My snowy little village, Pobes, taken from my parent´s living room

Smoke

I´m smoking my (hopefully) last cigarette of the night. I'm smoking way too much since I arrived in Spain. I used to be a hard and convinced smoker for thirteen years. I liked it, and I never felt I had to apologized for it, as long as it wasn´t bothering anyone else. Then I got pregnant and I quit cold turkey. It was bothering someone else. I didn´t smoke for a year and a half, until I came back to Spain on my own with my toddler and the stress of coming back home for Christmas, surrounded by smokers, made me start again, like a teenager. I would take out the trash to get a chance to have a quick smoke. One week later I became, again, a public smoker. I never smoke at home, in Chicago, and I need less than a box a month over there. Here, I´m going through, at least, ten cigarettes a day. I guess I´m a geographical smoker now. Silly. I´m waiting for that next positive pregnancy test to quit. I know, I should quit way before that, but with the added stress I would never get pregnant. What a caveat.

Obama

With husband and baby taking a nap, I get a chance to write a little bit, and reflect on a funny phenomenon I´m observing. Curiously enough I haven´t written about Obama yet, although I live in Chicago, where he is unavoidable. But since I am in Spain, I have observed that everyone has something to say about the guy. The first question I get from people I meet is "How was it to be there?". Although I didn´t goto the rally, apparently watching it from Lincoln Square on live TV is more that enough for them. Everyone is betting on the date he may be shot. Everyone has a line for him. Yesterday we were in a restaurant, and given how loud Spaniards are (and that includes me) we could hear our neighbours say: "He has such a good body", "He is so intelligent", "He plays basketball so well", "He could have such a great future", "Clinton wasn´t bad, but he is so much better..."
It was an interesting anniversary (seven years) lunch, because there was a power outage for one hour. A very interesting gastronomical experience. In one of my favourite restaurants, Arkupe, in Vitoria. Great food and service. I have to go, my father is complaining because I´m not doing anything productive...

Christmas trees

I put up a Christmas apple tree at my parents backyard this morning. I know it sounds exotic, but we do it every year. We have a regular one inside, but we like this little tradition. I managedto convinced my father to let me do it (it involves some wire cut and paste) and he even lent me his knife after a little hesitation. I had the invaluable help of my mom´s gardener. He is not her gardener, just the guy who takes care of it when there is somethingto be done. And he is hot. Not in a Desperate Housewives way, he is more the rural neo-hippie type. Blonde, blue eyed, long hair, and he leftthe city when he was 19 to build a house in the woods and set up his own landscaping business. It sounds good. He is being coming here for years, but I still feel uneasy around him. Maybe because of this teenage fantasy of mine. I always thought I would end up with a countryside guy, taking care of my parent´s land. Actually, I was in love for a few yers with my candidate, we even had a bet about our kids. He was sure I would be the mother of his. I said no. I won. I haven´t seen him in ages, andI know nothing about him. It didn´t work out, we never dated actually, but we always liked each other. It´s the midlife crisis again, or the fact that I´m back home? Home is a little village in the mountains (and a village in Spain can very well mean 100 people, which is the case). But it´s quite interesting. The first night the firefighters had to come to my neighbour´s house because the chimney had caught fire... Life in the woods. With a Christmas apple tree.

