Tuesday, March 22, 2011

Spenga la luce/ Turn out the light
Last night we finished reading David Lebovitz's book the Sweet Life in Paris and so F decided to read aloud from another expat Parisian blog called Kung Fu Dana. In it is the most moving, horrible, wonderful, birth story ever in which the woman gets robbed not once, but twice of a cab during a snow storm when she is in full on labor and needs to get to her birthing center across town.  For this reason we went to sleep one hour later than usual and before I could relax and get my pillows right I had to wipe F's eyes because that tall, big hearted man was gently weeping.

What made me weep on the other hand, was finding out that we had missed another lettera registrata and this one turned out to be from the electric company ENEL which said that even though we pay automatically through our bank, we had missed a payment in February and that if we didn't get it straightened out yesterday, our lights would be turned off and we would have to pay and wait to have them turned back on. We think the crisis is averted, but if you don't hear from us for a while after this, you know what happened.

Somehow we invited like ten people for dinner Saturday night. I may have one of those psychological disorder's that involve fugue states where you do a lot of stuff without being all there when you do them 'cause I don't even think we have ten chairs. What do you think about artichokes baked with breadcrumbs and parmigiano and either a pasta with asparagus and Gorgonzola sauce or a pasta with a tender zucchini sauce and F's cheese bread with spreads as a starter? I just hope Alessandro can make it because he has the best stories about his interior design clients and I can't get enough of that great decorating dish.



The other thing that made me shed tears of gratitude was that the girls in T's class backed her up after she was tossed off the volleyball team yesterday by this older girl who is repeating the year.  Today all the other girls of 1-H who were watching poor T whose water bottle exploded in her backpack run back and forth with the bidella/school helper lady to dry her books on the radiator, asked her if it was true that she was thrown off the team. She answered affirmatively and they all defended her and said that she could be back on for tomorrow's match against the overconfident girls of 1-F.

When T realized that some of her books were soaked she said, "My parents are going to kill me."  This class clown type boy in her section who has alternately harassed and defended her as a fellow underdog replied, "What are you talking about? Your parents are American; you're fine."

Stay tuned for the wrap up report of the gara/Misty Treanor beat-down tomorrow. After all of the drama with this gym class stuff, F mentions on the way home something to the effect of did I know he was captain of his school volleyball team back in the day? What/ma che cavolo dici !!?? A lot of good that does us now. He's off taking his Italian class at the library and I am begging Lucia to stay extra to teach T to lob the ball over the net. Per carita'.

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