La Mia Voce è Andata (My Voice is Gone) Il Unicorno è Magnifico (The Unicorn is Magnificent)
My voice is still completely shot after yesterday's vocal fiasco, which culminated with me pointing at the menu items I wanted in an Italian restaurant, as if I were actually an American tourist in Italy. Which seemed to make the experience more authentic. From now on, I have decided that whenever I go to a place that serves foreign food I am going to do everything in my power to make the travel experience more real; I will pretend to not understand the language, pantomime questions, and spend hours afterward throwing up.
Another great thing about not speaking for the day: having an awesome excuse to make my adorable puppy dog face. Whenever somebody spoke to me today I pointed to my throat and made my best doggy face. Throughout the day, I made it more and more specific, so that by the time I left work, I determined that I was a three month old Wheaten Terrier/ Jack Russell mix named Lulu who was rescued from the pound by a lonely twenty-eight year old travel writer named Valerie Small, herself a mix (half Irish, half Vietnamese). At the end of the day, several people commented on how specific my puppy dog face was, which made me feel very good.
Driving home to my family I did that thing that I have sworn never to do again, but always end up doing thinking “This time it will be different.” I had a little coughing fit in my car, the result of which was that I found myself with a small ball of phlegm in my mouth. I panicked because I was behind the wheel and did not have any way to get rid of it. I did not want to endanger myself by rifling through my man purse (actually a computer bag, but “man purse” is funnier to say), and so I rolled down my window, stuck my head as far out as I dared, and spat. The phlegm blew across my cheek and landed in the car. Of course it landed in the car. I have attempted to spit out the car before and it always lands in the car. Because when you are driving at seventy miles an hour (on a twenty-five mile per hour road), the phlegm is going to also travel in the direction of the wind and go where the wind is going, which is in my car.
The kids did not at all seem concerned that Daddy couldn’t speak, perhaps because I have never been a particularly communicative parent to begin with. Gruff words and the occasional butt thwap are my preferred means of communication. Although sometimes I will very eloquently criticize their appearance just to let them know I am paying attention.
I was able to struggle through Chapter 2 of the first “Harry Potter” book. We started reading it this past weekend, and so far so good. I want to tell them what little I know about this series, which is that Harry dies, which I think will be sort of funny as we go through the six or seven books. “Just remember guys, Harry dies at the end.” They probably wouldn’t believe me, but then when he actually does, I can kind of shrug my shoulders and go, “See?” (DO NOT give me more info about the books in your comments! I do not want to know.)
Hopefully tomorrow I will have my voice restored. But if not, I will continue making adorable faces of woe. To further specify my adorable puppy dogness, I may also start pooping on the floor.
P.S. I realize I included the phrase "The Unicorn is Magnificent" in the title of this post, but did not actually mention a unicorn anywhere except for here. This is because I found an English to Italian translator on Google and thought I would see how you translate that particular phrase, which seemed like the right thing to do at the time.