My kingdom for a XXXL

10 MAY CRESPELLANO—

Thursday night we went to the warehouse clearance sale at Stefania’s firm who represents Guess Europe. With all of her discounts, she literally walked out with a car load of expensive clothes for nothing. About all I could find to fit me was a couple of shirts. I’m about 50 pounds from being the ideal Guess customer. An XXL is about as big as an L at home. Suffice it to say that the XXLs are hard to find. Furthermore, there is absolutely no consistency even within sizes. That’s what you get for having most of the stuff made in Italy and not China. The Chinese, at least, are used to sizing for us North American Land Whales. Stefania’s like, ‘Try some stuff on.’ I, who hates to shop for clothes anyway, reply: ‘I would, if I could find anything to cover my big box butt.’ Maybe I could just wear one of the big plastic garment bags. The payoff was in watching Stefania waddle to the car under a massive load of plastic bags and the pizza we ate with her parents who had come along for the employee discount. We ate on the outdoor terrace of a pizzeria about 100 meteres from my front door.

On Friday, I decided to go into Bologna and check in on my friends at Intuition to see if any gigs had come up. I’m getting pretty good at the buses by now. 576 at seven past the hour to Bologna Santa Viola. Hang a right pick up the 92 or 93 bus to Via Veronese. Have a chat with Mirella and Chiara. Come out of the building, take a left on Via Batindarno, walk three blocks and pick up the number 14 “Body Odor Express” down Via Andrea Costa to Via Ugo Bassi and the two towers. The 14 bus is jammed to the gills with people, most of whom are only riding for a short distance. It’s one of the red methane buses.The same could probably be said for how it is “run” on the inside as well. I mean I am glad that I am not short by Italian standards. Those who are get a nice treat on the buses.

Here’s my patented technique for riding the crowded city bus: Get on at the front. You can’t get off at the front so this way it’s easier; if you try to enter the bus at the middle or back doors you will be swamped by exiting passengers and never make it on. Secondly, you must “convalidare” (have your ticket punched by a time/date machine) your ticket. This machine is usually behind the driver or “conducente”or “autista.” You’re not supposed to takl to him/her but nobody pays attention to this rule, however, including yours truly. Next, glance at the computer screen hanging from the ceiling to see if there are any important announcements, like such and such line is out of service etc. Most importantly, keep pushing through the crowd after each stop, slowly working towards your goal of the middle door. If you time it wrong, you could get stuck and have to wait until the next “fermata” or stop. This happened on my way back. Some older lady waited too long and started yelling “permesso” (this is what you say when you want to get by someone or when you enter a person’s home)! She was pushing and shoving like in the third period of a blow-out hockey game. As she exited she was cursing all of us, her fellow riders, as being a bunch of “maleducati” (ill-manered) miscreants. A lady standing next to me said sarcastically, “Ma vada pure, signora!” (Well, you just go right ahead, ma’am.) I, of course, timed my arrival at the falls perfectly and jumped out with my fellow salmon under the porticoes near the Piazza Maggiore on Via Ugo Bassi. My goal was the Feltrinelli bookstore on past the piazza by the two towers. I made it. No worries. However, the crazy Eddy Merckx-looking dude was on the 576 bus back to Crevalcore again; he’s the guy who likes to get up from his seat on a half-empty bus and go sit down next to unsuspecting women. When he isn’t doing this he is playing air drums between facial tics. As far as I know, that is the extent of his weirdness. But I always see him on the 5 o’clock bus.

Saturday brought a trip to Crespellano to see the Ps. Lori and the kids were there, too. We had some lunch on the patio, then went upstairs to do some work. I used the computer while Stefania busied herself storing winter clothes and taking out the “spring collection.” We got done at about 7:30 and headed into Casalecchio to go to the big Shopville mall; had to buy some presents for Franco’s birthday and for Vanda, for Mother’s Day (both the same day.) We also hit the big Carrefour grocery store/ target-type place. Stef and I swam upstream like salmon trying to pick up a couple of items we needed, like an ironing board that barely fit in the car. (We drove around with the end of it literally sticking out over Stefania’s head in the passenger seat.) The Micra was hungry so we had to fill her up at $5.20 a gallon ( Put it this way, it’s about 1.14 euros per liter. 3.6 liters to the U.S. gallon. That gives you about $4.10 per gallon (for us Euros) + the 30% or so more for the exchange rate (for those converting dollars,) plus commissions which gets you in at a nice $5.20 -$5.30 per gallon depending on how bad you got jobbed at the exchange booth at the airport.), thank you very much and no whining please. We paid 40 euros for 35 liters. Again, diesel used to be about half that of regular gas, was about 90 percent of regular in August and is now about the same as regular. Topped off the day with a pizza at a place in Casalecchio, next to the Reno River. Was a pizza for two this time. Sicillian style, which means a bit thicker and heavier for my exquisitely fine-tuned palette.