I wish I could say this post was about Italy again, however, it's not.

I am so overwhelmed by school right now that it is consuming my thoughts. No matter where I am or what I'm doing, I'm feeling guilty and thinking about all the school work I need to do. I'm even dreaming/having nightmares about school. I have four more huge papers, an in-class essay, another midterm, an 80-minute debate, my final exam for Phil 335, and a giant group project which includes a presentation. All of this before November 23.

I'm drowning.

the breakdown

what do you do when you hit your breaking point? when things are so far beyond your ability to handle them or even cope? when facing them head-on just isn't an option anymore.

i don't want to run away, but it might be the only option left.

pizza party - Italian style!

Okie dokie. So when we left off, we had just gone cave exploring.

Rachel and I sacked out for about an hour, then spent some time emailing home and such. You might be familiar with the late dinner rule in Europe [seriously - if you go into a restaurant before about 1930, they look at you like "what a tourist!"] and the Italians eat dinner much later than you might expect: about 2100 or later. When we got to Elena's, she and Fabrizio [Fah-BREE-tzee-oh] were hard at work. They had made about four home-made pizzas, and weren't even halfway through. These pizzas were made with fresh dough, home-made tomato sauce, cheese and meat from the local salumeria and oh. my. gosh. Amazing.

The only bad thing of the night was my limiting appetite. If you think American portion sizes are ludicrous, take some advice from me and skip Italy. I was dismayed at how little I could eat in comparison! Tiny Sylvia, who would weigh in at 110lbs tops soaking wet, packed away at least nine slices of pizza, a piece of fruit, some cheese, and two pieces of dessert, which was a specialty cake from the local patisserie. We drank beer with 7-up, and the noise was deafening.

Italian adults are loud for a very specific reason: they need to be heard over their kids. Elena and Fabri live in a beautiful stone house, so the echoes were fantastically loud - four kids yelling, and the parents ever increasing their volume in order to carry on their conversations. The language was a mix of English and Italian, and there was lots of laughter and love. Mio cuoro era pieno. [MEE-oh coo-OHR-ro ER-ra pee-EN-noh - My heart was full].

I love the Italian way of doing family. Everybody is all up in each others' business, looking after, loving, and disciplining the kids. Sharing their time, their homes, their food, their lives. Making sure everybody is okay. Although it was loud, it was joyful and filled me with a sense of peace perché era bello [pehr-kEH EH-ra BELLE-oh - because it was beautiful]. This is a family that has not lost their grip on what's important: not money, or houses, or cars, or things, but people!

Dinner lingered on until about 2330, then Erio and Bruna took home two very tired Canadian girls who collapsed into bed. We were asleep within minutes.

Coming up next: our trip to wine country and how Rachel made her birkenstock sandals permanently hers.


Song of the Day: Until I Die by Brandi Carlile

oggi è il mio compleanno

or "today is my birthday"

Yay! I love my birthday. This year was a little on the lame-side (midterm at 0800, followed by two classes, followed by paper-writing ... blech), but it's my birthday and therefore I still love it.

I have the very best friends and family.