Seventh Versus Eighth and the Purple Undies

Settimo resting near the bench in our park in Rome. Photo by Chiara Piga

Settimo resting near the bench in our park in Rome. Photo by Chiara Piga

Dear Blog Readers —

I am drowning in the Vatican’s Synod on the Family — ever since the Relatio (preliminary document) came out on Monday, the conservatives are blaming the progressives for going to far and the progressives are blaming the press for spinning the story.  Members of the press are interviewing other members of the press and asking them who is to blame and who is spinning what.  The Sala Stampa della Santa Sede (the Vatican Press office) is bombarding the press with documents in Italian, English, French and Spanish, everything seems translated in different ways and it is becoming a bit of a free for all.  This weekend is the end of round one, so I will attempt something more thoughtful after that.

In the meantime, I am going to tell you about some real spinning I was doing this week.

Yesterday was one of those mornings that most of us have sooner or later when you can’t find a decent pair of underwear in your underwear drawer.  So, half asleep,  I went digging around in the back of the drawer and pulled out a pair of gigantic, nun-size and style, purple underwear.  Whatever.   Put them on and went to work and didn’t think any more about it.

(I actually remember why I have that dreadful underwear.  I bought them at Remy’s in Bridgton, Maine when I arrived there from Italy on vacation and realized I hadn’t packed any underwear.  Anyone who has been to Remy’s in Bridgton, Maine knows it is not exactly Victoria’s Secret.  You could tackle a moose in that underwear and you wouldn’t even get a wedgie.  Actually a moose could probably wear that underwear.)

I got home late from work and obviously no one had walked the dog so I grabbed him, shuffled down to the park and plopped my tired tail on a park bench.  Now anyone who reads this blog regularly knows that my dog’s name is Settimo (which means seventh in Italian), and we call him “Set” for short.   And if you read this blog regularly, you are well aware that Settimo is a total wimp.  (see blog posts: Doggy Blues or Settimo Cielo and Vampire Mamma).

As I was seated on the park bench I got a phone call and I began chatting.  Settimo snuffled around — he should be a truffle hunting dog, all he likes to do is sniff around– never straying far from my bench.  As I spoke, I noticed a great big, chocolate-brown bull-dog heading across the park.  The dog looked mean and he wasn’t on a leash.   There was a young woman trailing along behind him.  I couldn’t help noticing that the big bulldog was lifting his leg and peeing on about everything in sight as he headed our way.  Talk about a virile male letting us know it is his territory.  Settimo noticed him too and came and sat close to me.  I continued to chat but held his little harness-collar.

And then it happened — the bull-dog charged, I tried to hold Settimo and suddenly I  found myself spinning like a top on the ground between these two dogs, desperately trying to hold Settimo to keep him from escaping straight out of the park, and madly trying to push away the bull-dog and keep him from eating Set for dinner.  I was spinning amid a cacophony of yelps and barks and growls.  And, in the middle of all this spinning, it occurred to me that my dress had flown up and my purple underwear was exposed to the whole world.  Oh horrors!

Then the young woman arrived and dragged off her dog and a crowd gathered around and stared down at me on the ground clutching onto my hopelessly frightened cocker and trying to get my dress back in place.  My sunglasses had flown in one direction, my cell phone in another, my purse in another, and I was missing an earring.  I was bleeding on my elbow and my ankle.

The bull-dog lady took her dog a short distance away. I got up, got Settimo back on his leash (he was fine) and everyone began looking for my earring.   Suddenly the bull-dog lady was back declaring, “I have to bring him back, he can’t get away with this, he needs to learn, let’s try again to see if they can get along.”  Fortunately, I didn’t have to open my mouth, several people shooed her away.

This morning I bumped into my dog-walker friend Lucia as I was heading to work.  She immediately asked if Settimo was ok.  Although she had not witnessed the event, word apparently travels fast among the dog-owners in our park.  I told her Settimo was fine and she said, “funny about that, Otto is usually such a sweet dog.”

