Bits, Bytes and Clothes That Are Too Tight

Hello Bella Nonna, I brought you a few things for the rummage sale. I had a big box of things but…


Come on in Jamila, I’ll put on a pot of coffee and you can tell me all about it.

Well it all started about a week ago. Terrel was watching the pet channel and someone made the remark that dogs start to look and act like their owner the older they get. I laughed and said the same goes for computers. Each day it takes me longer and longer to start up just like my computer. My computer has trouble storing and finding files. I too have trouble storing and finding things… like clothes that fit.

Terrel told me that my computer was becoming obsolete. If I wanted it to run faster I would have to spend money upgrading it or get rid of the useless files I have cluttering up my C drive. After some thought I decided to upgrade my computer would not only be expensive, but I know people who have spent a lot of money upgrading their computer and then regretting it because their computer never ran right after the upgrade. There was always something else they had to add to their computer to get it to perform the way they wanted… kind of like plastic surgery… once you get one thing done, you find something else to fix.

So I decided to get rid of all my useless clutter. How hard could it be? Well I’ll tell you Bella Nonna…

Wait Jamila let me pour the coffee and get us some cinnamon buns… Sorry for the interruption. Okay I’m ready, go on.

Hmmm, I thought where to start... I’ll clear out my computer files and my bedroom closet. I could probably get half my closet sorted while my computer booted up. Ha, ha that’s a little joke… my computer is not that slow. Well truth be told, I am not that fast.

I was going to be tough. If it didn’t fit… out it went, if I didn’t wear in the past year…out it went, if it looks awful on me… out it went. After about an hour I managed to part with three pairs of my “skinny girl” jeans, one itchy wool sweater, six blouses, two dresses my mother gave me… they made me look like an old lady, three of my college sweatshirts… they were so tight I looked like “It’s Pat” from the old Saturday Night Live show, and four pairs of slumpy sweat pants. I packed them into a box ready to donate them to the rummage sale.

Now it was time for my computer. I decided to start with my document files. The first thing on the list was three poems Aisha wrote for her 10th grade creative writing class. She wanted to delete the file right after she printed them out, but I thought we should keep them on file in case something happened to the original copies. Two weeks later Aisha wanted to delete them when she got her grades back; she had gotten two B and an A… you don’t delete two B and an A. It has been two years since she graduated from high school and over one year since I opened the file, so I figured it was time to delete them. I printed out three copies, one for me (because my original copies were all wrinkled from reading them and showing them off), one for Aisha and one for her baby book. Now I could simple delete the file and free up 8 KB right? Wrong! First my computer asked me which file I wanted to delete. With a slight pang of guilt I hit Aisha’s Poetry File. Then my computer asked me “Are you sure you want to send Aisha’s Poetry File to the recycling bin?” A zing went straight through my heart. I HAD printed out three copies, right? Okay I can do this, I took a deep breath and clicked ‘yes’. It was too late for regrets, they were gone. Next I deleted some recipes I downloaded from the internet that looked great but way too much trouble to make. I was on a roll… I deleted most of the silly pictures and sayings that people had e-mailed and I saved for some unknown reason and about 2 MB of sound files. I was so proud of myself; I decided to take the kids out to one of those pizza and video game places.

When we got home I decided to go on the internet and check my e-mail. I turned on my computer excited to see how fast it had gotten after I had delete all those files, only to discover that there was no change. I was just about to hurl my computer out the window when Terrel came to its rescue. He told me that I had to defrag my computer so it would run better. I sat down quietly next to him and watched him as he prepared to defrag my computer. “First you have to empty your recycle bin before I can defrag your computer”, Terrel explained. He clicked the icon and low and behold ALL of the files I deleted were there staring me in the face. “Mom, check to make sure you want to delete those file and then click on ‘empty recycle bin’ to clear out the files. I’ll show you what to do next.”

Okay, I can do this I thought… just point…click…and gone. Not gone! That nasty computer had the nerve to ask me, “Are you sure you want to delete these 123 files?” AM I SURE I yelled, Of course I am sure… I think I am sure…maybe I should take another look at the files to make sure I am really, really sure. I clicked on ‘Restore All Files’, shut down my computer and went upstairs to make sure I was really, really sure I would never wear those clothes I packed in the box for the rummage sale.

