November 10 - Murcia

Spent the rest of yesterday just bumming around. I looked in several stores for English language books and right before siesta I located a shelf of classics and a few odds and ends in a University bookstore. But of course the store was closing so I had to wait 2 hours and head back. Once again -- my Spanish sucks. It's a major deal just to ask where the English language books are and then understand the answer. He tried to sell me a phrase book (no buddy, believe it or not, I have one!) and then finally I caught the word "novelas", ah, si, si! I bought the birdie "The House of Sand and Fog" and "Tales of the Unexpected" by Roald Dahl. That, along with "Syrup" should hold her until Christmas.

Last night, I went to El Corte Ingles to tackle the grocery shopping for the chicken dinner and A and Juan met me there. Got everything we needed and headed back the throw the chicken in -- ugh. Started to clean it and found it came complete with the head still on it and the guts still in it. Good thing I grew up on a farm. I hacked that head off like a good country wife and got the chicken seasoned and in the oven. At 9 we were supposed to eat but the chicken was nowhere near ready so I panicked and ran back to El Corte Ingles and bought two precooked chickens -- upon my return found that I only needed about 20 more minutes for the chicken I made... so I guess the girls will have plenty of chicken for a while. Everything was ready at 10 but the landlady showed up to collect rent so at 10:30 we finally sat down to fresh roast chicken, garlic mashed potatoes, green beans, rolls and fresh pears for dessert. And possibly the most pathetic chicken gravy ever made. But hey, it was gravy and A and Kristen thought it was cool. I did it! I cooked! Biggest relief EVER.

This morning I went to the outdoor market... I wanted grapes but decided not to go through the hassle of asking for them (is the word uvas? I think so, I don't know). So just walked the length of the market and enjoyed all the sights and smells. Unlike El Rastro, this is a farmer's market too. You can buy everything from underwear to pickled onions in this place. Churros con chocolate, fruit, jeans, vegetables, shoes, scarves, fish, jamon, fabric, many varieties of tomatoes, striped eggplant, pajamas, olives, tiny pickles, figs. Looking at all the food is like eating it -it's really what people mean when they say "a feast for the eyes". Also the nose and the ears. So wonderful! I walked and walked in a slow drizzle, drinking Coke Light and snacking on these little croissants with a nutella filling. Loved it.

After the mercadona I went to the Salzillo museum and was adopted by a museum guide named Antonio. One guard kept following me around and trying to talk to me. Funny thing -- here you say you don't speak Spanish and they think you must be kidding or that you just don't speak it well. I tried to talk to that guy and I guess I answered his question wrong ... all I caught was Aleman (German) so I don't know. But not long after my failed attempt to communicate, Antonio showed up and gave me a personal tour -- telling me all about Semana Santa and the Salzillo sculptures. He had taken English at a language school in Murcia so he spoke very well. And I enjoyed talking to him. Because they get so many Brits here and because they can't hear the difference between the Bristish and American accent he was surprised to hear I was American... don't imagine they see too many Americans in this part of Spain. If you hear someone speaking English with an American accent your head snaps around and you immediately want to say "hey, me too!" Yesterday I was walking down A's street and hear a guy with a Jersey accent talking to his kids. It was a very odd moment for me. Even in Madrid I stood in the line for the Prado in front of a guy from Chicago and he was so excited to hear English because he had been in Madrid for 4 days and hadn't bumped in to any other Americans. Anyway, I digress. Back to Francisco Salzillo: on Good Friday they empty out the museum and penitents carry the statues (life size and decorated with accents of fresh fruit, flowers, palms, etc.) on the shoulders through the streets of Murcia. The statues are so detailed. Much like the Penitent Mary Magdalene I saw at the Prado. After the Salzillo museum I went to the Museo de Cuidad (City Museum) and that, along with El Centro de Bellas Artes makes a neat little trifecta of Murciano museums. One thing I have noticed is that Spanish art vs. the rest of European art was/is intensely focused on the religious. This is still a VERY devout country. The first question Antonio asked me was not where I was from or even my name, but was I Catholic?

