Friday, December 30, 2011

Allegedly
I have no idea how this got on my plate . . .

There are a lot of myths floating around out there. One is that I turned 42 this week. Okay, that much is true. T and F spoiled me with presents and yummy delights including cupcakes filled with lemoncurd and covered in salted caramel and whipped cream. Another myth is that people sleep at night. I seem to have heart palpitations, nightmares, and weird panic attacks but not so much sleep so I am not sure about that one. This has made exercising constantly just slightly more of a challenge. Which is why I was in bed when I knew that Mauri the electrician was stopping by. I'll explain later, but he never actually fixes anything so I couldn't really motivate to get out of pajamas for him when F is just as good at pointing and nodding as I am.

When you turn 42 you can have popcorn for dinner too.
All good pastry chefs wear curlers in their hair. Duh!


Oh and I have been wanting to tell you that my private client Alessia has lost five and a half chilos and two dress sizes in just three weeks of working with me. She hasn't changed her diet at all and has a weakness for potato chips, but she does do an hour of hard work with me before taking the group lesson twice a week. She is so much fun to work with and I enjoy her personality so much. I have invited her and her whole family to dinner next week. Her mom Isabella is really sweet and she also takes class with us and her brother works out with a guy trainer. He is allegedly 17 years old, but his manners are so delightful that I suspect foul play.

Today another one of my student's asked me to meet her because she wanted to tell me about this health drink she sells which made of Mangosteen fruit. Allegedly it has a tonellata of antioxidants in it. Barbara tends to speak super softly for a saleswoman so I didn't catch her whole sales pitch, but free radicals are definitely bad for you. I'll tell you that. She is like an Avon lady since this drink is sold on an individual basis instead of to stores. It was mildly better than being sold a vacuum cleaner for ten hours that you could never ever afford, see the Folletto post from last year at this time if you don't remember.  The funny thing about Barbara is that she can barely rotate her legs due to her tight hips from sitting glued to a desk selling Xango for a jillion hours a week. So she is in pain during most of my class and looks fairly miserable.  If she doesn't come back, I am on the verge of not having enough people to continue at Happy gym which is not so happy. In any event, I don't think I'll be able to pay 30 euros a month for juice unless I start working nights or stripping or both.

 Our electrician Mauri is friends with our landlord's son. He never answers his cell because he probably hates doing favors for his friend's dad. I don't know. But you have to trick him into answering. His other big trick is coming to the first appointment with no tools whatsoever just to have a look.  What the heck is he looking at? The oven burner doesn't light, another burner clicks incessantly, and we have no door opener. Whatever. He's coming back tomorrow. Allegedly.

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