Life: Idiotropic

About a month ago we were in the van driving somewhere and Elise started singing something. I was in my own quiet bubble and didn't really pay attention until Tiara, in the seat next to me, exclaimed, "Elise! How do you know that song???" At school. She's dancing to it for her Christmas performance. "I can't believe my 5 year old sister knows the Black Eyed Peas!" exclaimed Tiara. While I'm thinking, "Black Eyed Peas for Christmas? What happened to Silent Night or Away in the Manger?"

At 1415 we arrived at the school and met Tiara. 15 minutes later we were the first in the theater for the 1515 Year 1 Christmas Program. Four classes of kindergarten age children put together the story of Frosty the Snowman with the help of their teachers and the music teacher.

The curtain rose with groups of costumed children in a semicircle on the stage. For 5 minutes parents stood, clapped, waved, and shouted greetings while the little creatures snowflakes strained to see the familiar faces. Bright smiles of recognition and frantic waves signaled they'd found their families and finally, the crowd calmed and the program began.

A round snowman walked awkwardly in his black rubber boots to front center and said loudly in his best British English with a very distinct Spanish accent, "I am lonely. I want some friends."

Music started, a group of saggy tight wearing snowflakes jumped up, said (also in Spanish inflected British) "We'll be your friends!" and began dancing.

Poor little things. The teachers sent home lists of what the children needed for their costumes. I wonder if the parents had any idea what sort of visual this would be. These snowflakes along with a group of bears and several other unfortunate creatures wore tights with short tops and other little costume pieces that did not cover their bottoms. One little snowflake wore darling (but very apparent) panties with bright red hearts under her white tights. Every one saw them. Many children (really, a lot - almost the norm) had such ill fitted tights, the crotches hung down to their knees making skipping, jumping, and dancing very difficult, awkward, and fairly sad. Poor kids.

And this was the play. After the snowflakes left, the rotund snowman came back to stage center and repeated his inflected line again and the bears jumped up and said, "We'll be your friend!" and begun dancing. Trees, snowflakes, bears, owls, elves, and fairies all danced - and the snowman was still lonely until a group of other snowman danced. Then one from each group joined hands and danced around the lonely one in a circle while the entire group sung "Frosty the Snowman" repeatedly, the chubby snowman falling down and tripping in the center of the moving circle, and the children laughing and giggling the entire time.

And my little star - she was a fairy. A rock star fairy. She danced to "Tonight's Gonna Be a Good Night" by the Black Eyed Peas. And she was smiley and beautiful and knew the moves. Confident. And then they started jumping. And she was jumping with the biggest smile so enthusiastically. It was amazing. The music was infectious. Of all the songs, this one, though not even the slightest bit Christmasy, was obviously the crowd's favorite. And then... the frilly purple skirt with the little purple stars... fell down!!! And Elise stopped, tried to fix it, the held the ends, pushed her lip out, and just stared at it for a moment. Her big eyes looked like they would tear up any second. We worried. But my big girl pulled through... not with quite the same gusto, but she finished the dance, then was part of that special group that danced around the falling snowman at the end.

So Hooray, ELISE!!! She did it! And she is a great little dancer.

A social at the end... lemon cake and turrones. Children eating sugar and running wild. We stayed a bit, then went home in our new lemon, my rental car.

I much prefer old people on bicycles. That's how I found them in Germany. With rakes and shovels, plants and flower arrangements, groceries and gifts, they rode bicycles from village to village visiting friends both alive and not, and running errands as needed. It was nice. It was safe. I never knew one to hit my car. :)

So today was the day that everything clicked. It flowed. It was perfect. I realized that a light misting of rain - not even rain, but the sort of mist you'd find refreshing on a hot day at a Disney park - will keep the Valencians warm and cozy inside so that you can walk into your bank and be the only customer in there and so that one hour photo becomes 5 minutes while you wait. It's a beautiful thing. And you can run to the school and drop off those photos and head to the bakery for a coffee because you're running ahead.... but wait. I never quite got there.

That's where my appreciation for German old people comes in. I met my second set of Spanish old people today that probably shouldn't be operating a lawn mower let alone a car. Nice people, but not fab drivers.

Today, I was driving at a safe speed down a main road heading into town. A intersection that I often take was coming up on my right. I saw the blue opel approach the stop sign where I have often stopped before making a left hand turn. I watched as they slowed briefly, then looked ahead confident that the slowing meant a stop. But the stop didn't come. She didn't see me. She wanted to make a left quickly to cross those lanes ahead of traffic. She gunned it fast and hard. And I felt it as she hit the back passenger's side tire with a force that caused my car to spin until it stopped at the little stripped median near her facing oncoming traffic. I got out, grabbed my iphone, and dialed 112.

