I'm back! With a portrait of superstition...

After a long and justified hiatus from blogging during which we bought a house (hooray!), I’m back!

Tonight I made a walnut jam cake for dessert. Or perhaps I should call it dinner, since I didn’t make anything else. It’s the kind of cake that’s so easy to make and turns out so delightfully that it makes me want to make a cake every Sunday. Once I had it in the oven and was clearing the debris from the counter and sink, my Gypsy man started working with the broom to make things spick and span for the friends who were about to stop by to help us eat said cake. 

When I didn’t move out of his way quite fast enough he swept right over the top of my feet and said off-handedly, “Now you won’t get married.” If it were not my husband speaking, I might have been worried.

 “It’s not just a Gypsy saying; it’s also Italian,” he continued, to lend it more credibility. Such superstitions are characteristic of my husband’s Roma upbringing, and I love the dialogue they add to our life. 

One night we heard a cat screech outside and he said matter of factly that it meant someone was going to die. I was horrified, naturally. 

Then one afternoon when we had been in the car a long time and were far from a usable restroom, he decided to reenact his days as a boy scout and relieve himself in nature. He came back with a proud and amused smile, having remembered that when you pee outside in the woods you have to spit on the pee to prevent anything bad coming your way. 

Such folklore significantly increases the quality of my life. Reflecting on that thought tonight, I told my Gypsy man that marrying him was the best decision I ever made and he said, “Yuck!” Translated, that’s a lot of mushy poetry that basically means, “Ditto.”