FL's mother blindsided me yesterday with an invitation to come with her to the pool today. By "pool" she means a giant, olympic-style bathtub meant for actual swimming. Not Porchis. It is inside, it is heated, it is filtered saltwater from the lagoon that is Grado (a beautiful port town about half an hour away), and it has changing rooms, with showers, where i assume I will be expected to change and take a shower. I really hate stuff like this: getting naked in front of strange people (especially your kind-of-mother-in-law), walking around a dirty, wet floor in squishy flipflops, florescent lights overhead making everyone looks pasty and ill, washing your hair communally, other people's strands running against your toes, clogging the drain. This is why I opted out of ever living in a dorm. And what will I do at a scary, giant olympic-style swimming pool for 3 hours? Swim? Maybe there's a cafe or something.
But! I realize that this is the opportunity that has needed to come along, for FL's mom (named Paola) and I to begin getting to know one another. 6 hours of bonding time. Will just channel Marion: I will be poised, bi-lingual, athletic, and charming.
Must go put on scary suit now. And, oh God, we have to wear bathing caps!

A few more photos...

I believe I am experiencing what is referred to as a "food coma". As I understand it, this occurs when one has consumed, for example: 2 steaks, 6 lamb chops, 3 pieces of polenta, 2 grilled new potatoes, several slices of salami, and a bowl of pasta. Now that that is in writing I wince at the amount of carbohydrates involved; must begin new weight-training regime tomorrow and avoid putting back on everything I have lost (everyone, by the way, keeps telling me how pretty and skinny I am, and asking what my workout routine is. As a result I ate more and stopped working out. Pretty sure my math's not right).



The cookout was delightful, and is in fact still going on. Where as in America we have people over for a bar-b-q that lasts the length of the afternoon, ending when the first baby begins to fuss, the beer runs out, or it's just magically that collective-time-to-go-home, here these things are like, major affairs. FL's friends began arriving at 10am. I arose from my lair at 10:30, took a bath, made a coffee, and came out to the porch, where they were already lighting up the grill and drinking beer. FL had put on one of the mix CD's Uncle Tom made, the party was in full swing.



Racks of lamb were sliced, giant steaks were carved out of Irish tenderloins. People came and went, the grill kept grilling. The party was a toast to America, and Bentley at one point made a touching little speech congratulating FL on acquiring an American; Cormons now held "the key". To what is not clear, but it seems a victory, none the less. When the babies got tired, they took naps. One had a bath. I wished for a real refrigerator, one that thoroughly chilled the beer. My only complaint is that the beers were room temperature, at best. I hid one in the freezer and it took almost 3 hours for it to reach the point of what I considered "a nice, cool beer".



Nevermind, cause the lamb was superb. The meat had been purchased from a fancy supplier of imported cuts to restaurants in Friuli. Condor is friends with the guy, who said he could help us out when the idea of a bar-b-q was raised a while back. All the carne was excellent and fresh, and we were warned to not mess with it; no pepper, no rosemary. Only a bit of salt once it was finished. Condor grilled potatoes, polenta. I made the pasta (v. v. proud of myself)!



We had brunch, lunch, an afternoon lull, and then dinner. As of now, FL has busted out the Makers Mark and is telling everyone about my amazing grandmother, Mimi, who drinks bourbon and CAN USE THE INTERNET!!!!!!! Everyone is v. impressed.



Oh, and obviously I have purchased a new camera! It was a bit on the pricey side, but I think I made the right choice.

We are in the process of hosting a barbq, in my honor, thrown by FL and Condor, to celebrate, as FL puts it, my "brave". I think he means "courage". The boys bought 9 kilos of imported beef, angus, and 3 huge racks of New Zealand lamb. There is grilled polenta, 30 litres of beer, and coke for the babies. Also, ample fresh fruit falling pastorally from the trees in the garden: figs, apples, plums, and pears. It is a gorgeous day, and everyone is so kind.
Ooh, FL just busted in on me blogging, with a huge steak al sangue, all for me!
Pictures to come.

I am going shopping tomorrow for weights (to do my exercises), a yoga ball, new Italian text books (if mama still can't find mine), and a digital camera. Will all be considered investments in my future and in no way frivolous. As of now I only have my iphone for photos.