Traffic flowed around me normally. No one stopped. No one asked if I was ok. No one even slowed down or yelled out their window. Francisca's husband wandered over to my car. I told him I'd called the police, so please wait. "Why!?," he asked, "There's no damage to your car?!?!" There were grey and blue bits of plastic and metal all over the street around our cars. I walked him to the back of my car and pointed to the smashed in place around my incredibly flat tire that I was seeing for the first time as well. He grunted and walked back to his car.

The lady at the other end of the emergency told me to move my car if I could if it was in a dangerous spot. Traffic cleared long enough for me to pull it over to the other side of the road in a wide spot. And I waited.

The old couple walked over. Francisca was the driver.
"No tengo seguros," she told me. No insurance. She said insurance is expensive and she doesn't have the money to pay for the damage.
"But you have to have insurance to drive," I told her in Spanish. It was calm, amiable. But "I'm sorry", I said. "The police are coming. I had to call them. Please wait."
"How long?", they asked.
"I don't know. May be 10-15 minutes."

The accident was at 1152. It was spitting rain and bitterly cold - more for them than me, but still. None of us wanted to stay outside. We sat in our own cars. Theirs was across the street. Every 5 minutes they'd walk over. I'd roll down my window. How much longer? Did you call the police? Are they coming? Why did you call? Let's just exchange contact information. We have to go to Valencia. We don't have time to wait. And the questions and complaints kept coming. Not in a mean way though Francisca's husband looked upset. They were just as cold and frustrated as I. She said she never saw me. At one point after talking to me, she leaned forward a little, reached out, and smoothed out my damp windblown hair before turning and walking away. That was nice.

A man driving a tow truck stopped by and talked to me. He lives in Sagunto just up the road. It looks like I'll need a tow truck. So he gave me his business card. That was nice too.

At 1225 the police weren't there yet. Francisca came over and told me that they were going into town to get insurance papers. They'd be back. They weren't "those kind" of people. Ok, I guess.
20 minutes later they did come back, park next to me, and ask again about the police. I'd called a friend while they were gone and he'd made some calls to get the police to come.

Little did I know we were across the street and a small green lot from a police station.

Just after 1 a policeman walked over and asked us to drive to the station since it was cold. Drive? He looked at my car and said he'd walk over with me. He was nice. No one spoke English, but that's ok I understood what was going on. I could tell them what happened and they understood me. I filled out the paperwork. I understood when the old man said that it was dark and I was driving fast and the policeman said that everyone drives fast there because it is a fast road and they ran a stop sign, so they carry all of the fault. It felt good to be defended.

Francisca was scared, but the policeman was kind and calming. Eventually, the reports were done, the papers signed. And the old couple drove away.

I asked to use the bathroom, then sat down on a chair in the station lobby to look through my paperwork and try to think of what to do next. The school had called during all this. Arianna was sick and needed to get picked up. I couldn't drive my car. I didn't know where to take it. I was shaky and just wanted to go home.

Three police officers there offered help and asked me what they could do. One led me to his office, pulled out a chair, and scooted his phone over to me. I started to cry. "Don't cry," he said. I cried some more. "Ok, just cry." He was nice.

Several different phone calls. He called the dealership for me to see if they were open. He called a tow truck for me to see how much it would cost. I called the tow guy who'd stopped by and decided to go with him. He knew my voice and was at my van within 5 minutes. That was nice too.

The school called again. "Um. Before we go to the car place, can we stop by and pick up my sick daughter?" I asked. And he did. So Joaquin Jimenez Falla drove me and my beat up van to Caxton College and waited while I went in to fetch a coughing Arianna. He drove me to the Toyota dealership in Paterna and waited with me for 40 minutes for them to open. He helped me load my things back into his tow truck and offered to drive us back home. And he laughed each time I looked back at the flat of tiny poinsettias that I'd bought earlier for a party - young plants that he'd put in the open on the back of his tow truck that I was convinced would blow away. When he stopped by my bank for me he asked, "and how are your flowers?" with a sly grin. "Perfecto," I said. I couldn't believe it.

And then I was home. 5 hours later after a crazy spin, a lot of kind people, and the opportunity to pick up a sick child in a tow truck from school, I was home.

Again. I love old people. But I do prefer them on buses. And bicycles.

This is the intersection. I was driving across the photo to the left. The people were at the stop sign by the striped median at the center of the photo. I spun and hit that median and faced the right into oncoming traffic. Fun stuff. :)

... with the flu shot on Thursday morning.

