Monday, January 30, 2012

How Not to Attend a Dinner Party
1. When Bianca told me the party was domenica/Sunday and said diciannove/19, I understood immediately/capito a volo that the party was going to be on Sunday the 19th. I knew that the 19th of February was falling on a Sunday because I have one of my boot camp classes on Saturday the 18th. But of course I was wrong. She was inviting us for this Sunday at 19:00. Darn that 24 hour clock! I, of couse, had promised a month ago to have T's friend Chiara over that day so her mom could take her little brother to a kiddie party at a jumpy castle place. After having to call both parties we worked out that Chiara's mom would pick her up at the train station because of course the party is in a different city called Viareggio.

T & Chiara not being weird at all.

2. Then on the way from the train station to Bianca's house in her car, whose seats don't move thus forcing F to do some crazy contortionist moves to get in and out because my back was too achey to even attempt that maneuver, she mentioned that we were having homemade tordelli/meat stuffed dumplings for dinner.  Her mom had been cooking away with her all day to help her prepare it. That would be about when I remembered that I forgot to tell her that we were vegetarians.

Bianca, our lovely hostess.

3. Jumping back a bit, when we were first starting out in the car she asked me if we had ever been to Carnivale in Viareggio which is their famous parade and street fair which takes place in February and I stupidly answered that we didn't go last year because some people in Lucca told us it was really too crowded. Umph, she answered. And then I said a bunch of incomprehensible stuff about how I would love to go this year, which I might actually love even though I really do not like crowds.

Kid gymnastics

Coca cola in a wine glass  -- classy kid drink!
4. I brought T with us in part because of the earthquake and my wanting to be in the same city as her if there were to be after effects and partly so she could babysit some of the babies and kids that were invited. I did not, however, factor in that we would in no way get home before midnight and she had school the next day so that in the end we had to let her sleep and miss the first two periods of the day.


Our legal advocate produced an extremely cute little teether.

T in babysitter heaven.


5. In the door walked Sergio, the man who works at the Immigration help center called INAC who had helped us get our Permesso di Soggiorno last year.  Sergio looked as shocked to see us as we were to see him. He was there with his really sweet wife and son. There was also another couple who spoke French and Italian because she is Italian and had lived in France with him and he is French and lives here in Lucca with her now and their little baby who was just a tiny bit older than the other baby. Both babies were teething boys with rather impressive head spans, fantastically gigantic eyes, and long, long European boy lashes.

Party etiquette is important to me.

Me too. I hope you washed that finger, lady.



6. Not being able to stand hearing a teething baby in distress, at a certain point I stuck my pinky finger in Sergio's baby's mouth and he stopped crying only to make the loudest sucking noises you have ever heard in your life. It was quite the conversation stopper. 
I woke up this morning put on a leotard and found three beautiful ladies in my living room who somehow thought that I was going to teach them a class and then later on some other delusional women in sweat outfits also thought I was going to give them a lesson and then it happened again.  You gotta love Mondays.

1 comment:

Dora Romero said...
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