Saturday, January 21, 2012

The Girl Band
Oh all you lovely American dudes & dudettes. I think I pretty much knew about 14 people in Park Slope. So who are the 73 of you that keep reading about our humble adventures here in Italia? Wild times. Unmask yourselves, push the followers button, or send us comments so I know who the heck you are and how you are doing.


Anyway, it was so nice today to come home after pushing my tired behind to a two hour boot camp at Happy Gym with nine students and curl up with my home team of F & T to watch the American Idol auditions. Last night I went for pizza with Giusy (nicknamed the cultural director of Lucca because she is always taking in a concert, a talk or cultural event) and Serena ( the doctor of radiology whose neck always needs massaging during my stretch class). We had such an amazingly great time. You could not have more good will (or better thin crusts) at one table if you tried. In my own little way I'm scooping up girls and coming up with a group. This week I had a delightful coffee with Bianca who is also a Metamorfosi student. I thought she was a party organizer or event planner, but now I gather that she is a community organizer of whom I asked some rather bizarre, random questions about parties.  And I also hung out with Federica who you will recall is rather like the welder girl in Flashdance except that she is a restoration specialist who hangs from ladders and always has a stiff shoulder and an idea about how we could possibly get into trouble, which I  love. Too bad we don't all play instruments or I could finally be in a girl band. Or maybe I'll be in a non-musical girl band. I'll play the silent drums or like the invisible tambourine or I'll be the lead mute singer. A bilingual lead mute singer, you've got to love it.

It all depends on

how much sleep you get . . .

There were some shy ladies in my boot camp today. I had to bribe them to come again next month by offering them another metamorfosi party at my house. Get the oven started, F. I smell gorgonzola bread, baby. That will be the week after our giant Indian cenone in honor of Valentine's Day.

Catching up with the Italian People magazine . . .

Italian paper products are not super soft and my nose is rather unpleased. So if any of the 73 of you are in a generous mood, feel free to send us some Charmin or just a lot of People magazines. There is an Italian version  called Gente, but it's also a bit rougher around the edges.


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