Christmas season, Bon Nadal along the streets, lights strung on hedges and palm trees, and poinsettia filled flower beds. It's beautiful. But now... looking back a bit, at my calendar and the days without a single photo taken... I can trace one very bad week to its beginning, a morning begun not with a steamy cup of fresh coffee, but with H1N1 shots for each of my girls.

Not that all my woes can be blamed on those, but it sure does start a weekend off on a bad foot. My poor girls got taken not to the bus stop, but to Betera where they were met with a very nice nurse who gave all four each a shot in an arm quicker than I thought possible - with the exception of Elise who I found under a row of chairs clinging to the wall. I had to pull her out with a bit of strength and it took 3 adults to hold her down while the 4th administered the shot. She and Arianna went to school afterwards. Luci and Tiara stayed home feeling ill.

I struggled a lot with these shots. All is said and done now, but until this morning I wasn't sure I would do it. We're generally pretty anti-flu shot here and while everyone else is sick with horrible flu, my clan is generally very healthy with just mild aches and coughs here and there. This time I still didn't think they needed it, but don't like the cost of being wrong if this turns into what it could be.

And I'm not blaming a shot of a dead virus to make my Arianna sick for the next four days (weeks later still with cough), but still... a holiday children's Christmas party missed and an entire weekend - Friday through Sunday - at home feeling puny. Paperchains, paper trees, and ice skating were the highlights.

The cheery spot in our weekend - this bright canvas done by Arianna herself in her art club at school. Can't wait to hang it!

In a 10 second commercial for Valencia, I'd have to push for young, old, singles, families, lovers of art, and lovers of architecture to take a walk to the end of the Turia to see Calatrava's breathtaking City of Arts and Sciences.

Grand in scope, these monstrosities spark the imagination. A spaceship? A big fish? The blue of the sky and reflections in the shallow waters surrounding the buildings make for happy cameras and wandering imaginations.

Kirk and I don't often get time alone. Really, I think the last real "date" that we went on was for our anniversary in March. Today the kids were all at school and he had the day off, so we took the train to Valencia passing the CAC on the way in. "Do you think we could walk there?" Hmm. I thought it might be a bit far, but no short legs along, why not give it a shot? And sure enough we enjoyed a marvelous walk from the old train station at the city's center to the turia that circles it, through the lush green paths past fountains and palm trees, Gulliver Park and the Opera House, old people in fancy suits pushing strollers and policemen parking their horses at the coffee shop for a quick rest, down to the CAC, Valencia's Ciudad de las Artes y las Ciencias.

There is the Palau de les Arte with concerts and arts events, the Oceanografic - Europe's largest aquarium, a wonderful science center for children, a planetarium, a beautiful garden space, and the new Agora - a convention center that just opened in October. And though each is spectacular in and of itself, on a beautiful day like today, just the walk around the outside is enough. Exciting, new, wonderful. I've not been a fan of an architect before, but I think Calatrava has won me over. As much an artist as an architect, his structures - especially these together here in Valencia - are as inspiring as functional and haven't gotten passe with subsequent viewing. His work complements the Turia of Valencia and the city itself without being shocking or garrish. Not modernism for the sake of being modern. Somehow, it just works. And today we were able to enjoy it all quietly and without hurry as we strolled through the city.

Found a Japanese shop on the way back and bought wasabi powder, an ingredient that had eluded me until today. Stopped and had doeners and pide at a Turkish restaurant near the train station that the girls and I frequent. Train ride home sitting with a nice older couple who shared their mints and complained lightly about the unusual warmth in the city - warm enough for short sleeves today. Doesn't feel like December.

http://www.facebook.com/photo.php?pid=4264499&l=cab0ca8cbc&id=674507268

What I didn't remember in yesterday's post was that I did actually make it out of the house on Saturday. Not a huge deal, really, except that it turned into something strange. We went to get Luci's new glasses, parked, walked there, the glasses weren't ready, so come back Monday? Ok. We thought we'd go for a quick coffee before heading home - an outing not completely wasted. As we neared our truck, we saw a BMW parked diagonally in the street. I looked closer. It was actually touching the red car parked across the street. Kirk unlocked the doors, Luci started to climb in the car, the BMW began to move. It appeared that the old man driving it was trying to park in the spot between us and the car in front of us. There was plenty of space. Lots of space enough for 2-3' clearance on either end.

I stood there and watched as he backed away from the red car in front and across the street from us and backed right into Kirk's truck. He didn't stop, flinch, or make any motions of acknowledgement, even as Kirk walked up to his car and said, "Hey, you hit my car!"

