Electrician Extraordinare!

I successfully hooked my stereo up to the television, so we have decent sound for when I watch the Gilmore Girls.  (Priority.)  However, the ole' cd player just isn't working the same way.

So I took apart the stereo.  I used two different screwdrivers and most of my brain tools and dug around its insides.  I scooped out a bunch of goop with q-tips, which I now think was some kind of lubricant for all of the wheels and whatnot inside there.  It only took me 20 minutes to discover the tiny, oddly placed, thin, black flap that covers the cd reader, so I could q-tip it and blow on on it for a while.  Very scientific stuff.  

So after working my magic for a while, the thing played almost one whole song on one cd.  Not the first song.  The seventh.  

Magic!

AND, on top of all that impressive activity, I managed to put the whole thing back together, just the way it was.  Amazing.

It's not for nothing, you know

When a two-year-old throws herself to the floor, writhing and yelling incomprehensibly, wholly inconsolable, we pity her.  She is tired.  Frustrated.  And she lacks the skills and experience that would allow her to either control her frustrations or vocalize them more appropriately.  She is acting like a child because that is all she knows how to do.

 

But let's not write off her behaviour as simply childish just yet.

 

Doesn't that sound like it would be satisfying?  When you're in a piss-poor mood, and you're expected to buck up and tackle some really challenging obstacles, aren't you at all tempted to just throw a tantrum?  I don't even want to complain to anyone.  Nobody else has to be there.  I just want to fling my body to the ground, flop around in protest of my responsibilities, whine, grunt, stretch, and then get up and move on.  It sounds cathartic to me.  Making my personal space my own little punching bag.

 

Of course, that might be frowned upon in the work place.

Ode to Potheads

I yearn for your attitude
I relish you demeanor
I envy your tolerance,
redefined by your outlook

"It's not tolerance, man,
I just don't dwell
Why waste my time?"

Indeed.  And yet,
I have no control
One judgement from another
with hostile implications
and I internalize
my paranoia escalates
I take offense
worry, worry, worry

I long for hippie ease
"It's cool, he's just trying
to do his thing
best he can
We'll work it out"
Focus elsewhere

Thing is
this is your instinct
that makes you this way
not weed

You're perfectly efficient
accountable
respected
responsible

Can I train to be like you?
I have a feeling
that very idea
reflects
what holds me back

Top 6 People I Would Render Mute, If Possible

Rush Limbaugh

Glenn Beck
Bill O'Reilly
Dick Cheney
Ann Coulter
Lou Dobbs

Notice how nobody from the Bush family is on the list?  I've decided that they're irrelevant to current conversations about future politics.  Plus they're not talking, given that no one wants to listen.  Just a guess.

Tears in my eyes. Gah.

I've written here before about the silly banter between my granparents on my dad's side.  Typically, it involves Grandpa telling Grandma how lucky she is, vocally considering trading her in for a better model, etc.  And of course, she usually giggles and says, "Yes, dear . . . I'm very lucky."

 

I just learned that Grandpa, after much medical crap going on this year including a stroke, had to head into the hospital again, this time for an infection.  He's not as, well, with-it any more.  He gets confused.  And he's used to being both independent and in charge, so having to take so many orders has made him cranky, and sometimes downright impossible.

 

He'll be in the hospital for a few days, and he's stable and alert, but not always as sharp as we want him to be.  The following story comes courtesy of Uncle Bill, one of the Best Men I've Ever Met Ever.  Last night, Grandma and Grandpa were sitting next to each other on the edge of the hospital bed, chatting quietly, as they often do.  Grandpa said, "You know, there's only one thing I would have done differently with my life."  Grandma's heart sank, because she can't imagine ANY different kind of life.  She truly feels like the luckiest girl in the world with him by her side, so she's disappointed that he might have some serious life regret weighing on his conscience.  He continued, "I should have married you sooner."

 

Enter tears.

