Friday, September 23, 2011

Let them eat cake or
And, boy, are my arms tired 
1. I missed my first Italian tupperware party due to studying with T for her tecnica test. A persnickety test on every possible aspect of paper, fiber, and wood making from their chemical treatment in industry to the life of silk worm. I'm not actually kidding. (Then she didn't have the test, because the professoressa didn't show up.) It is okay because it wasn't real tupperware and there weren't even any strippers.

2. F is now teaching an English class in Marlia at a place that looks like a shipyard. It's actually a peppermill...

3. I missed my new student Jessica and possible future student Karin's birthday bash because I was teaching a double Metamorfosi class last night. The classes went really well, but I was bummed to miss a chance to meet new friends and celebrate with fun people. F was kind enough to bake and deliver a cake in my absence. (I do silently say prayers of gratitude in his honor before I go to sleep every night, so it's not that I am not appreciative. Possibly he did something horrendous in a past life and is now making up for it and I am just reaping the benefits.) I did the little squeeze icing design on the top, but the recipe belongs to T. F made a smaller version of the cake for Lorenzo whose birthday it was today. I bought my little fidanzato  (see sept. 5) every connect the dots book I could find in the whole city.

4.  T got scolded unfairly twice yesterday at school. The first time, the vice principal was substituting in her social civics class/ approfondimento. He kept telling her to pay attention. She kept reciting everything he had just said verbatim. Then he yelled at her for having glassy eyes. For lord's sake! Then another teacher yelled at her, and later apologized, because he was just upset not to be able to pick up his daughter from her first day of kindergarten. Listen people, she gets yelled at enough at home for things she has actually done wrong. You don't need to practice on her for no earthly reason.

5. When T asked me if she and Natasha could put on fake eyelashes in a tremulous, meek, she'll-never-let-me-do-it little voice, I cheerfully said sure. I expected for them to ask for something much more impossible. But then, this morning when T woke up with what can only be described as an eyelash Mohawk with half her eyelashes stuck to her eyelid I thought to myself, "Oooopsy... And there goes mother of the year."

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