In Love with France, At Home In Italy

I'm almost finished with Tim Parks' "Italian Neighbors or A Lapsed Anglo-Saxon in Verona," which describes, among other fascinating things, the way things work in Italian cemeteries. "After 30 years, a coffin can, if more space is required, be lifted up, the bones removed, and a new coffin with a fresh corpse introduced in its place."  There are even more disturbing details about how people are typically buried on top of each other in trenches. "When all the coffins have been down there for ten years or more, they are then dug up together and the bones removed, and the space is once again available for the freshly dead."  Rest in peace? Not so much!  I guess I had these morbid thoughts on the brain because a favorite aunt just died last week, and yesterday we stopped to look at the local cemetery, which has a beautiful view of the city. We did notice the mixture of very old graves amid the new, so having just read about the Italian modus ope...

I was concerned that I might have been taking a wrong turn by mentioning the 50’s TV show, “Dragnet” in two recent postings. After all, who but a Baby Boomer was likely to remember that show? Well, (maybe) not to worry. The latest issue of “Vanity Fair” just arrived with an article titled “Pepe Le Perp” about the Dominique Strauss-Kahn case. The pullout quote said: “IT WAS REMARKABLE HOW RAPIDLY DSK’S ALLEGED ATTACK WAS PERCEIVED AND POPULARIZED AS INTRINSICALLY, INIMICALLY FRENCH.” But what caught my eye was a reference to none other than Jack Webb and “Dragnet.” The article mused about DSK’s arrest: “So accustomed are we to the privileges of rank and authority conferring royal immunity that seeing the long arm of law enforcement snag a high-ranker, like an outfielder reaching over the fence to rob a home run, restored one’s faith in the virtues taught us by Jack Webb in “Dragnet.” As I said in an earlier post, Webb was a man ahead of his time. But he is turning out to be a man fo...

When,  in-the-heat of the moment,  I sent the Scorpion/Jiminy Cricket story to a few trusted critics to ask their opinion, one replied more enthusiastically than the other. I got a "Oui. Blogworthy" from one, and this from another: "A good story--but it needs a picture of the monster bug.  the captions for the cricket are cute and clever...." So now I'm thinking that there could be a silver lining, if Mme. Scorpion should happen to come by, looking for her errant hubby. Next time I will remain cool, grow a third hand to weight down the cup while I get the iPhone into camera mode and snap some winning, Jiminy Cricket-esque photos before opening the window to liberate Mme. S. Oughttabe a snap. As I might say in English, "Can't wait!"  As it turned out, I didn't have to wait long.  DISCLAIMER:I might add that as distasteful as this photo may be (my own mother already said she was turned off by my cricket story and by the zucchini flowers t...

OHMYGOSH! You would not believe the size of the unwelcome visitor I just very carefully cupped and ushered out. Remember all those little scorpions we've occasionally seen around and wondered, where's your daddy? Well, he just appeared on the floor of the guardaroba:yikes! We are not talkin' small! I didn't have my glasses on when I walked by this giant black thing, thinking it might be a very big beetle. But once I put them on, uh-uh. Somehow I managed to get the bedroom light on, open the door, turn on the hall light, open the Smiling Buddha window and send him elsewhere. But my special cup took a beating in the process. Never fear, however. I have repaired it and it is now ready for further action. Oy! But better in the guardaroba than in the bedroom. I am thinking that he may have come in with the towels and clothes I carried up from the pool. I prefer to think that he lives elsewhere. I would have liked to have taken his photo just to prove that this is no ...

Buona sera, Thanks for the encouragement and positive feedback about my baby owl story. I am actually hoping for a lot less adventure around that pool--especially when I have to stick my hand in the baskets to dump out the killer-sized creatures (often with giant pincers!) that get filtered in there. The drowned rodents are especially unwelcome finds:ugh-a-roony!  Fortunately Farmer G was here when I found the first one. When he came over to have a look, he was very perplexed by my distress. "Ma lui è morto"--"but he's dead, so what's the big hairy deal?" Then he calmly tossed the contents of the basket over the same fence where I had previously put the baby owl. But for the next little mouse or whoever he was, I was on my own.  Right after the owl adventure I figured I  might as well go for broke and look in those nasty pool "collection" baskets. Fortunately the fates were kind and it was just the usual suspects. I think I am going to wait for ...

So today is plenty hot--hot enough for me to finally want to venture into the swimming pool. Not much of a swimmer, and, like Woody Allen, I don't tan;I stroke, so it takes a lot to get me down to the water at 5:30PM. Furthermore, I am all by myself here, and I recall being told not to swim alone.  Well, I almost wasn't. As I am anxiously walking down the pool steps into the water, I take a nervous glance over my right shoulder at what looks like a grayish mass of something sort of floating on the top step. Uh-oh. On slightly closer examination it does not appear entirely dead. In fact, it is looking back at me, but not moving. Now I could have turned around and decided that that was the end of today's foray into the pool, but I decided to suck it up and dig down to find my inner contadina spirit. My idea was to get the long-handled net and scoop up whoever it was and dump him over the fence. At first this wounded ? baby owl did not want to go anywhere, but I managed ...