 

First of all, they married when he was 18 and she was 17.  Second, given his tendency for silly, disrespectful jokes, this was the last thing anyone expected him to say.  Sure, sometimes he'll joke in a self-depricating way and tell her she's crazy for marrying him (instead of the typical other way around), but I never hear him get mushy.  Third, (and Uncle Bill didn't comment on this, but I'll assume), I bet Grandma's heart almost burst. 

 

I love them SO much.

Chicagoan. Chicagan. Chicagaga. Chicagette.

I'm officially moved.  I am a Chicago resident, and I think I like it.  I've moved in with my oldest brother, who's a couple of years younger than me.  At first I thought maybe I was making a sacrifice doing that.  I'd planned on living on my own.  And now I have to share decorating decisions and a bathroom with a smelly boy.

However, in addition to the large space we can afford together and having a man around the house to kill gross things and lift heavy ones, I also get a bit of a companion.  The first two days of work weren't, well, fun.  They were fine, but it's a shaking experience, immersing oneself into something that new and all-encompassing.  Last night, after getting lost and taking 2 hours to drive home, I teared up and took a bubble bath.  Much better.  Tonight when I got home I just felt weird.  Uncomfortable weird.  Vulnerable weird.  Geno wasn't here, but knowing that I wasn't alone in this place, that he'd be here later, that somebody would find me in less than 24 hours if I were viciously attacked by rats, well it all just calmed me down.  Maybe I should be more independent than that, but fuck it.  That's not who I am.  It's scary, but I like needing people.  (Sure, ask me again right after I fall in the toilet from the seat being left up and have to clean his beard hair out of my toothbrush on the sink.)

BTW, our apartment is super-cool, and the owners (who live upstairs) are just plain wonderful.  My only current concern is whether or not I can live with a 1-hour commute.  Time will tell, imaginary readers..... time will tell.

ps - I miss Kurt.  Move to Chicago, selfish!

Oh, how I've missed you

I'm having an other-worldly experience.  Right now I'm house sitting for some family members.  Let's start with a little information about them.  They're very active at church - youth group, singing, playing piano, preaching, etc.  They couldn't have children for a long time, so they had exchange students and were Wonderful to them.  They also took in local kids (teenagers) who were having a rough time, got kicked out of home, etc.  They would do Anything to help Anybody.  They come into my restaurant with friends and give me kick-ass tips.  They call me sweetheart.  They volunteer.  They live one block from my grandparents and are there in seconds when the grandparents need anything.  They're generous.  They're really kind people.

That said, I'm watching their dogs and house this week.  They are huge Disney patrons, so there are large, framed drawings of Mickey, Minnie, and others all over the house.  Figurines of Beauty and the Beast are everywhere.  I mean everywhere.  The house is decorated in pastel blues and yellows.  This shouldn't bother me, but they were my high school colors, then my sorority colors, so I feel like my adolescent knick-knacks and uniforms have risen from the dead and puked all around me.  

I think every book that Ann Coulter ever wrote is on their bookshelf.  Glenn Beck is up there, too.  It hurts my feelings.  Or angers me.  Or something.  I got on their computer, and the home page is Rush Limbaugh's web site.  *slow heavy sigh*  Yesterday, I pulled a mug out of the cupboard for coffee, and immediately had to exchange it for another.  It said Bush Cheney '04.  I cringe even typing such a phrase.

So obviously we never discuss politics.  Like I said, these are really warm-hearted people.  And it's difficult for me to reconcile that with my current surroundings.  I feel like I'm in the twilight zone here.

Dear Kitty

I'm not used to having this much down time. Sure, I should be exercising and whatnot, like I always said I would if I had leisure time in the day. Of course I'm not. It does leave more time for reading, which is just lovely, but I watch too much television.

It also leaves lots of time for reflection, daydreaming, etc. I don't particularly enjoy that. It makes me unsure. I question my actual goals, identity, etc., and I'd kind of rather live in a busier, more confident self. But I guess it's good for me.

