aha. just wrote a mildly bullshit email to a local travel magazine expressing my desire to write for them. i think the best approach is not to say "i wish to become an anthropologist and a writer", but just go ahead and say, "i am a writer and an anthropologist". mind over matter, and by matter i mean a college degree, prior experience, actual knowledge, former published pieces, etc. as far as condor's concerned i could at this point write a seven volume diseration into the psyche of friuli, with specific regards to the use of the word "porchit" in a variety of deragatory and sacreligious customary phrases. its amazing the way these people cuss, and culturally significant. have a list a mile long of all the random words that i know in friulano, my favorite being the word for "bottle opener". these people never tire of hearing me say it. so very david sedaris, it cracks me up. what a weird place.

so now that i know that everything is ok, i will recount the craziness from this weekend. didnt want to say anything and was trying to pretend that it never happened for a few days, as i was convinced that i had destroyed the wedding and made myself out to be total white trash in front of EVERYONE. but it seems that that is not the reality at all, and that actually it is sort of a funny story and legendary as of now, so i dont have to worry.

the wedding was lovely! a nice little ceremony next to a lake, maybe 20 guests total. FL looked dashing, and my dress totally fit (just needed a firm hand to zip me up). matching pink accents, etc. the reception began around 11, which is way too early. lots of spumante, lots of yummy mortadella and frico (oooh, frico! a friulano classic. basically herbed mashed potatoes loaded with cheese, fried in a pan and sliced like a cake. gooey! ate too much. too much). around 2 some guy busted out an accordian and began playing old italian favorites, napolitano, romano, friulano. FL knew the words and sang along to the delight of everyone, and dancing commenced. about 4 the cake was cut, about 5 the bride was popping off the top of spumante bottles with a long knife (not as easy as it looks), and by 6...disaster struck. some evil jerk with a pony tail and a porche (not a guest, just some drunk at the restaurant) yelled at the bride for something that was not clearly explained to me. he called her some horrible name and cussed at her near the bathrooms, said some deragatory things about her being hungarian and not italian. she came back in tears trying to explain. the groom, obviously, did not want to have to kill anyone on his wedding day, so the boys were enlisted to go calm the situation down. at this point the evil jerk was outside, by his porche, shouting about something. condor, bentley, FL, and some others went to try and work out the situation. i, being dumb and apparently classless, decided it would be a good idea to go try and talk to this guy too. i figured i was cute, and sweet, and wearing pearls, and could maybe talk some sense into him. did not work. dude's mouth dropped wide open and he said, "you're not italian!" and i said, uh, duh, stupid, and then he called me an evil name. some nice man said, "ok, honey, come on" and led me back to the party, where all the other girls were sitting nicely, minding their own business. one minute later i heard a shout, and all hell broke lose. ran back to find FL and the jerk with each other in headlocks, the other boys shouting for them to stop, the women in histerics. ran and grabbed FL (kicking- oh i can't believe i did this- the jerk with the porche behind the knee caps to get him to let go), and pulled him away, while all the other boys took the jerk and held him back. he kept screaming mean names at me (??) and threatening this and that, but it was all friulano and i couldnt understand. wasnt important anyway, as poor FL was shaking and a little bloody. stood there in my heels, with him in my arms, stroking his back and whispering to him, as though trying to calm down a frightened horse. some nice lady came up and patted him on the back too, and told him he did just right. turns out the guy had called me bad names and when FL told him to shut his mouth the guy had shoved him, and so FL clocked him. it was the first fight he'd ever been in and he hated it. he kept saying he just wanted to go home. but, of course, no friuli night, especially a night like this, would be complete without porchis. which is where the entire wedding party migrated to. when we got there, however, i sort of lost it. thought that surely it was my fault, as if i had just sat my butt down like a lady instead of trying to get involved then it never would have escalated the way it did, FL never would have punched anyone, not to mention never would have had some jerk with a ponytail shove him and bloody his poor lip. the wedding was a disaster and now all the bride will remember is a drunken brawl! burst into tears, apologizing, while FL and bentley comforted me and told me not to be ridiculous, that it was all over, and that things like that happen when some drunk with a porche decides to make a scene. anyway, i wasnt so sure. spent all of sunday curled up like a cat on FLs chest, hiding under a blanket and refusing to leave the house, convinced that everyone was now saying, "oh, FLs girlfriend, merecane? she's a loose canon and gets in brawls and doesnt act like a lady and ruins weddings. she's white trash like britney spears". so embarassing. vowed to never drink again, and to always keep my mouth shut. but yesterday i was walking home and this sweet guy norman stopped me. he had been at the wedding but had left before the scene. he called me over and asked if i was all right and said he had heard all about it, how some asshole had cussed at the bride and at me, and how FL had taken care of everything and how he's sorry if it upset me, but to know that it was just a stupid friuli thing and that im in good hands. which means that obviously people arent saying the things i thought they were gonna say. maybe sice i was dressed all in pink and silk and pearls i had them fooled. anyway, now everyones talking about it and its sort of a legend, how FL socked some jerk in defense of love, matrimony, the bride, his girlfriend, and foreign women in general. the funny part is, of course, that it's FL who, despite his grand stature, motorcycle, and snake skin boots, is a lover of peace and harmony, never a fighter. and as far as im concerned the guy totally deserved it.
anyway, love the boy and his poor little scabbed knuckles.
so that, in a nutshell, was the wedding. frico, dancing, a fight, and too much spumante all around. perfectly friulano.



went and talked to the woman who owns the Enoteca di Cormons today. she said she'd ask around to the vineyards and help me find a place to work. want to work with the wine, i have decided, and write about it. make a new blog in a more professional mode, but channeling Stained Teeth: A Column about Wine, which is written by my hero and future husband matthew latkiewicz (http://mcsweeneys.net/links/wine/). i know there's something wonderful here for me, i just have to find it. need to channel that early-90's-san-francisco-dot-com-boom-energy that propeled the entrepreneurs of that generation into greatness and riches. vediamo. in the meantime, im signed up to take a yoga class monday and thursday nights, and have found a language course at my school, so that should occupy me. hopefully ill make some friends too.
miss my family terribly these days. cannot wait til x-mas!