Yesterday afternoon we stepped out of an office in Via Garbini, and there she was: Santa Rosa, holding a cross, on a small pickup truck, followed by 3 eighteenwheelers carrying three big chunks of her "macchina."
(Sorry about this "macchina" business again. Still better then posting more of my Italian homework. The assignment was: "Write a letter to a friend describing your host family and your own." Didn't have any host family, so I wrote a fake letter, presumably from my daughter in France to her friend in Germany, tenderly recycling a few memories and family legends. Is this the genre that my father is pursuing? Got an A-.)
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