Nope, this man kept trying to park. He hit the car in front of us, hit us again, then repeatedly hit the car in front of us over and over again. Backing up, pulling forward a bit too far. We called the police and watched and waited. A man came over after a while who seemed to know the old man and tried to help him park pushing the car this way and that. Even with help, the old man hit the car in front of us, but the man helping didn't seem to care. To us, it seemed very strange.

But then, here we are in Spain. Things are so very different here. More mellow. More laid back. And car insurance is different too. With us, we get upset. We want our cars to stay nice and ever little ding costs us $$$ in deductibles and rising premiums if we opt to get it fixed. This situation in the states would have been dramatically different. To them, it's "no pasa nada." Not a big deal, nothing happened. Just a dent, no one hurt. And... by the way, their insurance company will pay for the entire car to get completely repaired dings, dents, and all not every three years as I thought, but every year according to the police! If my insurance told me to take my car in every year to get fixed, oh how different I would feel. No ding, dent, or scrape would matter!

The police arrived. They were mellow too. I told them what happened. They took a report, and got the insurance information. Friendly and helpful. It was a great police experience. I know know what will happen now with the old man - if he'll be allowed to drive or not. I hope not... really, we were all lucky that there weren't pedestrians around. He didn't seem to lucid. But... can't complain. No injuries. Just dents and a missed cup of coffee. I guess they're right - no pasa nada.

Which is kind of a funny lead in to today's holiday and the reason that this weekend stretched into 4 days - the Day of the Immaculate Conception. That was today. Strange for me to think of those terms with Christmas, and not something I'd think to celebrate, but hey - it's a day off of work/school for us! Not feeling 100%, we stayed home mostly today, but I did drive over the mountain behind our house with the not quite so little girls and we took a hike. They loved it. My Luci - once Luci Molasses - is now Luci the Mountain Goat. A climber who runs ahead and loves hiking. It's beautiful back there and the trails stretch for miles. We'll do this often. We saw large groups of walkers today as we ventured out. Wasn't sure how to celebrate a holiday like this, but I guess we did ok. Seems to be the thing to do on a beautiful sunny warm day.

Random title for a random post.

First off, Gripe A (gree-pay ahhh). The Spanish word for Swine Flu that is the topic of television, radio, and poster all around the area. Notes have gone home from school, presentations were given. People here have swine flu. It's here, it's prevalent, it's a problem. Given that, we're fine, but my super immunity has given in finally to a lesser form and I must admit that I have a cold. Blech. Not stopping me, but not what I envisioned for my 4 day weekend when Spain is celebrating not one but two holidays - Constitution Day honoring a constitution younger than me and Immaculate Conception Day which also marks the shortest human gestational period ever. ;)

So a weekend that I thought my possibly be filled with day trips has been filled with a bit of Christmas decor and cooking. The cat taking advantage of my slower pace and nibbling on the dried corn husks one last time before I hauled them away. This is the new cat Deuce and the only other male in the house.

Yesterday itching to just get out into the beautiful weather - t-shirt weather - so warm that our windows and doors were open all day - we went out for coffee, then to Verdecora. I'd already decided that 99+ Euros for a pathetic Charlie Brownesque tree was as unacceptable to me as any form of artificial tree, so we opted for a bit of a break from tradition - my first year now in 35 that I won't have my big, fat, perfect Christmas tree, so I made up for it with 8. Yes, eight trees. Four tiny ones just a foot high in little pots, one for each of the girls for their rooms. And 4 more 3-4 feet tall in pots - live trees - set high on things about the rest of the house. It's a lot of tree and a lot of fun. Our next couple weeks we'll theme them and make decorations for them. Our old ones will remain packed. Our only quandary now is where to put the gifts on Christmas morning, but I believe that Santa will work a bit of Christmas magic and find a way. He always does. :)

It's the little things that make the holidays feel extra special... little things like gingerbread flavoured coffee mate. And those special friends who will send it to you. Lucky me, my friend Rebecca also knows, shares, and understands my foodie curiosity in all things odd, interesting, yet also edible. Foodie to a point, I will try anything new and different as long as it isn't super disgusting or covered in mayonnaise.

So I opened up a wonderful box containing 8 containers of coffee mate and a little zip lock baggie of this. Hollow tubes of chewy sweetness. She found it in Sittard at the Dutch market there. Any ideas what it might be??? I posed that question to my girls. Tiara figured it out.

Honey. Deep fried honey. Tastes a lot like honeycomb - chewy with an intensity of honey flavor. Good, but not something you could eat a lot of. Wondering how I could cook with this. May be in cookies? Hmm.

