damp

when you're learning a new language, it crowds your mouth like peanut butter with no rice dream. your natural tongue lies there like a phone number you never call anymore.
another wwoofer is coming to this farm in a few days, and some french-polynesian tourists. Horray! the introspective-wallow can retreat to the back burner.
I discovered a huge cache of nutella in the kitchen. oh dear.
recent neat stuff, built a fire this morning to dry my one pair of pants over. also suceeded in only packing one pair of pants. hiked down the side of the mountain to put the chickens away and feed them, got caught in an icy hail storm. hung out in the chicken coop until it passed. can have 3 year old- level conversations with people on the streets of Calatafimi.
soon: will continue to collect the awesome pieces of old silician pottery that stick out of the mud. will stop having weird violent dreams. will attempt to translate the italian copy of Siddhartha that i found in the house. will not consume entire jar of nutella.
one of the dogs is in heat, and these two weird dogs showed up for a day. they were the saddest dogs to run free in beautiful Italia. they reminded me of lame girls who drink Smucker and date lame guys.
after my last post i walked home, got totally fucking lost, could see Villa del Bosco far away on a hill, it was this little speck in the distance. the sun started to go down and i ran back to town because it was getting dark. hitched a ride with the nicest man to wear a plaid fedora. slept like a baby. life is awesome.
grazie, shugE, Eric. Show me some pictures, yo. Babies and Pasties.
my gramma can swear at your gramma in Italian.