David_New_Jersey (Читаем_на_английском) все записи автора

Доброго времени суток!

Ищем переводчика на добровольной основе. Требуется переводить 3-4 раза в неделю небольшие тексты. Вам навык и общение, тренировка языка, а нам большая и важная польза.
Если ты владеешь разговорным языком, желательно американским английским, и готов (а) помочь, если тебе интересно общение, то мы рады тебе!
Пиши в личку, дам асю и дороговоримся.

Надеюсь на понимание. Спасибо!

Have a great day!
Bye bye  

 

laglag (Читаем_на_английском) все записи автора

HOLDING TO YOUR HEART
by Nancy Natalicio
________________________________________
Friday started out bad. Star knew it was going to be bad when she saw Joe, one of the Center's consumers or clients. Joe met Star at her car door in the office parking lot. The questions began.
“Oh, hi, Star, good morning, good morning. How are you?” Joe didn’t wait for an answer. He continued, “--Uh, I was a little nervous last night and had to call the Crisis Line. I smelled smoke next door and called the manager and the police. The police said it was nothing, but…. Uh, Star, do you know if we’re still going as a group to the meeting? No one’s here but me and Chico .”
When Joe took a quick breath, Star jumped in to answer. “As far as I –“
Joe didn't let her finish. "Oh, you don’t know? What time will we leave? Will we go in the van? I guess we will. Do you think we’ll all fit, Star? How many does the van hold? Eight, or can ten go? I hope not too many. Will you go in the van, too? If not, can I ride with you? I really don’t--”
Star turned her head and sucked in air. “Joe, let’s wait to see who—“
“Wait? How long will we wait? It starts at 9 o’clock , doesn’t it? I hope we’re not late. It’s already 8 . . . 8:04 to be exact.” Joe checked his watch.
“How long have you been here, Joe?” Star asked, keeping her voice level.
“I got here at 6:51 ,” Joe said. ”Chico got here at 7:23, didn’t you? Chico? Star was asking what time you got here.”
He turned to the pacing 18-year-old in the dirty blue T-shirt. Chico said nothing. His dark eyes darted from point to point. They landed on nothing and everything.
“Well, that’s what he put on the sign-in sheet,” Joe went on. “Did Jill say we can still go if only two show up? Maybe it’s not enough. What if no one else comes? But I don’t want too many.”
Star walked toward her office door, trying not to hurry. She wanted to keep her pace steady and firm. “Jill hasn’t told the staff anything yet, Joe. Let’s wait and see, OK?”
Star stepped through her door. “Excuse me, Joe. I just need a minute to get my papers in order.”
“Oh, sure, sure, go ahead. I’m sorry, I’m sorry. I just--” He pulled a pair of glasses from his pocket. “I remembered to bring them today,” he said, holding them up for her to see as he moved into the room. Chico followed him.
“Good! You’ll be able to read the program,” Star said. Wham! Her notebook made more noise than she intended when it hit the desk. “Now, excuse me, Joe?”
Joe backed into Chico as Star moved toward him to close the door.
“Watch it, man,” Chico hissed in a tense low voice, his hand moving inside his pocket.
* * * * * * * * * *
Others were arriving now at the day center. Star listened for problems as they arrived. She was 26, a social worker, and pregnant. She had held two other jobs, but not like this one. The Family Tree took people no one else wanted to deal with.
There was Danny. A hippie who skipped out on the war in Vietnam. He had tried to hang himself three times. His hair was matted and he smelled bad.
There was Boots. She had beat up her mother with a boot when Mom didn’t buy the shoes she wanted. Boots had just gotten out of jail.
There was Sonny, who lived for one thing: cigarettes. He spent the day begging others for Camels and checking the ashtrays for butts.
