FMM: 6 miles
Buon Giorno,
Live and learn? Who ever thought up that? I don't mind the "live" part, but I sure get tired of the "learn" part. In case of an apocalypse, no one I know would want to wake up and discover that I was the other person left on Earth. However, my ability to adapt may surprise you.
Someone about the height of Lurch (or my neighbor JS, you know who you are) must have installed the bathroom mirror in our apartment. If I stand on my tiptoes, I can see my eyebrows. There is also no full-length mirror. What's a girl to do? It's easy. I put on my makeup using those little mirrors that come with compacts and eyeliner. You know what I'm talking about, right? Then I get dressed. When I am all ready to take on the world, I jump up and down a few times to check out the finished product. I also check myself out in store windows as I walk by. I would not recommend that second part; it is not for the faint of heart. To my knowledge, I have only had one minor mess up: I wore my shirt inside out all day. I can only hope that my mother's oft-repeated words are now true in my case, "Nobody's looking at me."
We have no toaster. My husband has solved this one. He grills bread in the skillet with olive oil. Add a little jelly, and you're all set. Sound good? You don't have to answer that.
We have no washing machine. This problem has since been solved, but the first week we had to visit the laundromat. We planned our trip by making two map-intensive treks out to actually find one that was still in business. We succeeded, and the man assured us that he would be open until 1:30 on Sunday. As long as we arrived by 12, we could get our clothes washed and dried on time. We arrived at 11 with a large rolling suitcase full of dirty clothes. He announced that he would be closing at 12. So, we were able to wash our clothes, but not dry them. No problem. We wheeled them home, carried a drying rack outside, and Bob guarded our belongings with his life for the next several hours. Ok, actually, he sat outside and read a book. You'll be happy to know that we have been able to return to wearing clean undergarments. It's the little things.
The television programs are all in Italian. Imagine that! We shook down our daughter Nancy for her Netflix password. We were excited to get back to our old habit of HTT (happy tube time). However, things weren't quite that easy. I downloaded Netflix, but guess what? It was all in Italian, too! The next day I shared my plight with one of the students. Guess what? If this ever happens to you, there's a little button at the very very bottom at the left that lets you change it to English. We are back in business. After some trial and error, we have figured out the best way to prop up the iPad with pillows. The sweetest part of all? Nothing - but nothing - tops the pleasure of ripping off your own children.
Ideas for Solving the Graffiti Problem in Italy:
If you are caught in the act, you must register as a text offender.
Institute a spray paint registry like the Sudafed ones in the US.
Any others suggestions??
Coping without doping or moping,
I remain
Tiz/Tizzie/Mom/Tizmom/Liz/Grandma Tizzie
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