Friday, July 30, 2010


I'd like to write more right now, but I'm busy...

Saturday, July 24, 2010

The proctology of knitting

So here's the thing, when a person can knit or crochet people who can not knit or crochet ask the knitter/crocheter to make them stuff.

I'm not really sure why this is.

Maybe it's the equivalent of doctors at dinner parties who hear "so you're a doctor? Do you mind me asking, I've been having this pain..."

And it doesn't matter what sort of stuff you knit, they will invariably ask for something you hate knitting. It doesn't really matter that everything you create is extra bulky knit on turkey basters needles, they'll ask you knit a lace shawl with silk.

"So, you're a proctologist. Interesting. I've been having these headaches lately, could it be a brain tumor?"

Mette has recently been hit. To protect the guilty party, let's just call this person, um, Helga. So Helga asked Mette to make her this


"Yeah. It's probably a brain tumor."

Just in case any of you are considering asking Mette to make you something in the's what she does like to knit.

Ain't that a beauty?

Monday, July 19, 2010

The News from Mount Webeengonealongtime

Lots going on here on the Mountain.

1. You know that not so fresh feeling? Well, let me tell you that I have the OPPOSITE of that. I have the OH SO FRESH feeling. How is that possible in 100 degree heat with 95% humidity, you'd like to know? Well, let me tell you. I've scrubbed and bleached and painted all my hidden parts. Week 10 of project 20/20 (I hate that's just this constant reminder that I have so far to go, anyway...) is done. No one knows but me (and now all of you guys) that the floors and walls behind my fridge, my oven, every shelf, couch and table are now snow white and mold and dog hair free.

It's enough that I know. It really can give a girl that oh so fresh feeling.



2. The orto ripened it's first tomato. I couldn't be prouder. Well, yeah, actually I could be prouder. It's a roma tomato and it's the size of my thumb...the size of my thumb minus that big meaty part that attaches the thumb to the rest of the hand, that is. You know, the part of the thumb that is really thin, with the nail and the knuckle. Yeah, that's the size of my first tomato. Here, I'll show you...

Should I be feeding them something besides water, you know, to fatten 'em up a little? I'm not really going to get a nice caprese salad out of that sucker.

3. Friends, we are so close now.

That's our water meter. A water meter - as in, there will be so much water coming that someone some where wants to keep track of it. As in, even if it doesn't rain we get water. As in, WATER ON DEMAND! As in, a shower with pressure that isn't determined by how high this

is in relation to the house (I do very much appreciate gravity as a basic principle, I just don't like relying on it for my water pressure).

So, like, in theory, we should have city water some time soon. After that meter and the main line are attached to the house, of course. Yeah, who am I kidding. Anyone want to place bets as to whether this city water is flowing into Casa Cornwell by Christmas? Yeah, probably not, but we are one step closer.

4. A package has arrived in Maberga. This is surely news because they don't always.

Check it out. It came all the way from Boulder, Colorado from Mike. Thanks, Mike!

Perhaps some of you are confused about why I get a package every year from Mike with a poster of a sexy woman sitting with some cars. Let me explain. You see, Mike and I had a common love. Here she is (looking a hell of a lot better being in Mike's hands than she ever did in mine)...

She was mine for a brief period, then Mike bought her from me when I moved to Italy. She's a high maintenance lover, let me tell you. I couldn't afford to take her with me to italy and, in the end, Mike couldn't afford to keep her running. (In case some of you don't recognize this famous car - it's a 1960 Fiat 600 - that makes her 50 this year, mechanic bills for a 50 year old car are significant, even if it's a FIAT...or should I say, especially when it's a FIAT). So each year, Mike and I share in a little nostalgia when he participates in the Denver Italian car show called the Automezzi. Thanks again, Mike. And here's to Little Blue...may she be getting all her needs met with her new owner.

5. The African Flower patch continue to grow...

Check out that flower tower! It's way bigger than my thumb, even with the meaty part that attaches to the hand. What's the lesson here?

Well, that's all the news from here where the tomatoes are small, the walls are clean, and the hope for running water is way above average (and probably reality).

Monday, July 12, 2010


So, he stops in front of the house and beeps.


It's Still-in-PJs o'clock when he hollers. He's already done a couple of hours of work on his land and is heading down the hill to go home and rest. He's not been well in the past year, so I know he doesn't sleep much.

"LINA!!!!" he calls again as I rush to put on something over my pjs so it doesn't look like I'm still in my pjs.

"Ciao ciao, marco!" His name isn't really Marco.