There was “Kandy King,” who wore his gray hair loose to his waist. He liked 14-year-old girls and was sure they liked him, too.
There was Doc, who had dropped out of med school when the starship came to take him away.
There was Marcia, who’d been drinking with her father from age 5, sleeping with him from age 6.
And there was Joe. For Joe, panic was the juice of life.
Star wasn’t afraid of them anymore.
She knew a job for them would only mean cleaning up after other people.
She knew “help” was medications with side effects: stiff arms and legs, shaking hands, thick tongues, bad teeth.
She knew little sleep meant nightmares.
She knew most just wanted the safety of a place to go.
But with all Star knew, Fridays were always the same. She wanted to quit. By Monday she would be ready to try again.
* * * * * * * * * *
Jill was loading everyone into the van for the trip downtown. Star saw Joe riding shotgun. His seatbelt was on and his mouth was moving.
Sonny wasn’t there.
Star had seen him head for the bathroom. He was probably standing under the “NO SMOKING” sign, smoking. Grinding the butts into the floor with his heel.
Star checked the rooms. “Sonny!” She walked to the bathroom door.
“They’re serving a free lunch at the hotel, Sonny, and the van’s leaving.”
The door opened.
During the lunch meeting Star kept her eye on those at her table.
She stopped Sonny from putting out his cigarette on the tablecloth.
She let Joe call the waiter to the table twice to ask if the coffee was safe.
She told Chico to take the knife and fork out of his pocket.
She kept Doc from huddling in the corner.
She saw Kandy survey each table.
She let Boots empty 2 plates of food into a doggie bag she pulled from her purse.
She left her lunch 3 times to take Marcia to the bathroom.
On the third trip Star locked herself in a stall and buried her face in her skirt.
It had been a long week and she was tired. She wondered if being a parent was this hard.
* * * * * * * * * *
Star went back to the table. The speaker was telling a story.
When I was a small boy, my father took me to the temple. He told the rabbi, “Please talk to my son. He isn’t working hard enough in school.”
When my father left, the rabbi held me close to his heart for a long time and said nothing.
When my father came to get me, he asked the rabbi, “Have you talked with my son?”
The rabbi told him, “I have had a long talk with your son. I’m sure he will try harder now.”
“That,” the speaker said, “was when I saw what I needed to do.”
The room was quiet.
Star looked at the faces of those at her table.
In their faces she knew she would find what she needed to learn: how to hold them, one by one, to her heart.
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Friday started out bad. Star knew it was going to be bad when she saw Joe, one of the Center's consumers or clients. Joe met her at her car door in the office parking lot. The questions began.
“Oh, hi, Star, good morning, good morning. How are you?” Joe didn’t wait for an answer. He continued, “--Uh, I was a little nervous last night and had to call the Crisis Line. I smelled smoke next door and called the manager and the police. The police said it was nothing, but…. Uh, Star, do you know if we’re still going as a group to the meeting? No one’s here but me and Chico .”
When Joe took a quick breath, Star jumped in to answer. “As far as I –“
Joe didn't let her finish. "Oh, you don’t know? What time will we leave? Will we go in the van? I guess we will. Do you think we’ll all fit, Star? How many does the van hold? Eight, or can ten go? I hope not too many. Will you go in the van, too? If not, can I ride with you? I really don’t--”
Star turned her head and sucked in air. “Joe, let’s wait to see who—“
“Wait? How long will we wait? It starts at 9 o’clock , doesn’t it? I hope we’re not late. It’s already 8 . . . 8:04 to be exact.” Joe checked his watch.

