Extended Table Nights
We had our first social dinner at home last night. Eight people. We even used the extension on our beloved ikea table. We were belatedly celebrating my mum's birthday (though i neglected to mention that) and sayig goodbye to my aunt Mary, visiting from England since last Monday. The house was clean. The kitchen didn't get that messy. The menu was a total hit. Conversation, as usual, was hearty and fun. I was encouraged by all parties to "please do this again soon".

I made gilthead bream (isn't that a funny name) in the oven on a layer of sliced potatos and cherry tomatoes, on olive oil and garlic. It's easy to prepare and you can combine the making with the following activities: put babs to nap / scrub bathroom entirely / dust house / put washing machine / hold two phone conversations / greet babs when he wakes up / have him follow you around thrilled with the noises coming out of the vacuum.

By the time all the guests arrived, including Pablo, Bruno was so excited he couldn't physichally finish his bottle. He was positively beaming, especially at my niece Marta and her friend Bea. He drummed on the table, pretended to run away from anyone who smiled at him, and cried with joy every six minutes or so. As Pablo said, in his perfect English, "he is full of beans".

By midnight everyone had gone home and we'd more or less cleaned up everything. I figure they're right, and we could do this again soon. Should you like to join our 'extended ikea table nights', please raise your hand at the comment area.

Nick nack
I stayed home sick yesterday. Virus. Don't come near me.
Nice summer disease, induced by air conditioning and storms in combination with dangerous midday heat. So. Time to protect one's throat, blow dry one's hair and be a good girl in general.

Bruno stayed home with me as well. We both needed extra naps and it was like going on a spa holiday. I used the extra time to take some pictures of him (i'm such a junkie) and a few selfportraits, such as this (again, with Muffin by my side).

While at the computer, i entered the amazon world to track down my last order of nick nacks. I can't wait to get me books: two novels (The Kite Runner and JPod) and a parenting book.

I organized the last of Muffin's summer clothes, made watermelon juice and danced La Bamba with Bruno around his toys. Then i sat down and waited for inspiration to come see me, but she never showed up, or she failed to recognize me after such a long time. Instead i draw pictures on my mind of hats and hair stuff to wear to The Wedding. More on this event soon.

I like random, mismatched days such as yesterday. Minus the throat burn.

A bit of morning
The alarm clock (my beloved cell phone), hasn't said anything yet. It's 6.18 am. I turn it off and get up to assist Bruno in one of his nightmares. The fourth one tonight. He gives me a soft moan while i try to put his soother in, but he starts coughing. I manage to refrain myself from kissing him again, as i feel my body shiver with the flu. I'd like to say i then jump in the shower, but i can hardly walk without bumping into a couple of doors.

Long sleepless nights, long wakeless days. The coffee is ready by the time i come out of the bathroom, with new shivers and a pair of jeans on their last day of wearing before wash. They feel soft and knowing. I pour myself a glass of orange juice and then some coffee. A muffin. I manage to fill up the washing machine and boil Bruno's water for his upcoming breakfast. 6.46 am.

I wear a grey cache-coeur over my summery top. The weather is nuts enough to give me the flu in forty-eight hours, prevention meassures are in order. I walk down to the bus station not feeling the concrete under my black embroidered ballerinas. I don't look at the buildings, i wouldn't see them anyway. The driver is breezy and seems happy as he opens the bus door and greets his morning passengers.

I try to avoid the air conditioned spots but there's no hiding from this violent, steady, noisy wind. I'm about to close my eyes but suddenly i realize i'm on the wrong bus, the one that takes forever to get to the same destination, stubbornly peaking into every little town in the winding road. I slowly disentangle the earphones on my red mp3 player. 7.11 am. Good morning, in a bit.

Maybe Next Year
Ah, well, maybe next year i'll hit a music festival. I would've liked the one in Madrid this weekend, with Franz Ferdinand, Paul Weller, Muchachito Bombo Inferno and the (other programmed) lot.

I log on to flickr and i stumble upon some Sonar pics. I'd love to go to one of those, too. I'd take photos of flip-flopped feet and djs from silly angles. I'd be blissed, walking and dancing and taking rhythmical tours of the site. Maybe next year.

If it's not too dear.
Or far.
Or complicated.
If i don't catch colds.
If i don't flake out.
Or bring up any other sorry excuse for not doing what i want.

You know, maybe next year.

First day of the summer
May the summer follow you around all year.
Happy season.

Metawords of the day include: wet, thongs, sandals, lip balm, steamy, swim, little black dress, pool, by the, little white dress, tan, sun lotion, be sure, to use, or your skin, will be a mess, even if you wear, that little black dress.

PS: Kindly note the gorgeous illustration my hubbie made to mark this day. Just because.

(Lunch) Box talk
After so much previous talk, i noticed i haven't mentioned that my cool Mr. Bento is already part of my daily life. Me likes.

