Kids Playing in the Street

My thought of gratitude for this Sunday evening was supposed to be that the weather changed and it got cold, which normally happens during the second half of August. It did get colder yesterday, mind you, but NOT COLD ENOUGH. It's still effing hot and I don't know what to wear anymore. Because my skorts that I normally wear ALL SUMMER are like ENOUGH ALREADY!! And my jeans are all like YOU'RE TOO FAT and it's STILL TOO EFFING HOT TO FAKE IT!!!

So forget that moment of gratitude, because even at our FAVORITE OSMIZZA this afternoon in San Giuseppe (Zerjal, but please don't go, because it's already too crowded) the women are all grimacing (in the bad kind of way) because they have never suffered such hot weather in September. But they are happy to see me, since we are neighbors.

Instead, I will tell you that the best part of this little Osmizza outing was when the lady at the counter said, after telling me it's never been so hot in September since the beginning of time (and I know she is right because in the last 15 years of proof I have this is absolutely true, and why wouldn't it also be true for the several million years before that?)...

 "Your daughter? Where is she?"

and I was all like: Daughter? Who Dat?!

Because, you see, I live in a PAESE, or a little VILLAGE, where the children leave the den at sunrise and return at sunset because they are PLAYING TOGETHER IN THE STREET.

Is there TRAFFIC? You ask. You bet! Tons of it, but the kids do like we used to do when we were little: scream CAAAAARRRRRRRRR!!!!!! And then they take the ball into their arms, and flatten themselves against the nearest house in order to avoid being run over.

All of us parents know that our kids are hanging out together in one big girl gang (plus a couple of boys) that has a triangle of influence that goes from Anna's place, to Eva's, to Isabelle's. There is always one set of parents on duty, which means that you get a ton of stuff done at the house that you can never get done during the week because your kids are outside and not asking you to do anything for them. Even if they are inside, they are on their own.

So, today, our friends who, in the not-so-distant-past did not believe such a utopia could possibily exist, came over and liberated their monkey with ours, and we went to the Osmizza, had a couple of sparkling malvasia's and came back to our place for one last drink.

We could hear the girls, of course, because they were playing some sort of ball game with a deflated volleyball that resembled a cross between volleyball, rugby, and dodgeball, and created several minor injuries.

But it didn't matter, because there were also three fridges, and three freezers full of ice, and towels all over the place, ready to ice all of those old-fashioned play in the street wounds.

Viva Domenica!