short but really sweet...

was my family's stay in Italy.

Maybe sweet is not the right adjective.  Monumental, is probably more accurate.

Let's start here...

My dad had his 72nd birthday.  It was lovely, even though my car broke down, I had a row with a toll booth operator, and was pulled over by the cops. 

Yes, all that shit is about me and not my dad....but, well, I'm not a parent but I think these thing affect them twice as much as they do the children.  You can see this in that photo above.

No, he always looks like that.

Anyway, we did this

and then a lot of this

and then some of this

Mom got to join the knitting club for a day (note that she's the only one knitting.  Mom takes her tasks seriously)

And dad got to kick Teddy's ass in cards (truly monumental.  I think it's sweet that they coordinated their outfits)

Mom taught Christine and me (mostly Christine) to make her famous chocolate/orange cheesecake

Whilst the other Wisconsinites watched the Packers....seriously, if you are from Wisconsin and can watch the Pack play while on holiday in Europe, monumental....even if they lose.

AND, are you ready?

Cousins Bumpy and Doug got engaged (ummm, they both aren't my cousins, just in case you were wondering what Wisconsin people do...for the most part cousins don't marry cousins.  Doug's not my cousin but he's been around so damn long, he's already a cousin of mine, married or not)

Yes, that is a chilly pepper on her finger.  Seriously monumental moment.  I was there, got it on video but the participants would rather I keep that shit to myself (just between you olive readers and me, check YouTube in the future)

September 2013 wedding in Maberga. Yes.  they are marrying in Maberga.  Monumental.

I'd also like to take this chance to tell you all how totally monumental my parents are. Maybe monumental isn't the right adjective, but it fits with the thread I have going here on this post.  They are sweet, loving, supportive, and really good sports about my life...however that life might be when they happen to find it.

Like, for example, my latest obsession with bikes with 4 wheels.

Like, for example, helping me with my jewelry business and changing the seat on my toilet (sorry, no photos), vacuuming my dogs' hair and preparing dinners in my less than equipped kitchen.

You guys are pretty swell (I'm talking to my parents now, but of course I think all you olive readers are swell too, but really I'm talking to my parents)

mom and dad, day 1

So, a much anticipated day has arrived.  Today.  Mom and Dad arrived today.  I love when they come to visit.  I love sharing with my parents my life here -- my house, my friends, my life.  Wonderful.  I love spending time with them.  Unless they lie to me, they love it all too.

As always, I also have a little anxiety when they come.  It's not just them, it's when anyone comes to Maberga.  I don't know why but shit always breaks when I have visitors. Just ask TFC, Denise and Wayne.

This year, for the first time, mom and dad didn't rent a car.  I said, "come on!  Save a few hundred euro and use one of our cars."  Knowing full well that this was the ultimate jinx on my cars.  So when I went to the airport this morning and my car made it like the fiat 500 champ it is, I said a little thanks to the universe.  Doubly so when we made it back to San Remo with no motor problems.

umm, other things that could break while they are here are: the washing machine, the toilet (don't ask...it's a longer post at another time),  my computer, or my stove.  The heaters could go out too but it's not heater season yet so I wasn't so worried about this.  Of course, all these things would be a big bummer for ME but not them because they are staying in a hotel.  So, I'm pretty safe, right?

So we spent a lovely day, coming  back from the airport, checking into their hotel in San Remo and then dinner at Casa Cornwell.  So far so good.

Then I sent them on their way home to their hotel in San Remo.  I sat down in the kitchen, poured myself a glass of wine and said a little prayer that they would make it down my road.

As I sat in the kitchen, checking email, thinking that I have a half hour until I call the hotel to make sure they made it I heard a crash.

Um a big frickin crash.  "what the f....?"

the shelves in my pantry/wardrobe/storage for everything came down.  I hadn't touched them.  I hadn't even walked pasted them.  One of the braces just decided it was time to retire.

F#&^

So I started cleaning this up.  I lost all my vases and candles.  All my sweaters and blankets and quilts and towels and winter clothes were just there strewn amongst the shards of glass.

F%*^

So I started cleaning it up.  Not a big problem, except....where am I going to put this stuff? Yeah, well, here

in the kitchen.  Fine.  No problem.

then I remembered my parents.  I called the hotel.  "Can I speak with the Signori Serpe?"

"Sure, they are right here."  at the desk?????

Mom gets on the phone and proceeds to tell me how lost they got getting back to the hotel.  It took them an hour and a half (should have taken 25 min).

I've created this life here that is, shall we say a little out of the norm.  When people come to visit I try to put a cap on the weirdness of how I live.  Which means that I clean the house as if the Queen were coming, I try to keep all "normal" services working (eg: car, heat, stove, bed, water, you know...that stuff).  I dust and vacuum my house, I wash all the floors, try to get rid of as much dog hair as possible, I stuff the fridge and the cupboards to the point that everything is beautiful.....then, life happens.  The shelves fall in.

Parents get lost sometimes.  And kids sometimes have to pile their shit in the kitchen.

So I've kind of been in production mode lately.  It occurred to me sometime last week that my folks are coming next week and I will need to have all my christmas jewelry ready to send home with them.  Even after running this little business for like 5 years now I still have a hard time remembering to remember christmas in September.  It really shouldn't be that big of an upset to my annual rhythm...I mean, when I used to teach I constantly thought of (dreamed about, longed for) Christmas is September.

In addition a friend of mine asked if I wouldn't mind doing a little jewelry/knitting/papier mache show for 18 of her closest friends.  That's happening tomorrow.