Of ghost terminals and other little things

Actually, it wasn´t quite a whole terminal, just a part of the shiny new T4 at Madrid´s airport, Barajas. It was section M. I had never heard of it, but our flight to Bilbao was leaving from there. It was so lonely that I asked the security guard if I was in the proper place, wondering if they were shooting a horror movie. But they weren´t, it was just an empty terminal. More than 60 gates, and only two flights scheduled for the whole morning. Little L and I were starving, after an 8 hour (I have to say remarkably uneventful) flight from Chicago, but at first we couldn´t find any open restaurants or cafeterias. That doesn´t happen in Spain. It´s full of them. I was also upset because in the other part of the terminal they have this nice playground for kids, with proper changing tables, bathtubs, ball pools, cribs... That´s where we usually leave from, but if I wanted to go there this time I had to go through security again, twice, and I didn´t even think about it with the baby, the car seat, the stroller...
As I was convinced that I would have a crappy morning, I found a place where we could eat, with a very friendly waitress. Understandable, considering I was the first patron in the morning, and this was 9 am. We had breakfast there, and we spent a good couple of hours with her. We exchanged stories, and laughed about the fact that a brand new, spotless great part of an airport goes totally unused. It´s funny how sometimes you make¨"circumstantial friends", people you meet randomly, and with whom you connect and share a tiny portion of your life, which was the case. L had a blast running around the empty space, which, as you can imagine, was huge. And I reconciled myself with the world, after leaving Chicago pretty mad with a couple of the Iberia employees at the airport, only to find, unexpectedly, the friendliest staff at Madrid. For a long time I didn´t like Barajas, and Heathrow was my favourite airport in the world. But that´s quickly changing. At the end, it´s good to be back home.

Tonsils

I'm sick. I thought it was the flu, or my imagination, but I went to the doctor today and I have tonsillitis, better known in my country as amigdalitis or anginas. Sweet. Especially six days from getting on a plane with little L for nine long hours. The doc gave me antibiotics, which sounds clever. I had a close and intense relationship with my tonsils a while ago. I had tonsillitis every couple of weeks when I was seventeen, to the point that I became resistant to some antibiotics. But I decided to keep them, so I wouldn't get worse things, like laryngitis. And they came to greet me back, after more than ten years without being reminded about them. Again, sweet.

Thanksgiving

Apparently we survived it once again. Even with a broken oven. It decided to sop working while I was baking a cheesecake. Of course four of my dishes had to pass through the oven, including the beef tenderloin (I don't do turkey because I hate birds, dead cooked or alive) I intended to roast, that ended up being cut in filet mignons, and pan fried. I even made up a cognac and shallot gravy. But I was kind of mad for a while. Otherwise everything went well, yummy food I took six hours to prepare and that we ate in about fifteen minutes, but that's always the case. And I have plenty of leftovers, which is may favourite part. I may post my gnocci recipe here later. But I have to translate it from Spanish first, and that sounds like too much work after all the wine I drank yesterday. Which wasn't objectively a lot, some years ago it would have been a joke for me, a drinking appetizer. But given my recent lifestyle, a couple of glasses definitely get me on the mood. It's a pity that husband has to work the hole weekend... Hopefully we'll be able to go see the Zoo Lights tonight. I'm going to be very upset if we don't. Very, very upset. I am also salivating while I think about a big RJ Grunts Gruntburger. Mmmmmmhhhh...

Mad

Aren't you sometimes mad at the world with no justification? I have one of those days. Actually, it started yesterday. I'm specially mad at my husband for not being at home. Then I realize I don't mind it that much because I miss his presence, but because I miss the things he does, like taking care of the baby, who gets kind of crazy if he doesn't see his dad. I don't blame him, I guess that sometimes he must be done with seeing me. It happens to me to.
Then, the oven guy came yesterday, without the piece I told the appointment lady my son had riped off from the oven's door. Supposedly he is coming today, but, you know?it's Thanksgiving, busy times... That's the point, Kid, tomorrow it's Thanksgiving, and I need that darn oven fixed by then. Like with birthdays, I don't feel crazy about the holidays this year. I usually enjoy cooking, and decorating the house and the tree, but this year I feel like I couldn't care less. I have no clue about the reason. It's true that last year was amazing, and I will miss this year my German friend, Marina, who moved back to Germany. It was great having her and her family over, and planning the dinner together. The prospect for this year is not the same. Although if experience works, the occasions you expect the less from are the ones that give you the most. Let's see how that works.

Silly

They ask you five times in two minutes if you are mad or "de mal humor". You answer no the first four times. The fifth you are actually mad. Then the drama unravels. All in Spain-Chicago Skype video conferences. It's being going on for two days. Too long already. Isn't it silly?

