Life: Idiotropic

This afternoon my doorbell rang. The vigilantes (security folks that drive around our neighborhood 24/7) were at the gate to tell me that my gray cat had been found. He gave me the address and I was out the gate and running before he'd even gotten into his car to drive away.

Misha was at 28 Porto Coeli, a good 3-4 blocks away - far for her. The man there was so kind. He said he found her on Wednesday evening (the day I last saw her) crossing the street, so he stopped and brought her in knowing she was old and not a stray (strays here are never grey and just don't have her look). I don't know why it took them 4 days to call the vigilantes, but today they did, thank goodness. Misha was sleeping curled up in a little corner between one door and another on the side of their house. I talked to him, his mother, and his two daughters for a few minutes before I walked home holding Misha tightly.

She had a can of "welcome home" tuna and is curled up happily on my bed as usual.

21 years and still going. This cat is amazing. Tomorrow I'll be baking some nice pumpkin bread "thank you" loaves for the family and the vigilantes.

It's 1:42 am and I've already been up a while after being asleep may be an hour. Two little girls lay on the guest bed behind me curled up having just fallen asleep to the soothing music of Jim Brickman. Twenty four hours ago we thought we'd be packed now, heading to Barcelona in the morning. But this afternoon we canceled our hotel and for the first time ever canceling a trip, I actually felt ok.

I should be blogging about the bull run or the parade we saw tonight. The culture is rich and endless in Spain.

But no matter where I find myself, there my family is, as it should be, and tonight - these last couple days, they are the ones that occupy my thoughts. My girls, their school, our family time together, and Misha.

It's been almost 50 hours since I've seen my cat. The most amazing cat who's been in my life and part of my family for over 21 years. I saw her last on Wednesday afternoon as I backed out of the driveway. She was sitting by the garage door wanting in, but I was in a hurry, running late, and wouldn't be gone long. She never goes anywhere.

I got home, I took care of the girls, I grilled hamburgers for dinner. I didn't think about Misha. She's always there. All the house doors were open. She could come in at any time. But she wasn't by my pillow that night. She wasn't curled up in the sunny spot in the garage the following morning. I've searched everywhere. I told the security at the gates and the ones who drive circles around the neighborhoods all day. We called the animal shelter. We've taken walks.

The parade tonight was great. I saw the costumes and took pictures. But being home kills me. I keep looking for her where she should be, wandering to the garage door where I saw her last. Twenty one years. I know she lived a wonderful life. It was going to be "time" eventually, but I want her here now. I need to see her, to know she's ok, or to know where she is and if she's hurt. She transcended "cat" a long time ago and became, everything. A friend, family, caregiver of sorts. She ran to my girls when they cried as babies. She'd jump into their crib and sleep always by their feet. Sweet, patient. They loved her and she tolerated even their most difficult stages. She used to take walks with us...

So we're here. Waiting and hoping. The house sitter who was going to stay with the dog and cats had a cousin in town and it didn't feel right to leave anyway... not if there was any chance of Misha coming home. So I hold out hope though it's fleeting fast.

My youngest two sleep soundly now. I hope it lasts the night. We all need sleep. Who knows what tomorrow will bring now.

On 9 October 1238, King Jaime I entered Valencia and eventually retook this land which eventually unified into la Comunidad Valenciana, the province of Valencia which is set apart culturally from the rest of Spain. Like Catalunya north, Valencia has it's own distinct dialect they like to consider a separate language and traditions all their own.

This date now, 9 October is the name of many streets, the prominent hospital here, and a huge celebration in Valencia and throughout the province.

At midnight on the eve of the 9th, a huge international fireworks display lights up the Turia. Too late for us with the children (it often goes until 3-4am), I watched part of it from my balcony as the rest of the family slept. Next year I'll go though no matter how late. The fireworks, even from 20 kilometers away, were amazing!

Of course, the kids don't have school on the 9th. So we took the train to Valencia, grabbed take out at Burger King across the street (ack, gross... true, but quick and easy), found seats in front of the Ayuntamieno (City Hall of sorts), and waited for the 5 hour long parade of the Moors and the Christians. Families participate in this parade year after year - the same families with the same costumes. It's something prominent folk do - an even you have to have money to be a part of as these costumes are incredibly ornate and extremely expensive. The Christians enter first. Horses, then lines of women and lines of men each with a leader dressed slightly fancier and carrying a sword they brandish with flare - smiling and egging on the crowd who clap in approval. The Christians also had creepy goat people and girls juggling fire which I didn't really understand, but it was entertaining nonetheless. The Moors had fancy costumes as well - the backs as ornate and beautiful as the fronts. The were all distinctive by the shoes they wore with turned up toes.

