In Love with France, At Home In Italy

 I am celebrating the new year by changing the sheets—something I confess that I probably do not do often enough. Here in Italy, laundry is always something of a production. Umbria is not just the home of s-l-o-w cooking. Although Italian washing machines do seem to get things cleaner and with less of an impact on the environment and the clothes, they require an investment of time and forethought. Electricity is expensive and not to be taken for granted. Some frugal people only do laundry on the weekend when the rates are lower. I like to do it on a sunny day so I can hang the clothes out to dry, the way I imagine the local contadine do. As I consider things new and fresh, I am reminded of a message I just sent to a new friend who already feels like an old one: Ciao, G Thanks for your delightful message, which is a reminder that it can be nice to grow old here with new friends. Whoever tells you that you are a good writer is right! I'm impressed with your en...

Having recently sung Handel's "Messiah," when I looked out the kitchen window at our neighbor's sheep, I heard myself singing, "There were shepherds abiding in their fields, keeping watch over their flocks by night. Then suddenly...": bang, bang, bang, bang, bang ! Five shots rang out in our otherwise silent countryside. What could this mean ? That somebody would soon be having wild boar stew! Actually, 22 somebodies, according to Farmer G, who says that that was how many had been killed nearby in one day. Flash forward a few days:at dusk on Xmas Eve, we decide to take a little walk in the woods. But when I  see a car parked off the trail and hear shots and notice our wild-boar-ish-colored clothing, I think it may be time to head back to the ranch. After all, I want to make it to 63. Of course, as Goddess of the Hunt, I'm supposed to know what's up, but this is Italy, where rules are made to be broken. Just the same, I'm glad we got out of the...

Epiphany! Tomorrow is Epiphany Day here. That means that everyone is entitled to be home waiting to have one. Of course it goes without saying that you and I have them all the time, and don't use that as an excuse to do niente. But as my mother put it so UNpolitically correctly, this country is full of "those lazy I--talians," so what can you expect? To answer your question about whether we made it to any wild boar roasts, nobody invited us to any boar-related events. But then again, they didn't shoot us, either, so I am grateful. And unless I have any epiphanies tomorrow, I won't be eating Bambi's mamma, or any hares or bunnies or squid or little game birds or duck, with the exception of the occasional piece of foie gras. Spoken like a true hypocrite, no?