February 19, 2008

• Diego and Feliphe went shopping (to the feira) with me. i have decided one should never go shopping without random hands to hold all the random things you find. like 12 mangos for one Real. Four avacados for one Real. three bunches of lettuce looking stuff and celantro for one Real. Then we stopped at Felipe’s grandparents house for water. They needed a break from holding all my mangos.

  and here is where i want to type a million words and tell you how it was to sit there, sipping water from a glass, and listen to this beautiful, old, wrickled woman tell us about how she sneaked off to train horses when she was 12.

  or should i try to tell you about how Nal caught a mouse with a clothespin? Aninha spoted a moving tail, the rest of him hidden under the sink. Nal motions for me to grab something to get the mouse, so i grab a clothespin. Nal clips it onto the tail, but the mouse stays put, and now all we see is a randomly moving clothespin bobbing under the sink. Aninha stood on the chair while Nal got pliars and i laughed hysterically while wondering how big this mouse was. With pliars, he pulled out the mouse, clothespin and all. and then i think he killed it, but Aninha and i didn’t look.

  words don’t work very well.

  We have 24 teachers/workers at the school this year. that is more than we had teachers/workers/students combined in 2006.

  I like Moses. he had this issue about trying to do everything himself. and then finally people come to him and are like…”get over it…i am going to help you.” and then they hold up his arms. and then they divide and set judges over small groups of people.

  A round trip ticket to Indy from Brasil, via Miami–2,300 Reis (1,300$US)
  A round trip ticket to Indy from Brasil, via London–2,400 Reis (1,350$US)
  decisions, decisions.

  i ate cow pancrious (spell? that thing in your body). it tastes like liver. i wouldn’t recommend it. they sell it right next to the shrimp that still has its eyes. boogly, black eyes.

  i remember why i don’t write alot of snail mail letters. besides the part of writing them, i have to go to the post office, which is only open from 2-4pm weekdays, and stand in line for an hour. litterally, an hour. luckily, it is the one building in town that is air conditioned. by the time i get to the front of the line, i have hummed every song from “Sound of Music” twice. i got to the post office lady and she says i cannot mail my letters. she says to come back on Monday and try again. i panic. after slow explaination, she says she cannot mail them because i put seashells in the envelops. so i tear open the letters and remove the seashells. she then tells me she does not have envelopes. i find paste and glue them shut. then she asks me how i like Brasil. bad question at a bad time. i exit the door, yelling “Freedom” and gulping down the fresh, non-air conditioned air.

  i heard a strange word the other day and repeated it, asking what it meant. bad move. everyone ahhhhhed and said for me to never say that word again. funny how, i, the American, who is clueless to the cusswords and their meanings, am rebuked, and yet, the original speaker is not. i told him never to say things i couldn’t repeat. he looked sheepishly back.

  I asked the zebra
  are you black with white stripes?
  or white with black stripes?
  and the zebra asked me,
  are you good with bad habits?
  or are you bad with good habits?
  are you noisy with quiet times?
  or are you quiet with noisy times?
  are you happy with some sad days?
  or are you sad with some happy days?
  are you neat with some sloppy ways?
  or are you sloppy with some neat ways?
  and on and on and on and on
  and on and on he went
  i’ll never ask a zebra
  about stripes
  again.
  –Shel Silverstein

  • 6:47 pm
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