We're watching the European Parliament Election Returns. The center right is winning, and that's no news, but it's far from the triumphs that have been predicted by Mr. B______ in the past few days. And he's not telling whether Kaka' is going to Madrid until tomorrow, after the elections.
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I have learned a new Italian word. It's "gossip." Imagine!
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There is a wonderful shop in Rome where I found some much-needed summery shirts. It's called POEMS. Now I have some shirts whose labels say POEMS. I love to wear POEMS.
Today is the 120th anniversary of Pizza Margherita. I wish we'd known that last night, when we were celebrating the anniversary anyway at the lovely home of our lovely neighbor Rosaria, who is from Naples and who has an amazing wood-burning oven out on her terrace. Oh, how that remarkable progression of bubbling tomato sauce and cheese on top of the wood-charred crust just kept coming out of that oven. (And then they put the basil on it, picked right there on the terrace.)
I told our friend Daniela that I wouldn't be eating pizza for two weeks.
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Damiano told me that I was giggling and talking in my sleep last night. That's nothing new, but he told me I was speaking in Italian. I asked him how my pronunciation was. He said, Fine. That's progress.