Marco has the window rolled down and is shoving a plastic bag out at me. "To. Tieni." Here, take this, he says to me.

I take the bag and tell him thank you very much, it's too nice. "troppo gentile, grazie".

It's all just a dance.

Then he says to me, keep the dogs inside tonight. And he winks.

"Si, certo". Yes, of course.

The dude is hunting off season. He comes up after dark each night hoping to catch himself some easy dinner. My dogs' barking chases the targets away. So he asks me to keep them in the house when he's here.

He used to just ask. Now we have a little dance. He gives me a bag of fruit and veg and I shut up my dogs.

I really think I'm becoming integrated in the culture.

In case anyone was wondering...wall one of the kitchen is (currently) without mold and freshly painted. Wall two is this week's project (is that week 10? am I only half way through these damn house projects?). I'm too daunted by the prospects to make a photo of it for you now, but I promise I will.

My african flower blanket is growing like a weed.

In case anyone else was wondering...the puzzle still is not done.

Friday, July 09, 2010


So the phone rings the other day. It's Mette.

M: Hi Lynn. Do you know anybody who wants some goats? 3 of them.

L: Hmmm???? I could probably make some calls. How much are they?

M: Call Augusto. They're free. They just need a new home. Two are babies and then there's the becco (billy goat). Can you tell me by tomorrow?

L: Sure. Ciao Ciao.

So I call Augusto.

A: Si? Pronto? (yeah, hello?)

L: Ciao, Augusto, sono Lina. Come stai? (Hey, Augusto, it's Lynn. How are you?)

A: Bene. Dimmi. (Fine. What do you want?)

L: Vuoi 3 capre? Ho degli amici che devono trovare un posto per le capre. Sono gratis! (do you want 3 goats? I have some friends who have to find a place for their goats. They're free!)

A: Per tenere o mi danno? (to take care of or are they giving them to me?)

L: Ti danno! (they're giving them to you).

A: Va bene. Grazie. Ciao. (Ok. Thanks. Bye)

So I call Mette.

M: Pronto (Hello?)

L: Hi Mette, Augusto wants the goats.

M: Great. We can make the arrangements for transport during our knitting date tomorrow.

L: Cool. Bye.

Remember Ambra? So Ambra is shacking up with me these days. Whilst I was phoning she was preparing some stuffed zucchini flowers for us for dinner.

When I got off the phone she stopped, looked at me and said, "I find it kind of funny that someone would call you with some goats they need to get rid of, you make another call, and you FIND someone to take the goats. You're a goat broker."

Yep. And you know what? After a tough day of goat brokering, there ain't nothing I like more than sitting down to a plate of stuffed zucchini flowers and a puzzle.

Yesterday, we closed the deal.

Monday, July 05, 2010

moldy omelets or trashy eggs

Ya know that saying, "you've gotta break some eggs to make an omelet"? Yeah, here's the Maberga version...

"you've gotta go white trash to ..." well, I don't exactly know how to finish.

Maybe it's like this "you've gotta go white trash to not actually be white trash"

Or maybe I'm thinking of something like this "you've gotta go white trash to not live in squalor"

Well, ok, enough of this verbal masturbation, here's the real deal, "you gotta move your couch to the front lawn when you discover that there is mold growing behind it".

I was sweeping in this corner last night and noticed some moisture.

Yeah, Yeah. That's the kind of nice way to say that I was sweeping for the first time in the 3 months since I moved the couch to this corner when I noticed that the mounds of dog hair coming from back there were not the fluffy mountains that I had been expecting but rather soggy, dark fur balls resembling something a cat would cough up, if the cat were the size of a cinghiale.

"hmmm, there must be some moisture back there." I said to myself.

Yep. The hot weather has hit Maberga, which, coming on the heels of a really wet winter and spring, has made my floor sweat. Thus, causing mold on the stone wall. Or maybe, since there is the same rain+heat+dirt combo behind the stone as there is below the floor, the wall is sweating too.

Have I completely destroyed every one's romantic visions of what it means to have an old stone house on the Italian Riviera yet?

Yep, House Project for week 9 (is that what week I'm in, I've totally forgotten now):


I would like to say that I'm going to clean and paint all the kitchen walls but, well, why rush through all that FUN in just one week when I can spread it through 3? Besides, this

is the easy wall. Wait 'til you see the other ones.

For my knitting this week I'm going to start (and for sure not finish) this african square blanket. Isn't crocheting a blanket the first thing you think of when your floor and walls are sweating?