Monday, November 24, 2014

Big 15th birthday weekend

I love T's friends Natasha and Giorgia. There can never be enough giggling in the house as far as I am concerned. Plus who else is going to help us polish off the death by chocolate oreo cake that we had for dessert?

Night one: chocohotopots. Thank you, Niglla Lawson. You have changed our lives for the better.
Night 2: death by chocolate oreo cake

candles lit . . .

wish made . . .

friends happy . . .

girl happy . . .

Mission accomplished.
 On Sunday I went to hear my boss sing songs about Jesus. I was feeling very full of love for her because it turns out that according to some obscure Italian rule, I am getting paid 10 euros more an hour for the intensive course I taught  in September. So bassically while I've been unemployed, I've been making money. If that won't make you go out to hear This little light of mine on a Sunday night, nothing will.

My boss is the third one in from the right.
It was very, very cold in the church. You don't know what the expression chilled to the bone means until you sit in a medieval stone structure in a town that is so humid that we virtually have a monopoly on frizzy hair and damp laundry.

Here is the film about the African village that our donations were going to help. I feel like the donation will really get there because the priest is a friend of the choir group who really does good work.

Unfortunately, the choir leader was not dissuaded by the fact that his voice was completely distorted by the microphone. He still described every single song before and after they sang it.  He was also not dissuaded by the fact that the video of Africa was inaudible. I know this because I asked the tipo sitting next to me if it was just unfathomable to me or if real Italians couldn't understand it either. He affirmed that it did sound like some adult talking to the Italian Charlie Brown.

Here's my boss's solo:
Here is the African village video footage. Good luck understanding it:

No comments: