Who knew that even thinking about moving to Rome would cause me this much agony. I know without a doubt that someday I will be receiving my mail there on a full time basis; the question is how soon will that be? If it weren't for my job, I think the decision would be very easy. In fact, a "For Rent" sign would be in my yard as we speak, or I write, or whatever. The problem is I have the perfect teaching job and I'm finally making some decent money. When I walk away from this one, it has to be with full knowledge and acceptance that I will NEVER have this teaching position again. And, I don't like teaching enough to just teach anything. If I'm not teaching AP Psych, well let's be honest, someone else can be responsible for educating, or warping if you like, young minds.
Anyway, while I wrestle with this monumental issue, I have taken a baby step towards becoming more of an Italian by enrolling in a language classe. Fortunately, this one seems to be better than the debaucle, albeit an immensely fun debaucle, I was involved in during my tenure in Rome. I actually understand one or two guidelines about prepositions and I've only had 2 classes. Sweet Jesus, there may be hope for me yet, to do something other than curse at people. . . yeah, probably not, even with fluency in the language.
Studio Italia amici!
Language class in America and attempting to read "The Little Prince" (best book ever) in Italian. Oh, and sorry about shoe catalog, I was doing some hooker heels shopping, ha!