So last Thursday I put myself on house arrest...I didn't leave the mountain for 5 days straight (yes, this was just before my last post.  That Mette in the comments sure knows me well).  Nothing but work work work, if that's what you want to call playing with beads, yarn, and paint.

Here's a little preview at the maberga designs winter 2012 collection....

 

Um, yeah, ok that last photo isn't part of the collection.  I did make it though, and it's really quite tasty if my must say so myself.  The recipe came from this lady...

 

Her name was Charlotte.  She's my friend Christine's mom.  She used to make it for all neighborhood gatherings, and picnics and stuff like that.  It's called a zucchini pie but you can really put in it whatever you like.  Christine made me one for my birthday, remember?

Here's the recipe if you want to make one too:

Charlotte’s Zucchini Pie

Preheat oven to 200 °C or 400°F.
Grease pie plate with butter or oil.
Ingedients:

• -4 tbls. Oil or butter
• ¾ c. flour
• 1 tsp. baking powder
• 1 tsp. baking soda
• 1/2 tsp. salt
• -1 small onion, chopped.
• -1 small red pepper, chopped.
• -3 to 4 cups diced zucchini
• -1/2 cup oil
• -4 or 5 eggs, beaten
• -1/2 cup of yogurt, Greek or plain, unsweetened. (optional)
• -1/2 cup grated parmesan
• Salt and Pepper

Mix all together. Pour into pie plate. Bake about 40-45 minutes.
Until firm and golden brown on top.

That's about it for now.  I really need a movie and a beer....and maybe a little knitting. 

So, it's sunday.  Sunday is a hunting day.  There are two (legal) hunting days during the season - Wednesday and Sunday.  I really like hunting days because the hunters arrive at 5.30am with their big loud hunting jeeps (actually, just little pandas like mine....but I'm trying to make a point, so let's say they arrive in big jeeps, ok?) and their big firing and banging hunting rifles (do rifles bang?  again for the point, let's say they bang) and their not-so-big hunting dogs wearing cowbells around their necks so they don't get lost (the dogs have the bells on, not the hunters).  Yep, I love that, 'specially on a Sunday.  Why would I want to sleep in on a Sunday when I can get up instead and listen to my dogs barking, and the jeeps, and the rifles, and the cowbells...for the following 12 hours straight?  I love hunting days.  

This morning I woke up at 9.  What's up with that?  Where are the hunters?

Now, I'm not complaining or anything about being able to sleep an extra 3 hours on a Sunday morning. I was just curious.

So, there I was about 10:00 sitting in my patio chair with a french press full of coffee, minus a cup which I had already drunk, my journal and I was in my "clothes" for the day which actually would be pj's for most people passing me and one of my dogs was sitting on my foot stool, whatever, and I shout to passing Gianni...

"ci sono i cacciatori oggi?"  Are there any hunters today?

But here's the thing....the word cacciatori in italian doesn't come naturaly to me. I don't know why, it just doesn't.  Kind of like the words affect and effect for me in english...I always have to pause and give a little think as to which one I want. Whenever I need to find the word for hunter in Italian, I have to first think of chicken cacciatore which is, of course, that tasty Italian dish. And which is actually pollo alla cacciatora in Italian and tastes nothing like chicken cacciatore. Anyway, so I have to think of this Americanized Italian poultry in a red sauce every time I want to say the word hunter in Italian. 

When I did that this morning, asking Gianni where my hunter pals were, I suddenly had this image of literal chicken cacciatore - actual hunting chickens...you know, little chickens dressed in camouflage toting little rifles and following dogs with cowbells.

Just one party after another

So, today is Ruffino's birthday.  Happy 7th, Dude.

To celebrate I took the dogs up to the swimming pool when I got home this evening.  Usually evening swimming is against the rules-- you know, wet dogs, small house, sleeping in my bed, etc etc. But since we had a birthday and all, I bent the rules.  Actually, I didn't bend any rules. Ruffino "accidentally" pushed Q into the water, then shot me a quick glance saying, "well, since she's in anyway...." and dove right in.  That is one clever dude.

Back at the house Ruffino and Q got a big birthday dinner....a big ol' bowl of the same dry shit they get everyday, and I set off to prepare my din.  After a few minutes I noticed that things were a little too quiet.

Ah, yep.

Ain't a party til some one's dug up a grape vine. 

At the risk of letting my tuna surprise get cold, I went out in the dark to attend to the party.

"hey, you guys!  Were you digging?  I mean, I know you were digging, which one of you was it?"

Damn if all that Agatha Christie I watch isn't paying off...I'd say it was Ruff. 

Moving the party inside to mitigate further damage,  I caused more.  Ain't a party til something breaks....or is that spills?  Either way, I got us covered.

I guess it was the excitement of our big festivity that made me think it was a good idea to put a cup and a Thermos of tea on a tray when the tray was like this

 hell, might have worked had the Thermos been on the counter side of that tray. 

Well, after that I turned off the disco ball and cut the music.  Time for a little Poirot and some knitting.  Next year I'm giving Ruffino the keys to the car.  He can go to the top of a mountain alone and contemplate life for his birthday like the rest of us do.

Do I look older?

Yeah, well, that's because I am.  Yesterday was my birthday.  Wait, I'm getting ahead of myself.

It all started on Friday with this



(More on that in another post.)

And this

(more on that in another post)

And then the next day this

(more on all that in another post)

Ok, and then finally yesterday when

(no more on that in any other posts because you all know about that already.  if not, go here.  well, except for that knitting bit in there.  that will come back in a post some day)

I'm not really older...I'm just more well-celebrated.

next week...

I'll be back to normal blogging...no, wait, I mean regular blogging.  My normal lately hasn't exactly been regular.  Anyway, monday I'm back.    have a great weekend.