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.

Happy Holidays!

Well our first Christmas in Italy has been a smashing success! We've done nothing noteworthy... we put up our tree a couple of weeks ago and last week made Christmas cookies. Our Christmas Eve was napping, hanging out around the tree, opening gifts and eating our cookies - it's a tough job but someone has to do it. All in all, we didn't really get into the spirit of the season this year. No cards sent as I lost track of time and didn't make the three week advance mailing, we did few gifts and no travel or big meals. Having a low stress holiday really isn't too bad.

Today, Christmas Day, we had a friend over for a small dinner and spent the rest of the evening around the fireplace with a bottle of Prosecco. A few calls home made the day complete. Now we're ready to unplug the tree and call it a day.

Buon Natale everyone!

patata patata

Yippee! After waiting 11 weeks for the motorcycle to arrive from stateside, I have finally finished becoming 'legal' to ride the Harley here in Italy!

The actual receipt of the bike, along with taking off all the protective foam packaging material that I'd previously used to cover the chrome and other vulnerable bits of the bike, refilling the bike with oil and gasoline, and purchasing a battery charger that will work here to charge up the battery prior to starting it again, and actually starting it - those were all just basic tasks that had nothing to do with the actual legalization process of getting to be able to actually ride the thing here in Italia. (Although the purchase of a gas can and a battery charger at the local auto parts shop was a minor victory, linguistically-speaking! I had to learn to say buona sera, signore. ho bisogno di una damagiana per la benzina to get me a gas can, and anche una caricatore per la batteria di motocicletta to also ask for a battery charger. Then it was off on LeAnn's bicycle to get the gas can filled at the local station, and home to put it all to use.) And just for kicks, I adjusted the front and rear suspension settings to my liking, recalling that in New York it still rode kinda funny, like it was more spring preload and not enough compression damping.

But actually getting the bike - and myself - legal to ride was another matter. I had already taken the first step back in May before I flew back to NY, and that was to pass the test for my SETAF (allied forces in europe) driver's license with my motorcycle endorsement. The motorcycle endorsement part was simply a transfer from my stateside drivers license. However, the drivers license office on the base won't give you actual permission to ride a motorcycle until you've taken one of the motorcycle safety training courses. And you have to have your motorcycle legal so that you can ride it to and from the class as well as ride it during the class. So, how do you do that?

Well, it's what I like to call 'shuttle bureaucracy', wherein you bounce back and forth between several offices and agencies until your task is complete. There seems to be a lot of that out here. Basically this is how it went:

I had the motorcycle, so that part was taken care of!
First it was off to the local insurance agency in town that represents the company I wanted insurance from, to tell them I want insurance. In Italy they can put the motorcycle on the same policy as the auto, so I just had to add the bike to our existing auto policy. To do that, I called the insurance company 800 number from the local agency's office (it was nice they had that service) and agreed on coverages, then asked the insurance company to email the agent a temporary proof of insurance. The local agent then printed out that form to take to the Army's vehicle registration office.
Then it was off to the vehicle registration office with any and all papers I could think of (vehicle title, NY registration form, my drivers license, my govt ID, etc) plus the temporary insurance certificate, fill out their registration request form, and they set aside a license plate for me. Then they told me the license plate number and a corresponding registration number, but at this time they couldn't give me the license plate or actually register the motorcycle. Oh, and since LeAnn is the government employee and hence my sponsor here in Italy, the motorcycle is registered in her name, not mine. Hmmph!
So then it was back to the insurance agency to tell them the plate number and registration number. Actually, as before, I called the insurance company's 800 number to tell them, then they emailed another proof of insurance form to the local agent then and there, and the agent printed it out for me, only this time it was a 'real' / 'permanent' proof of insurance document with my license number and registration number on it.
Then I went back home to register online for the Motorcycle Safety course appropriate to my previous experience and skill level. After a day or two, I received an email stating that I was provisionally enrolled in the appropriate training course. (Later on, a few days before the course date, I would receive another email stating I was actually enrolled in the course).
Then it was back to the vehicle registration office to give them this 'actual' motorcycle insurance form, and a hardcopy of my training course registration email. At that point, they could actually register the motorcycle, and collect the various fees from me ($20 in US dollars, and another fee in Euro, plus my Italian road tax in Euro). At this point, they still couldn't give me my license plate, but they did give me the registration and road tax documents that I need to carry with me on the bike.
Then I had to wait two weeks for my training course to come around.
Then, the business day prior to my training course, I went on base to the driver's licensing office and got my SETAF drivers license reissued, with effective dates for my motorcycling privileges on the back, covering the time period from that day through the day after the class. This allowed me to actually legally ride a motorcycle in Italy on my license, for the purposes of taking the course.
Next it was back to the vehicle registration office with my 'new' SETAF drivers license, to show them that it was updated with effective dates, and at this point they gave me my new license plate for the motorcycle. Yippee! I went home and mounted the license plate onto the bike.
Since this was a Friday, and my motorcycle class was on Monday, the drivers license folks had to make the effective dates Friday through the following Tuesday, which allowed me to take the nice day Sunday before my class to go out for a quick spin on the bike, so that I could verify that it worked ok, and that I was able to shake a little 'rider rust' off of myself and not have Monday morning rush hour be the first time I'd ridden the bike since July! It felt good to be back on the bike, and it wasn't too foreign-feeling. The strangest thing that happened was that I rode past a youngish couple walking their dog, and after I went past, the woman turned around for another look like I was a space alien. But, I wasn't - just an American wearing a British motorcycling jacket and Japanese helmet riding a Harley in Italy. Nothing to see here.
Monday rolled around, and I spent the day going through the training course with some soldiers from the base. 8 riders - 6 Harleys, one KLR600 and an R1. The course followed the MSF Experienced Rider Course curriculum and it was taught in a parking lot by two instructors that came down from Germany to teach the course(s) for the soldiers. I must admit that it was good for me, since I'd never done much slow-speed stuff on my Harley, and so I needed the instruction to get used to doing these things on the 'new' bike. Anyway, I passed the course no problem! So I received my course completion card from the instructors proving I passed.
Then next day it was back to the drivers license office on base, where I presented my course completion card to get my SETAF license updated once more, this time showing on the back the full 3-year dates for being able to operate a motorcycle.
Finally! e poi! 'Shuttle Bureaucracy' at its finest!