I feel guilty that I didn’t bring more things for the sale, but these were the only things I felt really, really sure I didn’t need any more.

Don’t feel bad Jamila, the clothes you brought are fantastic. The church ladies are going to be very grateful. Thank you so much for the donation.

Okay Bella Nonna, I see that twinkle in your eyes. What are giggling about?

I find it funny… all the clothes you’ve donated belong to your husband George

Happy 25th Wedding Anniversary Darling

Oh hello

 I’m okay, thanks for asking.

I am just a little weepy. I found a letter I wrote to my dear husband on the eve of our 25th wedding anniversary while going through some old pictures, letters and cards that I have been holding onto for far too long. I can’t believe how quickly time passes. It seems like only yesterday I was getting married and raising my sons.

Are you sure you want me to read it to you?

Dear Richard,

Remember this evening when I was in the middle of making dinner and helping the boys with their homework you asked me why I loved you and agreed to marry you and I lovingly replied, “Because you asked me.”? Then later when I was picking up the trash the dog got into because someone didn’t take it out after dinner like he promised, you asked me if I would do it all over again if I had the chance and I dutifully responded, “Yeah sure… I guess.”? Well as I lie hear listening to you snore I have thought of better answers to your questions. I thought of waking you up to tell you, but tomorrow being our 25th wedding anniversary, I decided to let you sleep… pretty thoughtful huh.

I love you because you can watch gory operations on the Discovery Channel while eating popcorn and ice cream, run outside with the neighborhood guys to see a squirrel that had been blown up when it got into the electric transformer then sit down to dinner and gut a deer then go out for pizza and beer, but turn green at the sight of a dirty diaper and “doggy presents” and have to lie down for a few hours.

I love you because you had no trouble telling everyone at my brother’s wedding you were going to quit your job and take up fly fishing and that you complained so loudly during the Priest’s sermon about the pimple on your butt that he was compelled to add you to the Prayer For The Sick list, but you have to whisper, “Yeah me too,” whenever I end my calls to you at work by saying “I love you” for fear the guys will hear you and tease you for the rest of the day.

I love you because every time I ask you if I look fat you reply “only if you want to” or when I start to feel self-conscious about my wrinkles you lovingly point out that a Shar-Pei has far more wrinkles than I do and people love them.

I love you because I let you wander around the house looking for your reading glasses and then after 15 minutes of unsuccessful looking I calmly walked over to you and gently slide them off your head onto your nose, instead of being mad you chuckled and gave me a kiss.

Would I do it all over again? Yes, in a heartbeat!

 Happy anniversary darling.

With all my love, Bella

It’s hard to believe that Richard passed away over 5 years ago… oh how I miss him. We would have celebrated our 35th wedding anniversary in May.

Enough melancholy, let’s go into the kitchen and I’ll bake an apple pie.

Common Sense

Hello Bella Nonna, do you ever get the feeling people are losing their common sense?


Yes Alisa… more and more each day. What brought on this revelation?

This morning I was TV channel surfing and I stopped on the recipe channel when I heard that they had a top New York bakery owner willing to share her secrets to making great crusty bread. There was a scrumptious assortment on breads and rolls displayed in front of her. You know me and bread… I had no choice but to stay and watch.

She had my full attention when she explained the chemical reaction necessary for the bread to raise, the importance of the salt to flour ratio and the gluten content of each and every type of flour known to man. She had this fancy little do-hickey that gives you the exact temperature of the water… down to the thousandth degree. I was amazed; I didn’t know making a loaf of bread was so complicated. Silly me…I just made sure the yeast proofed and then continued to measure the other ingredients with reckless abandon. Heck, I even used a regular teaspoon for the salt one day because my measuring spoons were lost in my kitchen gadget drawer.

