A few years ago (ok, make that 10 years ago) Bryan and I were at the beach on the island of Elba surrounded by German tourists. We had been traveling for months by then, and had gotten used to the relative camouflage of not speaking the language. So when he farted super loud at the beach we were surprised to see heads turn, stares, a few snickers. Bryan! I said, you do realize you didn't fart in English, right? They understand you. It's a fart, and farts don't have thick accents.
For some stupid reason I always ask Bryan and now Zoey ¿está bien? when I want to covertly ask if they are ok. ¿Está bien? at a party when Bryan looks bored. ¿Está bien? to Zoey when she's not eating the food that someone has served. Which pretty much makes me an asshole seeing as how I live in an area with many Spanish speakers and I don't speak the language at all. No es bueno, I know, and I wish I could tell you why I've been in a funk but I can't, so I will just tell you this: está bien, you guys. It's going to be ok. I'm going to be ok. The world maybe not so much, what with the oil spill and Glenn Beck, but it's Friday and no matter who or where or why, we understand eachother's farts.
Small things, people. It's just that.