Tired children and hunger pains meant we missed the last 30 minutes or so of the parade and the loud mascleta which I heard was one of the best in a while. (This is the video from the one in the day... the one in the evening was supposed to be louder. I'll see it eventually, but without the kids: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=A8CNPjcZoYQ The mascleta starts at minute 3 of the video - the noise is the point - not the visual, so at the end all you see is grey smoke)

More Photos: http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=153039&id=674507268&l=4a8fa6ba34

I just came across this list that I made the day that Arianna had the end of the year "store" in her class and got to spend all the "bucks" she'd earned. This is something that I won't miss... the garage sale style "store" that Mrs. Chmeylar set up in her class every quarter.

So it's the last month of school. The packers are arriving in a couple days. We're moving for pete's sake and I am trying my best to get rid of our own junk. And this is what Arianna brings home, back pack stuffed, grinning from ear to ear, eyes sparking, a spring in her step while lugging an extra white plastic bag full of back pack overflow:

1. One heavy glass candle holder with two pieces. A bowl like bottom and a bowl top with a hole in it. 6" across.
2. An old Barbie (not old as in vintage, old as in used)
3. 2 brass candle sticks
4. a yo yo
5. a Chinese yo yo
6. a jumprope
7. some pony toys
8. a Hello Kitty wallet
9. an outdoor bouncy ball (big one)
10. a paddle ball (that broke with in the firs 10 minutes)
11. a small (Barbie sized) pair of slippers
12. a pirate eye patch
13. a McDonald's happy meal toy dog
14. a plastic pair of hands that rattle together to make noise - a noise maker
15. a ceramic spoon rest fro Minorca
16. a small plastic Tinkerbell
17. 2 pairs of glasses - one googly eyed
18. AND one teddy bear Christmas stocking

And it all got dumped all over my coffee table. Did any of it make it to Spain? Sadly, yes. But not much.

In ethics class last Friday, Arianna's class were asked to draw a picture of the perfect playground.

Her picture is done. It is of water, a skydiver, a snack statue, and a bar. Yes, a bar. Like the kind you'd go up to on the beach and order a drink from.

My eight year old daughter drew a picture of a bar for her "ideal playground" drawing.

It's only 25 minutes (or less) to the main train station in Valencia which sits next to the Plaza de Toros (big bull ring) at the end of the street that takes you to pretty much everything touristy, big, and beautiful. Nice to know. The drive wasn't hard in or out.

Kirk came home with me last Thursday, so he got a 1st class train ticket figuring it would give him a bit more leg room. Apparently here, first class train travel also means good food, constant service, and warm towelettes. Nice. Valencia to Albacete: 1 hr 20 min.

I drove home and passed this same ?? that we passed coming into town. Yes, I took this photo while driving. It sits in the center of one of the every too normal ginormous Spanish roundabouts where all lanes end and you just feel your way in and out of it.

I don't know what it's made of. Is it a head? Why? Why is it there? Does it signify something special? I just don't get it.

My computer almost never shuts down. Never. And blogger has this nifty automatic save function. So apparently someone decided that I needed a redo.

I had typed out an almost complete entry of our very first bull event here in Spain. I'd even added more photos.

And then I walked away. The computer turned itself off and blogger didn't autosave. Except for the two links below that I added first.

Anyway, it's been 4 days since the event and I'd love to write it up - it truly was an interesting cultural experience. BUT, I need to go study for my Spanish driver's license and get some extra sleep. May be I can get this done tomorrow.

Until then, enjoy the photos. There are some fun ones.




My Photos: http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=151319&id=674507268&l=fc8ab58377

A local blog (if you click on the photos, you can see me and the girls just to the left of the blue box between the first couple rungs of the barricade - I have my camera in front of me): http://boumania.blogspot.com/2009/10/pucol-bou-de-lavenida.html

Wow. This has been interesting. Before I sat down to write my entry for you about the ceremony yesterday, I thought I'd see what else was out there, in the news. After all, there was an impressive showing of press. Hmm... not sure where to begin here. May be at the beginning...

We're leading sort of a double life here. I'm mostly here, or have been, but will begin to show my cheery self in Albacete at least once a month. Kirk is the US SNR/US Commander at TLP during the week and then his civilian, family guy self on the weekends living in our little neighborhood north of Valencia.

Until yesterday I hadn't stepped foot into his Albacete world. But yesterday was the culmination of the last 3 years of planning and the last 3 months of hard work and preparation on the part of TLP (Tactical Leadership Program). Yesterday at 1300, the Official Opening Ceremony of TLP began with the cadre in place standing at attention almost the entire time, a band who played the anthems of the 10 participating nations extremely well, two large groups of highly important people - divided - civilians in one group and military on the other side (In Spain, civilian and military are seated separately.) Generals from all 10 nations, the Spanish Secretary of the Air Force and the Spanish Secretary of Defence among other "powerful people." A small stage in the back full of cameras both big and enormous. Video and SLR. Reporters, photographers...

