Many of my friends and relatives are in the teaching game, and I just wanted to mention the goings-on a few nights ago at the pub. Irish Paul, one of our fave bartenders, let the Aussies in the group know that there was another group of Aussies hanging out in the back of the bar. Five minutes later, a little blond with a loud mouth jumped down a few stairs, landing at our table, screaming, “AUSSIE AUSSIE AUSSIE, OI OI OI!!!!” She’s looking at all of us as if we’re supposed to jump up and do the secret Australian citizen club member handshake and start proclaiming the glory of Steve Erwin and Nicole Kidman. Unfortunately, three of the five of us were American, so we just stared blankly, while the two Aussies in the group feigned enthusiasm at this girl’s loudness. Turns out she was only on vacation and was leaving the next day (shucky-darn) to return to her teaching job in Australia but the two highlights were: 1) When she thought we were all Australians and my friend Chiara led her straight into a wall of talking about how Americans are such wankers, and she knows this because her uncle lives in America…but he grew up in England. Ah yes, it’s all so clear why you would have that conception now, hmm, well rationalized, really, honestly… And number 2 highlight was when she said, “Ya, really, the hardest thing about being a teacher is being non-racist.” Um, really? Can I ask you dear readers who teach if you feel the same way? Is it truly difficult to be non-racist in the classroom? Or do the frustrations really come when little Johnny won’t shut up and sit down for the eightieth time, and the one concept you thought you’d breeze through is taking up the entire class?

Yesterday I went to see an Andy Warhol exhibit, and our general consensus is that his personality and philosophies make his art cool, not the actual art itself. It was nice to take in a bit of culture (cause Rome just doesn’t have that much, ha! Shirley I jest…) There was only one Campbell’s soup painting, but there were many other cool-ish ones that brought me back to the days of Pop Art and my loathing of that class.

In other news, what is it with Europe and scented toilet paper? The toilet paper is scented, but ever so lightly, so that it’s not going to really do much of anything besides give your nose a little tickle when you have to use it as a tissue. Toilet paper doesn’t have a glorious life…it’s on a roll, gets used and is quickly flushed away. Is it really so important to warrant a scent? And really, aren’t there better things we could be scenting? How about moped mufflers? It would be awesome if you could drive your moped around, leaving a trail of Clean Linen, Vanilla, or Spring Breeze scent behind you, instead of the much more popular Exhaust. Who’s with me here?

*The Houston kids celebrate Christmas Eve in style*

Well, it’s been quite some time since I’ve written a blog post, and now I’m going to earnestly try to get back into the habit. Before the holidays, I was pretty much a bum, and didn’t feel that the fact that I was out of money and extremely homesick was something worth posting.

Going home for Christmas saved me. I saw so many friends and a great amount of my family, which was awesome. As is the case with any short trip, there were those who I didn’t see and really wanted to, or those who I only saw very little, and wish I could’ve seen much more, but the good news is I’ll be home again in March, and will hopefully make it all up. Santa Claus was so generous this year, I actually cried, to which my sister remarked, “Oh my God! Annie cried before Mom!!!” I’m not quite sure how I’ll live that one down...

Another highlight of my trip home was the food. Holy crap was it good. From my first burger and beer at the Shed the day after I got home (mmm, mmm good!) to scallops wrapped in bacon, turkey dinner with all the fixin’s, a shirt sleeve at Sweetwater’s washed down with a P.O.B, rasin filled pudding, turkey noodle soup, Gram’s rolls and of course all the splendiferous microbrew my not so little stomach could hold…absolutely amazing. I only ate pasta once, and the sauce was so good, props to chef Kristin, ‘cause it was capital D-elicious.

New Year’s Eve in Times Square was the great party everyone says it is…at least that’s what I gathered from the television. My ringing in of the New Year was mellow this year (by choice) as I had dinner and drinks with friends, and then rang in the New Year in my car on the Stagecoach Rd all by my lonesome. On Tuesday I flew back to Rome, and was stoked about watching both The Departed and The Devil Wears Prada for a second time (seriously, I like both those movies.) Meryl Streep is one of my favorite female actresses, and I feel like The Departed is somewhat of a new Usual Suspects…think about it.

The jet lag wasn’t too terrible, in that I had no commitments to suffer through, so I slept six hours when I got back, stayed up for another four, and then slept for twelve more…ah sleep, how I love thee. When I was in the U.S I was surprisingly popping up at the crack of dawn, so excited and happy to be home and knowing that I had all sorts of things to do with my day. While I’m excited and happy to be back in Rome, I’m also willing to let go of that ‘Up at dawn thing’, understandably.