I'm reading the Diary of Anne Frank. Never read it in school - only the play. It is surprisingly enjoyable. I'm sure most readers experienced this as well, but I feel like I'm sneaking, reading a real person's diary. And a teenage girl, no less. The most privacy-seeking diary keepers of them all. It's a comfort, too. Observing her intelligence, warmth, and flaws. Her humanness, really.

Since I have more time on my hands, and maybe in part due to the emotional vulnerability of my situation or something, I'm more sentimental these days. I cry at movies all the time. We watched the Secret Life of Bees the other day, and I cried at least five times. Hell, we watched the Princess Bride, and I cried when she said, "You're alive. If you want I could fly." I just got a lump in my throat thinking about it. For god's sake. I mean, it's fine to be emotional sometimes. Just don't let me turn into my mother.

Confessions:
1. A Jehovah's Witness came by the other day and asked me if I think I need faith to be able to deal with life in today's society. I said yes, partially because I knew it's what he wanted to hear, and partially because he didn't specify God. I need faith in the human species. Faith in the earth not to collapse. Faith in the weather, my will to push forward, faith in my family and friends, faith that I'll find a job, faith in my future. I need all kinds of faith. My agnosticism (sp?), however, I did not share. And he went away.
2. At night, I turn off the TV on channel 47, which is MSNBC. Grandpa, a fan of having Fox News on Allllll day, will leave it on at least for the full morning. I know he's tired and groggy in the morning, but if I can get him to hear some other opinions, I take that as success. I feel so sneaky!
3. I may have eaten 437 cookies and two brownies tonight. Sue me. The brownies have peanut butter chips and chocolate syrup in them.

Night.

My problem with the blogging

I'm lazy.  Every day there are numerous moments and conversations that make me think, "I'm totally blogging this.  What a memorable/adorable/blogworthy life moment."  And then what happens?  I go to bed and forget.  I'm hoping that in the not-too-distant future, when I have my own place with wireless internets galore, I will take the time to spring open the laptop and jot these things down.  I might have to start carrying one of those mini notepads like the reporters in Superman, so I don't miss anything important.  Like this, when I was making gnocchi at Aunt Sue's house, and part way through cutting the dough in sections, it looked just like a human brain and I fantasized about various mad scientist scenarios:

Or this, after dinner when we were playing Skip-Bo and I accused Grandpa of cheating:

I mean, does it get any more cranky-tastic than that?  See the bandage on his head, by the way?  Yep, that was totally his brain on the counter with the big, scary knife.  Genius!

Or this, my discovery of Grandma's secret strainer storage unit, previously some ridiculous washing device she found to be painstaking:

Or just afterwards, when I was trying to take candid shots and she happened to be holding a pot in her hand.  What a ham.

So this is where I'm hanging out lately, at their house, in this kitchen you see before you with the strange storage units.  There are fresh bread loaves and snickerdoodles everywhere.  My belly is growing at this very moment!

Bread-making today!

Today Grandma taught me her newer, easier, bread recipe.  Fun with dough!  While the first loaves were in the oven, we ate home made strawberry shortcake in the living room.  There were also a few chocolates sent over from Aunt Helen.  So here's a typical grandparents' convo:

Gpa: Did you ever think you'd end up living a lush life like this?

Gma: What?  [She can't hear.]

Gpa: I said, you didn't think you'd be living this lush life, did you?

Gma: Oh, you mean sitting around, eating bon bons?

Gpa: Yeah, but you get to eat bon bons because of me.

Gma: Right.  And we have this wonderful house and family.

Gpa: Yeah, but I'm the best thing in your life.  This other stuff is good, but I'm what makes your life so wonderful.

Gma: [giggles] Yes, yes, you're so right.  

Gpa: You get to sit around all day and do nothing because I take care of you.

Gma: Yes, dear.  Thank you.

Every day, Grandma cooks and cleans for him.  She forgets about food that she likes but he doesn't, wipes his chin if he doesn't feel the food there, irons his clothes, drives him around, and basically waits on him hand and foot.  If he wakes up at 2am and can't get back to sleep, she gets up, too, and sits in the living room playing cards, doing crosswords, sewing, or watching TV until he's ready to go back to bed.