Actually there was supposed to be an impressive show of military carrying weapons in formation as well - something the military members would have enjoyed. But that was changed just that morning because of the strong presence of the press and the strong opposition to this program by some anti-military groups in the area. Apparently there were protesters outside the gates as well, but I didn't see them.

It was smooth sailing for me. The drive is almost exactly 2 hours through green hilly areas, highway flanked with mountains and terraced hortas of oranges, then a dramatic shift at the border of Comunidad Valenciana and Castillo-La Mancha to red soil, flatter lands, ribbons of Quixote's windmills dotting ridges, and vast expanses of grapevines. Very beautiful.

As I pulled into visitor parking at Los Llanos Air Base, a guard waved me over motioning for me not to park. I explained that I was there for the ceremony. My name was on a list. He told me to drive to the gate. The guards there motioned for the keeper of that list to come over. Huh. I don't know where he got his list. They had names of folks from the little base up here that were not invited, but they didn't have mine. But I'm the American Commander's wife. And they smiled and waved me through. A nice surprise.

Parking behind the TLP building was easy. Finding Kirk was easy. And soon I was inside watching and taking pictures alongside the press in the back.

The number of DVs was incredible. I've never seen so many high ranking officials ever in one place - and from so many different countries.

The speaker (The Secretary of the Spanish Air Force, general José Jiménez Ruiz) gave a very nice bilingual speech - short, but well written with lots of nice sounding bits that I'm sure the press loved. And then the flags were raised each individually to their own anthem in alphabetical order. The TLP flag first, then the Spanish flag last - the only one out of order because it is the host nation, so tradition is that their flag is last. Once the flags were raised, the ceremony ended and we all walked over around the partition to the other half of the hangar where tables were set with flowers, nice linens, and tapas. Jamon Iberico, manchego, croquetas, fruit skewers, and a few other things. Bite sized desserts and the most delicious coffee that was simply a swallow. Almost a tease. I should have asked for 10 of them. We were silent while the VIPs walked to the head table, but the rest of that two hour reception was without form or fuss, just people talking, mingling, walking where they'd like. No speeches. It was nice. Kirk and I talked to a lot of people. People in his unit and the colonel and two-star that had come for the ceremony.

And that was it. A proud moment for me to see my husband in his element - looking confident and happy. This program is an amazing program. One that is the mutual effort, a cooperative really, or ten nations who put together a training program for fighter pilots from many more nations. It's a good program.

It amazed me to sit down and do a google search for this. 10 nations. I found not one article in English regarding yesterdays ceremony. Not one article in any other language, but Spanish. And many of the articles were very harsh as were some of the comments left. One comment tried to blame TLP for problems going on for the last 5 years. That people drink beer instead of wine! That Albacete used to be an nice quiet wine growing area and now they care only about money and TLP will bring in a bunch of drunks. Nice, eh? Apparently all military are drunkards.

Spain does not have a proud military history. Or may be they do, but it's been tainted by the too recent history under Franco. People are still alive who were under his reign and the anti-military sentiment runs deep. One article says "OTAN will prepare the war in Albacete."

No. They are not preparing for war. They are not making war. They are keeping prepared, sharing knowledge, training and working together to be better IN DEFENSE of their nations. Countries that do not have a military force survive only with the protection of those allies with a military force.

It's easy for a group to slap labels on an organization like this. To see them as faceless drones, armed and dangerous, training for war, to kill... They don't see them as fathers, husbands, community members. People who go home and share dinner. People who only want to protect their homes, their families, and their freedoms.

Climbing off soap box now... I fear my exhaustion is making me incoherent and I don't want to belabor this. Yesterday was a great day, a significant moment in the history of Albacete and TLP, and the beginning of what will be a very positive thing for Castillo - La Mancha and for Spain.

In the news:

• http://www.laverdad.es/albacete/20091002/albacete/llega-albacete-para-convertirse-20091002.html#comentarios
• http://www.europapress.es/castilla-lamancha/noticia-albacete-alberga-hoy-tlp-otan-pretende-incrementar-eficacia-fuerzas-aereas-aliadas-20091001181815.html
• ANTI-OTAN: http://www.kaosenlared.net/noticia/tlp-de-otan-ya-esta-albacete
  

Exhibit A: Another clever use for wrought iron and why a mother should be suspicious when 1/2 loaf of bread and several cups of water walk out of the kitchen. They were playing jail. Little did I know how little imagination they actually had to use!







Exhibit B: One very blond dog. As you can clearly see in both photos, this dog absolutely belongs in this crazy family.

http://gawker.com/5368039/spains-goth-first-daughters-embarrass-embarrassed-by-dad
http://news.yahoo.com/s/ynews/ynews_ts930

While I agree that the children of celebrities and politicians should be guarded as much as possible by the media without hampering the free press, and while the White House should have known better to post this photo of Zapatero's daughters (it blows my mind that this is the FIRST time they've been photographed), and while the personal style choices of these two girls should not be up for global debate, who takes their children to a party and let's them pick out their own outfits??

