Con

One downside to studying abroad in a beautiful country: When people die in America, one must remain in said beautiful country. Not only must one remain but one must also accept that communication only comes in the form of e-mails at odd hours and ill fated skype appointments. One must persist and still manage to effectively communicate in Italian while telling her host sister to please please please keep her grubby paws off the laptop keyboard while she attempts to type an e-mail to her brother. It is strange when survival instincts combine with raw emotion. You know what it results in? "Margherita just...no. no no no no no. No. no no no no no no no." The Italian is gone but yet I am still understood.

Before coming to Italy, I had a legitimate moment of panic in which I realized that I could put all facets of my life on hold except for the part where people die. And now, as I sit here watching the Facebook newsfeed automatically update with reference after reference to Brian, I realize: It doesn't matter where you are in the world, or what time it is at home or how many e-mails and messages you sent today. It is going to suck. Regardless of any other factor, I guarantee you, it will suck. How's that for some wise advice? It actually is because my mom tells me that all the time when things are going badly. "Katie, I don't know where this fits into God's plan. In fact, I'm pretty sure it doesn't. It just really sucks." I think she's onto something there.

Last night Angelica threw up down my shirt. Not on it. Down it. It was after I had given her a tour of the house, walking into rooms and saying things such as, "What's that? A table? Yes, it is a table." All in English, mind you. I can't wait until her first word is Katie. Anyway we were nearing the end of our stroll when she realized that she knew exactly what she must do in order to make her stomach feel better: empty it. She did so in a quantity so plentiful even I was impressed. And as I stood there dripping I looked at her and said "Thank you." Because what else is there really to do at that point? If only I had known that puke in my bra would be the least of my worries for the week.

That anecdote was an attempt at frivolity. Haha, get it? A baby threw up on me! Yeah, it's gross, but I thought it was funny. Whatever, Brian would have laughed at it.

Lesson: "Che scifo" translates to "that sucks" as well as "that's disgusting." Che scifo, indeed.