Saturday, October 22, 2011

Freckles and whatnot  
Those of you who really know me might wonder how in the world I ended up with several additional gorgeous girls all of whom have reddish hair and freckles under my roof on a Friday night. Well, I was asked if T's friend Caoimhe could sleep over tonight and I said sure.  Then I heard Caoimhe's mom murmur something else. That something else turned out to be the names of the other two children. Well played. And that is how some people get a date night in Barcelona and I get . . . very little if any sleep, most likely.

But then it turned out that I was to get only two out of three, the biggest and smallest. The middle one is as easy going as they come, so I have no idea why I didn't get her too, but that's life minus the bragging rights. Also we must have had very bad reception on that cell phone conversation because they ended up being in Bologna and not Barcelona. Anyway, the smallest girl who has been known to give a leaping sciatic seizure inducing hug about the neck and sometimes a quick affectionate kick in the shins, turned out to be quite cuddly and rather winning after all. She was squirmy because the picture book did not have enough pictures and then she was rather put out by the lack of water nearby the bed; but, in the end, she was a good movie buddy (Enchanted) and refreshingly decisive, what with her I-want-the-blue-cup and this-pizza-is-too-peppery kind of no-nonsense-Dr.-Phil-with-an-Irish-accent kind of witticisms. 

Meanwhile, "Giuseppe" from the gym has called me three times in the last twenty four hours because his back seized up while he was driving and he has decided to be a rather large baby about the whole thing. He wanted a Bioenergy treatment for his finger which has limited mobility, hopefully not due to a violent poking somebody incident, and so now he might even come over tomorrow for a back treatment. I think he is envisioning massage rather than non touching hand protocols, so that should be interesting -- provided he even makes it up the stairs and then doesn't faint when he sees how tall F is.

F is, at this moment, having a "business" meeting involving a lovely bottle of red wine and our downstairs neighbor from Switzerland named Beat pronounced Beh-at by everyone except F who prefers to refer to him by his rapper name: Swiss Beatz. It turns out he runs the Swiss public television network. Funny how the tall men disappear when small freckled people don't quite want to go to sleep just yet. Hilarious, in fact.10:01 They're still up;(.

Arrivederci, Brooklyn!

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