A stuffy international bureaucratic affair full of press and foreign leaders. You want to smile, hold your head up high, proudly show the world your classy young daughters. They are, as we all are when out of our country, diplomats in their own right, an impression of Spain to people who may not ever see it first hand. An impression of Spanish society and culture. They are smiling, bowing may be, shaking hands with leaders from around the globe... dressed sadly like an Adams or a Munster. Let children have reasonable choices and exercise some choice to create their own personal style, but we must also learn what is appropriate attire for different social situations.

May be I should be thankful they weren't wearing go go boots and a mini. But even those obnoxious genie pants so popular here would be better than the goth look. Ack.

Once upon a time, probably sometime in 1980, someone, possibly my mother bought me the I Can Cook Cookbook by Sophie Kay. This book looks like 1980, really a funny dated thing with recipes like Tic-Tac-Toe pizza and Tuna Bunwhiches. I think may be I tried 3 recipes from this book. Most of them were too silly to interest me and I was never a big tuna fan. But with each move or kitchen shuffle, I reach near panic when I can't find this thin book because within it is my all time favorite banana cake recipe - the only one I'll make.

It's called Butterfly Banana Cake because in the original it calls to cut the cake and flip the halves to look like butterfly wings, frosting them pink and adding candy sticks in the middle for a body. I NEVER did this. But I have made these a gazillion times by now, or at least as many times as I've had soft brown bananas sitting in my fruit bowl.

Last week I pulled out this gem, burned half the batch due to a distraction, and the unburned half were consumed within the day. Mostly by Luci. So I made a ginormous batch again yesterday... mmmm. They are just wonderful.


Butterfly Banana Cake

Preheat oven to 350 and either grease your pans or plan for cupcakes.

Sift together and set aside:

• 1 1/2 cups all-purpose flour (they say sifted, but I never do that)
• 2 t. baking powder
• 3/4 t. baking soda
• 1 t. salt
• 1 1/4 cup sugar

Mash 3 medium ripe bananas in a large bowl (I use 4), then mix in:

• 3/4 cup softened butter (I used just 1/2 cup last time and it worked fine because I always add extra banana, so there's plenty of moisture there)
  
• 1/3 cup buttermilk

Slowly add the flour mixture to the banana mixture, then add:

• Another 1/3 cup buttermilk
• 2 eggs

Stir in 1 1/4 cups quick or old-fashioned oats (I usually heap this just to pack in a bit more oatmeal especially if I throw another old banana in there). Blend well.

This is when you decide whether to make two 8" cakes or a couple loafs of banana bread or a couple pans of muffins. I usually do the latter two. The muffins are great because if I make a big enough batch, then I can freeze half. I have made cream cheese frosting, but it's very rare. They are good on their own.

Phew. Now that is posted... I don't have to stress as much next time I can't find this cookbook. :)

I've been told that unlike most countries that get their annual rain a little at a time, Spain gets its annual rainfall in a day... or two. And the cold comes and the wind and it blusters and blows and floods so that mini Niagaras rumble at the drains. So yesterday in honor of the cold and wet that surely won't last forever, I made soup. Inspired by a Cuisine recipe, I altered it a bit - part by what I had on hand and part by my taste buds. So I'll post the original Cuisine recipe. My changes are in parenthesis. This got a RAVE from my hubby.

For the Pesto:

1/2 cup fresh basil leaves (I used 2-3 cups)
1/2 cup fresh flat-leaf parsley leaves (I used 2 cups fresh spinach)
1/4 cup parmesan grated (I used 1 cup)
1/4 cup olive oil (I used 3/4 cup)
2 T. slivered almonds (I used 1/2 cup)
1 garlic clove (4)
1 t. kosher salt (4)
1 t. lemon zest (2 t. zest and the juice of 2 lemons)
1/4 t. red pepper flakes (1)

1. Put all the ingredients together in a blender and blend. If you have a horrible blender like me and it just won't work, add a bit of the soup stock slowly until you have a nice kelly green sauce. Put in a serving bowl, jar, or what ever you want to serve it from. We put it on the table in a jar so folks could top their soup with it to taste. I made a lot on purpose... the leftovers are amazing!

The Soup:

In a large pot saute the following ingredients over medium heat for 5 minutes stirring so they don't stick:

• 2 cups onions, diced (1 really large yellow onion)
• 2 cups celery, diced (none - celery here is hit or miss)
• 1 cup carrots, sliced (I put 4 carrots in and could have added more)
• 1 T. garlic, minced (4 cloves chopped)
• 2 t. Italian seasoning (I forgot this... didn't matter)
• 1 t. sugar (forgot this)
• 1 t. kosher salt (added a pinch)

Deglaze the pan with 2 T. dry sherry (1/4 dry white wine) and reduce until the liquid has evaporated (5 min or so).

