Farewell, Leo

We've a bit of sad news to report today. Our handsome mackeral tabby boy Leo, the feline patriarch of our household, passed away peacefully Sunday night in his warm bed and in the company of his family.

Over the past few months, we could see that his old age (we believe he was 16 years old) was slowly catching up to him, although he never allowed that to prevent him from being the same wonderful and loving companion that he'd always been, both to us and to his Havana Brown housemates. All our HB kittens appreciated having "Uncle Leo" to mentor them, play with them, and pile on top of / next to for naps.

Back in the 1990's, when LeAnn and I first started working together at IBM in Boulder, I would regularly overhear LeAnn telling our co-worker Liz stories about her newly-adopted Boulder Shelter cat that always seemed to start with, "guess what Leo did last night...!" Leo was always getting into mischief as a youngster, whether it was tipping over newly-watered houseplant pots so the wet dirt spilled all over the beige carpet, jumping up onto the dresser top and one by one pushing coins across the top with his paw to the edge of the dresser and watching them fall to the floor ("testing gravity", we called it), or his favorite 3am trick, jumping up and swatting LeAnn's siamese Samantha as she slept in LeAnn's arm then running away as Sammy shrieked loudly! When LeAnn and I started dating, Leo would "attack" my overhanging feet from the end of her bed.

LeAnn tried to use "time out's" to encourage better behavior in the cat. She would announce "time out, Leo!" as she scooped him up in her arms and carried him into the powder room and shut the door. After about 10 minutes, she'd open the door and ask him, "So, are you ready to behave now?". Leo would simply look up at her, swishing his tail defiantly, and say "Myaaah!" as he slowly strolled out of the bathroom, already thinking up his next mischievous plan.

As Leo grew older, he mellowed out and didn't get into a lot of mischief. Oh, he'd still test gravity occasionally, but he became very affectionate and was a great "bed buddy", coming to see us at bedtime for pets and snuggling, then settling down for the night between my legs. I got into the habit, when I wanted to turn to sleep in another position, of first pulling my legs upward, turning, then extending my legs back out, so that I wouldn't disturb him as he slept. In the morning, Leo was always up by our heads, purring "Good Morning" to us, walking across the pillows, cleaning our foreheads and faces with his rough tongue, and giving us affectionate forehead-butts (just like hockey players after a game - I think they got the idea from cats!).

When we lived in Colorado, Leo especially enjoyed helping LeAnn with gardening, rolling around in the dirt among the herb plants and chasing bugs. Even after we moved to Italy, he loved to lounge on the outdoor terrace in the sunshine, and to hear the sounds and smell the smells of our neighborhood here in Mestrino. If there was a sunny patch on the floor or carpet, that's where you'd find him, warming his furry tummy. Calling to him with a cheerful "Leeeoo Kitty!" would be met with his squinty contented cat eyes and his best 'hello' yawn.

When LeAnn's Grandma Margie lived with us in Colorado for the last year of her life, Leo took to her and he became 'Grandma's Kitty', even sleeping guard on her bed after she had left us. Now it appears that Leo has gone to be with Grandma Margie, and I can't think of a more faithful companion to have.

We miss you, handsome boy. Thanks for all the wonderful memories.

your curbside garbage disposal: the umido bucket!

Since moving to Mestrino, LeAnn and I have been learning to live like a local, and one of the strange quirks about living here is the use of the umido (OOH-mee-doh) bucket.

In the USA, many people use garbage disposals to put food waste down into their plumbing system via the use of water and electricity, which eventually causes them to pay a plumber to come unclog their pipes, OR causes them to hack and slash at their drain pipes after first putting several bottles of Liquid Plum'r into them, thus causing eye irritation, mental irritation, and interesting clothing color schemes to appear after a time. Sort of like dyeing Easter Eggs while still under the hen.

In Italia, however, there is a small squarish green bucket for getting rid of your kitchen waste that is emptied from curbside on certain days of the week (here in zona 'B' of Mestrino it's Wednesday and Saturday, and in warmer months they add Monday) (that's "mercoledi' ", "sabato", and "lunedi' " for those of you playing along at home in Italian!) Our kitchen sink is apparently designed for such a setup, too, as it features a removable plastic lid over a plastic chute under which is suspended a small plastic trash can. If you ever find yourself in a kitchen fixtures store and see a sink with such a lid / chute arrangement, now you'll know what it is, and will be able to impress your friends with an explanation (as they wonder aloud how you could be so unnaturally interested in kitchen sinks, and then you'll have to come back with a "well it was (whomever's) idea to look at sinks, I didn't even want to!" (unless it WAS your idea, then you're pretty much stuck))! (just don't say it was my fault for putting the information in your head via this blog. That's just weak.)