All the rave here in Spain this holiday season are turrones - bars of what traditionally consists of marzipan flavored or combined with fruit, nuts, chocolate, or other things. Each region has their own brand of turron. Those of Jijona are made up of almonds encased in a sticky white sweet. Some are flavored with Yema - a combination of egg yolks and sugar similar to the Dutch Advocaat, but without the alcohol. We got one that is like a Mounds bar on steroids - one 3" x 7" bar of sweetened coconut covered in dark chocolate. Bottom line - it's delicious and dangerous, yet something specifically Spain, so I must try it all, mustn't I? In order to fully embrace the culture of Spain, of course.

So, today I photographed these three twists on Turron - marzipan flavored with kiwi, strawberry, and orange. All delicious. Luci, Arianna, and I sampled these at my coffee shop today after dropping Tiara and Elise off at school. All the girls had eye appointments today, but the middles had their eyes dilated, so couldn't see enough to read or write, but could see enough to drink some hot chocolate and eat a donut. :)

In other news, Logan, now 10 days post-op had her check up and all looks good. She can have her cone off tomorrow. I think we're all as happy as she. Nothing like the sound of dog claws on plastic as she tried to scratch each night. This has been my alarm clock for the past 10 days.

Though she and cat try to act like the rivals nature intended, I think their desperation for a playmate is wearing them down. Stealing each other's toys and chasing the same ball, the safety distance between them has decreased to nil.

My life is in metric. Can't think in miles anymore. It's more like "in 500 meters, turn right." And I get that. Tell me to turn in .1 miles and I have absolutely no clue what you're talking about.

And though thanks to that ego squelching scale that sits in my upstairs bathroom I'm painfully aware of pounds, I am learning also to appreciate the kilo and just how much that is.

Give me an open air market and it's even better. Fresher produce, half the price. And really, can you beat that? I got artichokes today - artichufas. 4.4 pounds (2 kilos) for under 2 Euros! Fantastic! Kiwis today (and from a man singing the Gypsy Kings) - an entire kilo for just 1.50. And apples and potatoes and mangos and the reddest tomatoes I've seen since moving here - all fresh and beautiful, reasonably priced, and from happy, smiling, friendly people.

Add a couple friends who will graciously help me eat leftover Thanksgiving pie and the day is just about perfect.

No, didn't get the snails though I thought they made an interesting photo and what a steal at 5 Euros for an entire kilo! River snails from Segunto. Nice town, pretty river. But thank you, I'll stop at the photo op.

This is where anything interesting about today must end. For I live here and unfortunately housework and gift wrapping must not be put off again. :)

Once upon a time I was a holiday control freak. Then, magically and without warning, I somehow mellowed slightly and have given up part of my holiday repertoire. It's strangely comfortable.

This year Tiara tidied up and decorated the house making three pumpkin bouquets. She also made the salad with salad dressing, the mashed potatoes, and the gravy.

Kirk deep fried a ham and a turkey. Next year he'll two 2 turkeys. This is the last year (for a while anyway) that I do one. My oven is just too small.

I did three pies (apple, pecan, and pumpkin) and a pumpkin trifle plus the turkey, stuffing, and little appetizers - nothing fancy. Friends brought wine, green beans, and chocolate cake.

It was a small gathering, but good. This year, I relaxed more than usual and enjoyed it a bit more. The little girls set the table and all colored pictures to put at each plate. This welcome sign is one that Arianna made for our front door.

Now quite suddenly the fall has come with a brisk air that makes sweaters button up and mittens stay on. And I'm suddenly quite thankful for the heated floors that we hadn't used until now and the ease of microwaved leftovers in the evening.

I'm thankful for two wonderful new friends who have brought my out of my hermitage. Two amazing ladies with whom the conversation never stops nor dulls. Who were introduced this Thanksgiving morning to my favorite coffee shop where we had a delicious cafe con leche since we all agreed that the Spanish just don't have the hang of cappuccino yet - no where except Starbucks, but who wants to go there when you can go local?

I'm thankful for the lady who was kind enough last week to drive all the way to Madrid to pick up turkeys and hams for all the Americans here. Thanksgiving day here and my kids are in school, my husband is working, but the house is getting cleaned by a sweet Romanian woman who comes once a week. I am very thankful for her. She left a foil package on my counter. Wolf's Tooth in her language. English? We don't know. But Tiara was sick last week, so Rosica brought this today. "Make it into a tea," she says. "It is good for the stomach." Clean house and pizza for dinner.