Stir in 6 cups chicken broth (I ended up using 3 liters), and bring to a boil. (I added my tortellini now since I used dry pasta.) Reduce heat and to medium and simmer 15 minutes.

Add 2 cups fresh cheese-filled tortellini (I used 1 small package dried cheese and 1 small package dried spinach tortellinis and added them in the last step). Add 2 cups cooked chicken, chopped (I sauteed 1 pound of chicken filets in olive oil and a tiny bit of balsamic vinegar, then julienned it).

Reduce heat to medium-low, partially cover, and simmer 8-10 minutes or until the tortellini is cooked through. (I added a little more broth as needed since the dry tortellini soak up so much broth. It could have had more. My leftovers aren't brothy enough.)

Serve immediately with pesto.

OK, so we LOVED this as is, so I'll follow my recipe again. I'd run out of olive oil (gasp!), which is why I used less in the quadrupling of the pesto and I hate to measure, so we used more leaves I'm sure. It ended up tasting quite lemony, but it was wonderful. I'd used that lemon to add fluid, but between the lemon and the adding of some of that delicious stock from the soup, it really made a powerful sauce that I'll use in my soup leftovers and on pasta as well. The soup was perfect. Next time I'll make more broth or add less tortellini and may be celery if it looks OK at the store, but wow. This is one great soup!

Sorry for the deluge of posts. The figurative deluge matches the one storming outside my windows making for a perfect day inside for coffee, hot soup, and catch up time. Something I needed and don't allow much. Sat for a while with a book and some coffee, allowed myself a 20 minute nap before the phone rang. I think we'll make hot cocoa tonight. Didn't imagine I'd be cold in Spain so soon, but it's sort of comforting. Feels more like fall. And after all, one or two days of rain isn't bad at all. Sun will return soon by Thursday most likely with shorts weather once again.

Last month I'd run into a nice Hungarian woman at Mercadona. She helped me as I stared lost at the machines that weigh and price the produce. I couldn't remember the Spanish word for cucumber and couldn't find the picture. We talked briefly in Spanish, then English. Her English was good. Where was she from? Hungary. And all smiles because Grandpa was from Hungary too... well, Austria, but that was just after Trianon, so he was sort of Hungarian, but with an Austrian birth certificate... but I digress...

So a month ago... may be even 6 weeks... she gave me her number... and I was going to call, but the kids weren't in school and then they did start, but the weeks were rough... and then I did and we set a time, but Luci was sick and I had to cancel... and so on. Life just sort of happens and interrupts coffee dates. But she called back... amazingly enough because you know, when you meet people and let it go too long, then usually it's awkward and those things are let go. But I stood in front of Mercadona at 10 this morning to meet this Hungarian woman I'd only met briefly before 6 weeks ago and couldn't at all picture. And then this very thin woman about my age walks near and I just knew - she looked Hungarian to me - somehow, may be it was just that she was very thin and I remember so well those tall super skinny girl in Budapest. So I smiled and waved and we zipped off in her car to the "coolest" coffee shop in town - the most posh - that has may be the best coffee, but probably not the best pastry. Well enough, we just got our small coffees - 5 of which would fit into my well loved Starbucks mugs. Each coffee came with a tiny little sugar crusted croissant. Enough to nibble on. The coffee was good without sugar - that says something. Many are too bitter here.

And we talked for just an hour, stilted at times, but cordial. Her sister was in London, so she went and ended up meeting a Spanish man. She lived in London for 5 years and loved it and felt so at home there, but her partner wanted to come back to Spain and now she's here living in Puzol. She's my age - just 1 month and 10 days older. We got up and she paid, but I'll pay next time. And may be we'll meet at my house. She loves to bake and makes a good strudel. Friends that cook are fun... next week may be she'll come up and we'll make strudel together. It's nice to meet someone out of the US military loop. So, we'll see. It's nice to have international friends. And she was so happy to speak English!

