The Italians are coming

What I really should be doing, rather than searching for this very funny commercial my sister-in-law showed me last weekend, is figuring out what to say to my Italian class today – but at least what I’m doing, if I re-watch this commercial for the tenth time, has some Italian in it.

I’ve been taking Italian ever since our daughter met, and then married, an Italian guy whose parents speak no English. I can now understand quite a bit of what they’re saying, but talking, myself, is another story – which is why I’m procrastinating.

I like the other people in my class, mostly. There are six of us: four women and two men. Two of the women, unlike me, like to talk a lot. One is very very good, which is disheartening; the other is very bad, which is also disheartening because she takes up a lot of time sputtering about trying to find her words. But they both take up a lot of space, which annoys me in both English and Italian speakers.

At the beginning of each class our teacher says “Che è succeso lo scorzo fine settimana?” and we have to talk about what we did last weekend, which is why I mostly know these people through their activities. One of the men is very cultured – he has always been to the orchestra, or a play, or the movies. The other guy is always babysitting his grandchildren – nipoti – and cooking various Italian dishes (most of these people are of Italian descent, which is why they’re taking the class). The quieter woman has also usually cooked something; the talkative one has read some book (in Italian of course) that she describes in overwhelming detail; and the sputtering one sputters about how she doesn’t like to talk or hear about weekends because she finds both hers, and ours, rather boring (noioso).

Time to go figure out how to bore her.

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