The thing is, she really Does credit him for everything wonderful in her life.  These two are so ridiculous and sometimes so sexist.... and they are soooo happy.  Tonight she and I were laughing about some silliness, and she said, "Life is such fun.  MAKE it fun."  It was a real order.  I just love them.

Pie dates and senior citizens

I've always wanted to be closer to my aunts and uncles - grandparents, too.  Been a little jealous of cousins who seem closer than I feel, try too hard sometimes at family gatherings, etc.

Well, yesterday I called dad about some car trouble I'd been having.  He told me to call Uncle Pat for a mechanic recommendation.  After calls to him, his wife, grandma, and Aunt Carol, I ended up over at Aunt Carol's where she helped me clean my battery cables, refill the water, check the oil, and refill the coolant.  We visited for a while, which was really nice, and she told me to come by whenever just to visit.  Aunt Carol is the type that's ALways sincere.  Everybody is comfortable around her.  She's welcoming alllll the time.  I just love her.  So I should stop by there more often.  And her husband, Uncle Bill is fantastic as well.  Very kind, smart, caring, sentimental, and fatherly.

Anyway, I was feeling good after visiting with her, so I stopped by Grandma and Grandpa's.  Aunt Carol's birthday is on Saturday, and I asked Grandma to teach me how to make her favorite pie as a birthday/thank you present.  Thus, we have a date Saturday for pie making.  Excellent.  (This was all negotiated while Gramps was in the other room yelling "Dumbass" at the TV, upon hearing that his taxes may be raised.  He watches Fox News allll day.)

While I was there, they checked messages, and (great, in years and quality) Aunt Helen left one about tonight's entertainment at the assisted living facility - a big band.  What a great way to spend the evening!  Especially as an alternative to watching TV alone and eating cookie dough.  

I've been in lazy, I'm-stuck-here-so-I'll-rebel-by-doing-nothing-productive-and-eating-horribly mode for the last few days.  Hanging out with the fam is a fantastic remedy for that.  After making the pie date, I went to the store, picked up a few veggies, and came home to make home-made tomato/vegetable soup.  Deelish.  Then I went to pick up Grandma and Grandpa, and we went to see the band with Aunt Helen AND Aunt Sue.  Bonus!

Ever since Uncle Angelo died (which still makes me tear up, he was amazing), Aunt Helen has been extra sentimental.  During one of the songs, she put her arm around me, leaned in, kissed me, and said, "You're such a sweetheart for bringing your grandparents here."  During the next song, she reached across the table, took Grandma's hand, and said, "I love you," a sentiment Grandma promptly returned.  They were so happy and in the moment.  Love them! 

Less meaningful, but totally entertaining, a man in the band left halfway through the performance.  It appeared that he had to be somewhere else, but after the next song, he returned in his band-uniform baby blue polo shirt, black shoes, white socks, and red and black kilt, bagpipe in hand.  He marched through the senior citizen dining area, played a few tunes, told a few jokes, and marched back out.  All the while, the residents and my family sang along.  There's really something priceless about a proud, elderly, American man in a kilt.  Did I mention that the entire band is elderly?  Some of them are in their nineties!

A lovely day, for sure.  Feeling lucky in family and life at the moment.  

Bad Day

Grrrrrrrrrrr

Waited tables at lunch today, and everything went wrong.  A task that usually takes 3 minutes took over 30.  I cut my fingers 3 times rolling silverware - at the cuticle area.  Ouch!  Another server accidentally took two of my tables.  The manager continuously forgot to help me with my tables when needed for discounts, etc.  I was late because, even though it wasn't raining yet, everyone in front of me was driving 5-10 miles below the speed limit.  And most of my tables were really nice, older people who think 10% is a darn good tip.  Needless to say, I didn't bring a big haul home, even though I worked my ass off.  

