Thursday, January 16, 2014

Italian Stallion

I'm still trying to live this relatively new Italian life, but once in a while it gallops off without me and I end up ass down on the cold, gray, cobbled ground wondering how I fell off and how to get back on again.


I haven't written in a while. Things are very QUIET. I still get up first thing and walk the five miles. Francesca says she is going to join me four times a week and then I give her a mini metamorfosi lesson when we are almost done with our second loops around the walls. She is not a great conversationalist in the morning. It is like going to therapy in Italian, but I'm the patient who has to trick the therapist into thinking she is learning more about me without really every disclosing anything that matters. I have no problems with walking in silence, but it's hard to do with someone for an hour and fifteen minutes unless you are totally in love with them. And I like her. But love is a four letter word.


While I survived the walk in the pouring rain, my sneakers didn't like it; and don't even ask my feet how they felt. All roads point to gore-tex. How did my not wanting to pay for a gym membership and being in charge of my own exercise plan lead to buying a jacket made of something they call K-way (pronounced kee-way) which keeps me hot even though it is paper thin and now shoes that you could walk through a rice paddy in?

I have gotten two leads in two days for possible English students. Between health issues and money issues and issue issues, I've lost pretty much all the work I used to have. On the other hand, my ideal life is not an impossibility. Four students a day, time with F that is completely sacred, an early workout, and three meals with T, because that is when she is the most chatty. It will just take a lot of patience, three unseen seasons of Scandal, and a lot of Pinterest to get me there.

T's quote of the day: "Mom, as far as you know, has anyone ever died of Latin?"

I am like the CSI of Pinterest pinning. For example, if you look up buddhas you get the both kinds of crazy ladies: old and young. The crazy younger ladies who appreciate buddha imagery are the ones with the best bohemian design and clothing boards that are not called anything offensive like gypsy, ethnic, hobo glitter. They are my people. Their boards don't look like a crazy hoarders episode of mismatched prints. You can learn a lot about a person by looking at their Pinterest boards. Too much. The same people who have boards devoted to Kate Moss and Carrie Delevingne and Oliva Palermo are the ones with design elements like animal heads on the walls, and real fur and asymmetrical skirts and haircuts. Coincidence? I think not. Some people's dream houses are places that if I woke up there I would think that I had died. And not in a good way. There is no accounting for taste. And that brings me to the number one reason why we love Pinterest and it's name is food pornography. How did I live before I knew that there was such a thing as batter fried pickles, blueberry muffin gelato, and 375 varieties of the grilled cheese sandwich?

Afterthought:
For example, some one posted this photo:
Some buddha loving someone posted this photo on Pinterest  with the subtitle "Ahhh . ." 
All, I could think was that seems like a truly voyeuristic way to get mosquito bites in bad places. There is nothing appealing or restful about this image to me at all. You can take the neurotic person out of New York, but you can't take the . . . Well, you know the rest.

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