The down sides include transportation (kinda heavy) and cleaning (not dishwasher safe) and preparation (plan plan plan your tomorrow).

The other aspects are beyond brilliant. I love how tight it shuts. I love the temperatures it keeps. I love the way it holds together inside the box. And i love the huge amounts of delish food i get to carry around.

I'm such a dork. Yet i'm not alone.

Unsettling
Mum's hair fell off yesterday.

A friend of hers sent her a text message to her phone while mum was on her way to the hair specialist. It said something like this: "Most women need to add things to their image in order to feel womanly. Certain women (fewer) can bear giving up the accesories to feel like women, as they know who they are".

After collecting Bruno, I ran up to the Mountain Family Home to wait for mum and my sister. She looked ok in the outside. You could tell it had been dreadful. You could tell she'd been crying. I told her the wig suited her. I meant it. When i drove her back home i saw how drained she was, in every sense of the word.

This morning i pick her up at her flat. She walks unsteadily and looks at me, asking for approval, widening her eyes while i pause to examine her. 'It's fine. It looks natural. It's still 100% you", i tell her.

I am now at the agency, trying to work a little, trying to adjust this unsettling feeling into my system, since i know it's not going to vanish until mum's cancer does.

Our favourite spaceman
He left yesterday. He'll be back, of course, though it will hardly be the same. He's been wanting this for as long as i've known him, which may not be that long, but it's still six years. Fighting for a position abroad. Fighting and losing and getting up again. Then, in the middle of the winter, bingo.

Bye, babe. Have fun. Leaving so much behind is probably not easy, but it sure is healthy. Say your farewell to all of this: Madrid, the job as you know it, the house you built, the friendly faces, the sworn enemies. Take the plane on to England. It's not that far away, even if it seems like another galaxy right now. You are, after all, our favourite spaceman. Say goodbye for a minute and then start saying your hellos. That's how i'd do it, anyway.

Geez, i'll miss you.

Catch
I keep trying out second-hand frenzies.
I was late to CDs.
I was late to VHS.
Hell, i was almost late to leg-warmers.
I was late to the mp3 fever, and finally logged on.
Same happened with iPod, irresistible gadget i've managed to resist so far.
I haven't read 'The Da Vinci Code', and i simply refuse to now.
I was late to 'The Poisonwood Bible' rave.
I was late to 'The Time Traveler's Wife', which i'm consuming now.
I'm late to all movies, period, due to motherhood and busyness, i guess.
Not into the new bands. Don't even know the names. Haven't seen the new RHCP video or listened to the Arcadium-thingy album.
I haven't worn bermuda pants with tights this winter.
I haven't got silver ballerina shoes for the summer.
My hair does not support highlights.
I have no idea why Lindsay Lohan is that famous.

Of course, I'm late to sudokus. But beware: i'm catching up on you.

V is for Visiting Valencia
We used to make jokes about the city and the region. About the people. We clinged on their clichés, chuckling with childish pleasure to the puns intented towards their clothes, their love for all things shiny and gold, their music, their hair. But we hadn't really been there. So off we went on a bright sunny Saturday morning.

We got up really early, which wasn't fun since i do that all week long, and because Muffin had surprisingly (no ironies to be found in this sentence) woken up at 4 am. We packed the car for a one night trip: it's amazing the amount of things you need (did we really need them?) to drag along with you when you're spending one night away with your baby.

It took us around four hours to get to our final destination (including the near to 50 minutes looking for our central hotel). Valencia was busy with weekend busyness and we let ourselves slip into the summertime bliss of walking around. Bruno was excited about the trees, the cafés and tall men. He was also very happy about the people lunching next to us at the restaurant, about a little dog passing by his stroller and a noisy Vespa. He had a blast. So did we.

No plans, no objectives: just a little map and the vague idea there might be things to be seen in this city. I find Valencia has bittersweet taste for the visitor, who finds himself suspended between the lack of general notoriousness of the place and the beautiful corners it hides. Of course, it all depends on what you want to consider beautiful. We took pictures of graffitti walls and old market places. We paused over something called 'The Round Plaza', made of coloured blue wood and white walls.



On the next day we had everything planned out. It was our Official Fish Day, which is what had got us to Valencia in the first place. We had tickets to visit the Science Museum, the Oceanografic and something called the Hemisferic, but i still don't know what that was about. The place is very different from anything and at the same time it has pieces of Melbourne, Paris, L.A. and probably something Scandinavian.

We strolled around for a bit before welcoming ourselves to the Oceanografic Acquarium, which has breathtaking architecture, kick-ass fish, fantastic beluga whales and a huge sealion whom Bruno fell in love with. It's not the best seapark in the world, but we weren't looking for the best in the world. We were looking for 'good' and we got 'great'.