laglag (Читаем_на_английском) все записи автора Spoiled Mother
A mother, father and young son are visiting the circus. The elephants walk out into the circus ring and the little boy says to his mother, "What's that?"
"That's the elephant's tail," she replies.

"No, under the tail," says the youngster.

The mother is clearly embarrassed and says, "Oh, nothing."

The boy turns to his father and repeats the same question. His father looks and says, "That's the elephant's penis, son."

"So, why did mum say it was nothing?" asks the boy.

The father draws himself up to his full height and says, "Son, I've spoiled that woman."

Funny Faces
Finding one of her students making faces at others on the playground, Ms.
Smith stopped to gently reprove the child.

Smiling sweetly, the Sunday School teacher said, "Johnny, when I was a
child, I was told if that I made ugly faces, it would freeze and I would
stay like that."

Johnny looked up and replied, "Well, Ms. Smith, you can't say you weren't
warned."

Sunday Class
Little Mary was not the best student in Sunday school. Usually she slept through the class.

One day the teacher called on her while she was napping, "Tell me, Mary, who created the universe?"

When Mary didn't stir, little Johnny, an altruistic boy seated in the chair behind her, took a pin and jabbed her in the rear.

"God Almighty !" shouted Mary.

The teacher said, "Very good!" and Mary fell back to sleep.

A while later the teacher asked Mary, "Who is our Lord and Savior?", but Mary didn't even stir from her slumber.

Once again, Johnny came to the rescue and stuck her again.

"Jesus Christ!" shouted Mary.

The teacher said, "Very good!" and Mary fell back to sleep.

Then the teacher asked Mary a third question, "What did Eve say to Adam after she had her twenty-third child?"

Again, Johnny jabbed her with the pin. This time Mary jumped up and shouted, "If you stick that damn thing in me one more time, I'll break it in half!"

Osama's Valentine
Little Josh comes home from first grade and tells his father that they learned about the history of Valentine's Day.

"Since Valentine's Day is for a Christian saint and we're Jewish," he asks, "will God get mad at me for giving someone a valentine?"

His father thinks a bit, then says, "No, I don't think God would get mad. Who do you want to give a valentine to?"

"Osama bin Laden," David says.

"Why Osama bin Laden," his father asks in shock.

"Well," Josh says, "I thought that if a little American Jewish boy could have enough love to give Osama a valentine, he might start to think that maybe we're not all bad, and maybe start loving people a little bit. And if other kids saw what I did and sent valentines to Osama, he'd love everyone a lot. And then he'd start going all over the place to tell everyone how much he loved them and how he didn't hate anyone anymore."

His father's heart swells and he looks at his boy with newfound pride. "Josh, that's the most wonderful thing I've ever heard."

"I know," Josh says, "and once that gets him out in the open, the Marines could blow the shit out of him."

Nudist Vacation
Two parents take their son on a vacation and go to a nude beach. The father goes for a walk on the beach and the son goes and plays in the water.
The son comes running up to his mom and says..."Mommy, I saw ladies with boobies a lot bigger than yours!" The mom says..."the bigger they are, the dumber they are."

So he goes back to play. Several minutes later he comes running back and says..."Mommy, I saw men with dingers a lot bigger than Daddy's!" The mom says..."the bigger they are, the dumber they are."

So he goes back to play. Several minutes later he comes running back and says..."Mommy, I just saw Daddy talking to the dumbest lady I ever saw and the more and more he talked, the dumber and dumber he got !"

laglag (Читаем_на_английском) все записи автора Three men came on to the platform and said to the porter, “What time is the next train for London?” The porter said, “You have just missed one. They go every hour; the next one is at ten o’clock. “That’s all right,” they said; “we’ll go and have a drink.” So off they went to the refreshment room. A minute or two after ten o'clock they came running and said to the porter, "Has the train gone?" "Yes," he said; "it went at ten o'clock as I told you. The next is at eleven o'clock." "That's all right," they said; "we'll go and have another drink." So they went back to the refreshment room. They missed the eleven o'clock train in the same way, and the porter said, "Now, the next train is the last one. If you miss that, you won't get to London tonight." Twelve o'clock came and the last train was just starting out, when the three of them came out of the refreshment room run¬ning as hard as they could do. Two of them got into a carriage just as the train was leaving, but the third one didn't run fast enough and the train went out leaving him behind. He stood there looking at the train and laughing, as if to miss a train was the best joke in the world. The porter went up to him and said, "I told you that this was the last train. Why didn't you come earlier?" The man couldn't answer for laughing. He laughed until tears came out of his eyes. Then he said, "Did you see those two fel¬lows get into the train and leave me here?" "Yes, I saw them." "Well, I was the one who was going to London; they only came here to see me off!"

