The Spanish certification test actually included something from that lit class in Spain which con H, Greg and I spent looking at inappropriate newspaper ads in the back row and trading museli. And something from the class in which my group once answered "This poem means: red bull gives you wings." Luckily I pay some attention and I think I may have actually passed.
After the test I went to Central Park to write lesson plans on the back of a receipt from Shakespeare & Co, which I went to to finally replace my bookmark and buy some things as I'm reentering my beat writer phase, and to hear Julieta Venegas. Hear, not see, because summerstage was packed. But she sang my favorite songs of hers and everyone watching was happy. Partly of course because they weren't in line for the Bon Jovi concert for 10 hours where umbrellas, bags, and coolers were all prohibited.
I am once again too tired to do all of the things I should be doing, and managed to fall into the courtyard trying to carry my laundry basket to the other building. Every day of class someone comes in on the verge of a nervous breakdown. Although maybe if we hadn't spend 2 hours eating lunch friday we would be less stressed this weekend.
Aussi, bonne quatorze juillet! This weekend last year was so much fun, minus walking home from the Eiffel Tower and being woken up by the kids playing soccer in the hallway.