It's raining.  When I got home, Mom was using the garage, though she knows my windshield leaks.  Whatever.  I just want to take of my shoes, check my email, and get some work done online.  I'm on the job hunt, which is not going well.

She's on the computer.  Of course.  I tell her I can wait until she's done to, you know, work.  She starts sharing the "interesting" things she's reading online about new flower colors and facts about blooming seasons.  Really?  Not only am I annoyed that you're wasting my hour and a half off from work by taking my computer time, but you're doubling the wasted time by reading me this crap?  That's more important?!  (I say as I use the time to blog..... what a brat I am.)

Living with Mom is an experience.  First of all, she's working really hard to fix up her house to live in, her old house to sell, and now grandma's house for sale as well.  Plus she has rosary group, church, prayer group, dance class, walking buddies, her husband living an hour and a half away, etc.  The woman is a busy lady.

HOWEVER, I'm annoyed.  We're not the best roommates.  All those little idiosyncrasies that bugged me as a teenager are back - and there's more.  She's incredibly sloppy, doesn't clean up after herself in the kitchen, leaves hair all over the sink and tub, leaves TWO measly pieces of toilet paper on the roll, when the reserve is out of reach from the toilet.  She talks with her mouth full of food CONstantly, then picks the food out of her teeth with her fingernail, and sucks it off.  Loudly.  Even when she's not talking, she chews with her mouth open, so I get to hear all of her food being chewed.  She leaves used tissues and used paper towels all over the house.  She walks around the house in her "pajamas," which consist of a t-shirt and nothing else.  She sits, cross-legged, on the chairs and couch in these pajamas, and I'm finding little hairs on them.  STOP!  Last night she was a little chilly after she went to bed at 1am.  Instead of, I don't know, grabbing an extra blanket or putting on some pants, she turned the thermostat up to 75.  Seventy-Five!  I nearly sweated into oblivion.

Clearly, none of these things are very important, but added up they are driving me nutso.  I'm ready to scream, especially after today's lunch hour.  This would obviously do more harm than good, so I'll grit my teeth, put on a smile, and go back in for my dinner shift.  

Gah.

Dry spell?

I ran into the grocery store tonight for eggs and milk.  Had a nice pizza with a nice Italian beer for dinner, feeling good.  Decided to spoil myself and pick up some cookie dough (for snacking, not baking, clearly), so I'm a happy girl, kay?

I'm in the check out line (trying to avoid the self-serve aisles in hopes of keeping more grocery jobs available), when I see out of the corner of my eye a tall, brown-haired figure in line behind me.  Is he handsome?  Friendly?  I think he's looking at me - is he looking at me?  I instinctively avoid eye contact.  Why?  Am I shy?  Scared?  Playing hard to get?  Being safe around potential serial killers?  Snap out of it, woman!  

I make a formal decision to turn around and make eye contact.  If he's cute/smiley/friendly/interested/uncreepy, then I'll smile.  How else am I supposed to meet people, anyway?  Take a chance, girl.  It's not like it's that big of a deal.  Smile at the guy.  See what happens.  At best, I'll get a little eye-flirting.... at worst, have to look away, right?

So I did it.  Turned around.  Made eye contact.

It was a woman.

Life keeps going!

So here I am, still in Grandma's house with Mom, waiting tables, job hunting, etc.  We had so many plants from Grandma's memorial service, that I had to name them all one day to keep them straight, a habit I picked up from Steph.  (Naming them, not keeping them straight.  Thank you!  I'll be here all night!)

Rundown - There are three peace lilies: Lady Marmelade, Mabel, and Petunia.  There are two mixes, with multiple plants in one pot: Daphne, and John Jacob Jingleheimerschmidt.  There is one big fern (at least, I think it's a fern), Harry.  These are all in the living room, though sometimes Petunia sleeps with me in my room.  Then in the kitchen, we have an African Violet named Fiona, an aloe plant named Vera, a rosemary plant named Herb, and a little ivy plant, Maresydotes.  Know the song?