I'm hoping I don't get the cold these girls are kicking around. I don't know if it's the weather (it's actually raining a little here, which is never does) or a virus but I feel a little scratchy and stuffy. After A has her cup of tea to warm up we are headed to the Casino, which is actually not a casino but a reading room/gentlemen's meeting place. But it's supposed to be beautiful and so far I haven't gotten past the stained glass doors because I've been waiting for her to go with me.

Nov 8/9 -- Murcia

Almost 1/2 way over. Today we have to wash a few things and make a trip to the mercado, also maybe a cyber cafe so I can e-mail T. I talked to him a little bit yesterday while he was still at work and so did A but when we called he thought it was K calling and didn't know it was us until she put me on the phone.

Things I've noticed you can't get here:

1. instant anything that looks appetizing.... their canned foods and packaged stuff looks terrible. No instant rice or noodles, no Spaghetti-Os or mac & cheese. What's a college kid to live on? I noticed that they do have small packages of flour & corn tortillas here but they're sort of a novelty. It's definitely a healthier way of eating -- just cooking with whole foods.
2. Velveeta. Wish I could. Daniela (one of the Italians) love mac and cheese and I could make her some that would knock her socks off if I could find it. I'm going to have T pull together some things for a care package including blueberry pancake mix, Kraft macaroni & cheese and some other things.
3. cottage cheese
4. cheese-its
5. pop tarts
6. Hershey's anything. This is an M&M/Mars country. Also Toblerone, Nestle and Cadbury. All good -- but A wants Hershey's.
7. fresh milk or eggs -- everything's in a box and the eggs are sold in 6 packs and don't need to be refrigerated. What do you have to do to an egg to not have to refrigerate it?

Another thing I'm going to do today is go in to full mom mode and take some pictures of the things that are broken around here. I intend to write ISEP a letter when A gets home. There's no heat or air (the landlady has taped over the controls and claims it's broken), they can't get to the laundry line because the window's locked and she won't get a key made, the dishwasher's broken and taped up with about a roll of package tape. There's 2 bulbs in A's room, about 10W each. She has a desk lamp that only works if you hold the cord and your tongue just right. It wouldn't bug me so much but each of the girls pay 210 euro. Times 5 and that's almost $1200 per month plus the electric. I think they're getting ripped off.

Nov 9

Yesterday was sort of another non-event day. A and I went shopping at Zara for Juan Antonio's birthday. I accidentally dropped my jacket and it took forever to find it. When Spanish women shop they mob the displays and throw everything around. Nothing stays folded or where it belongs and there's store employees running all over just doing nothing but picking up and refolding. I told A it looks like Penny's during the After Thanksgiving sale at home. I figured my jacket was buried at the bottom of a pile or hung on a hanger somewhere but one of the employees had picked it up.

After lunch (tuna & egg empenada and a mushroom and artichoke mini pizza) we walked down the Traperia and over to Sephora, then hung around the cathedral Plaza a little while. Still trying to figure out when I need to be there so I can go inside the cathedral. I did make it to the internet cafe and sent T a really long e-mail. I miss him and think about him and how he'd like it here. While Juan and A were out I sat down to read "Syrup" by Maxx Barry and read the whole book... oops. I told her I'd leave my Chronicles of Narnia but now I'm out of reading material so I might have to take it back.

Nov 7 - Murcia

Spent about 3-4 hours just walking around -- saw the main cathedral here, many plazas and my first introduction to El Corte Ingles which is like Dillard's, Target and a grocery store all rolled in to one.

Spent the afternoon shopping for a casual shirt, also went to Zara but didn't find anything there that looked big enough (Evidently, "French Women Don't Get Fat" and Spanish women don't either.) Zara for those of you not familiar with this stylish Spanish chain is a clothing store that is part of a large group that includes other stores I found up and down Murcia's Gran Via: Stradivarius, Oysho and Berksha. Zara has a lot of cute stuff and priced over a wide range from shirts, skirts and pants (on sale) under 20 euro all the way up to whatever. I had never heard of them but apparently they do have stores on the coasts here and in places like Houston, Orlando and Vegas. A's Canadian roommate says they have them in Canada too and they're decidedly more expensive there than in Spain, which is where they're based. (Shame. They had the best bohemian skirts and I already regret not buying one.)

