"Three? You mean three? Three million. It's three million lira," Jo gasped. "That's… fifteen thousand dollars Mike."
Alfredo smiled and repeated his words in Italian again. Jo turned to me and translated, "Quality. This is quality." She nodded in unison with him.
(read more…)
A gun in my face is the last thing I want to see in my home.
Even if it's a puny BB gun.
I don't have much luck with roommates. Beats me why. They've either stolen my CDs, beaten each other up and bled on my sheets, sharpened knives at their desks…
Or pointed a gun in my face.
"If you don't have your health, you have nothing."
I now know how utterly meaningful that old cliche is.
I have been having the worst bout of luck in the health department since I've been overseas. Holy guacamole it's been bad.
First I'm hit with bronchitis. Then some flu. Now I've got Who-Knows-What.
A tear trickled down her eye. Her voice, full of sadness, vibrated with an enchanting Portuguese melody.
I noticed a tear from Raquel's Mom too.
Weekly random rambles, musings & writings of Mike Lee in San Francisco, CA