Those much needed and much anticipated long nights spent with a friend who makes you laugh so hard you get a six-pack. Thanks for the memories. 

Not much is happening. I need it to. I thought that with relaxation and time to breathe I would be able to better understand all that is going on. It’s not helping, it’s getting worse. When school begins again it’s going to be more worse than before. I can tell know. Something wicked this way comes. 

It could just be a one day condition. But last time it happened as a sign of something. Something was wrong in my life, the twitching began, and things got worse till I dealt with them. Is it happening again? Is the twitching a sign, a warning, or a reminder to make sure that I do what is right and calm the uproars in my life. I’m not sure. It’s the first time I’ve been afraid of a twitching eye before. Something wicked this way comes.

Someone asked how I was today. She called and simply asked if I was okay. She noticed that I wasn’t acting normal. She cared.

She was the first.

What. A. Weekend.

I’m still in shock. So much happened and didn’t happen.

Okay, context. So physics (yuck) has us doing projects. These Rube Goldberg things. They’re complicated, long, and serve only to piss you off. Anyways. I was paired with Sara Mancini (feel free to facebook stalk, I think it would allow you to better understand). Sara is of course italian. VERY italian. Her accent is so strong sometimes that I have to ask her what she said in english about three times. It’s frustrating, but also kinda cute. But yeah. I’m her partner for this thing. I’m dreading it. And then BAM…she suggests I come to her house. I was surprise, scared, but anxious.

The weekend came. And so did my worries.

I’m not sure what I expected: the mod headquarters, an italian food place shindig, IDK, something odd I guess. But when I arrived at her far off (and I can’t stress far off) house, It seemed normal. Upon entering, getting settled, and getting started on the project, I realized how normal her life was. AND THEN I WAS INTEGRATED.

yes

i n t e r g r a t e d

It was lunch time. The house smelled odd, but I guess normal. It smelled italian. The dining room was normal, I guess, and then the food began. It was italian of course. It was pasta, what else. Odd pasta though, tasted like cooked cardboard, and I can’t be any more descriptive (sorry Sara, but yes, cardboard). There was sooooo much of it though. I think italians eat huge lunches, because Sunday’s lunch was even bigger. Saturday was a heaping of pasta  and coffee at 3pm. BTW italian coffee is super crazy caffeinated….I was buzzed, in other words. Lunch on Sunday was even worse…by worse…I mean….well I’m just not used to having three courses at midday.

I sat expected a bowl of pasta and received a bowl of pasta, chicken, potatoes, sausage, fruit, salad, and chocolate cake.

Jesus. Lord. Food. Almighty.

I felt like that kid from Up. I couldn’t make it to their garage without farting like five times and burping enough gases to fill a hot air balloon. Anwayzzzz.

The experience was enlightening. I was honestly surprised to be integrated into their culture so quickly.

Apart from the food, I’ll list a couple of other things that made the Mancini’s different…special…italian.

• They had a dog named peter or erg…peeteeeeerrrr. He was from Rome and understood Italian. It was amazing seeing him respond to their strange language.
• They had a kookoo clock. Spell check that. I thought it was incredibly annoying and kinda tacky…until she mentioned it was handmade in Germany…and then I regarded it as a little more special…different…italian.
• They were LOUD. Yeah. Nuff said.
• They were one with tennis. Tennis was their life. It was interesting.

All in all, it was a good weekend. Italiany. Foody. Thanks for the great weekend Sara. Maybe another time? With less food and more work. :D \