OLYMPIC DRAMA RIGHT IN OUR OWN UMBRIAN KITCHEN

WELCOME TO WHAT COULD BE A NEW OLYMPIC EVENT 

Tonight the drama factor was down a bit on the Olympics. Part of the problem is that we can only get the German coverage, which means that if you don't care only about German athletes and you only had one semester of German back in 1966, you are not going to be sitting on the edge of your seat.

But then I heard it: the sound of either an enormous piece of agricultural equipment or a dangerous bit of Umbrian fauna. Since it was in the kitchen, it had to be the latter. In such an emergency, I tend to run the other way, close the bedroom door so as not to have the thing land in my room, and hope that it stays downstairs and disappears over night. There is, however, another solution:I can tell someone more courageous than I about the problem.

All Olympic events pale in the face of my fearless daughter-in-law going up against a HUGE deadly hornet--the kind that regularly sends Umbrians to the hospital--with a frying pan in one hand and a can of hornet spray in the other. This was actually a reprise of an earlier feat of bravery that my son photographed as we were cowering behind her, cheering her on from a safe distance. At nearly six feet and wearing a hooded bathrobe, she cut quite a figure as she cornered Signor Calabrone that time. But this was a bit more tricky, since it was in the kitchen, where we weren't so keen on the idea of spraying poison or whacking him with the Circulon brand frying pan against our beautiful handmade tiles.

ADMITTEDLY, THIS PHOTO IS ALMOST TOO DARK AND SPOOKY TO  DISCERN WHAT'S GOING ON. BUT THAT SHADOWY, HOODED FIGURE IS MY DAUGHTER-IN-LAW ABOUT TO DO BATTLE WITH A KILLER CALABRONE.

After a few hilarious attempts to trap him behind the window shutters only to discover that he wasn't there, and to lure him into a good place to womp him by turning off the lights elsewhere, U decided that this was no time for halfway measures. When he landed on one of the ceiling beams above the table, she climbed onto a chair, aimed, and fired. It takes a lot to kill one of those guys, and you basically have just one shot, because if you miss, he is going to get very angry and come after you. Well, this fellow did not know with whom he was dealing.

WHY A FRYING PAN? WELL, WHEN GOING UP AGAINST ONE OF THESE GUYS, YOU CAN'T BE TOO CAREFUL. WHAT IF THE SPRAY DID NOT WORK?

ALL'S WELL THAT ENDS WELL?

Even after a direct hit, he was still moving after falling behind the credenza. But tomorrow I will do the brave thing and see if he's still there.

And the gold medal for cowardice goes to...

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ADDENDUM:

UH-OH:THE HOLIDAY OF FERRAGOSTO IS COMING! AND YOU KNOW WHAT that MEANS!

This is a test. Check all that apply.

Ferragosto is nearly upon us. This means that

1)everything will be copacetic

2)all will be tutto posto

3)all will be tutto pazzo/loco/going postal (for a better understanding of the nuances of these useful terms, please see the Aug. 8 posting)

4)all of the above

If you picked answer #4, depending on the moment, you are probably right.

For example, last night when we went to sleep after U saved us from the deadly calabrone, everything looked tutto posto. But yesterday morning, not so much.

When I came downstairs my husband was observing the irrigation system spout streams of precious water. I thought this was a sign that our water dilemmas were under control. HA!

He was quick to point out that this represented a whole new level of systems gone wrong. "Is there supposed to be irrigation at 8AM?" Well, maybe if Mirko #1 has arrived to save the day. Unfortunately, this was not the case. I should have known better, since either Mirko #1, the irrigation expert or Mirko #2, the cute electrician only comes AFTER repeated entreaties for help. (For a full appreciation of the sly adorableness of Mirko #1 and his cozy love life, see the July 14 posting. You will need to stay tuned for more about Mirko #2, who is, among other things a water diviner who can tell you just where to dig your well.)

Jim was scratching his head because not only was the water on at the wrong time despite his careful programming of the system, he could not turn it off. He tried telling it to go on at the correct time. No go. Then he tried to shut it off by switching to our other water source. No dice. Only after turning off all of the water would it stop. This was not a good thing. In the current drought, every drop counts. But let's be grateful for small favors: at least there were no killer insects to dodge while we pondered our next move.