laglag (Читаем_на_английском) все записи автора Long Day at the Cafe; by Diana Patrick
Sara Ferguson stared out the window of the cafй. She could not stop thinking about her dad. She was living at home with him, attending college full time. Last night her dad was complaining of chest pain. It really scared her. She had never thought about losing him. Sara was four when her mom died. Her dad had always been there for her. Now she could not stop worrying. He was only 49. She needed him.
Sara watched people go in and out of the shoe store across the street. It reminded her of when she was a little girl. Sara started working when she 10 yrs old. Every Saturday, she walked to work with her dad. He owned a shoe shop in Los Angeles. Sara liked hanging out with her dad. She also enjoyed helping the customers pick out shoes. Her dad paid $1.50 for every pair of shoes she sold. The most money she ever made in one day was $15.00. Sara’s dad taught her how to budget her money carefully. Each week, she wrote down how many pairs of shoes she sold. She counted all her money. Then Sara put 75% in a savings account that her dad opened for her. She kept 25% to spend.
Sara’s dad started talking to her about college when she was 3 years old. “It’s never too early to start planning for your education,” he always said. And he was right.
Sara never touched the money in her savings account. She waited until her graduation day from high school. On that day, she spent some money. She bought her dad a special present for putting up with her teenage years. She bought herself the class ring she wanted. Sara felt like she was rich, but not for long. Her dad agreed to pay for her tuition each semester. Sara, herself, had to pay for her books. T
Sara did not think that money for books was a great deal. Then she she went to the bookstore that Fall. She was surprised to find out how much it cost to go to college! But it was all working out fine. Now she was nearing the end of her first year. She was looking forward to finding a summer job.
But Sara’s outlook on life changed yesterday. She saw the pain in her father’s eyes last night. He had gripped his chest and fallen back into the chair. She knew things would be different. She skipped school today to sit in her favorite cafй. She needed to think. Her head was full of questions. Do I need to start taking care of my dad? Do I need cook healthy meals? Should I start exercising with him? What if this happens again? What if he dies? What will I do?
Sara decided to make a list of important matters to discuss with her father. She already knew what he would say: “Oh, don’t be silly. There is nothing wrong with me.” And she would give him the speech about not blowing her off. And then he would listen. She would ask questions. He would answer them. And she would wish she were 10 years old again.
Sara stayed at the cafй all day long. She wasn’t hungry. She hadn’t eaten all day, except for a muffin and coffee that morning. At about 4:30, Sara looked up from her list. Standing outside the cafй window was her father. He looked down at her. She smiled, and tears streamed down her face. Her dad came inside and sat down. He didn’t say anything at first. He just looked at the paper, trying to make out the words between her fingers. He wiped her tears away, and said, “I’m okay, but you’re right, we probably need to talk about some things.”
Sara thought, "I'm so glad I didn’t have to give him the speech."
Sara Ferguson stared out the window of the cafй. She could not stop thinking about her dad. She was living at home with him, attending college full time. Last night her dad was complaining of chest pain. It really scared her. She had never thought about losing him. Sara was four when her mom died. Her dad had always been there for her. Now she could not stop worrying. He was only 49. She needed him.
1. What was Sara thinking about?
