Oh, my. Peter Schumacher just walked in. He must have followed us on his little motorino.
Poor boy. He must really not have anything else to do….
Oh, the secretario is handing something to Holly—
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HAGUE CONVENTION ABOLISHING THE REQUIREMENT OF CONSULAR LEGALISATION FOR FOREIGN PUBLIC DOCUMENTS
The United States of America and Italy and some other countries have signed a convention abolishing the requirements of diplomatic and consular acknowledgements or legalizations of public documents originating in one convention country and intended for use in another convention country signatory of the convention.
This consulate general, therefore, will not henceforth acknowledge or legalize public documents: notarial documents, deeds, certificates of vital statistics, wills, court decrees, etc.
To be valid in any other of the countries signatories of the convention, all documents must carry an APOSTILLE.
To obtain the “APOSTILLE” in any of the United States, a document is first notarized by a Notary Public in that state and then authenticated by the Country Clerk in the country in which the notary is qualified.
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e-mails
To: Listserv <Wundercat@wundercatlives.com>
Fr: Peter Schumacher <webmaster@wundercatlives.com>
Re: JANE HARRIS
NEWS FLASH! JANE HARRIS is here in Italy to be the witness for the wedding of her friends. Today they go to the Ufficio di Secretario of Castelfidardo for the license to marry, and the secretario said NON! He would not allow it, as the friends of Jane Harris did not get APOSTILLE from the US consulate in Roma!
I have driven my motorino straight from the Ufficio di Secretario myself to let you in on the news, and also to tell my grandmother, who says she will speak to the secretario herself after lunch, because she knows his mother! And she says his mother will be very angry when she learns her son would not let the American lovers marry! Grandmother says she will take this to Mayor Torelli himself, if she must!
At the Ufficio di Secretario, JANE HARRIS was wearing pink short-sleeved shirt, trousers in black cotton, and pink sandals! Her toenails are painted pink to match! JANE HARRIS is still looking very cute!
More later from #1 fan of Wundercat!
Wundercat Lives—4eva!
Peter
___________________________________________
To: Claire Harris <charris2004@freemail.com>
Fr: Jane Harris <jane@wondercat.com>
Re: You
Disaster! The city of Castelfidardo won’t allow Holly and Mark to get married here! Not without some stamp from the US consulate in Rome!
Which means we have to drive all the way there and back to get it. That’s another eight hours there and back in the car! And we only have the house until Friday, when Holly’s uncle comes back from his latest accordion tour. And the Secretario says the mayor’s calendar is totally booked, and only the mayor can perform wedding ceremonies!
Everybody is pretty bummed. Well, except for Cal, of course. He is totally against marriage on principle. He thinks there must be something inherently wrong with you and Dad for having been together for so long. He has absolutely no idea how normal human beings function. It’s possible he’s a robot.
Anyway, we’re going to grab lunch in town and reconnoiter back at the secretario’s office later. Holly’s uncle’s housekeeper might be able to do something, according to her great-grandson. Apparently, she knows everybody’s mother, and can shame them into doing whatever she wants.
Hope Dad’s back is feeling better! Good thing, those gloves.
Love,
Janie
PDA of Cal Langdon
PDA of Cal Langdon
Insisted on buying lunch, as everyone in our party was completely dejected (excepting myself, of course).
It seems that Italian bureaucracy is doing my job for me, insofar as keeping Mark and Holly from wedded bliss (or bust). It appears the young couple cannot be wed unless they get a specific stamp on a form that can only be secured at the American embassy back in Rome. Their choices are to skip the whole thing or pile back into the car and drive back to Rome tomorrow.
At this point, Mark seems to be leaning toward making the trip. Surprisingly, it’s his lady love whose resolve seems to be flagging. I wonder if Holly is quite as enthusiastic about the idea of marrying Mark as I—and her friend Jane—once presumed.
This, at least, explains why Ms. Harris insists upon carrying on our conversations via text. She must have known that her friend’s enthusiasm was not all it should be.
And I must say, if a small detail like a stamp on a form and an eight-hour drive are enough to drive Ms. Caputo into such dudgeon, perhaps Mark really is better off single.
The girls are in the ladies’ room, doing whatever it is women do when they enter such facilities together. Mark is on his cell with the car rental agency in Ancona. Apparently, the replacement vehicle New York Journal promised him earlier this morning is no longer available. Good thing he called before we made the trip.
Lunch was delicious, by the way. We found a small family-run establishment popular with the many accordion-factory workers in town. For twenty euros total we enjoyed an exquisitely prepared lemon pasta, grilled scallops, insalata caprese, and a carafe of bianco frizzante. We received a number of odd looks, to be sure, from the natives. This is clearly a restaurant that doesn’t see many Americans.
And clearly has never heard of a non-smoking section.
Still, a pleasant meal, in all.
Now, I presume, we shall be trekking back to town hall to argue some more with the presiding officials. With any luck, we’ll be joined by Inga Schumacher—taking this tragi-comedy to a whole new level of hilarity—and her great-grandson, who seems to have glued himself to our sides… not that his nearconstant presence seems to bother Ms. Harris. In fact, I’m starting to believe she actually likes having the kid around. Peter’s presence makes it very difficult for me to say all the things I’d like to say to the object of his devotion….
Perhaps this is just as well. I always seem to be thinking—and saying—the oddest things around that woman. Telling her I think she’s cute when she’s angry? What was I doing? I NEVER say that kind of thing, much less write it.
That’s right. She has it in writing, permanent proof of my idiocy.
I ought to be shot.
Especially since it’s more than clear that she thinks I’m—what was it? Oh, yes. An ass. That’s very nice. Being called an ass by a woman who makes her living drawing a cartoon of a cat. Excuse me, did I create something that people have forever since been forcing me to look at, dangling from suction cups on the back windshield of their car? No, I did not.
It’s all this damned fizzy wine. That’s what it is. I just need a beer. Maybe this afternoon, since it doesn’t look as if we’ll be changing cars in Ancona, I’ll talk Mark into going to a bar with me—there’s that Crazy Bar and Sexy Tattoo Shop in Porto Recanati—and we’ll talk this whole marriage thing out over a couple of cold ones….
Though I think I’ll keep my thoughts about Ms. Harris to myself. And the fact that today she’s got on a pair of shoes I haven’t seen before. Open-toe, of course, with these pink straps that criss-cross over the cat tattoo—