Saturday, March 22, 2008

how did I miss that?

I pull over in front of the bank and double park. Put the flashers on feeling confident of not getting a ticket. It’s a small car, if someone really needs it to be moved they can just push it a little. Plus, I’m just going to the cash machine, not into the bank with it’s long lines and forever waits.

I run past the front of the bank to the side door where the cash machine is. I need to recharge my cell phone which can be done in any number of ways, my favorite being the cash machine. Of course we’re talking here about recharging the phone with money, not electricity.

I take note that the cash machine is new. Well, new to me. I don’t come to the cash machine very much. Put card in, type pin, machine rejects card.

I run to the front of the bank, check that car hasn’t been moved and doesn’t have a ticket, then insert myself into the Star Trek tube like security entrance of the bank. A bank employee beams me in. Lucky day – no other customers, no line! I wait 10 minutes for the teller to finish his conversation with his co-workers.

While waiting I look around. All the signs are different. Actually, all the signs are the same but with a different name at the top. Seems my bank has been bought or sold, probably both.

“Ciao, Mimmo.

“Ciao. Umm, Good Mooorning.” Mimmo likes to practice his English.

“La banca ha cambiato nome?” I like to practice my italian.

“Si. Umm, yes, new name. Nothing change. Maybe better.”

Hmmm, I wonder how I missed this small thing.

“Puoi farmi una promemoria?”

“Yes, balance of account. Number of account?”

“Non lo so.” I never know my account number, it’s only four numbers, I don’t know why it’s so difficult for me to remember. This coming from the girl who still remembers her home phone number and that of her best friend when she was 8. Maybe if I clear out those old numbers I could fit in those four of my bank account.

I open my wallet, shuffling through it, pretending to look for where I’ve written the number down, which of course I haven’t. Mimmo waits. I hand him my debit card.

“Puoi trovarlo con questa?”

“Yes, I can look it with that. Number of account doesn’t change but must change it - the card.”

Hmm. That’s good to know.

“Ecco. Balance of account.”

“Posso cambiare la carta adesso?”

“You want change card now? Ok.”

“Si. Sarebbe meglio, no?”

“Yes. Better with new card. Doesn’t work, old card.”

I get back in my ticketless car, turn off the flashers and head home with my new debit card from my new bank thinking how lucky it was for me that my phone ran out of money.

Tuesday, March 18, 2008


It's finished and I'm psyched.The pattern is from an old Rowan mag...It's called Tallulah by Louisa Harding.

I prefer the name given by my visiting nephew ... the Peruvian Jimi Hendrix. And I quote, "it looks like what Jimi Hendrix would wear, you know, if he were in Peru."

He might have been thinking of something like this.

Saturday, March 08, 2008

Simple pleasures

I was thinking today, while knitting on this rainy Saturday, that it really doesn’t take much to make me happy.

A nice cappuccino, for example.

Or an almost finished skinny sweater.

A new clothes dryer.

Or over 400 km on one tank of gas.

Not having parked my car next to these when they were fire bombed.

I’m really so easy to please.