This is a view from the top of the mountain, Mt. Quarin












and these are pictures of the inside of FL's fridge and pantry, because Cooper had been asking me about the contents of such (for Italians in general, I think, not just FL; but the Cecot's are a good example)








and here's a picture of FL asleep at the pool. Just for fun.

FLs cute middle brother Matteo saved the day by making me not one, but two giant coffees. The first was a mix I had picked up at the store, some nasty Nesquik instant stuff. Tasted like rabbit pellets and motor oil. I drank it graciously, regardless, with a grimace on my face. Matteo offered milk, sugar- still terrible. So the next round we tried something different, something obvious: 3 shots of espresso, mixed with a little hot water and a glug of warm milk. It wasn't like home, but it was drinkable. I am feeling energized and revived.
I was lounging about in bed, after a brisk morning weight training session and a cool bath, reading Cider House Rules, when the younger one, Diego, popped his head in and informed me the terrible news: FL wouldn't be able to return home for lunch, but would I please come up and eat with the family anyway. I try my hardest not to be antisocial, not to hide out in the apartment whenever FL is away, but there's still a part of me that feels somewhat odd, or guilty, even. Living here, taking lots of baths, eating all their food. I don't want to invade all their nice family meals. Of course, the truth is I am being ridiculous: these people live to feed me, I am in no way a burden, maybe just an oddity at times. And who doesn't love some strange foreigner with strange customs living in their house. Endless entertainment! So I went up and ate, lots of pasta, lots of cheese, fresh lemonade, a salad.
Last night FL and I decided to "stay in", which is a nice way to put "not go out and get shitfaced at Porchis Pool", which tends to happen from time to time whether one is planning on it or not. We rented a movie, purchased 20euro worth of delicious filet mignon, which we cooked au poivre style, and had a lovely evening at home. The weather outside is cool these days, especially at night. The garden here is spectacular, and there's an old stone table under a canopy of grape vines where we can eat al fresco, if we light candles to keep the mosquitoes away. We talked about our house, and what plans we had for it. He'd like chickens; I'd like to hang twinkly lights over the pergola. The kitchen will need to be remodeled, and there's a store in town where I can buy canvas to make my octopus portraits. We want lots of vegetables, and maybe one day I can talk him into a goat.
As for now, it is a sunny Thursday afternoon, and I am going to the pool.

FL has requested that I find some of my favorite country songs to transfer to his Ipod. I have so far downloaded the following:
-Brooks and Dunn: My Maria and Brand New Man
-Travis Tritt: Country Club, I'm Gonna be Somebody, and Take it Easy (I love love love his version, but I abhor the Eagles).
-Randy Travis: Deeper Than the Holler
-George Strait: Amarillo by Morning (I think my very favorite of all time)

At $1.29 a pop I have to be choosy, but I could go on forever with my country music. ooh, also just remembered about Tom Petty.

I am not sure exactly what is going on with me, physically. My body is exhausted and confused, still. Could hardly move out of bed today, and felt sort of weepy and sick. FL came home from work to find me still wrapped up under the covers, my stomach growling, my eyes sore. I almost cried I was so happy to see him. I think there's a number of factors contributing to my all-over exhaustion- time change and life change and PMS and too-hot motorcycle rides and too much drink. Another thing FL thought of is: caffeine withdrawal. I haven't had so much as more than a handful of espresso shots since I arrived, and an espresso doesn't hold a candle to a giant mug of "American coffee", which i consumed regularly at home. We went to the big grocery store last night, way out in Gradisca, sort of a Wal-Mart-type place. It sells fresh baked bread and other foods, motor oil, cooking utensils, romance novels- but I was shocked to discover that it also sells coffee makers. Real, American drip coffee makers, and fresh ground Colombian medium roast, to boot! Now's not the time for such a purchase, but the countdown for our house move-in date has begun, so it won't be too long off.
Carpaccio last night, with arugula and lemon, mushroom risotto on the side. Tonight, thick-cut filet of (more) beef, more arugula, more lemon. Got to go to my favorite butcher, Bonnelli, down the road, and put my steaks in the basket of my bike, pedal home. It is almost autumn here, almost time for a sweater. Can't wait.