So as we're plugging along, keeping things running smoothly, Grandpa A goes and has a stroke.  It was Saturday morning.  Grandma called Uncle Pat, then 911.  Interestingly, an EMT or firefighter or something lives just across the street from them.  He had his radio on, and was there in seconds.  The full crew was there in 3 minutes.  They worked quickly, and he's already recovering really well.  He's a strong dude.  When he's flat on the bed and a nurse asks him to sit up, he shoots up like a rocket.  I can't even do that!

At first he was having a few hallucinations, and he did NOT want to be in the hospital.  He claimed he was building a house, riding a tractor, cleaning his clothes, working on taxes, writing music, etc.  He was always teaching, though.  A nurse wanted him to write a few things to observe his motor skills, and he started sketching houses and explaining the structures to her.  

He's having a hard time keeping his eyes open, and he can't feel some parts on his left side, but he's going strong.  The eyes thing might be due to an inappropriate medication dosage, so hopefully that'll take care of itself soon.  Anyway, I'm so glad I'm here in town so I can visit with him and help out.  He knows who we all are, and is being a good sport.  Grandma said he smiled at her two days ago, which made her think he was much more himself.  Yesterday they took his temperature, and he of course had to keep his mouth closed for the thermometer.  I said, "Aha!  now we know how to keep him quiet!" which made him grin, teeth and all.  Yay!

And as the wheel of life continues to turn, I'm driving east next week for a conference, then my trial.  Fingers crossed......

The agnostic thanks god?

Today was a lull.  Everybody else in the house spent much of the day at church or with church friends.  I stayed in.  Could've worked on my online course, cleaned a little, gone for a walk, looked into job openings, given myself a pedicure, whatevs.  What DID I do?  I sat around, read, ate junk food, and watched TV.  From time to time, a day like this recharges me.  But having been out of work and spending half of my time lounging, this wasn't exactly a much-needed break.  So by the end of the day, I had a headache from my dehydration, TV-watching, and general lack of activity.

I was also starting to feel sorry for myself.  No friends in town, hanging out with my mom, sitting around idle, etc.  I can't call Kurt or Traci to go to a movie.  Got a little lonely.  

Then Geno (my brother closest to me in age) called for a quick chat.  That was nice.  Mom and Joe got home from church, and I started to feel a little trapped.  Judged, even, which I think I was pretty much projecting.  But then Suzanne called just to say hi, see how I was doing after the last couple of weeks, etc.  Thoughtful.  Feeling a little better.  Later tonight, Kurt called to check in.  It was so nice talking to him - normalcy.  Some fresh air from the real world in my head.  Thank goodness.  Or thank God?  I dunno.

Sidenote: with the brainless feeling I get from watching most of today's television, I am greatly appreciative of the escapism provided by books.  It's nice to have the time for them.

Wow, Grandma

I'm presently living in small town, Illinois, where I mostly grew up living with Mom.  I decided, after coming back from Italy, to move to Chicago, but I can't afford to stay there until I get a job.  (Great time to be looking for a job, clearly.)  So in the meantime, I'm staying at Grandma's house with Mom, waitressing downtown, and job hunting.

More importantly.......

Grandma passed away last week, Wednesday January 21, which is five years and one day after her husband died.  Totally surreal experience here.  Her death is not sinking in at all for me, while I work to keep mom happy and help her and my aunt and uncle go through Grandma's stuff.

Lots of pros and cons in this new life of mine.  

Pros: got to hang out with family I don't see often at the memorial.  Spending lots of quality time with my aunt and uncle, as well as mom's new husband.  Bonding with them all, enjoying their company, etc.  Hearing lots of great stories from the good ole' days, finding tons of outstanding pictures, etc.   Being in town with other great relatives.

Cons: living with my mother (much easier than it used to be, though, and rent-free housing is damn good), not having a paycheck yet, trying to avoid politics, racism, and religion as conversational topics in a house full of religious, conservative republicans, living out of a suitcase, sharing one bathroom with four other people, etc.