Tiara and I took a couple hours this morning to run errands and have some time together. Went to the post office - 11 Euros to send a small package to Germany. But, no lines at the post office, so I won't complain. Tried to do our grocery errands first, after all, milk and eggs here aren't refrigerated, so leaving them in the car for a while isn't a big deal. But there's no parking anywhere. Gone are the German days when you can find a parking spot downtown at the first pass by. This is not a culture where people walk or bike as frequently. There are just so many cars everywhere lining every street, sometimes both sides, on the sidewalks, double parked, stopped waiting, stuck. So, I gave up on eggs and took Tiara to a coffee shop near El Moli. I'd been there twice before - they have a nice apple nut pastry that I like. And lots of empanadas and filled croissants. But today it had transformed itself into this amazing patisserie! (Apparently, the bakeries here only do the really fancy desserts on the weekends and only do bread items in the week.) The usually empty case was absolutely packed with beautiful colorful creamy desserts in all shapes and sizes. Oh, I wish I could've tried a bite of each! Yum. We got one torta de manzana and a bocadillo con crema, two cafe con leches and sat. The tables weren't full, but a steady stream of people came in to pick up orders, large platters of small bites, pastries, and breads. Large plates of filled things, bocadillos and empanadas and things I couldn't identify, but looked good. Like Thursday's cafe, there is no menu. And I saw people eating things that I didn't see in the case. Somehow there must be things that all the bakeries can do and you just have to know and to ask. It is soccer season. Saturdays must be very busy days for post game parties.

After our treat we reattempted parking which had gotten worse, so we parked at Consum and walked. Went into little clothing and accessory shops, saw some cute things, but discovered that all these shops shared a common odor - unidentifiable, but not good. Walked past a church where huge crowds of mostly old men filled the street corners and yard in front of it. Saw a flowered car. Thought it was a wedding... no, a funeral. May be that explains the number of men. Do they segregate themselves at funerals too?

Tonight we went to a party for US personnel and got hailed (as in Hail and Farewell, no the white ice pellets). Had probably the most delicious brisket I've ever tasted. Must get that recipe soon. And saw my housekeeper - she does parties!!! That is fabulous. Will make Thanksgiving MUCH easier. :)

I think that today officially sold my little ones on their new school. On Tuesday, Arianna and Luci came home with little baggies with Sports Day stuff. An ascot, a baseball cap, and a patch to sew on their PE shirt. Each grade (or class, I'm not sure) belongs to a different "house." It's all very Harry Potter. Luci is part of the dragon house and had to wear a green shirt with her PE shorts, hat, and scarf. Arianna is in the Gryphon house and wears blue. So today they did sports - dodgeball and paddle among them. Paddle is a Spanish obsession. I really don't understand it. One little girl picked on Luci today telling her she was stupid and not good at anything. I'd like to run to her defense, but Luci seems to be handling herself very well at school and doesn't seem overly bothered by it - actually she seems more irritated than anything. Arianna's only "social" problem is a little boy at her table who lies and tries to get her in trouble. But, so far, he hasn't been successful and Arianna also is more irritated than upset.

Elise jumped off the bus equally happy with her day - Senses Day for the 1st year students. They played games related to all 5 senses and even got to taste some new foods! Her teacher said she cried at playtime, but I think she was more tired than anything. She really loves school now and has an Irish friend, "who speaks our language," Elise says.

Tiara went back to school after being off all week and couldn't even get all her assignments because there are no passing periods and the students are not allowed in their building during break or lunch. Its such an odd world for her. They treat the high school students like young children which drives my overly responsible girl quite bonkers.

I ran errands and witnessed an odd traffic situation. I was in Betera. We'd passed a light. Traffic coming towards us was flowing, but all of the sudden without apparent cause or warning, traffic in front of me stopped dead. The car 3 up from me wouldn't move. People in my lane were beeping. Then traffic though moving in the other lane started beeping as well. A small white car had been sticking out a tiny bit from the parking spot and quickly pulled back into the spot. Traffic on that side resumed. All was well there, but it had been a solid 2+ minutes stopped for us. A tall thin woman in a buttery yellow tunic got out of the drivers side of the car stopped in front. She walked in front of her car and INTO the oncoming traffic putting up her hand and standing in the middle of the lane. Traffic stopped (thank goodness...), she waved at the little white car who backed out. She stopped him as well, waved to her own car whose driver obliged and pulled into the parking spot, then she continued to the other side of the street, traffic began to flow and I was on my way home again. Stopped for 3 minutes for a parking spot? It wasn't even a good one.

Took photos of my flowers today before this rainy season drowns them all. Kirk got home before the girls. They all cuddled up in front of Ice Age: Dinosaurs, and Tiara and I cooked dinner together: almost a weekly meal - grilled hamburgers with caramelized onions, guacamole, tomatoes, cheese... the works and a nice salad. Mmmm.

I like lazy Friday evenings.

Stir crazy me feels better when out of my house. I need to see, smell, and hear something new and different. That's why Europe appeals to me so much. There is always something new, different, and often strange.

Just yesterday, Kirk saw a man sleeping in the grassy median between the highway. Tiara saw a tiny pony pulling a tiny cart pulling two large horses in the back. I've seen a similar cart and many a fashion faux pas, and random things that are, at the moment, escaping my mind.

So this was Thursday and I needed to escape. Drove downtown, went in circles through narrow streets of double parked cars flashing emergencies until I gave up on decent parking and parked by the vet's office - a tiny little road where I could park halfway onto the curb and no one would care.