2. How did Sara feel?
3. What is the difference between thoughts and feelings?
4. Find the sentences or phrases that refer to thoughts and those that refer to feelings.
aaaaaaaaaa
Sara watched people go in and out of the shoe store across the street. It reminded her of when she was a little girl. Sara started working when she 10 yrs old. Every Saturday, she walked to work with her dad. He owned a shoe shop in Los Angeles. Sara liked hanging out with her dad. She also enjoyed helping the customers pick out shoes. Her dad paid $1.50 for every pair of shoes she sold. The most money she ever made in one day was $15.00. Sara’s dad taught her how to budget her money carefully. Each week, she wrote down how many pairs of shoes she sold. She counted all her money. Then Sara put 75% in a savings account that her dad opened for her. She kept 25% to spend.
1. Why did Sara enjoy helping the customers?
2. How many pairs of shoes did Sara sell that day?
3. What kinds of things do you think Sara bought with her spending money?
aaaaaaaaaa
Sara’s dad started talking to her about college when she was 3 years old. “It’s never too early to start planning for your education,” he always said. And he was right.
Sara never touched the money in her savings account. She waited until her graduation day from high school. On that day, she spent some money. She bought her dad a special present for putting up with her teenage years. She bought herself the class ring she wanted. Sara felt like she was rich, but not for long. Her dad agreed to pay for her tuition each semester. Sara, herself, had to pay for her books.
Sara did not think that money for books was a great deal. Then she she went to the bookstore that Fall. She was surprised to find out how much it cost to go to college! But it was all working out fine. Now she was nearing the end of her first year. She was looking forward to finding a summer job.
1. How much money do you think Sara had when she graduated from high school?
2. Why was Sara looking forward to a summer job?
3. What do you think Sara bought her dad?
aaaaaaaaaa
But Sara’s outlook on life changed yesterday. She saw the pain in her father’s eyes last night. He had gripped his chest and fallen back into the chair. She knew things would be different. She skipped school today to sit in her favorite cafй. She needed to think. Her head was full of questions. Do I need to start taking care of my dad? Do I need cook healthy meals? Should I start exercising with him? What if this happens again? What if he dies? What will I do?
Sara decided to make a list of important matters to discuss with her father. She already knew what he would say: “Oh, don’t be silly. There is nothing wrong with me.” And she would give him the speech about not blowing her off. And then he would listen. She would ask questions. He would answer them. And she would wish she were 10 years old again.
1. How did Sara’s outlook on life change?
2. What kinds of things do you think were on Sara’s list?
3. Why would Sara wish she was 10 years old again?
4. How do you think this story will end?
aaaaaaaaaa
Sara stayed at the cafй all day long. She wasn’t hungry. She hadn’t eaten all day, except for a muffin and coffee that morning. At about 4:30, Sara looked up from her list. Standing outside the cafй window was her father. He looked down at her. She smiled, and tears streamed down her face. Her dad came inside and sat down. He didn’t say anything at first. He just looked at the paper, trying to make out the words between her fingers. He wiped her tears away, and said, “I’m okay, but you’re right, we probably need to talk about some things.”
Sara thought, "I'm so glad I didn’t have to give him the speech."
1. How did Sara’s dad know where to find her?
2. Why didn’t Sara’s dad say she was silly?
3. How will Sara’s life change? How will her dad’s life change?