One thing that's strange is that there's no vehicle safety inspection required on motorcycles up front like there was with our car. I do need to have a safety inspection completed at registration renewal (2 years), but not up front when I initially registered it. Hmm. Oh well, morally I'm fine with that, as the Harley dealership in NY did the inspection when they installed my new tires, just before leaving the country. And although it sounds strange bringing Pirelli's back to Italy, I'm certainly glad to be riding on them instead of on those old Dunlops that came with the bike originally. 5 years of age on tires that were hard to begin with, just made them even more awful.

As far as riding in Italy, well, it's pretty crazy! But motorcyclists out here are allowed more freedoms, and car drivers will move aside for you expecting that you'll pass them in the lane, or by straddling the centerline - even if there's oncoming traffic. Yikes! In town, riders will motor up the centerline to pass multiple cars, and overall it seems that the only limitation is the rider's talent for doing these things without, I assume, getting tangled with anyone else or falling down. For right now, I ride like a local without getting too crazy over it - the Harley isn't a sportbike, after all, and really I'm not in THAT much of a hurry - especially not to introduce myself needlessly to members of the medical or law enforcement communities.

That's all for now! Remember, mantenere il lato di gomma giu' !!!

If you're gonna break the law, make sure you have a good job.

Ok kids, I'm gonna leave the continent - along with our usual subject matter of cats, coffee, food, cat food, cat shows, cars, and coffee-fueled cat-food carrying cars careening to cat shows - for this next post and head back to the ol' US of A. This is a story you've absolutely got to read, because you won't believe it's true. It almost could be in The Onion. The sad and/or scary thing about it is that it's not.

As you may know, I'm a reasonably-avid road bicyclist. And as such, I'm aware of the perception of bicyclists' lives not being worth as much as other lives when it comes to punishing those who would do cyclists harm. That perception is unfortunately held by many in law enforcement and the legal profession. However, there's a new twist on this old tale that should cause grave concern to any red-blooded law-abiding American who expects equal treatment under the law. It's an injustice of almost-Berlusconian proportions. (Had to put in an Italy tie-in there.)

You can read about it here: http://www.vaildaily.com/article/20101104/NEWS/101109939

Next time we're back on-topic!

UPDATED 30/12/2010 Want to know follow-up? Here are some additional links:

http://www.vaildaily.com/article/20101216/NEWS/101219846/1078&ParentProfile=1062

http://www.vaildaily.com/article/20101218/EDITS/101219833/1021&parentprofile=1065

http://velonews.competitor.com/tag/vail-hit-and-run

Mito e me

This past weekend LeAnn and Marsha took a long-weekend road trip to Barcelona for a cat show. Since we're a one-car family, that meant I was going to be 'senza auto' while they were away, so we rented a car for me to get around in. We requested the cheapest car that Europcar had, which would have been the Fiat Panda. For those of you who don't know, the Panda is basically a metal two-drawer file cabinet on wheels. But all was not gloom-and-doom in the driving department, as the rental office didn't have any Panda's. Don't ask me why, maybe their lease was up and they all went back to China or something. Anyway, the nice folks at Europcar upgraded me to an Alfa-Romeo Mito. As the gentleman at the desk explained the situation and passed over the key with that wonderful Alfa logo on it, my resting heart rate suddenly ramped up to a non-resting heart rate. You see, ever since I'd thought about our move to Italy I'd been thinking that I'd want an Alfa when it came time to get me a car. I figured if I'm in Italy I might as well drive something Italian, right? Just like Brad Pitt asking for that El Camino.


Now, I'd seen the Mito on the Alfa website, and occasionally out on the road as well and thought it to be a cute little car with a very aggressive-looking, very-Alfa-like front end. Almost too aggressive I thought, considering its price point. I mean, if the car looks cooler than it winds up being to drive, it risks becoming a parody of itself, doesn't it? What is the good of slathering on all that exterior coolness if the driving experience is just an average one?

