Olive Knitting

So the neighbor who owns the land across the path street from us called me the other night.  Her name is Bruna.  She and her husband were the ones who  beat their heads non-stop against the bureaucratic wall for two years persistently worked with the city to get the water connection to Maberga.  As if that wasn't enough, they now have the privileged responsibility of making sure that this new system is working properly. 

So Bruna called to find out if the work that the plumber did on the tubes and other necessary bits that keep the water flowing was successful.

B:  Do you have water now?
L: YES!!!  Thank you so much. 

There was a little more chitter chatter about the tubes and the water system and then some small talk and then it was time to say goodbye.

B: Ciao Lina
L: Ciao Bruno.

No, that wasn't a typo.  I called her Bruno. BrunO not BrunA. That would be like calling a woman named Danielle Daniel....it's a subtle difference but well, actually, no.  It's a big difference. 

This wasn't the first time I've done this either.  I do it every time I speak with her and only when we are saying goodbye.  Ok, fine. It's not a big deal.  I know that Bruna knows that I know she's a woman and not a man. All the same, every interaction I have with her leaves me feeling like the biggest idiot. 

The worst part is that I have no idea why I make this mistake.  It's not like a know a plethora of BrunOs and so it just rolls off the tongue.  In fact, I only know one Bruno.

My cousin Bumpy and her husband's dog.

I don't really have anything else to add to this little vignette so I'll just end here.

HAPPY INTERNATIONAL WOMEN'S DAY to my female friends.

 Ummm, yeah.  I do know that that is a photo of David, who, is NOT a female (I don't think I've ever called him Davidina).  That's a photo of David doing what Italian tradition dictates that men do on March 8th which is, of course, climb a Mimosa tree and give the woman in their life a bouquet.