laglag (Читаем_на_английском) все записи автора Dr. Ocho
by Nancy Natalicio
Niko felt awful. He didn’t know what was wrong. He felt a pain in his stomach and a pain in his head. His dad said he just needed a hard day’s work in the sun. His mom gave him chicken soup. His grandmother gave him menudo. His aunt gave him green tea. His wife gave him a hard time. Nothing helped.
So Niko went to the doctor. In fact, he went to seven doctors. After a while he couldn’t remember their names, so he gave them numbers. Each one said something different.
Dr. Uno said he had a stomach virus. He gave Niko pills.
Dr. Dos said he had food poisoning. He pumped Niko’s stomach.
Dr. Tres thought it was an ulcer. He told him to eat mashed potatoes and dry toast.
Dr. Cuatro did an ultrasound. He didn’t find anything, but he gave Niko herbs and vitamins just in case.
Dr. Cinco said it was in his head. He sent him to a head doctor.
Dr. Seis asked a lot of questions but he didn’t have any answers. He said, “Mmmm…very interesting,” and “How do you feel about your mother’s chicken soup?”
“I feel pain!” Niko said. He wanted to scream, “Pain from the questions, pain from the pills, and pain from the doctors!” But he kept quiet. Dr. Seis sent Niko to Dr. Siete for tests.
Dr. Siete made Niko look at cards with messy ink stains. He made Niko read the letters of the alphabet out loud. He made Niko count backwards by seven. When the tests were over, Niko’s head hurt even more. His stomach was in knots. He didn’t know whether he or the doctor was more stupid.
Niko called his friend Beto. Beto worked on the same line at the plant. “Man, I’m sick, and nobody can help me.”
“Come on over,” said Beto.
Niko drove over to Beto’s house. Beto was sitting on the steps drinking a Coke.
Niko sat down beside him. Niko liked Cokes, but he didn’t want one now.
“What’s up?” asked Beto.
“I don’t know, man,” Niko said. “I don’t feel good. Things keep going wrong. I left my car lights on last Monday. The battery was dead the next morning. I left the water running all night Tuesday after I washed the car. Wednesday was O.K., but Thursday I forgot to pick up Susan after work. Boy, was she mad! My insides are dog meat.”
“I know what you mean,” said Beto. “The last two months have been rough at work. The boss is on my case. I thought he was going to fire me yesterday, and I almost didn’t care.”
Niko was surprised. “You, too?” he said. He looked at Beto. Beto was looking at the ground between his feet. He looked like a hound dog with no rabbit to hunt.
“Beto, he gave me a warning last month,” said Niko. “Told me I had one month to get my numbers up or he’d sack me. Said I wasn’t a ‘team player.’ I can’t tell Susan.”
“A week from Monday is the 31st,” said Beto. “What are we gonna do?”
Niko and Beto sat and thought. Both were quiet. Both had quotas to fill at work.
Both needed their jobs.
Niko said, “You have such a good spot on the line, Beto. I’d like to be taping and marking those boxes.”
“Yeah? I think it’s a drag. I hate writing. I always wished I could do what you do. I have a good eye for pulling bad cans,” Beto said.
Then it came to Beto. “Hey, man! Why don’t we trade jobs? We make the same wage. As long as we make the boss look good, he won’t care.”
“Think we can get our numbers up in a week?” Niko asked. But Niko had already made up his mind.
“It’s worth a try,” said Beto, excited. Then he remembered. “Hey, I’m sorry, man. I forgot. You came to talk about your stomach.”
“Doesn’t matter anymore,” said Niko. “I feel much better. Hey, Dr. Ocho, how about that Coke?”
Niko felt awful. He didn’t know what was wrong. He felt pain in his stomach and pain in his head. His dad said he just needed a hard day’s work in the sun. His mom gave him chicken soup. His grandmother gave him menudo. His aunt gave him green tea. His wife gave him a hard time. Nothing helped.
1. Do you speak Spanish?
2. What does "ocho" mean in Spanish?
3. What is menudo?
4. Why do you think the women in Niko’s family offered him food?
5. What would you suggest?
