Happenings and happiness

Yesterday I took three contradictions in energy and questions and sinfulness and made-in-the-image-of-Godness to McDonald’s. One of the cheeseburgers came back with mustard, despite our special instructions for only meat, cheese and ketchup, just to prove that some things are the same worldwide. And we talked about what if Adam and Eve hadn’t sinned and could God make himself a woman and also about how at American McDonald’s you don’t have to buy ketchup for your fries separately, and you can get free refills on drinks (the free refills, along with fried chicken, were the marvels of America that my friend Isobel from Peru mentioned when I sat across from her on the train the other day).

I took them back to the language school where their parents were studying, and waited there until said parents should arrive. “Excuse me, are you American?” one of the teachers asked. I affirmed. “Would you mind looking at this translation, just to see if it makes sense?” Which of course I didn’t. “This sentence…isn’t a whole sentence in English.” He sighed. “Well, the original was kind of strange in Italian too.” I noted that “remind” in English has to be transitive (although I couldn’t remember the term), and suggested “remind one of,” or “call to mind.” He wasn’t pleased. Evoke? “Ah, yes, that’s nice,” he said, and wrote e-v-o-c-e. I objected, so he added an h after the c before just letting me write it.

This morning I had to accompany the mother of the contradictions to the doctor. When we walked in at our turn the doctor said, “But I don’t know you.” Evidently here it is customary to be signed up with a particular doctor before being sick. The doctor gave a prescription, and added that my friend should be careful about air conditioning. “We don’t have it,” she said, and the doctor was satisfied.

The waiting room included a flyer for a medical clinic especially for immigrants, and evidently catering to illegal ones, since the tagline (in all the languages I could read, which were not many) was more or less “Here we heal you, not turn you in.” At least that’s what it was supposed to be—the English version said, “Here we do not denunce.” (Speaking of funny English, the store across the street from me is now selling “LEGGINS” for a mere 3.90.)

I went to the pharmacy to fill the prescription, which included “Brufen” (Ibuprofen), and asked the old deaf pharmacist if it was necessary to have a prescription to buy that drug. “It’s better to,” he said. It turned out to be powdered.

Walking home I glanced at the marble sidewalks (everything seems to be marble here in Verona. Even the pavement of my poor apartment is red and pink marble tile—and yes, there have been times when I was tired enough to sleep on it) when I saw a little flower of the type whose name I can’t remember. Alright, a type whose name I can’t remember. Small and colorful and spread easily, even though they’re usually planted on purpose. So I reached over to pick it and the roots came up too—I put it in with my basil bush (I’m basilsitting too, and it hasn’t died after a whole week with me!) so we’ll see how long it lasts.

Some days it’s so easy to remember grace.