Walked to the busy main street that dips down under the train tracks that separate the "new" Puzol with the old, into old town with narrow roads, cobbled streets, and the houses separated only by intersections, wall to wall homes wrapping entirely around city blocks in different heights, styles, and colors, but all touching. Old wooden shutters, Catholic inspired ceramic paintings pressed into stucco, balconies with decorative tiles on the undersides as well so even passersby can enjoy the beauty. Ornately carved wooden doors built for giants nearly twice my height. One was opened to reveal the silhouette of a table, perfectly set with coffee, a vase of flowers... and a chair on either end with an older lady in each chair. Looked like a moment out of a painting, so perfect, so framable. I wanted to take a photo, but didn't want to disturb the moment.

Walked past bars loud and buzzing with people - not with drunken stupor, but talking, laughing, drinking beer and eating bocadillos - sub sandwiches on baguettes - chicken, anchovy, jamon y manchego. Mid morning is bocadillo time. Lunch isn't until 2:30. A La Hora Del Cafe was equally loud as it always is. The upstairs of an old agricultural building, this place is alive with conversation. The windows open, it's patrons visible from below. I just love the name.

A couple blocks of quiet residential. A women in a pink bathrobe and curlers standing outside talking to an elderly man. Older women with shopping bags heading to the newer part of town. A woman on her balcony, a mop slung over the railing, mopping the ceramic underside. The men were in the bars standing together at tables, some smoking, all looking like a scene from Cheers, comfortable, relaxed, as if they were part of the decor. Well place props in a movie.

The noise picked up at the church with a cafe on either side facing it, full again of folks with a coffee, a beer, and a bocadillo. You can't walk around the church. Like the rest of the town, another building is built right next to its wall, stuck to it, continuous stone and stucco. To walk around the church, you walk an entire block around, only rear view a bit of steeple visible through a lower part of another building's roof.

And then I found myself on a small residential street, narrower than most, cars parked, but no traffic, quiet... but then, not so quiet. A lady swept her walk, her door open. A box of grapes and a box of some other fruit in the doorway, the price scribbled on the front. A wicker chair sat outside another house with a casaba melon on it. People of all ages stood in and around doorways and chairs, talking, smiling. Old ladies pushed strollers.

A small cafe called to me, L' antiga tahoma, so I went in. Locals. Everyone knew everyone, except me, of course. A grandma in a red floral dress held a blond baby girl playing happily with a set of keys talking to a younger woman across the table. A thin smartly dressed woman sat at a tall table alone with her newspaper and tomate. Tomate is a popular breakast here... a slice of good French bread, finely chopped or even purred tomato spread over the top, a sprinkle or salt, sugar or both, and a nice drizzle of Spanish olive oil. Simple, but absolutely delicious. Three other tables occupied men eating bocadillos, drinking beer or coke zero, and snacking on the green olives and peanuts at their tables. As men came in they grabbed another chair and crowded around. The big screen tv on the wall had a talk show on. They were talking about acne and Gripe A - swine flu. There was a clattering of dishes and a hum of conversations and greetings. For me, a quiet table, Cafe con leche y una caracola - I think it was a caracola which translates to snail, but only because the flaky powdered sugar topped pastry is swirled like a snail shell. Delicious and for less than 2 Euros total. I may just have to become a regular that everyone knows.

The walk back was quiet, uneventful. Some streets were completely empty save a chair outside the doorway. Each part of town has a band of park area - a wide stone pathway set with trees and benches. Shade in the summer, a place to meet. Old men sat on two benches. Old women occupied the third. Seems women and men don't mix as much socially here. Tiara's become especially aware of that at school.

A young couple pushed a little on at the park in the big square. She had on those low crotched genie pants in a garish purple and black print. She could do the splits in those pants without a problem.

A women sold lottery tickets outside the bank.

Tiara's home this day. The 4th day this week. Doing better, but still tired. Back to school on Friday.

MORE PHOTOS: http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=127095&id=674507268&l=9f8cf587a6

The kittens are now 5 weeks old, jumping, climbing, and tackling each other in every waking moment. No longer constrained to a box, I have my best efforts to barricade one bathroom so that they can live in there, but even that is almost escapable. Three more weeks and they'll be gone. I think. We're still debating on whether to keep one or not. Even the mother will go. We've realized that as "nice" as she is, there are some things that you just can't teach a stray cat.

Speaking of critters, the snails have taken to climbing up my windows now. Out more and in bigger numbers since the cooler weather began, I now understand the piles of empty shells in the gardens. There are a lot of snails here - in my garden, on my windows, on top of my paella, in the frozen food section of my grocery store.

And centipedes... I've seen three. And Mantis. I found one rocking back and forth on my outside wall, exactly at eye level next to my open sliding glass door. They jump. They fly. The have little spikes on their hind legs that can clasp onto you. They are not supposed to be dangerous, but I'm still not fond of them.