I watched as she carefully measured all her ingredients and placed them inside the mixing bowl. The mixer had a weird type of dough hook thingy. When she started the mixer not one fleck of flour escaped. I have to admit I was quite impressed. I always use the mixing paddle because it incorporates the ingredients faster… but I, along with my kitchen, am often covered in a fine floury mist. She set the timer for two minutes. While the mixer was whirring away she prepared the countertop for the kneading of the dough, explaining that this was THE crucial part of bread making. I was riveted on her every move… I even jumped when the timer went off. Taking the mixing bowl off the mixer she carefully dumped the dough onto the prepared counter. She shaped the dough into a ball and placed the mixing bowl over top of it to let the dough rest for ten minutes.

“This is a good time to go to a commercial break.” She explained.

All that talk about fresh baked bread was making me hungry, so I hurried into the kitchen for a snack. I heard the music signaling that the show was coming back from commercial and rushed back with my snack and quickly sat down. I looked up at the TV screen to see someone meticulously washing their hands … I thought I had sat on the remote and was watching the surgery channel. Before I could find the remote, the camera was back on the bakery expert’s face.

“Now, this next part is very important,” she explained. “It will make all the difference in the texture of your bread.”

She stood in front of the dough and held her hands up in front of the camera.

“These are the palms of your hands,” she said tapping them together. “You want to use them to knead your dough.”

Bella Nonna, do you think that piece of advice was really necessary? I thought that was a given when she said the word knead.

Maybe she was just trying to be thorough, Alisa.

I guess… Okay, so then the expert pulled the dough in front of her and pressing into the dough with the palms of her hands she said, “You want to push the dough away from your body.” She kept repeating it over and over as she demonstrated her technique. “Remember this is what will make your bread a success or failure!”

I moved closer to the TV screen so I could see exactly what she was doing, I wanted my bread to be a success.

“Remember, it is important to push the dough away from you… never towards you… away from your body,” she puffed as she kept kneading away, “always away from your body… never towards.”

For the next eight minutes all the expert did was knead the dough… I’m not exaggerating… the whole segment of the show was her kneading, panting and explaining the importance of kneading AWAY from your body.

This was her secret for making great bread, kneading the dough away from your body? This woman is considered a master chef and her great discovery is to knead dough away from her body. I know I’m being redundant, but it doesn’t take a rocket scientist to comprehend the concept of kneading dough… a four-year old could do it. Besides, did you ever try to knead dough TOWARDS your body… especially with the palms of your hands?

Bella Nonna… I see that familiar twinkle in your eyes… what are you thinking? Oh no… I have no right ranting and raving about that woman. I just spent the morning watching a woman make bread; something I have been doing successfully for years. Where is MY common sense?

Alisa, I only have one thing to say… do you want butter or jam on your bread?

Endangered Species

You are just in time to help me batten down the hatches… Bernadette Callahan is coming over for a visit with her five children or as they are usually referred to by the folks around here curtain hangin’ chandelier swingin’ cushion jumpin’ food throwin’ pet punishing band of rag-a-muffins. She called me this morning in tears; she is having another one of those days.


Bernadette and her husband Patrick decided to wait until they were emotionally and financially settled to have their children. It was taking a lot longer than they thought it would. Finally they gave into family pressure and Bernadette’s ticking biological clock and had five children in seven years.

Oh dear… there’s the doorbell.

Hi sweety, I would like you to meet…

Oh Bella Nonna, I don’t know what I’m going to do… I can’t do this… I’m not cut out to be a mother.

Give me the baby. Where are the rest of the children?

They are home with Patrick. I made him take the day off from work… they are his children too. He is always saying all the children need is a little discipline and that he would do it if he wasn’t so tired after work. So I called him in sick today. Now he has no excuse… Let’s see if he can control them.

Come on into the kitchen… we’ll have a cup of tea and a nice chat.

Bella Nonna, did you have all this trouble raising your three sons?

Every mother goes through days when she wonders how something so precious could cause so much trouble. You just have to come up with cleaver ways to handle the problems. What is your biggest problem with the children?