Just to be sure I was not hallucinating about everything I said in my earlier post that made a loose association between the positive way I have been "marked" by my friends and the 50's TV program, "Dragnet," I did a little research about the "Dragnet" music and about that image of the hand that had imprinted itself on my now 64-year-old mind, which as it turned out, was not playing tricks on me.  In addition to the distinctive "Dum da dum dum" theme music, officially called "Fugue for (Sgt.) Friday," Wikepedia cites a hallmark of the "Dragnet" show that came at the end of each episode:  A sweaty, glistening left hand appeared, holding what would turn out to be a stamp for indenting metal; a heavy hammer struck the top of the handle of the stamp, twice, loudly; the stamp was removed to reveal the imprint "VII" (over which the words "Mark" and "Limited" were superimposed on a title card), ref...

So here they are--the male eunuch zukes to whom these parts formerly belonged no longer have to suffer from castration anxiety:too late for that!                                               Ant-free zucchini blossoms awaiting their fate In removing the zucchini genitalia, I was following the advice of most of the instructions turned up by my research:that although the pollen-colored male pistils are not harmful to eat, it is customary to remove them before stuffing.           Female blossoms pre and post-surgery;closed males in foreground The bottom line? I learned quite a lot of useful things in my zuke sex-education tutorial: 1. Even though the female blossoms are so much more attractive than the males, to pick a female flower robs its attached baby of the chance to grow big and strong. Now given that overly large zukes can...

As I sit here waiting to see if the ants in the zuke blossoms will decide to work their way out, instead of me having to evict them--my latest attempt at finding a nonviolent way to have my way with these blossoms--I begin to see why Umbria is the home of slow cooking.  Now zucchini blossoms, be they male or female, are pretty delicate creatures.  I am currently trying a combo of gravity and blowing hard at them in the direction of the exit. (This is opposed to yesterday's method of trying to create an unattractive swimming pool for them that will wash them out--very time consuming). But things aren't going so well with the current method. Several of the ants eventually got the hint, but a lot of their flying friends are zipping around me and the blossoms, eager to take their place. I am thinking about the next step en route to the fried zucchini recipe from Epicurious that I want to try. Here's the more-or-less happy result of the de-anting process MY FRIEND, WHO...

Dear Ones, I had tried to promise myself to lay off the iphone and computer, but my addiction proved too strong. While alone here, as the Principessa, I am the only one who would berate me for this;however, I have decided to cut myself some slack.---xxx,d ON COEXISTING (RELATIVELY) PEACEFULLY WITH THE UMBRIAN FAUNA If a bug is where I don't want it to be, before resorting to violence, I like to give it a chance to go elsewhere. The smart ones seem to know when it's time to take a powder. Then anyone who sticks around too long after being invited out ends up making both of us sad. 

So this morning I was about to dig into these figs when a De Poitiers-esque light bulb went off: "Wait! You can't eat those yet! Not without immortalizing them in this perfect morning light." This is the result. Now on my declining computer, every one of these appears upside down, sideways, or worse, so who knows what machinations you will have to go through to have a look? Just don't get anything of yours (that can't be untwisted) in a twist. first figs in the morning sun Lapping up the luscious sunshine A closer look... The breakfast of Umbrian champions (and artists) This last one is my favorite. I took some artistic license by moving around some of U’s art supplies, but they did not seem to mind.

Dum da dum dum:this is NOT a disclaimer! You know those disclaimers that go something like "names have been changed to protect the innocent;any resemblance between this and actual people you think you know is purely coincidendental" ? Because I am old, I remember statements like that fondly from one of my favorite tv programs of the 50s, "Dragnet." The weekly opening was molto dramatico, with a hand hammering a definitive mark on something, kind of the way I imagined they used to mark criminals. It starred the ever-cool Jack Webb, whom I still find it hard to imagine married to the sultry Julie London. I guess he did, too, since it didn't last. Anyway, what I am about to say is just the opposite. If you look closely and see stuff that looks familiar, there might be a good reason for that. The only thing I'm aiming for is to protect everyone's anonymity, So if you think you recognize yourself here, it's because of how much your friendship means to...

Just in from the French transport authority:a once-in-a-lifetime chance to follow EN PERMANENCE, on line, the daily disruptions of the Paris transport system during which all trains, trams and buses will be PERTURBES. But after the summer, they reassure me that everything will be even more efficient and comfortable, and I will no longer be perturbed.  Begin forwarded message: From: "RATP" <contact@ratp.trk.fr> Date: July 12, 2011 7:27:17 PM CEDT To: <donatella.de.poitiers@gmail.com> Subject: Madame de Poitiers, retrouvez toutes les infos sur les travaux de la RATP Reply-To: "RATP" <contact@ratp.trk.fr>

Here's what I did yesterday. Maybe it will become a blog if I can ever get back into the swing of how to post things. No one has seen it yet. I wrote it during the course of a long day. Here goes: Of course, even on our deserted so-called road, who knew it would be rush hour en route to the treno? Farmer G shows up at our gate with his Zappa, maybe to give us a long-awaited lesson in how to use one. But if we miss this train, we are screwed, and conversations with Farmer G have their own leisurely country rhythm. Contadino wisdom takes years to acquire, and nearly as many to impart.  To most people, the idea of a day in Rome sounds exciting. To an agoraphobic, aspiring contadina like me,  it is cause for anxiety. But I am wearing my "I am calm" socks, so all is well--so far. J has business there and we have been invited to lunch at the Academy of Rome, the kind of offer that does not come every day. I will not have any trouble amusing myself during the hou...