savona, a large ugly port city on the Ligurian coast.  From there you head west along the Via Aurelia, (the 2000 year old road built by the ancient Romans to help them with their world conquering), and after 15 minutes you come to Noli.  Noli is where GP's parents used to take him for their summer holidays when he was a child and it's one of the first places he took me when I came to Italy.  It's a charming little town with nice beaches, turquoise water, streets meandering up into the hills and a great castle hovering over it all.   It is also one of the last villages on this touristic coast with a healthy fishing industry.  Fishermen leave at sundown with large gas lights attached to the sterns of their wooden boats.  The lights attract the fish which they scoop up in big nets.   In the mornings the fishermen pull their boats up onto the beach and sell their catch at the open air market built right on the waterfront promenade.  When we arrived yesterday at 9:30 the last of the fish was being wrapped up and carted off.  Noli has a long history and back in the day it was part of Genova's Maritime Republic.  There are all sorts of wonderful old buildings, towers and squares and the best gelato shop ever.   I love it.

fishing boats on beach

the castle ramparts climb up the hills behind

cool building

beachfront promenade

We spent the entire day sleeping in the sun and swimming.  The water was incredibly clear and the temperature perfect.   I didn't want to leave.  I had to get in one last day of summer as the autumn rains should start soon.  They've been predicting rain for the last week but obviously it hasn't happened yet.


We got home in time to change and head out again.  We had dinner with another couple at a new restaurant/cocktail bar owned by an old friend.  I wanted it to be really good for their sake but it was rather disappointing.  Thankfully they did have a good selection of wines so all was not lost.  Didn't get home till after 1 o'clock and that's way past my bedtime.  Early night tonight!

I don't mind the blue hair at all by the way.  Xxoo me

This is Italy in a nutshell.   A colleague recently had her credit card information stolen.  Her Italian bank contacted her and said they had put a block on the card and gave her a list of suspicious expenditures which she confirmed were not hers.  Had this been in the US it would have pretty much ended there.  But no!  She then had to go to the local police station to report the crime.  She lives in the next town over from us, Troffarello.  Troffarello, though a town of 30,000+ people, only keeps its police and town offices open in the morning.  (cause no crimes are committed after lunch apparently) As this was impossible for her, she went to the police in our town after school.  There she took a number, waited for an hour or more whilst 3 employees drank coffee and discussed tomato sauce.  She finally got in to see an officer who took her report, writing by hand all the illegal charges made on her card.  He then stamped it a few times and told her to take it to the bank.  Mind you this is the same info the bank had sent her, which is how she had it in the first place.  But now it had pretty stamps!  Then the bank said she had to cut her card in half, take a picture of it, and send the photo to them.  This selfsame card they had just cancelled so it couldn’t have been used anyhow.  (Trust no one is the Italian motto.  Not even yourselves!)  Back and forth, back and forth.  Italy is redundancy taken to the highest power.   xxoo me

Cow transport

Lovely, lovely day.  We left the haze and smog about 20 miles off the highway at Pinerolo and headed up into gorgeous blue sky and a soft breeze.  There were still a lot of mountain flowers blooming; wild Bachelor Buttons, Salvia, funny little Crocus things, Yarrow and Pin Cushions.  It was also moving day for the cows left to wander the mountains for summer vacation.  We didn't see many but could hear the herds as they all wear huge bells around their necks so as not to get lost.  They sounded like brass bands passing beneath us.  We had a glimpse of one small herd walking slowly along down the mountain paths.  The cows are heading back to their winter quarters in the countryside outside of Torino to make wonderful cheeses for me.  Walking was a little hazardous because there were cow patties everywhere.  I mostly managed to avoid them but did stomp in a nice big one just as we were getting to the "refugio" , (hut), where we stop and eat lunch.  My boots are now drying out on the balcony.

Outside the hut

When we go to the mountains, GP always wears orange and carries an orange backpack so that should he fall in a ravine he'll be seen by the rescue helicopter.  I will blend in with the background and die a miserable, lonely death.

?

 We noticed this porta potty in the almost dry riverbed on the way back down the mountain.  Dunno.

On the road home we stopped to pick up a couple things at the Eataly in Pinerolo.  If one has never heard of Eataly check this out:  http://www.eataly.com/

Eataly is an experience.  The first store was opened in Torino in 2007.  The owner lives in the wine region hereabouts and sells only the top quality, locally made products.  I could spend a whole lotta time and money in these shops.  We stopped because it's one of the few places we can find fresh, spinach pasta which we plan on serving tomorrow at lunch to Nonna.  This next week is their town's Patron Saint's Day and a special lunch is a big deal.  The baton has been passed on to me now that Aldo is gone.

self explanatory

I'm now off to do some cleaning for the mother-in-law tomorrow.  She may be old but she has eyes like a hawk.  ooxx me

Check out this car we followed out of the school parking lot.  Grace said the driver was Caceres, a Juventus soccer player who has a young son at the school.   That car costs more than my two houses put together.  Geesh.

left my little natural gas Chevy in the dust

Tomorrow, GP and I are going up to the mountains for a hike.  It is a much needed reprieve for us.  For GP it's a break from all the stress and late hours related to his father's passing.  For me it's a break from the flipping smog.  The air quality here has been awful.  Torino is always on the list of most air-polluted cities in Europe, having one of the highest concentrations of cars per capita.  The past two years have not been too bad, but this fall is different.  There has been no wind to clear away the haze and the sky has been grey and heavy.  Even sunny days have bothered my eyes and throat.  But being the considerate person that I am I haven't bitched about it, (as I normally do), as GP has enough on his plate.  Grace is going to a friend's house to study for upcoming PSATs.  Sadly, there is no irony in that "study".  Sometimes I wonder if I'm a bad mother because I want my daughter to go out there and have some fun.  She has classmates who have a wild old time, having sex in school bathrooms and sneaking drugs across international borders during field-trips, so I am grateful that she is such a good kid but....  maybe it's just that living vicariously through our children thing.  I'll have to ponder.  xxoo me