Sharing… toys, candy, my time… you name it, they will battle over it. It gets especially bad when friends and family come over with their kids. They all start fighting like little animals… I’m not kidding. The girls are biting and pulling hair while the boys are socking, kicking and spitting at each other. I really hate it when Mi-Yong comes over with her two little princesses. Mi-Yong is so condescending I could smack her. She’s all, “You should teach your daughters to share. You give them so many toys. In my country children have very few toys and they have to share with everyone. It is a sign of disrespect not to share with a guest.” What frosts my cookies is Mi-Yong never invites any one over to her home. Her home is so new… her furniture is so expensive… her crystal, glass and porcelain figurines are irreplaceable. Oh… I’m sorry Bella Nonna; she is a friend of yours.

That’s okay Bernadette I know you meant no harm... you are just venting.

When it comes to sharing toys with the children of your family and friends Bernadette, the best thing to do is buy a few special toys that belong only to you.

I came up with this solution when my family and friends’ children would battle with my sons over their toys. I always felt so bad asking my sons to be the ones to give in. It broke my heart to watch them reluctantly hand over one of their favorite toys. I always praised them for being good sports but that was a small comfort especially if the toy got broken or accidently taken home.

I would put the boys’ favorite toys up in their bedrooms when company came over. I would leave some of the guys’ older toys in the toy box downstairs and add in “my” toys for all the children to play with. When the problem of toy sharing came up, I calmly say that all the toys belong to me… I was letting ALL the children play with MY toys… that way my sons were not forced to hand over their favorite toys to an insistent guest. This solution had an added bonus … the children took better care of the toys and they were never accidently taken home.

If your guests are “my child can do no wrong” types, wait until the children have settled down to take the toys out… make a big fuss. Look what Aunty Bernadette has for all you guys to play with. If you are really good and promise to share, I will let you play with MY special toys. Hopefully your guests will take the hint… you are sharing with your children as well as theirs.

When your children are fighting with each other over toys, you can defuse the argument by offering one of your toys in exchange for the toy being fought over. You can say, “Mommy will let you play with this toy if you let Margie have that toy.” If they still won’t share, take the toy away or put it in the endangered species box.

The endangered species box was something I came up with to teach my sons to respect their “environment”. My sons would leave their toys all over the place including outside in the backyard. After countless times of trying to resuscitate soggy stuffed animals, stepping on Lego blocks, dinging lawnmower blades with Matchbox cars and rescuing action figures from a clogged vacuum, I started an endangered species box. If I had to repeatedly put a toy away or remove it from a custody battle, I would put the toy up on a shelf where the boys could see it but not touch it. The first time the toy when on the shelf, it would stay there for fifteen minutes or so. Each time the toy became endangered, I would leave it up on the shelf a little longer. If the toy was spending more time on the shelf that being played with, I would take it off the shelf and put it in a box in my closet. It would stay there until the boys noticed it missing.

When I noticed the boys looking for the toy, I would ask them when and where they last saw the toy. While they were pointing fingers and blaming each other, I would get the toy. When I handed the toy back to them I would remind them that if they neglect or abuse things like toys, plants and animals they could disappear… sometimes forever. If they love something it is their responsibility to take care of it. The boys would be so happy to get the toy back and would take good care of it…for a while… just like grown-ups and our environment.

Another great thing about the endangered species box was some of the toys stayed in there so long the boys forgot they even had them. Every time they had one of those… “I’m bored, there is nothing to do” days, I would rescue one or two forgotten toys from the box. My guys were so happy to see them again, they were no longer bored.

Thanks Bella Nonna. I can’t wait to get home and make an endangered species box… I know… I know, I just said I can’t wait to get home. You always have a way of putting things into perspective. You should write book with all your helpful hints….Bella Nonna’s Helpful Parenting Tips.

Unsolicited Advice

Oh hello, you’ve stopped by at a great time. I’m expecting a visit from Willa and Celeste. They keep some of their bee hives on my property to help me with the pollination of my fruit and nut trees, flower, herb, and vegetable gardens. They are stopping by this morning to collect some honey and check on the hives. They own Nature’s Treasures, the holistic apothecary shop. A lot of the organic ingredients they use in their tincture, preparations, teas and aromatherapies… or as Willa and Celeste refer to them lotions, notions and potions… come from my gardens. Their shop was originally my great grandparent’s general store. Those ladies have wicked sense of humor and a fascinating outlook on life. I hope you can stay for a bit…it will be a memorable visit.

