Sunday, December 18, 2011

T and I are almost the same height. Excuse me while I go lock my closet.
The Amazing Race

Like all reality shows that are chock full of absurd challenges fueled by sleep deprivation, petty arguments, and  lack of perspective, this week in Lucca our dramatic reality has reached epic proportions.

No lines at Macys; the Xmas light show is free here in Lucca.

Yesterday I went to the rehearsal for the high school show and I taught my boss at Happy Gym and the Zumba teacher Manuela and the Contemporary Dance teacher Amanda my number.  Amanda came in late, and she did it wearing fabulous sunglasses and with the kind of performance quality that makes you feel like a total loser for coming on time. I can't swear by it, but I am pretty sure Manuela drinks at least 14 cups of espresso a day. I put the steps in the wrong order so it didn't go with the music and they were pretty confused and unhappy. Manuela did her best not to look me in the eyes. Not only did I choose a song that is impossible to count and that changes tempo constantly, but I chose a song that is so long even a marathon runner would have trouble working up the endurance to execute it. If we survive my number, we then are going to do a Zumba combination that is very Waka-Waka ala Shakira, something called GLIDE where you slide around with little flat potholders under your feet, and standing Pilates involving an awkwardly large ball that we are supposed to hold in our palms. Since there will not be a giant mirror at the high school and I will have to follow along from behind the other teachers, I am full of dread. My memory sucks and I don't know right from left. The real act is going to be on a tiny platform that is only 20 cm high. Also, I kept losing my potholders, which does not bode well at all.

Then I got a phone call from an unrecognized number. I thought it was my boss at LIFE gym, but way later I figured out that it was one of his partners named Massimo who is all business and very serious. He asked me to work on the 26th for one holiday I actually do have off, even if we are going to lunch at Paola and Stefano's because it is the holiday of San Stefano and thus his name day. I actually thought that since Dino, my regular boss, has a pretty mischievous sense of humor, it could be some weird kind of practical joke. But joke's on me, because they really want me to teach Metamorfosi at a "tennis circle" at an undisclosed location for ten to fifteen friends who have a tradition of taking aerobics on the day after Christmas. . . Yeah, seems unlikely to me too. Maybe I misunderstood. Again. I hope I heard right when he said that he thought they would pay me 60 euros instead of the regular 15.

This is the store window display at a bar/candy store.

T went and had a great time at Natasha's birthday party where they ice skated, ate pizza, and generally reveled in the pre-holiday buzz of activity which oozes from Lucca's pores on the last shopping weekend before the real chaos ensues.

F and I, after determining that 4:00 in the afternoon is too late for a nap, decided to walk several miles over to the shopping center on the sidewalk-less streets where there are these discount stores and a sporting store called Cis Alfa. They had nothing I wanted at all, but F got a blender.  When we came back it was pitch black outside. I considered lying down on the cement in front of the shopping center. F pointed out that there was a grassy patch right next to the cement that would be more comfortable. I looked at him square in the eyes and said, "Nah, that would be too easy."

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