Of Birthdays and Kid Rock

The other day was my birthday. I'm just one year from hitting 30, and it feels weird. It's like this part of me is about to die. I guess I had a crazy enough "teenagehood" that lasted until my early twenties, and it's hitting just now that it will never come back. Midlife crisis, anyone? As I do every year, when everyone says "How do you feel one year older?" I end up thinking that I'm not a year, it's a day, and hour, maybe even a minute older. That year doesn't happen in one day, it takes a whole 365 of them. I guess it's just another convention we have all agreed on, to have at least a happy day a year. They used to be happier, though. I used to be all excited in the weeks prior to my birthday, preparing some kind of party, hoping for the calls and cards... Waking up in the morning feeling like a kid, a happy one. Enjoying the celebration. That hasn't happened the last two years. I don't feel the excitement anymore. And everyone seems a little bit bothered by it, but I cannot live according to other people's expectations. Maybe it's due to the fact that I'm a mother now, and I got that excitement when little L's birthday approached, back in April. But I miss my own. I miss being a young girl. That may be the reason behind my apparent musical crash on Kid Rock. Of all people. In Spain he has only been seen in some tabloids because of his wedding to Pamela Anderson. I had never heard his music until some weeks ago. I heard "Picture" in the radio, and I liked it a lot. Then I heard "All Summer Long", and I liked it so much that I got the CD. The guy is wearing a fur coat in the cover. A fur coat. That's not me, my kind of music. Or maybe it is and it's not my kind of cover. I only know I love the song. It's a midlife crisis song. Perfect.

So apparently I blogged before...

Something kind of weird just happened. I was checking my friend A's blog, when I tried to read a comment, only to discover that it was done by me. From Blogger. But I don't recall having ever had a blog, not even a Gmail account until a couple of days ago... I guess that at the time I was a sleep deprived mom with a six month old baby, but it still felt creepy... This was just a mere year ago... And now I wonder... What else did I forget? What else did I do without intention?

Ditching classes/ De pira

I can't believe ditching a class can feel this bad. After all, I was terrible in High School, and spend a good amount of my college time in the cafeteria (Spanish cafeteria, aka coffee house). I guess that by Grad School responsibility had finally kicked in... And has stayed until today. For the first time I skipped my baby's swimming class. And although I keep telling to myself that he was very tired and would have had a miserable time, I still have the feeling that he is missing something. Which makes me think that I missed many, many things when I was younger. But then again, playing Trivial Pursuit for hours in a coffee shop called "La Ronda", where my friend and I used to meet fellow "delinquents", probably gave me the social skills I would never had gotten in the school. And it was way more fun. Until one day the owner of the place asked me if I needed help, thinking that maybe I didn't have a home to return to. At that point we decided that it couldn't continue that way, we had to change. So we started visiting different coffee shops.
Returning to the present, the Kid left today. It was supposed to be yesterday, but her flight got canceled and we got to keep her for one more night, enough to get an amazing tuna recipe. But we are already missing. I guess that the "I'm alone" feeling won't kick in until tomorrow. Today I'm too tired to feel anything. Curiously enough, I'm a little bit sad because I got yesterday my Mom's birthday present. Chasing it around Chicago Post Offices three weeks after my birthday had become a yearly tradition. We, humans, operate in rather weird ways. But "Dirty Sexy Money" will pick up my spirits tonight. I love the show, perfect for "tiempos de crisis". Enough for today.

Reminiscencias del verano or a cute rose from my mom's garden

So the kid visits Chicago and, what does she do? Did we go downtown, to the theater, or just walked through the city? No. She got me a blog instead. So this is all the kid's fault. But if the actual kid, my 18 month old baby boy allows me, I will probably get as hooked as I am to other silly things, like Facebook, Sim City, or gossip magazines. Only this is not that silly, I have to admit. I just need to warm up to it.