 Here they come now.

Hi ladies, how are your babies doing on such a beautiful day? Are they getting ready to settle in for winter or whatever bees do when the weather gets cold?

Hi Bella Nonna, don’t get Celeste started… she just went ten rounds with old man Goldberg over the keeping and caring for bees. Those two have been at war since they were in grade school.

That old fart thinks he is an expert on everything. I think it’s time I give him a lesson on unsolicited advice.

Unsolicited advice is like fertilizer. Sometimes it is of excellent quality and is diluted with the perfect amounts of caring and concern. Even though you didn’t ask for it, you are grateful because it helps you grow and blossom.

Sometimes it is of very good quality, but the giver dumps way too much on you. You know they meant well, but now you have extra work trying to spread it out before it smothers you. You persevere and in the long run you have to admit it did help you.

Then there is the “by the truck load” advice. This advice comes in such a huge quantity you don’t know where to put it or when you will ever use it. This is usually supplied by those generous givers who, not seeing any results, feel the need to keep supplying it. You end up pushing it aside and forgetting about it.

Then there is the “big bag of grass clippings” advice. You know the kind of advice that is filled with crabgrass, bindweed and creeping Charlie cuttings just waiting to take root… not to mention a few hundred weed seeds… the nerve of some people! Not only do you have your own bag of clippings, which I might add is way better than theirs; you have to discard their clippings and hope none of their nasty weeds take hold.

Last by not least you have… manure. The giver just dumps it on you without even seasoning it. It may be filled with healthy elements, but in its raw form, all it does is burn you up. Besides it stinks!

And that concludes Celeste’s life lesson for today. Here is a jar of honey to sweeten the experience… you thought I was gonna say advice didn’t you.

Until next time, take care and stay safe. (a suggestion… not advice)

The Big Question

Hello.

I’m Isabella Endicotti, but everyone just calls me Bella Nonna.
You look lost and confused… and a little tired I might add. Please come in and visit for awhile.

The powder room is down the hall.

What would you like to drink? Coffee, tea… or do you want something cold?

Please have a seat at the kitchen table. I like serving my friends in the kitchen instead of the dining room… it’s cozier don’t you think.

Help yourself to a goodie. I bake when I’m upset… come to think of it, I bake when I’m happy, sad, bored… heck I don’t even need a reason to bake.

Let me tell you about Harmony Hill. It’s a little piece of Heaven tucked away from the rest world. My great grandfather, Lorenzo Auditore, purchased it over one hundred years ago.

He and his two brothers had left Italy looking for a better life. His two older brothers had stay only five years and decided to go back to Italy, but my great grandfather stayed and traveled all over the United States. He would take odd jobs where ever he could get them. One day while working for Northland Orchards he found a slice of Heaven, as he always referred to it. He knew that this was where he was destined to spend the rest of his life. My great grandfather worked night and day until he had earned enough money to purchase it. While working out in the mid-west he met, fell in love and married my great grandmother, Harmony Lacroix.

My great grandfather took his new bride and her brother and sister-in-law home to live in Harmony Hill. They built a cozy little house and got to work planting fruit trees, nut trees and a huge garden. Soon they had earned enough money to open a general store in the center of town.

Times were tough in the early 1900’s, so my great grandfather came up a great plan. He would contact some of the people he had worked with while trying to earn the money to buy Harmony Hill.

He had worked on a dairy farm in Wisconsin and became great friends with Ingvar Gustafsson, the nephew of the owner. He knew Mr. Gustafsson would not be inheriting any part of the dairy farm, so my great grandfather offer him a piece of land at the bottom of Harmony Hill near the large lake my great grandfather named Serenity Spring. Mr. Gustafsson’s uncle had given him two dairy cows as a wedding present which helped him start his new life in Harmony Hill. In return for the land, Mr. Gustafsson supplied my great grandparents with milk and other dairy products.

