do i look italian to you?? i’m totally not. and i totally don’t (think) i look it! my italian is the quintessential italian…passionate, hands-in-the-air, responding loudly and a beard that grows like nobody’s business..well maybe that’s just my italian. ps, i am allowed to stereotype because my future babies will be italians.
so as you’re probably aware, i took my husband’s last name—mastrianna—and i’m most definitely not italian. i was a skorupski. say it with me (it’s phonetic) skor-up-ski. it’s polish. add a dash of swiss, british and russian and out comes a casey. casey skorupski. it literally means villager from the village (unless polish experts have something else to inform me of) but that’s the best translation i could gather from google searches, what what.
i just realized i don’t know where this is going..
oh yeah.
so all this to say that i like to celebrate italian things with my husband. and ever more, we like to inflict nay i say share, that with our friends, specifically our youth group.
so our saturday night was full of fake mustaches, frank sinatra, speaking in our best italian accents and making our own pizza. because that’s obviously the the most italian we’re going to get on a saturday night in aptos, california.
oh and these people. yeah, i love them a lot.
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