Anyway, we tooled over to the designated rental parking lot (consisting of 6 parking spaces in all) and picked up the little blue thing after lunch on Thursday. It was indeed cute-looking, but thankfully not enough to scream "CHICK CAR!". I got in, quickly acclimated myself to the control layout, adjusted the seat, steering wheel, and mirrors, and set out on my way home.

The car did feel nicely sporting, but something was very strange. You see, whenever I had pictured myself driving an Alfa-Romeo in my mind, the accompanying soundtrack would always sound revvy and throaty like the Ansa exhausts of old - not quietly clattery like a delivery truck. So I had a new paradigm to work with here, and I was very interested in seeing how I adapted to it as the weekend progressed. But the 1.6 liter turbo diesel did pull us along quite well, and that's pretty much most of what an engine should do for a car, so I let it slide.


On the outskirts of one of the little towns between Vicenza and Mestrino there's a small, newly-created traffic circle that is a pain in the tail to anyone not driving a motorcycle or a sports car (and an unexpected oasis of curvy fun to those that are). As I arrived at the circle, I decided I'd have a bit of fun and with no other traffic to interfere with my plan, I tossed the car in, shifted down, gave it the right foot and cranked the wheel over. What happened next was a revelation. The turbo spun up and got the cute little diesel sled nicely into the meat of the powerband, settled its suspension, and got down to work. The tires hung on tenaciously to the pavement and the more I turned in, the more they did so. Try as I might I could barely elicit a sound from the OEM spec Continentals. The car either had hardly any understeer or a small bit of oversteer, but in either case it felt fantastic and really opened my eyes to its potential. Strange soundtrack or no, this could turn out to be fun!



One thing that is unique to the current crop of Alfa's is a largish momentary slide switch mounted on the center console to the left of the shifter. This is the "Alfa DNA" selector switch, with DNA being an acronym indicating the three possible driving modes available for your use. 'D' is for Dynamic, and selecting the Dynamic mode sharpens the steering and increases its weight, as well as firms up the suspension and puts the throttle on hair-trigger as well as allows overboost on the turbo. Ever see a cat on high alert, with its tail all bushy and it standing on its claws? That's this car in Dynamic mode.

'N' stands for Normal mode, which puts the car into a good all-around mode for driving around. Response and ride and steering weight all are still a tad firm so as not to let you forget this is an Alfa-Romeo, but bumpy pavement won't turn you into a human bobblehead doll either (although I have read that the 17-inch wheeled versions of the car tend to do that a bit in Normal mode, presumably because of the stiffer sidewalls on the lower-profile tires. This car having the standard 16-inchers seemed fine in that department to me, and I've ridden motorcycles and driven cars that were too firm like that, so I have something to compare to.)

Lastly, 'A' stands for All Weather mode, and selecting that mode relaxes the car even more. Alfa says that mode is best for bad pavement and/or slick conditions.


So it was neat having the car at home to get to know. And a funny thing happened. As the weekend went on, I found myself doing things like getting some music CD's and taking them out to the car, and setting the equalizer on the stereo system and listening to music. Or just walking out to gaze at the car every now and then. I opened the hood to look around, sat in the back seat to check the room back there (not bad) and how easily I could get in and out (pretty easy, even from behind the driver's seat), read the owners manual (as best as I could, since it's in Italian) to see what's what and how things work and what features this car had as well as didn't have, and generally did the same things that I would do if this car were mine for keeps. I was falling in 'like' with the little Mito, if not quite 'love'.


Today being Monday, I woke up thinking that maybe I should take a little road trip, since it's my last day with the car before I return it tomorrow. But nothing came to mind, and since museums and such are closed on Mondays here, I thought that I might just let that go. But then I found out that there's a Harley dealership in Verona that's open on Monday afternoons, so I could buy the motor oil I need for the bike (as I had to empty it prior to shipping)! So I got directions to the dealership, and set out for the hour-long drive down the Autostrada. Sure, one day wouldn't kill me if I couldn't have the oil, and by the time I got back it would be time to feed all the critters, walk Dog Chandler, and get dinner for myself and I probably wouldn't work on the bike tonight, but it's the sort of psuedo-errand that motorcyclists do all the time, as a reason to ride and a place to ride to. So, this was my excuse to take the car out on the Autostrada, try out the different driving modes, and just generally have One Last Fling with Mito.


Well, long story short, the drive was exhilarating. The trip to Verona and back cemented my opinion of this car as one that is on my proverbial 'short list'. Heck, it might even be the only one on the list. Its manners and behavior are perfect for driving in Italy (go figure), and whether cruising alertly at 140 kph on the Autostrada in Normal mode (in sixth gear you're only loping that diesel along at 2500 rpm), or carving up one of those driveway-width twisty local roads in Dynamic mode, this car raises my awareness level and my excitement level and just plain enhances the experience of traveling on four wheels. Cage or no, It's been a long time since I've felt this excited about driving a car.


Funny, I didn't plan on going car shopping this weekend - !