I spent most of yesterday puttering slowly around to all the groceries and in some cases buying frivolous things. One of my mentoring gig folks had mentioned a power granola called Holy Crap; I bought that in Urban Fare, for $12! For a cup! (Two tablespoons are supposed to be enough to fill you, but still.) It wasn’t terrible, and the tiny portion was reasonably filling. But a day later I’m at Calabria, having had my morning visit to the loo, and at the risk of TMI… I did not see our Lord and Savior just now while I was having my sit-down.
These are my standards. For $1.50 a serving I expect not only filling and nutritious but at least a preview of the second coming.
But Sechelt hippies need jobs too… if they can make a go of selling *legal* hemp products to the well-off peeps of the West End, more power to ’em.
The slow was because I’d needed caffeine to get through Italian and then was up past 11:00 a.m., so even buying food was a mental challenge.
I have to spend part of today reviewing Italian. Class ends next week and I’m going into part II; I feel as though I might have a fighting chance if I get the grammar under my belt. I just have to decide I’m gonna, and then rearrange my catastrophically confusing notes. And get over a few things: when I found out that the word(s) for it were the same words we sometimes use for a/an on Thursday, I did have a little internal temper tantrum. “Fuck you, Italia, with your la/lo/le/li!”
Ironically, this is all brushing up my English grammar considerably. “Here’s the transitive form,” says Amalia, and of course I have to think it through in English, and then sometimes in French, before I really get it.
I caught a real break with Italian I this latest time through: only three of us signed up, so there was lots of individual attention *and* they shortened the class by half an hour… which meant we were leaving at 9:00 p.m. instead of 9:30. As I am the girl whose day starts at five, that extra half hour was golden. When Italian II starts next month it’s gonna be a jolt.