So Niko went to the doctor. In fact, he went to seven doctors. After a while he couldn’t remember their names, so he gave them numbers. Each one said something different.
Dr. Uno said he had a stomach virus. He gave Niko pills.
Dr. Dos said he had food poisoning. He pumped Niko’s stomach.
Dr. Tres thought it was an ulcer. He told him to eat mashed potatoes and dry toast.
Dr. Cuatro did an ultrasound. He didn’t find anything, but he gave Niko herbs and vitamins just in case.
Dr. Cinco said it was in his head. He sent him to a head doctor.
1. What are some other names for head doctors?
2. Do you think Niko had a sense of humor? Why or why not?
3. Have you even had a condition no one could diagnose?
Dr. Seis asked a lot of questions but he didn’t have any answers. He said, “Mmmm…very interesting,” and “How do you feel about your mother’s chicken soup?”
“I feel pain!” Niko thought. He wanted to scream, “Pain from the questions, pain from the pills, and pain from the doctors!” But he kept quiet. Dr. Seis sent Niko to Dr. Siete for tests.
Dr. Siete made Niko look at cards with messy ink stains. He made Niko read the letters of the alphabet out loud. He made Niko count backwards by seven. When the tests were over, Niko’s head hurt even more. His stomach was in knots. He didn’t know whether he or the doctor was more stupid.
1. What kind of tests do you think Dr. Siete gave Niko?
2. Why did they make Niko feel stupid?
Niko called his friend Beto. Beto worked on the same line at the plant. “Man, I’m sick, and nobody can help me.”
“Come on over,” said Beto.
Niko drove over to Beto’s house. Beto was sitting on the steps drinking a Coke.
Niko sat down beside him. Niko liked Cokes, but he didn’t want one now.
“What’s up?” asked Beto.
“I don’t know, man,” Niko said. “I don’t feel good. Everything hurtst. Things keep going wrong. I left my car lights on last Monday. The battery was dead the next morning. I left the water running all night Tuesday after I washed the car. Wednesday was O.K., but Thursday I forgot to pick up Susan after work. Boy, was she mad! My insides are dog meat, and I feel like I'm in the dog house.
1. Why do you think Niko keeps forgetting things?
2. What kind of plant do you think Niko and Beto worked in?
3. What kind of line do they have in plants?
4. Were you ever "in the dog house?" What does that mean?
“I know what you mean,” said Beto. “The last two months have been rough at work. The boss is on my case. I thought he was going to fire me yesterday, and I almost didn’t care.”
Niko was surprised. “You, too?” he said. He looked at Beto. Beto was looking at the ground between his feet. He looked like a hound dog with no rabbit to hunt.
“Beto, he gave me a warning last month,” said Niko. “Told me I had one month to get my numbers up or he’d sack me. Said I wasn’t a ‘team player.’ I can’t tell Susan.”
“A week from Monday is the 31st,” said Beto. “What are we gonna do?”
Niko and Beto sat and thought. Both were quiet. Both had quotas to fill at work.
Both needed their jobs.
Niko said, “You have such a good spot on the line, Beto. I’d like to be taping and marking those boxes.”
“Yeah? I think it’s a drag. I hate writing. I always wished I could do what you do. I have a good eye for pulling bad cans,” Beto said.
Then it came to Beto. “Hey, man! Why don’t we trade jobs? We make the same wage. As long as we make the boss look good, he won’t care.”
“Think we can get our numbers up in a week?” Niko asked. But Niko had already made up his mind.
“It’s worth a try,” said Beto, excited. Then he remembered. “Hey, I’m sorry, man. I forgot. You came to talk about your stomach.”
“Doesn’t matter anymore,” said Niko. “I feel much better. Hey, Dr. Ocho, how about that Coke?”
1. Why did Niko call Beto Dr. Ocho?
2. Can you now count from one to eight in Spanish? Can you do that in other languages?
3. Why didn’t Niko tell his family about his problems at work?
4. Why does it help to share things with friends sometimes?
5. What does the saying, “Two heads are better than one” mean?
6. How does your family deal with illness? Do you go to a doctor? A shaman? A curandero? Other healers?
7. What kinds of home remedies did your family use?