Thanksgiving, but we're not celebrating today, so I'm thankful that Elise is attending another Spanish birthday party - this one at the school, so she was led directly from class at the end of the day to the cafeteria where there's a gym upstairs. I came an hour later, checked on her, then sat down at the parents table - something that there always seems to be. A table laden with good coffee, water, sodas, snacks, and a delicious lemon pound cake. I'm thankful that I met another Spanish lady - Lola's mom who is friendly, speaks English well, and wants to have coffee one day. Another friend? May be.

There's a lot to be thankful for every day. Not just Thanksgiving day.

Yesterday I had to take 5 minutes in the car outside my favorite coffee shop to collect myself before going in. Logan had an appointment to be fixed. I thought I'd just drop her off and go, but they asked me to stay with her to calm her after they gave her a shot to relax her. So I stayed with her as she got limp, laid down, and barely held her eyes open to look up at me. They lifted her to the table then and I stayed with her while they shaved a bit of her leg, put in her IV, then shaved a large portion of her stomach. She was awake - aware, just unable to move. Killed me. They told me I could go and as I left, Logan lifted her heavy head, turned, and looked at me as I walked away. She's a dog. I'm really in trouble if my kids are ever really sick. Stupid me had to pause and look from the cracked door as they carried her out of that room and towards the operating room. She saw me too and turned to see me as they passed by.

That afternoon I picked her up. She was weak and obviously still drugged. Her tail didn't wag. She didn't make a sound. Seemed so ghostly. Walked crooked. Threw up some horrid bright yellow. Grossness. Tiara and I worried and stressed over her all night. She wouldn't keep water down. Nothing stayed down.

I've never been so happy to see a tail wag - by this morning, she was almost normal! Wagging tail and tiny moans. She's on an antibiotic and pain meds for over a week. Once she had food in her stomach, she was back to normal.

But... if you've seen Up, it's hard not to laugh now at our silly puppy with her "cone of shame." Poor thing was a mess the first day bumping into everything and getting stuck not knowing to back out. She isn't too much better now, but just pushes herself through. A miracle she's only gone through 2 cones this week.

It's almost December and it's still hot some days. You barely need a sweater in the morning and by afternoon, you're in short sleeves. There's very little evidence of fall at all, but here on my reed fence, we have our own small sign, the only green in my yard that has changed and are now falling by the handfuls, so I had to snap this picture quickly before our one sign of autumn falls.

...and the kids are bickering. The sun is shining outside. It's absolutely gorgeous and unseasonably warm. The beach is calling.

I need some time with my weekend husband - we see each other so little these days, so 10 minutes away lies El Nazareth, a nice place with a tiny patio right on the boardwalk near a playground where the children can play and Kirk and I can enjoy tapas and a glass of wine.

The change of scenery stops the bickering. The kids kick their shoes off and play, excited when the Spanish children can say "hello." Kirk and I watch the sky turn pink over calamari, ensalata valenciana, and the house white.

Clementines. Mandarinas. And so many more varieties that I can't name. They surround me. There is no where that I can go here where I don't see field after field of these sweet fragrant citrus. And sometimes, you can even smell it on the wind.

Today we drove just outside our neighborhood - only a kilometer from our house, to a small nursery and asked if we could pick some oranges. They brought us a case, told us to twist them carefully and not to pull or the soft peel will come off as well, and to trim stems or they will stab the other oranges. Don't pick ones that are overly orange - and a little green is ok. They will be delicious. And we were set loose. The kids loved it getting excited over the really big ones and the really tiny ones. The only drawback is that unlike the blueberries of last year, we can't freeze these, so we are limited by how many we can eat in the next few days.

Kirk brought them to the counter. Three men picked through them, looked at each one making sure they were good ones and trimming the stems that the girls missed in their enthusiasm for picking. I asked to pay. No, not this time. A case of free oranges that we picked ourselves. Amazing.

I love this place. They know me there now - I go often for plants. And they are always so friendly. The girls loved picking. I told them we'll go every week until the season is over or we're sick of oranges... what ever happens first. The flavor - more intense than any orange I've ever tasted. Oh so good. I won't tire quickly.

PHOTOS of the GIRLS picking: http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=165455&id=674507268&l=55dcef0ccc

Apparently, when the Plaza de Toros isn't full of cape waving and pawing at the ground, it's quite the event center. Last week, the Feria Gastronomica, this week a Medieval Market, and in just a couple weeks, a circus complete with trained seals and dancers. The really cool thing about the first couple is that they've been free - to enter, at least.

Today I took all 4 girls with me. We took the train as usual - much cheaper that trying to park in the city and much less stressful. Stepped out of Valencia Nord, looked to the right at the impressive Plaza de Toros and saw the juggler right away. Street artists never get old when you're 5, 7, and 8. Juggling while riding a unicycle and making strange faces is about the coolest thing ever. Well, almost. This guy got beat out by a really nice collection of hawks and owls at the tent behind him. A nice start to our day. My little girls are amazed and impressed by these birds.