While working at a construction site my great grandfather met two master carpenters, Mr. Cleavon Johnson and Mr. James Washington. He offered them the same deal as Mr. Gustafsson.

Mr. and Mrs. Schneider were about to lose their farm and all of their livestock when my great grandfather got in contact with them. They were more than happy to accept the deal.

With a bit of luck, a lot of love and hard work my grandparents were able to buy Northland Orchards. The Gustafsson family was able to buy the land that Gustafsson’s Family Dairy now sits on. Mr. Johnson and Mr. Washington started their own construction company. Most of the homes here were built by Johnson & Washington Construction. Schneider Meat products are sold in most of the grocery store around here.

Over the years my great grandparent had many traveling workers. Most stayed for a short spell, but a few had such a great love for the land that my great grandparents gave them small portions of their land with the understanding that they would share their goods and services with the other residence.

As the families grew so did Harmony Hill. Nowhere, to my knowledge, will you find a more eclectic loving group of people. Each family has its own unique family customs and traditions, but we all share the same family value. Hard to believe, well get comfortable and I’ll tell you a little about the goings on around here.

Yesterday for example, my niece Emily told me the cutest story about her three and a half year old son Joey. Oh, let me tell you a little about Emily. She met her husband David Anderson at college and after David graduated they built a house in Harmony Hill. They have three adorable sons, Davy’s eight years old, Andy’s five years old and Joey, like I said, is three and a half. Emily is a stay-at-home mom who often babysits for some of the other work-outside-the home moms. The children she sits for, how can I put this politically correct, are of different races… let me just tell you the story.

Emily had been talking with some of the mothers at her children’s school about explaining the differences in people’s skin color. Growing up in Harmony Hill she never had to deal with race, religion or economical differences… it never was an issue. Last year the school district merged with the neighboring town and now the parents are having a few problems. Unfortunately no one had an answer to the problem, so the ladies decided to keep their fingers crossed and hoped it would go away.

Three days later her son Joey was sitting at his little table coloring. There were crayons everywhere. He was coloring away in every coloring book he owned when he asked, “Mommy what color am I?” Emily said her heart started to pound, her mind raced. She knew her answer to this question could affect Joey’s whole life. She tried to stall by picking up some of the crayons hoping he would forget the question, him being three and a half… short attention span and all that. Just when she had thought she had dodged a bullet, Joey innocently repeated, “What color am I?”

“Well let me think,” she replied. “When I was a little girl people would say we were white… Caucasian is the proper term I believe. But, we’re not really white. You are more of a peachy color like me, Andy has sort of a bronzy olive complexion, Davy is a pink color and Daddy is sort of reddish white. Most of the relatives on my side of family all have olive complexions which are light in the winter, but gets darker in the summer. I mean we all get darker in the summer… not everyone in the world… some people are dark all the time. The world is filled with people of every color, but no one color is better than any other. What color you are is not as important as what kind of person you are. Do you understand?”

Emily said her head was pounding. She knew she was rambling but she had to get the answer right. She had read all the parenting magazines; they all had quotes from child psychologists, teachers and political authorities saying the responsibility rests on the parents. She knew she might only get one chance to explain. Her opinion could influence Joey’s whole life.

Joey was staring up at her with that sweet little wide-eye deer caught in a headlight kind of way. He was hanging on her every word. Emily could feel the tension building… something had to give. Suddenly his little face lit up. “Oh yeah… prayerpul… prayerpul is my color, right mommy?”

“Oh, you meant… Yes baby, your favorite color is purple.” Emily said she was so relieved the crisis was over. She thought she had handled it quite well.

We both had a good laugh about it. Emily is so conscientious and very creative. Here… look at this tote bag she made me. She came up with the saying all by herself.


     All sons and no daughters makes a mom
              Creative
               Resourceful
                Adventurous
                 Zany and
                  Young



Enough of my silly prattle, you probably have somewhere you need to be so I’ll say good bye … but please feel free to stop by any time, I really enjoyed our visit. Here take a few cookies for the road. Take care and stay safe.