Friday, June 24, 2005

Flip-flops and dying, etc.

I saw a woman in high-heeled mules make her way unsteadily across the cobblestone courtyard where I was studying; she then unlocked a bike and proceeded to mount it. I thought "Holy shit! She's going to kill herself!" To my relief, she dug around in her giant Gucci bag and pulled out some regular flip-flops, thereby avoiding catastrophe.

Then I saw a girl wearing turquoise rubber flip-flops...laced up the calf with matching satin ribbons. She looked completely ridiculous. What was she supposed to be, ballerina-slash-beach bum? Roman-slash-transvestite? I do not know.

Later, while crossing the bridge to the bus, I saw a man swimming in the river. He must have a death wish, because the city government's weekly newspaper recently carried a warning to stay out of the river, due to it being so filthy. (My husband has been in it once, and I made sure to read the article to him in the spirit of "I told you so.") After I got to the bus stop, I tried looking for the swimmer, but I spotted two little bunnies in the shrubbery instead. Cute! And much better than watching some guy dissolve in the river.

I know I said I drive like a granny, but really, I follow the speed limit. The only time I creep along is when I have to go down the main road in our village that has cars parked all along the down-hill side. Have I mentioned that the streets are all narrow? I thought so. Anyhow, I cruise along *at the speed limit* when I'm on the road to the grocery store, but inevitably, someone will insist on tailgating me. So when I spotted the 'falling rocks' sign recently, I thought that would be the answer to all my prayers: tailgaters crushed by falling rocks, i.e., instant karma.

The annoying pseudo-band has another annoying song: Space Cowboy. I will go on record as saying that only Elton John could pull off a song with that title. This band is definitely no Elton John, therefore they should just hang up their jocks.

The weather has been wonderfully warm—no, hot—and I am soaking it up. There were a few clouds earlier this week, but it didn't get too cold, and we've only gotten the tiniest sprinkle, so today was a bit humid. But hot! Woo! Hoo!

Tuesday, June 21, 2005

I'm Unappreciated

My hair is getting really long, so I've taken to wearing it up in a braid or a bun (shades of my grandmother). I like to think that when I take it down, I have luxuriant waves, but one day I noticed that my unbraided hair keeps separating itself into thin, scraggly, pseuo-dreds. Ok, I thought, screw the braid; the bun won't let me down. Last night, D.D. said I had a bunch of "crinkly little hairs", and L.H. commented that my hair looked frizzy, then corrected himself: bushy.

When L.H. was little, he had a knack for pushing people's buttons, to the point that his mother feared for his life when he started in on his older, bigger brother. He hasn't outgrown this trait. Of course, my mom says I had a smart mouth, but I—Wait, scratch that. Never mind.

I was just remembering the time in junior high when the guy who sat in front of me in math started calling a blond classmate "Goldilocks" and myself "Shitty-locks." My thirty-two-year-old self hopes my thirteen-year-old self told him he was a total dick. (He grew out of it, if I remember correctly.)

I hope that something like that doesn't happen to my beautiful, brunette daughter, but I imagine anyone who tried it would get a punch in the face for his efforts.

I finally broke down and hit the "Jeans Palace." According to the Levis site, the JP carries their jeans. I know exactly what style and size of Levis fit me (having just bought a pair while in Texas), so I thought shopping would be a snap. Encouraged by the "30% off brand-name jeans" sign, I entered the den of iniquity. Where I promptly had a heart attack and fell over. !!86 euros for Levis!! (and not even in the style I was looking for). Even with the discount, there is no way I would pay half my grocery bill for jeans. Sheesh!

I like to read fantasy novels, and I'm giving writing one a shot, but I have to admit that I feel a little silly writing a bare-bones outline of the plot; I actually used the word "ensorcel." *mental note—fire that part of my brain* I think I need to jazz things up, like use mafia-esque terms: the wizard whacked a bunch of people. Now I feel less silly.

My Lovely Husband just put out a bunch of geraniums and some plumbagos—or, as we call them around here, his "precious plumbagos." That goes back to when he had a huge wall of plumbagos growing outside our front door, and he would disappear for a while each evening in order to water and prune and rearrange his darling plants. The new flowers are in flower boxes all along both balconies (over one another on the east-ish side of the house). Since we have a kind of Bavarian-looking house, L.H. insists on the flowers to go with the look. I'll give him his prop and say that I enjoy the view out the kitchen window much more after his flower-planting orgy. So there.

Monday, June 20, 2005

Short but Coherent

I remember that last year the pedestrian bridge was often littered with dog poop, but it's been surprisingly clean this year (knock on wood). So it was upsetting to see that a man—an American!—appeared to be encouraging his little dog to evacuate on the bridge this evening. It's a good thing his wife came and made them move along, because on behalf of all daily bridge-crossers, I would have been forced to stab him with my pen.

Outside of the occasional motor starting in the tiny parking lot outside my classroom, we hardly even notice it's there. But today someone's car must have sprung a mighty leak, because gas—not exhaust—fumes filled our room. Latin is brain-damaging enough; I don't need a side order of toxic fumes, thanks.

Lovely Husband and Darling Daughter toted some of her friends to the pool yesterday, but L.H. has a militant disregard for SKIN CANCER, so he didn't bother to put on any sunscreen, and now he's all red. HA HA! It's my wifely prerogative to mock, didn't you know?

Sunday, June 19, 2005

L.H. tried to thwart my plan to educate the online public about the wonderful world of Star Wars-themed paper products by using the first paper towel off the roll, thereby throwing off the pattern so that Chewbacca's feet or head are systematically chopped off, but my patience and cunning have paid off. Chewbacca is not only friendly and unassuming, but he kicks ass at cleaning up hairballs.
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