So, we use the umido bucket to dispose of kitchen waste, instead of tormenting our plumbing system with it, or disposing of it via the traditional trash can. Things like leftovers that became fridge science projects, stale bread, coffee grounds that didn't make it to the garden, moldy cheese bits, etc etc. Sometimes it takes a bit more vigilance to keep the kitchen from smelling bad, but it's a small price to pay to keep the landfills less crowded - er, to keep us from looking like clueless foreigners!

I don't exactly know where all this stuff goes. There's an Aqua Teen Hunger Force episode (Season 2 episode 7, "Super Sir Loin" - ain't Google searches great!) where Meatwad donates food to a charitable cause, but in our case I don't think the contents of our umido bucket goes to the shorties...

Anyway, one thing you have to make sure of is not to use an opaque plastic bag for your umido goodies, otherwise you may find your plastic bag out of the bucket and out on the sidewalk naked on its own next to it. Yuck! At least we don't have squirrels...

We actually had our Italian language instructor tell us that she thought that the practice is unsanitary, and that they don't do it where she's from. (Which btw, is from Naples! So the easy retort would have been to say, "no, you just pile all your trash on the sidewalk together!!!" But it was our second day of class and I didn't want to get on her 'bad list', so I kept my mouth shut.)

So that's the story of the umido bucket!

I'd post pics, but you might be eating something as you read this.

More next time!

Buon' Anno a tutti! New Year's in Italia

Happy New Year everyone! As I sit here in la cucina having a little colazione consisting of il caffe' e il panettone and listening to the bells ringing in the nearby campanile (no, they don't shut the bell tower down on New Year's Day - if you have a hangover well too bad!), the chilly late morning air is punctuated by the random firework blast, set off I suppose by folks who for whatever reason didn't use up their stash last night.

Yep, as I only just found out a few days ago, New Year's Eve is THE 'fireworks holiday' in Italia. Now I understand what was behind the odd explosions we would hear some evenings in the past couple weeks leading up to last night. And we're not talking M80's here, we're talking jump-out-of-your-skin-with-surprise, rattle-the-windows kind of stuff. One evening about a week ago while Dog Chandler and I were out on our evening walk, we heard one such blast up not far ahead of us around the corner. I think I got a few inches of air under my shoes! As we arrived at the traffic light and turned the corner onto the main street, grey smoke still hung heavy in the air in front of the Bar Alexander. But there was no alarm, everyone was just going about their business as usual, so I supposed it was not entirely unexpected. So, Dog Chandler and I simply continued walking on past while I appreciated the unexpected powder fix (c'mon, you know you like the smell - just admit it!).

Finally last night, New Year's Eve was upon us - showtime! I felt a great sense of antici...pation! as darkness fell on our little neighborhood. First one blast was heard, then another. As the evening progressed, the explosions became more frequent and came from further afield, and I could feel the excitement growing in the air. Around 11:30 some folks were already doing some mini-displays, either as a warmup or just because they couldn't wait any longer. Finally midnight came creeping in and hot on its heels erupted the most awesome amateur fireworks displays I'd ever seen. For about an hour, our street sounded as if there were a local coup attempt in progress and made me appreciate what Francis Scott Key might have witnessed that famous night long ago. Flashes of color strobed over the sides of houses and lit the sky in otherworldly shades of red and green. Standing out on our balcony with wine glass in hand, I surveyed the situation with such an unmitigated admiration for the unbridled excess and utter coolness of the scene as might be felt by a little boy seeing nitro-burning funny cars tearing ass down the dragstrip for the first time in his life. Everyone had what appeared to be junior versions of the professional fireworks you see on July 4th back in the states. Actually, there are probably many little towns in America whose Fourth of July shows were matched - or maybe even eclipsed - by what I witnessed just from our own front yard. It was truly amazing.

Man I'm telling you, American backyard bar-b-q'ers need to seriously step their game up if they have any hope of measuring up to their counterparts here in the Big Boot. If I were one of those guys that thought my backyard fireworks displays were the shizzle and then saw what I just saw last night, it might drive me to simply give it all up. You know, throw away my punks and stay inside knitting beer cozies with the lights turned down and the curtains drawn. Seriously.