The corridors around in the center of the plaza were filled with vendors as well... a happy cheese lady selling a rich creamy goat cheese not like any French goat cheese I've ever eaten, a dejected elf man not sitting in his booth of elves and fairies, but sitting on the bench big artificial ears and all looking down and adjusting his little green "skirt," and rough looking cotton candy maker who coddled a very "home made" looking cigarette between two fingers while stirring the sugar with the other hand. Oh so much there... lots of leather, wooden toys, jewelry - much big and gaudy, but pretty- herbs, teas, foods. We walked the outer loop, looking at almost every booth - 5 girls in the bunch, go figure.

Tiara and I had to laugh because we'd seen most of the exact same food vendors there last week at the Feria Gastronomica, but with different "decor" and much different attire. Last week they dressed professionally and had "normal" displays - classy even. Today straw covered the floor, lamps hung from many stalls and scarves with bright colors and sequins. And the vendors all dressed in medieval garb - even the fancy award winning cheese guy who posed rather haughtily in front of his own 5' photo the week before. Today, no photo - just a "award winning cheese" sign written in a Cyrillic style font.

Shopping with girls - they want everything. And they all wanted swords or bow and arrows. Tiara and I wanted to buy them jewelry - pretty murano glass heart pendants or these beautifully hand painted copper pendants. We argued... but jewelry lasts forever! You can hang it on the tree, in your window, or wear it on a bracelet or a necklace. Nope. No twisting their arms. Eventually they all left happy. Elise with a wooden hatchet (a toy one, of course), Luci with the polished tip of a bull's horn hanging as a pendant on a leather cord, and Arianna with a fairy sitting on a little ball that glows in different colors when you turn it on. At least only one has a weapon, so there won't be any major battles in the back yard.

Lunch at a Turkish place that Tiara and I love which miraculously has something that each of the girls likes, and back home for a relaxing evening of cuddling on the couch and watching Beverly Hills Chihuahua.

More Photos: http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=165268&id=674507268&l=1894355224

So there are days when I feel amazing, confident, and wear the crown of Domestic Goddess with pride. And there are days when I feel like the wicked witch with the house collapsing on me, enslaved to chores with no end.

This week I had both... Monday, a goddess, cleaned, scrubbed, redecorated, cooked - even made home made focaccia, and entertained a new friend. Monday was good. Monday I was in charge.

Today, the dog knocked over the strawberry jam, so I had to pick jam covered glass out of her mouth and off the freshly mopped (then remopped) floor. Then, running late because it was one of "those" mornings, I opened my gate to find that some critter had torn open one of the LARGE garden bags full of smaller bags of kitchen garbage and decorated the street with orange and avocado skins all in front of my home. Nice. This is because the 6 plus large vans that have been parked outside my house for the last 2 week solid working on the house across the street keep parking slightly in front of my gate and block the trash, so the garbage men too lazy to really look, obviously missed it. Kids to school, then I'm outside my house with a broom and dustpan glaring at the workers and sweeping up moldy nasty garbage. The cat won't stop playing with my computer cables, the dog keeps barking, and I really think I ought to just climb back into bed. It's one of "those" days already.

At least it's just this one day. The rest of the week was a dentist appointment with a new dentist for us who works in a building that requires identification and a security pass to get by reception. Dr. Gomez is a Spaniard whose first name is German. Pronounced Herr Mann, it is particularly funny because he was born in Germany, lived there for 32 years, and speaks German better than Spanish or his near perfect English. Nice guy, nice wife, good job. They got Elise to submit to her first full cleaning ever and by the time we left, Claudia, his wife, had arms covered in stickers and colorful ink autographs from my younger three.

Beyond dentists, I had the joy (really) of going to an International Spouses coffee and laughing with the other moms about the strange accent that our kids are learning. My little girls are speaking English in this strange sing songy way - speaking English as if they were speaking Spanish. But MaMAAA. Crazy. Also had a nice 2 hour coffee with a new friend - 2 hours of non-stop conversation. That was needed.

So, I'll count my blessings. A lot of garbage means we're well fed, right? And I do now have 3 hams and 5 turkeys divided amongst my three freezers. Life is good and I'm sort of ready for the holidays. Just need to order some candy canes.

A couple weeks ago at my husband’s promotion ceremony, Colonel Manning turned to my 14 year old daughter and said, “thank you.” He went on to acknowledge the sacrifices that she’s made to support her father and her country for the last 14 years.

