compliments. kind of. the mystery solved.

ha! you'll never guess what just happened to me!
we were having a bit of an afternoon stroll around the park, when a kindly older gentleman struck up a conversation with Selma; and we chatted it up about redheads
me: "yeah, I have three of them, can you believe it?"
kindly older gentleman: "in the pueblo that I grew up in, there was a whole family of redheads!"
me: "that must have been one good looking family"
. . . and the conversation continued on for a bit like that . . . and then he said it - - "and they don't have freckles!"
so I did my part - - "well, I have freckles, so you never know . . ."
and then he said - - "noooooo . . . you don't have freckles . . . you may have some zits, but you don't have freckles . . ."

well now, that explains it all.
and I'm taking it as a compliment.
on a completely unrelated note, I'm off to wash my face.
a picture of Selma, looking far into her future when people will think that all her freckles are just zits

compliments. kind of.

it is not unusual for us to be stopped by random strangers who dote on our redheads; it happens all the time. we don't mind - - it's fun, really. almost everyone has a story to share about a redhead in their family, or a redhead that they once knew or dated . . . we like the stories!

and not all the time, but often, I'll have someone nod approvingly and say something like "and your redheads have beautiful white skin - - they aren't the freckled kind"
and I - - my children's very freckled mama, smile and nod and say something like "well, my freckles really didn't start coming in till I was about five, and if they do get freckles, we really won't mind too much!"

what I like about you. #1 in a series of about a billion

on the days when I'm all tired and worn out from the ever-so-important duties of keeping this home a well oiled machine, you pull out the Chocolate Crunch cereal (the crunch cereal that has been sitting in the shelf for about six months and is all chewy and stuck together and that you recently swore to never eat again because of its general disgustingness)and are like - - "no really babe, don't fix me dinner; I really want to eat crunch cereal"
sigh.

we were walking down to the pasteleria this afternoon to buy milk when Malachai (who recently started taking some classes in Euskera - - the Basque language) told me "did you know that burdea means 'animal buns' in Euskera?"

me: "really? that's kind of a weird thing to learn to say in Euskera"

Malachai: "I know mama, the thing is that the Basques say really crazy things"

me: "oh"
(really, what else could I say? well, other than - - "come on now, son, a little respect please . . ." )

a day in the life of us living a day with Dawn

Our super cool friend Dawn was here visiting last week. While she was here we took a little jaunt up to France (you can do that when you live in northern Spain) where we did fun things like walk on a French beach (averting our eyes from the occasional French nudie), eat French crepes, check French mail slots for French bad guys,
and peer into French shops and wonder about the moral implications of spending ungodly amounts of money on French children's fashion.
p.s. how hard do you think it would be to draft up a pattern for that little jacket?

go ahead and touch, but please don't pull

Selma found her earrings today; let's hope she doesn't rip those little suckers out of her lobes.
Sometimes she makes this face and then it gets stuck there. really.

portrait of a scratcher

uh, what's that, Josu? what do you want me to do? why are you scratching your head? pointing at the camera?
scratch, point. scratch, point.
oh. you want me to take a picture of you scratching your head. of course - - it makes perfect sense that you would want that. alright, go ahead and stand there and scratch.
well now, that turned out nicely.

oh, and Yesterday we found out from Malachai that his English teacher speaks "half English, half gibberish" . . . . interesting . . . .

off to school, my boys! be educated!

people worry. often, people worry about their own kids. Sometimes people worry about other people's kids. I think that in our neighborhood a lot of people worry about my kids; they worry that since they don't go to preschool at age two, that they will be permanently scarred - - unable to socialize or fit into group activities or learn how to share.

we heard good news from Josu's teacher today as she delightedly told us that she was surprised at how well Josu had done on his first day of school; especially since he had never been to preschool!

good job little man; good job!

purposeful re-integration - - the ugly side of it.

well, two days back now, and I'm working hard to jump right back into life - - I'm excited about meeting up with friends and contacts here in my neighborhood; I'm looking forward to seeing what "strangers" might be willing to greet or be greeted after our summer's absence (it happens - - have you ever noticed? someone who you see on a regular basis, but who you're not quite on greeting terms with, is more ready to say hello or to respond to a hello after you haven't seen each other for a while; it's true! try it! try it! try it!)

So I was thinking about all this purposeful re-integration this morning, and as I was in my local coffee shop, I ran into a girl that I might consider a casual aquaintence. our friendly interaction went a bit like this:

me:"heeeeeeyy! how are you? where is your little boy this morning?"

her:"oh, he's not with me this morning. . . . he's with his mumble mumble

(I couldn't quite catch this last bit- - it's kind of loud in the pasteleria and I'm still clouded with jet lag; I assume that the gist of what she is saying is that she left her boy back home with her husband so that she could calmly read the newspaper and drink her coffee - - a common treat for many of the moms with small children that I know)

me: (with a warm, genuine smile) "ooohh that is so nice!"

her: "uhhh, I'm divorced. that's why I said he was with his 'son of a **** father' - - the one who cheated on me when I was still pregnant . . . ."

oh shoot. oh shoot. oh shoot oh shoot oh shoot!

so, as calmly and carefully as I could, I communicated my most heartfelt apologies - - both for her suffering was well as for the complete idiot I had been to her. and she was gracious, but obviously pained.

I will keep an eye out for this girl, and I will be praying for a clear way to communicate love and care to her. pray with me, if you think of it.