Wednesday, December 31, 2014


I can't believe I still have this stomach virus.

Maybe that's why I came across this little tidbit of information that I can't help but share with you. This place exists:
Wikipedia has this to say about it: "It is believed that the settlement was founded in the 6th century by Focko, a Bavarian nobleman. The existence of the village was documented for the first time in 1070, and historical records show that some twenty years later, the lord was Adalpertus de Fucingin. The spelling of the name has evolved over the years; it is first recorded in historical sources with the spelling as Vucchingen in 1070, Fukching in 1303,[7] Fugkhing in 1532, and in the modern spelling Fucking in the 18th century,[8] which is pronounced with the vowel oo as in book.[2] The ending -ing is an old Germanic suffix indicating the people belonging to the root word to which it is attached, thus Fucking means "(place of) Focko's people."[9]

Some days I have the sense of humor of a fourth grade boy. Today is one such day.

Speaking of curse words, I watched all of these student made youtube videos about Denmark with my basically fluent High School girl because she is going there at the end of the month on a school trip where English will be the common language between the international students. F was horrified to hear all of the curse words in the videos, but studying with me is never boring. I also talked to her about important guests of Oprah over the years and healing bioenergy. T said it is not clear if she likes me or if she is just terrified of me. I guess time will tell.

And yet as exciting as I am, I can also be a pushover. I had to have a long talk with hip hop boy's mother today about how F has to take over for me because when Andrea fakes fainting spells, spends fifteen minutes doing god knows what in my bathroom and then starts chatting to me in Italian, I never manage to become very stern with him and that is why his English kind of sucks. But I did succeed in the fact that he has great potential and that he thinks English is fun. His mom was cool about it. She said that she understood me when I said that F is the right person to create the grammatical foundation and that when had a good base he could then come and have fun conversations with me. I told her that our marriage works for exactly this division of talents and that got her to laugh. It was a ha ha, I pay you twenty euros an hour and my son is barely passing English, kind of laugh, but it was a joyful sound nonetheless.

 One thing that is disappointing about living in Italy is that internet shopping is all but impossible. We had to order T a new wardrobe because she is now 5'6" and doesn't fit in anything she owns so I got her things from H&M's new website because it seemed like they wouldn't be too hard to return. Most of the things were perfect, but there were the inevitable one or two misses. Of couse this is Italy, so nothing is easy. There was a whole SAT test of multiple choice questions about our personal identifiying financial information to fill out in order to get the delivery service to come pick up the reject items. It is the official sales week here so the stores and streets are teeming with people who only shop twice a year, once in January and once in June because sales don't exist for the most part outside of that.

Hey, I like that sweater. Let's keep it for ourselves.

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