How 'Bout Them Yankees?

Google thinks I'm Tanzanian.

Holy crap!  I had a year's worth of drama yesterday.  I'm so glad that I'd made brownies in the morning.  Our student is moving out today.  In short, he was stealing from us and lying to our purdy faces.  Midway through our dinner discussion with Rene, while he was deciding whether or not to stay, I decided to lighten things up with small talk.  "How 'bout them Yankees".  It cut the tension, at least.  For the rest of the evening I was happier.  Over the last few months, feelings of suspicion and mistrust were building, and I wasn't acting as friendly towards Rene as I wanted to, and I was feeling like an awful person because of it.  Knowing that my suspicions were justified is a huge relief.  And now I can get on with my life.

He's trying to convince me now that some of the things in his house were given to him by Paul (who is conveniently back in the States).  I told him, "Ha diferenca entre oferecer e imprestar."  Why would Eli give him a Brita water filter to keep?  Luckily, the only thing of ours left in his house is a mosquito net and an empty 5L container of oil (we blow through one of those every two or three weeks).  I'll be a lot healthier with him gone.  The other day we ran out of salt, and I gave him a small container that we had in the house.  It had about 3 tablespoons of salt.  He looked at it and said, "Nao ha de chegar."  He needed more.  He cooks with more than 3 tablespoons of salt every meal.  I'm going to have a heart attack tomorrow.  Sure, we're eating fresh, local ingredients and no preservatives, but we're being poisoned by salt and oil.  The scary thing is that after he put the 3 tablespoons of salt in the food, I could tell that it had less salt than normal.  It didn't taste as good.

Last night, I taught Livony how to salsa dance.