whew. With week three complete, we’ve only 21 more to go. Time slips past as each weekend comes more quickly than the last and in the blink of an eye Monday morning is pounding at the door, Portuguese text in hand, conjugating verbs and randomly contracting articles with prepositions. My mind and body are exhausted. In the orientation they warned us that this is like Marine boot camp, but for your brain instead of your body. I remember snickering, imagining my brain painted in camouflage, dragging itself on elbows through thick weeds with heavy Portuguese texts strapped to its medulla oblongata. Getting jolted from sweet sweet slumber each morning by a big mean jowly brain who constantly demanded push-ups and called my brain a lazy good for nothing. But then I remembered that brains don’t have elbows or jowls. That’s just silly.
I have a couple of years of college Spanish under my belt which offers a tiny advantage when studying Portuguese since the languages have so many similarities. I know this won’t last for much longer, but it’s allowed me to keep on truckin in my studio in preparation for the few shows I’ve managed to line up between now and October. My latest design is a simple tote, body of heavy fabric (upholstery/home dec) and leather accents (strap and reinforced bottom). We had friends over for dinner last night and after showing off my new stuff, she commissioned a matching bag, wallet and business card case.
Dinner was great. It was perfect to sip a little too much deliciously quenching rose (thanks guys!), commiserate about this heat wave, language training (they’re both studying Arabic in preparation for a move to Syria), tell stories and laugh into the wee hours. Snakes busted out his homemade fettuccine alfredo moves.
To balance that out, I made a tangy “green goddess” salad with an herbal vinaigrette and garlic roasted broccoli with parmesan and lemon. Although we had some fragrant and perfectly ripe mangoes on deck for dessert, we opted for a walk down the street for milkshakes at Good Stuff instead. Of course I always like to pretend that since we’re walking for about 10 minutes to said milkshake shack it cancels out a couple of the effects. (I’m so good at deluding myself.)
In related news… my diet is not going so well. Those 10+ post nuptial pounds are not going to lose themselves. Sadly, I fear that FSI brain boot camp is no match for fettuccine alfredo and 11pm milkshakes. Time to get serious.