I really like hanging out with Aunt Diane.  She has such a fantastic, laid-back, humorous, no-nonsense attitude.  One of the pictures I found tonight is of Mom, Dad, (they're long-divorced), Steve and Diane, Grandma and Grandpa, Grandma's parents, and S&D's twins, all sitting around the table for a meal.  Some of them are laughing, and Dad is looking at Diane to see if she's laughing.  I find myself doing that with her, too.  Don't we all have those people in our lives?  We WANT them to enjoy these moments or jokes as much as we do.  We root for it.

This morning my uncle asked me if I've accepted Jesus into my heart.  Oh boy.  He's such a good guy, and he worries about not being able to join his family in heaven.  He wants so badly for us all to live happily with the strong faith that he enjoys.  I think I handled it pretty well.  We went over some bible verses he wanted me to see, and we talked about their meanings.  I explained that I had become an adult in the church willingly in the 8th grade, which is sort of what he means.  (And by willingly, I mean my mother cried until I agreed to do it.)

The truth is, I'm an agnostic at best.  Those critical thinking skills that we human beings are so fond of make it pretty difficult for me to rationalize faith in god and the bible's teachings.  Sometimes it really does seem like there's some kind of being or force around us (little signs that seem too coincidental to actually be so).  However, I can't bring myself to accept the concepts of heaven and hell.  Or the immaculate conception.  Or the child of god rising from the dead.  Doesn't it sound like mythology?   I'm too pansy to say that there's no afterlife whatsoever, because I'm worried that the ghosts I see on the discovery channel will start messing with me to prove otherwise.  But I have no confidence in an afterlife.  It just doesn't make sense to me.  It brings people a lot of comfort, though, and I certainly don't have the heart to argue with any of them.  Plus, it's not something that I'm currently passionate about, so why upset everybody?

(Sidenote: I'm very uncomfortable, however, with the concept that kind, loving non-christians aren't deserving of the same heavenly afterlife as christians.  A buddhist?  A muslim who's never heard of Jesus?  The jews?  And what about the atheists who live their lives kindly, responsibly, lovingly, following the golden rule?  WTF?  Just because they haven't agreed to blindly follow the totally unproven beliefs of one seriously flawed group of people, they should be punished for all eternity?  And doesn't the bible in general seem like one big book of old fables intended to teach people the right thing to do, or at least scare them into it?  It seems like a lot of it might be historically accurate to an extent, but these were written by men, too.  Bias, anyone?) 

Moving on, I'm learning lots of cool stuff about my Grandma.  She was a first-rate broad, no doubt.  Even though I can't hang out with her anymore, I sure do appreciate how she got me here for the time being - to get to know these relatives better, and do a lot more introspective thinking than I'm normally comfortable with - good job, old gal.  It's helping me figure out a lot of stuff.  I hope that would've made her happy.

Proof that God exists?

K and I went to lunch today at Luca's restaurant.  (His hotness is another story entirely.....)  Anyway, we ordered pasta and water.  Luca, of course, offered us wine.  At the exact same time, I spout an emphatic "No" as K says "Yes!"  She's thinking he'll bring us each a glass.  But this is Luca, so of Course there's a full bottle of good red wine at our table moments later.  K has to nanny this afternoon, and I'm scheduled to teach a class of 4-year-olds.  Only three of them, but still.  Their little lives are in my hands for a full hour.

So we drink, maybe 2/3 of the bottle and order coffee.  That'll help, right?  Plus we have stomachs full of pasta, so there you.  And of course along with the coffee comes two double-shots of amaretto.  !

60 minutes later, I'm walking down XX Settembre on the way to the school, feeling downright drunk.  Not stumbling or slurring drunk, but in no shape to drive.  Of course I found it funny at the time, but really.  Drunk with tiny children?  Not cool.

So I get to the school a half hour early.  Drink some water.  Not feeling drunk, though still tipsy.  I do some last minute prepping.  I can pull this off, but it's still not cool.  

And at 4:25, I called it.  No one showed!  Yay!  This happens at the school from time to time - not a strange occurrence, but it's the first time it's happened to me.  So maybe God decided that these little babes shouldn't be in a classroom with me today.  

