proof that d's life is so much more romantic than mine

A slew of emails passed yesterday between the mother, my sisters and me. They may have centered on a certain tall, Italian man from the Vatican that declared unequivocally that he fights for truth during a U.N. conference in New York last week that D and my mother attended. And someone may or may not have a serious crush on him. Do not rule out my mother.

But this is beside the point. Let me illustrate (via copied email) the point of my subject line:

D's yesterday:

Tonight I waited at Cafe Henri. I was studying the Old Testament, when the people at the table next to me asked if I was Christian. Segue conversation... 

They loved the way I colored my scriptures; she said thats how she tackles Shakespeare. It was a girl and her uncle. For the next 3 hrs they pulled me into their world. Girl is a playwright for biblical stories. She's Christian, her husband is Jewish. Her mother was Italian, and the uncle's wife was French {ie - two brothers from America went abroad to live in europe in the 50s, met foreign girls (a French & an Italian), married them, and brought them home.} 

The uncle had stories, beautiful stories about adventures around the world with his beloved wife, Evelyn, like bicycling through Provence. Uncle was very old, ancient really. Shock of white hair. Sipping red wine. They ordered two crème brûlées, one for them & one for me.... (oodles - these were the ppl I texted to you when I overheard them say, "I lost my glasses in the Adriatic Sea" and "Steinway had an upright.") 

By the end of the night, we were all old friends. The girl invited me to her play (anyone want to join me? May 7th), and as I got up to leave, the old man hugged me. He told me, "I LOVE you" in a very sincere way. He told me he loved me! Whaa... and not in a creepy way. In a grandpa way, as if I were family. It was very sweet. It was like that time I invited my Vietnamese friend Angela over to our house in Utah for the first time, and Papa accidently kissed her forehead, as if she were one of us. I think we were all just standing around in the kitchen, and he saw the back of her head (dark hair) and got confused..... Hahaa.    

And people say New Yorkers aren't friendly.

Cafe Henri. La petit dejuener continental.

My yesterday:

are we talking about what we did today?

because today i fell off the elliptical machine at the gym. i was done with my workout, but then got dizzy and sort of slid off to the right of the machine. as i slid off, my head lolled to one side just as the person next to me was bringing her handlebar back hard and fast and smacked it into my head. i fell backwards into the place where everyone walks by and chaos ensued. latinos are loud when they get worked up. i wanted to slink away and die, and now i feel like i need to find a new gym. i teach at this place. i'm supposed to know what i'm doing. they will never look at me the same again.

oh yes, i am fine. just a bruised head and ego. and maybe my tailbone is a little sore. that is all.

So who's life is more romantic? Please. Don't bother. I already know your answer.