“Otto — so that was the name of the bull-dog,”  I thought. (Otto means eight in Italian) How strange Eighth versus Seventh and the Spinning Mamma in the middle.

Moral of the story:  Don’t wear your purple nun underwear when you walk your dog

(post-script: If there are any nuns reading this, I hope I am not offending you. If you feel your undergarments have been incorrectly described or unjustly maligned, you can feel free to correct me in a comment)

 

Trisha Thomas
Trisha is a TV journalist working for AP TV News in Rome. She is married to an Italian and is a Mamma of three.

10 Comments

  1. Lega Medcalf
    2014/10/18

    I’m glad Set is fine. I had a similar scare recently with my dog Henry who was also attacked. But, leaving that aside, you made me laugh out loud!!! My mother used to buy me the type of underwear you described. I remember being able to pull it up over my chest so that it looked like I was wearing a tank top.

    Reply
    • Trisha Thomas
      Trisha Thomas
      2014/10/18

      Oh My Goodness– tank top Undies!! I am getting such a kick out of all these hilarious comments.

      Reply
  2. Alan
    2014/10/18

    . . as I was going to say – there are those of us of both sexes (I try to be inclusive) who find these voluminous knickers of any colour a total turn-on. I’m sure it is a generational thing and harks back peeking from the bushes as the girls played their netball games with their tops tucked neatly into those wonders of elasticated haute couture. I’m deeply disappointed that there is no ‘selfie’! As for the ‘comments closed’ thing, it was my pleasure – I view it as delayed gratification! ;-)

    Reply
    • Trisha Thomas
      Trisha Thomas
      2014/10/18

      Oh dear, oh dear, all these comments are making me laugh so hard. Just the thought of you peeking through the bushes at the girls playing netball…giggle giggle. And thank God there was no selfie or any other photo of my spinning purple nun undie Mamma experience.

      Reply
  3. John
    2014/10/18

    Had a call from Reny’s yesterday. They want to offer you a contract to advertise their new line of active women’s comfortable women, underwear. What shall I tell them??

    JWT

    Reply
    • Trisha Thomas
      Trisha Thomas
      2014/10/18

      Hee hee hee. Hmm what could we call them the Moosie-Mozz Mamma Undies. Oh dear, the whole idea is giving me the giggles.

      Reply
  4. Kay
    2014/10/20

    Reminds me of the scene in Bridget Jones when Hugh Grant discovers that she’s wearing granny knickers. I guess this is another lesson of life to remember along with “Never leave the house without wearing clean undies in case you get in an accident.” :-)

    I must say that I love the variety of your blog…from pope to panties. I never know what I will find here! And I just love, love, love Settimo!!! He’s just so adorable!!!

    Reply
    • Trisha Thomas
      Trisha Thomas
      2014/10/24

      HA!! I wish Hugh Grant had been there to help me off the ground!!
      I think you have given me a good title for an updated blog name or a book — since the diapers in “Mozzarella Mamma: Deadlines, Diapers and the Dolce Vita” are a bit outdated– maybe I should go with “From Popes to Panties”!

      Reply
  5. Kathy
    2014/10/20

    Hehehe Trisha this is hilarious – sorry about your injuries – but knowing from your past posts that Italian women like sexy underwear I was having this mad chuckle about your purple undies on show to the world.
    I was in Naples two weeks ago and along Via Toledo – their main shopping strip – are several underwear stores that proudly display the raunch factor in windows and on racks outside. I mean this stuff would be behind closed doors in Australia but there it is – all hanging out there for the world to see and mums, sisters, teenage girls all rifling through the satin and lace (what there is of it anyway) while boyfriends and husbands stand idly by. So different to home.

    Hope you’re okay and you found that earring!

    Reply
    • Trisha Thomas
      Trisha Thomas
      2014/10/24

      Thank you Kathy!! Found the earring (lost the backing, but that is ok), and I am thinking maybe I should invest in some of that slinky Italian stuff! Or maybe live wedgie free in Moose underwear forever.

      Reply

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