John Daniels (Читаем_на_английском) все записи автора There were only two Americans stopping at the hotel. They did not know any of the people they passed on the stairs on their way to and from their room. Their room was on the second floor facing the sea. It also faced the public garden and war monument. There were big palms and green benches in the public garden. In the good weather there was always an artist with his easel. Artists liked the way the palms grew and the bright colors of the hotels facing the sea. Italians came from a long way off to look up at the war monument. It was made of bronze and glistened in the rain. It was raining. The rain dripped from the palm trees. Water stood in pools on the gravel paths. The sea broke in a long line in the rain. The motor cars were gone from the square by the war monument. Across the square in the doorway of the cafe a waiter stood looking out at the empty square.

The American wife stood at the window looking out. Outside right under their window a cat was crouched under one of the dripping green tables. The cat was trying to make herself so compact that she would not be dripped on.

“I’m going down and get that kitty,” the American wife said.

“I’ll do it,” her husband offered from the bed.

“No, I’ll get it. The poor kitty is out trying to keep dry under the table.”

The husband went on reading, lying propped up with the two pillows at the foot of the bed.

“Don’t get wet,” he said.

The wife went downstairs and the hotel owner stood up and bowed to her as she passed the office. His desk was at the far end of the office. He was an old man and very tall.

“Il piove,” the wife said. She liked the hotelkeeper.

“Si, si, Signora, brutto tempo. It is very bad weather.”

He stood behind his desk in the far end of the dim room. The wife liked him. She liked the way he wanted to serve her. She liked the way he felt about being a hotel-keeper. She liked his old, heavy face and big hands.

Liking him she opened the door and looked out. It was raining harder. A man in a rubber cape was crossing the empty square to the cafe. The cat would be around to the right. Perhaps she could go along to the eaves. As she stood in the doorway an umbrella opened behind her. It was the maid who looked after their room.

“You must not get wet,” she smiled, speaking Italian. Of course, the hotel-keeper had sent her.

With the maid holding the umbrella over her, she walked along the gravel path until she was under their window. The table was there, washed bright green in the rain, but the cat was gone. She was suddenly disappointed. The maid looked up at her.

“Ha perduto qualque cosa, Signora?”

“There was a cat,” said the American girl.

“A cat?”

“Si, il gatto.”

“A cat?” the maid laughed. “A cat in the rain?”

“Yes,” she said, “under the table.” Then, “Oh, I wanted it so much. I wanted a kitty.”

When she talked English the maid’s face tightened.

“Come, Signora,” she said. “We must get back inside. You will be wet.”

“I suppose so,” said the American girl.

They went back along the gravel path and passed in the door. The maid stayed outside to close the umbrella. As the American girl passed the office, the padrone bowed from his desk. Something felt very small and tight inside the girl. The padrone made her feel very small and at the same time really important. She had a momentary feeling of being of supreme importance. She went on up the stairs. She opened the door of the room. George was on the bed reading.

“Did you get the cat?” he asked, putting the book down.

“It was gone.”

“Wonder where it went to,” he said, resting his eyes from reading. She sat down on the bed.

“I wanted it so much,” she said. “I don’t know why I wanted it so much. I wanted that poor kitty. It isn’t any fun to be a poor kitty out in the rain.”

George was reading again.

She went over and sat in front of the mirror of the dressing table looking at herself with the hand glass. She studied her profile, first one side and then the other. Then she studied the back of her head and her neck.

“Don’t you think it would be a good idea if I let my hair grow out?” she asked, looking at her profile again.

George looked up and saw the back of her neck, clipped close like a boy’s.

“I like it the way it is.”

“I get so tired of it,” she said. “I get so tired of looking like a boy.”

George shifted his position in the bed. He hadn’t looked away from her since she started to speak.

“You look pretty darn nice,” he said.

She laid the mirror down on the dresser and went over to the window and looked out. It was getting dark.

“I want to pull my hair back tight and smooth and make a big knot at the back that I can feel,” she said. “I want to have a kitty to sit on my lap and purr when I stroke her.”

“Yeah?” George said from the bed.

“And I want to eat at a table with my own silver and I want candles. And I want it to be spring and I want to brush my hair out in front of a mirror and I want a kitty and I want some new clothes.”

“Oh, shut up and get something to read,” George said. He was reading again.

His wife was looking out of the window. It was quite dark now and still raining in the palm trees.

“Anyway, I want a cat,” she said, “I want a cat. I want a cat now. If I can’t have long hair or any fun, I can have a cat.”

George was not listening. He was reading his book. His wife looked out of the window where the light had come on in the square.

Someone knocked at the door.

“Avanti,” George said. He looked up from his book. In the doorway stood the maid. She held a big tortoise-shell cat pressed tight against her and swung down against her body.

“Excuse me,” she said, “the padrone asked me to bring this for the Signora.”

John Daniels (Читаем_на_английском) все записи автора Вот в принципе и сообщество. Остается определиться с произведениями, с лидерами, форматом обучения - короче, целое дело еще. Но начало положено.