Sunday, November 17, 2013

A comeback
I am slowly, slowly making up for the lost lessons at the fancy gym with a few faithful followers who have sought me out and some new hand-me-down, passaparola, English students from F. My first new student is coming to the house tomorrow and I am hoping that teaching English is fun and easy or that it is at least easy to make non-English speaking people think that you have some idea of what you are doing. And that it is fun! My all new life plan is to teach exercise once a day, six days a week, if possible, so that I get a workout in without overdoing it. The rest of the time I can teach English. If people come back regularly I believe I am back on track and even saving money on gasoline that we had to use to get back and forth to the gym all of the time.

 A less faithful inner circle person got pissed at me for cancelling on her after she had invited me for a late night of midweek dancing. She had told me the dinner that I wouldn't eat would cost 15 euro and that she would give me a ride, but when she wrote back to tell me it would cost 20 euro and that she would not give me a ride, I took it as a sign that I should bow out. In retaliation she wrote a love letter to my substitute at the fancy gym just days after writing an appeal for justice on my behalf on their fb page. She comes off looking a bit schizophrenic in my opinion, but I'm not going to take it personally. Change is rough for some people.

It is lovely not to have to sign in and out, fake smile at people all day, get in and out of the car, wear sweat drenched clothes in the freezing cold, smell those yucky locker room smells, and deal with the constant backhanded, low life, sneaky and vile behaviors of my coworkers.

My skin is very slowly getting better, but I can't say that I am yet thrilled with the results that going to the German Barbie has brought me. Patience is a rough one when you are the immediate gratification poster child.

The problem with having loyal friends is that they feed you really well. Friday night we went to dinner at my friend Karin's house and she made this really impressive meal that was designed to feed tall people with high metabolisms. The pumpkin soup and pumpkin gnocchi were very autumnal comfort foods and then for dessert she baked her own apple strudel ala mode. Even F had to surrender.

On Saturday night had a really nice dinner with a new friend of mine and her husband. She went to an awful lot of trouble. I thought when she said to come for a simple pizza, we would order in like we do in New York. Come to find out, that in Lucca a simple pizza comes with six kind of appetizers, at least six different kinds of HOMEMADE pies, and a homemade layer cake for dessert. I should burn it off in about a week, if I eat nothing but fennel. It was so generous of her. We really felt at home. Before dinner F and I went to her grandmother's house to do a bioenergy treatment for both granny and grandpa. Granny suffers from horrible nerve pain, and grandpa just had a surgery related to leukemia. They were adorable. It was shocking because her grandmother came originally from England and spoke perfect English and so it was hard to choose which language to speak. It didn't matter because I made her take her hearing aide out, and so I don't think she really heard me in any case. The grandpa was equally super cutie. It was weird because what is not weird about bioenergy healing, but it was really weird because their whole extended family of aunts, uncles and cousins, about a dozen of people with large brown eyes and thick, thick lashes all kept hushing each other in the background.

I am in a bit of a panic about parent-teacher conferences/ricevimenti at T's highschool. F went by and he got told by a bidella that you don't have to sign up ahead of time, but T thinks she heard her Latin teacher say that the sign up list was almost full for this coming Tuesday. Somebody is wrong, and this means that I will probably end up getting all dressed up only to wait around in the wrong place at the wrong time only to waste a whole morning not getting the chance to embarrass myself or T in front of her scary professors. I think they do not even know that T only started speaking Italian three years ago. Fun times.

Here are some photos from the apartments above the church of San Michele that F found open to the public briefly and complete with relics and fancy stuff:

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