Neither of us had ever heard such simple, yet powerful words before. We thank our military members all the time. Moving tributes are created and passed along through email and Facebook posts. We smile and nod at uniformed service members at airports and in restaurants. And occasionally we stop and think about the spouses and might show them our gratitude as well.

But the kids? We have high expectations for them. We expect them to adapt, to deal with what comes their way, to change schools every 2-3 years. “They’re tough,” we say. “They can handle this.” And they can. And they do. They live the life and step up to the challenges. They make sacrifices willingly without question or complaint. They go months without fathers or mothers - sometimes both.

How many birthday parties and Christmases has Kirk missed for my 4 girls. The soccer games, school plays, graduations, dance recitals. So many days pass with a fan club of one.
They move just when they’ve gotten comfortable. They change cities, states, countries. They go to different schools - now with different languages and a different system. They miss homecoming, prom - the “American high school” experience. To us, they are little things, to them, it’s much more significant.

We tell them that they’re learning new things, new cultures, and that this is all a wonderful experience. Sometimes, we just need to give them a hug and say “thank you.”

My husband has a busy job. He’s only home on the weekends and those fly by way too quickly. My girls rarely complain. They might only see their dad 1/3 of the year and fly into his arms at each reunion with smiles and giggles.

I am so proud of them. And this Thanksgiving season, I will be especially thankful for them. Not only because they’re my daughters, but because they are strong young Americans who sacrifice daily for their country proudly, and act as young diplomats at their school showing the children there who Americans are and what America is really like.

Tell me I'm crazy, hallucinating, whatever. But I saw a penguin at the beach on Sunday.

He was there, swimming in the shallows near the shore, ducking down, swimming lightening fast completely visible under the clear water, then just as quickly, he ducked under and swam away fast enough and far enough that though 6 of us were straining to see him, we never did see him resurface.

Some birds dive for fish, but this guy was swimming fast and for prolonged periods. He's a penguin. But I googled penguins in Spain and learned that penguins only exist in the wild south of the equator.

So, Spanish folks out there... anyone missing a pet penguin? Last seen swimming near the Port at Sagunto.

PHOTOS FROM TODAY: http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=163504&id=674507268&l=7331b6bbd6

Thankful for friends who come to visit thus forcing me to get out and do something a bit different. Today Kirk stayed home with the little girls so they could have a quiet day and he could get ready for a TDY and I jumped on a train with Julie and Tiara to see what we could find inside the Plaza de Toros.

Bulls, you say? You might think that inside the large Plaza de Toros next to Valencia's historic train station, you'd find cheering crowds, angry bulls, and a few brave matadors swirling some brightly colored capes. Today the crowds had their mouths too full to cheer. Today there was a large covered tent (why oh why would you have a dark covered tent here of all places, I have no idea!) inside the Plaza de Toros filled with vendor upon vendor of food! ;) And samples both free and not. Outside we bought 12 yellow tickets packed nicely in a cheap plastic grocery type bag with a napkin, 3 toothpicks, a small plastic plate, and a 2.5' tall clear plastic cup. The we just had to wander around looking for booths that had the same yellow signs hanging, give them a ticket and see what lands upon your plate. Olives, Spanish ham, sausages, cheese, cheesecake, wine, horchata, granizado, torron, candies, chocolates... the list goes on.

And it was pretty good. I was a tiny bit disappointed. On the outside ring of the plaza, there were tons of vendors... half junky souvenir stuff including hash pops and cannabis suckers, then the other half sold hot food... pizza in a cone, grilled meats, skewers, olives, yummy, yummy stuff. I sorta thought that those same places were inside - that's what I'd been told. But inside there weren't any hot foods and though the wine was delicious, it was difficult to find 12 different things to try. After a while, the meat and cheese though delicious just gets too heavy - too much. And most of the sweets aren't good enough to even have firsts let along seconds. At many sweet booths we got one sample and shared it 3 ways. Really, my favorite booth sold wine - and I don't drink much.

The absolutely most delicious things today - a very light chocolate chip cheesecake - the Spanish cheesecakes are light and not very sweet, a half-dry white wine, and the olives that we bought to bring home.

Stuffed and needing to show Julie just a bit more of the city than a covered tent, we headed towards Plaza de Ayuntamiento, wandered around the Rodin statues there that are part of a free art exhibit - all with rather horrified faces. Then found ourselves at Starbucks for a coffee. Walked to Plaza de la Reina, to the market, then back around to the train station to head back to Puzol. It was nice. Valencia is such a beautiful city - so small and easy to navigate. Friendly, clean, and comfortable. I'm very happy to live so close.