Large antlike bodies with huge wings have started to swarm cars. I came back from my walk on Thursday to these nasty things all over my car. I felt like I was in some B grade horror movie sitting in my car looking out through the fly covered windows.

Truly, I don't mind the bats or the cats or the lizards that hang from my patio ceiling. But I'm beginning to not like the bugs. So far no biting or vicious attacks, but not going to let my guard down either. :)

Some things aren't scary. We can get whole wheat bread and good baguettes, hamburger buns and hot dog buns, but I can't get grainy nutty bread and I so so miss the German stuff. I can find Heinz products and chocolate flavored Special K. I can't get cheerios, but can get Oreos. The produce is overly seasonal, so though oranges and citrus are plentiful, I can't get berries - not even frozen. No frozen fruit. No cheddar, but an entire section of manchego. More meats, lots of lamb. Antiperspirant only comes in spray or roll on. I've just "ordered" my solid, so I don't feel sticky. Spices are iffy. No refried beans or corn starch. No snack foods like granola bars or fruit roll ups though there are tons of cookies and chocolate filled croissants and rolls. A lot of oil and a lot of sugar.

Well. We're here. The house is 99% done and the kids are in their third week of school. Kirk is in his work routine. I have time.

But.

That 1% not done feels like 10% and I still have little school issues to iron out plus I can't leave the puppy home long and the kittens are here and... you get the gist. I just don't feel quite "there" yet. Or "here" yet.

Living in Spain in a nice house in a beautiful neighborhood with a view of the Med from my office and from my balcony - a view I awake to each morning. Beautiful weather. Flowers, culture, food, friendly people... I really am thankful.

And we've been so welcomed here... have gone to parties and have been invited to more. Went shopping with a friend at a REAL mall. Was wonderful.

And basically life is fantastic and I've been blessed beyond and still, I'm in this unidentifiable funk. Feeling a bit lost. Have the time to write, but can't put words together even for something as trivial as a blog - this blog or any blog of mine. Haven't even been taking photos.

It's probably my complete lack of adventure thus far (though some might argue that just living here can be an adventure) - being in the house more than is the norm for me. So I've prescribed myself one village explore tomorrow morning and a train ride into Valencia on Thursday. Hoping a bit of java downtown and something other than my white house walls will shake me out of this whatever it is I'm in.

Had a good cry this afternoon while writing a letter to Tinny. Gillrath is the place that I've most felt like I belonged. Ever. It took some time to build to that. Was there a year before I met my best friend. About that much time before I found my niche. It took time and then I belonged. I may have that here, but it's hard to leave so much behind and start over knowing it could be year or more before I find my place again.

In many ways I'm a loner, but I still need to feel like I belong. I need a place to go. The Cheers theme comes to mind. Just want to go "where everyone knows my name."

In Germany I learned to drive at 100mph. 95 was comfortable, but I learned to drive it carefully watching my rear view mirror for those driving at 150 mph so that I could get over before being crushed. No amount of time in Germany will make 150 seem normal. None.

The Netherlands taught me to drive through lanes seemingly narrower than my car with mere centimeters to spare and that you must signal both in and out of round a bouts.

The French taught me the fine art of turning on my turn signal at the mere thought of may be possibly turning sometime that day and leaving it on indefinitely or until actually turning. Turning it off means that you're turning in the opposite direction. This is especially wise to know while on freeways. Thankfully, the French gave me a crash coarse in the lane-less roundabout. The one with 4-5 lanes entering it, then a complete disappearance of painted lines so that cars can swerve around the roundabout in any manner they see fit. These are horrifying, but frequent in Valencia as well. Am hoping the French taught me well. That's not another lesson I look forward to, but I've found that holding my breath helps.

And now Spain is teaching me a myriad of driving subtleties. The beauty of flipping on your emergencies and double parking. For a real challenge, you can try the parallel double. Scary in the face of oncoming traffic on a narrow road. With all the skill of a skier without the grace, I learned to fly over speed bumps frequent and tall, but have learned that slamming on the breaks prior to the bump is the far safer route, so I halt sneaking carefully over them like a novice in a field of moguls. Oh, and one must not forget, the running of the red light. Of course, I would never ever do this except for now when I do this daily upon entering my neighborhood and passing the security gate with the solid red light where no one stops and no one cares. So why is it there? Guess sometimes it's the semblance of caring that matters.

That "semblance" is big here. Armed security guards walking through shopping centers, into shops, walking by you as you pick up that new shower curtain. Armed guards in the Metro, on the train... police cars and vigilantes patrolling the neighborhoods. Gates across every home, black iron, menacing, but unlocked, or easily scalable. Do I feel safer? Not if I think about it too much, but I do like that "semblance" of security. Gives me a "semblance" of safety when Kirk is gone that I count on.