Good call, dude.  I'm with you.

How I'm failing Italy

I'm about to head into school to teach a couple of classes.  It's raining.  Again.  I had most of the day free, and Kim and I planned to go see some Genoa sights.  But it rained all friggin day.  It's tough to get motivated and excited when you're constantly being spit upon from above.

Because of the craptastic mood this place puts me in, when I come home I watch English television on itunes, read English books, and listen to English music.  To get the full Italian experience, I should really be watching Italian TV, walking around Italian neighborhoods, and spending my free time studying the Italian language.  Instead of whining about the stupid weather and bus system.

So tonight, after class, I buckle down with studying.  There are many things to do in preparation for the move to Assisi this weekend, but that doesn't mean I can't start now.  

Ciao,

Annie

Thank Goodness

Relief.  I woke up this morning, checked the online headlines, and learned of our next president!!!!   This feels a little sad, but I feel much more relief than excitement.  Maybe by February that will change.  I couldn't stay up late enough last night to see things as they happened, so it wasn't an energetic experience for me, but I'm calmer.  A little more hopeful, a little less worried.

What an exciting fact, though, that so many people were inspired to get involved, be it through volunteering or voting.  It's nice to think of so many people caring and working towards a common goal - a better nation, better world, better life, better future.  Super-corny, yes, but it's pretty swell.

When GW won (both times), I was crushed.  Cuh-rushed.  I hope that those rooting for McCain aren't feeling as badly as I did - that they have some confidence in Obama.  It'd be nice to have some more collaborative optimism.

And sidebar: Hooray!

Genova loses its charm

General updates:

- K and I have found a pretty good balance.  It no longer feels like "The K Show" and I've learned how to take some things with a grain of salt.  Part of that was thinking a little more about her perspective, which gave me, I think, more understanding.  It's still a challenge sometimes, but that comes with spending a lot of time with a person.  Aside from the challenges, she's also taught me a lot about different ways to approach life, and my own outlook.  Healthy.

- I'm starting to think I don't like teaching.  Part of the problem is that the teaching schedule in this environment is inherently chaotic.  They don't know until a few days before that some classes will occur, then they have to scramble for teachers.  The classes are all over town, so I'm regularly scrambling to learn how to get there.  (Tonight's is over an hour away - two buses and a train ride, plus 20-30 minutes of walking.  Not fun.)  I prefer a regular schedule with easily anticipated expectations for curriculum, location, etc.

- Commuting is a bitch.  It rains here all the time, and I spend about 3 hours of my day walking to the bus, standing on a smelly, crowded bus (with a heavy bag of books breaking my back), or standing in the pouring rain waiting for the bus.  Not my ideal Italy.

- Once you set aside the language and wonky store hours, Genova is actually a lot like DC.  Lots of commerce, somewhat stylish, people in a hurry, commuters, etc.  Only here it seems to be grey most of the time.  Boo.

- I'm speaking English all the time.  Duh, I'm teaching it, but I didn't think about what kind of impact that would have on my "Italian experience" I didn't know I was gunning for.  And it's making me a little resentful.

So I like a lot of the people here, but am not getting what I think I wanted out of the experience.  Last weekend K and I went to Assisi, where my family lived in 2006/07.  It is a beautiful area full of real Italian culture.  It is strong and moving.  I was overwhelmed with emotion the whole time I was there, and K fell in love with it, not surprisingly.

Result?  We're moving!  This weekend we visit Venice (Venezia in italiano), and next weekend we move to Assisi.  The more I contemplate, the more I don't want my Italian experience to include too much traditional work.  That cuts my trip short big time.  I probably won't be able to come back after Christmas.  But frankly I think I'll better relish in and value one phenomenal month in Assisi than I will a longer experience in Genova with strained, minimal pleasure.

Selfish?  Whimsical?  Maybe.  But I'm probably only going to live in this country once.  It'll be on my terms.