Took A to a quick lunch between classes. She had soup, which looked great. I had --- yeah, stupid--- a cheeseburger. If you are from a meat-raising part of the United States like, say, myself, never, ever, ever order a hamburger somewhere else. It resembled a hamburger like the Epcot Center resembles Europe. I don't know what possesses me to order this stuff, except it takes me so long to semi-decipher a menu without pictures that sometimes I just panic. A's chicken soup had the heart in it and after she identified all the parts I dared her to eat it and she did. Pretty good for a girl who couldn't stand to hear the word "blood" for about three years without getting grossed out completely.

After spending the afternoon wandering around and being, admittedly a little lonely and sort of bored I came back to meet A and found out her roommates were cooking dinner for everyone (a rarity that they all sit down to a meal together, so I feel special!). They started with appetizers -- chicken nuggets, empanadas with tuna and tomato, cheese, sausage and crusty bread spread with a jamon (ham) cream cheese. Then Natalie presented us with Belgian sausages and stoemp (which is mashed potatoes and other stuff -- I googled it and saw that is can contain root veggies, spinach, cabbage, leeks, etc.) We finished up with a birthday cake for A and also enjoyed some really cheap wine (which wasn't that bad, actually) and San Miguel.

I fell asleep trying to think of some basic meal I could cook for everyone without screwing it up and with the ingredients I could find here -- and the cooking tools we have available in the apartment. They don't have much beyond basic pots and pans and there's no micro (not a disaster, I've done without one before, it CAN be done). I decided on roast chicken, garlic mashed potatoes with gravy and sort of southern-style green beans with onion and bacon. Simple and something I shouldn't be able to screw up. I really want to do something nice for them as I am totally invading their space, sharing their bathroom, etc.

Madrid

before the camera broke...

Madrid, November 6/Murcia, morning of the 7th

Got up around 9, showered, dressed and headed for El Rastro, a monster flea market that goes on from 10 am - 2 pm on Sundays. We bought a bunch of scarves -- OK like, 12 -- but they were only 2 euro each and so pretty, they totally make you look like a European (everyone's doing it!) haha! Anyway, the crowd was so heavy that we got tired pretty quickly and decided to get out and head to Centro des Artes Reina Sofia to see Guernica. We got in with just 45 minutes (but free on Sundays, yay!) until closing time and hustled up to the Picasso gallery. I don't think A was very impressed but it was definitely a moment for me... Also saw a few Miro and Dali paintings. Tried to make the bookstore but it closed before we could get there. Very sad.

Walked across the street to Atocha station and since I'd heard it was worth a look we went inside. There's a ton of construction around it -- I don't know if that had anything to do with the bombing there last year or just more Madrid construction -- it's everywhere. Very pretty, has a tropical rainforest in the middle of it. Like our own Union Station it was adandoned and nearly demolished but now it's a Renfe station. It's hard to believe looking at the old pictures and news reports that this place was the scene of so much chaos and death. It's absolutely serene now -- the misters for the rainforest create a soft foggy effect as the sun streams through the windows. It's gorgeous. If Juan had not come to Madrid for A's birthday we would be taking the train from here to Murcia, but Juan is driving us back.

Walked some more and stopped for lunch at VIPS -- just a diner type of place - club sandwich, how very cop-out of me. After VIPS, we went back to the hotel and A proceeded to open up and model every scarf we'd bought. Juan picked us up for the drive back to Murcia which was so great of him-- and until the sun set I was able to watch the scenery roll by. So much desert! I didn't know... very once in a while you'd see a town with an old church or some castle ruins at the top of a hill. Houses are just what you'd imagine, whitewashed with red tile roofs, groves of olive trees everywhere. Juan was listening to Queen -- unexpected but fun, I love Queen. I could never have imagined myself in a million years flying down a Spanish freeway in the back of a Mercedes SUV listening to -- Queen. Life does take it's strange turns.

Came back to Murcia and met all Angie's roommates (there are 4, two Italians, a Belgian and a Canadian) - Natalie, the Belgian, was sick and coughed all night, poor thing. They have these metal blinds on the exteriors of all the homes that roll down and totally block out the sun. Great for sleeping, terrible for my body clock. It feels like I never want to wake up. Right now I'm sitting up in bed looking out over the courtyard and watching a woman hang her clothes on the line outside her window (the apartments have a small washer, no dryer)

... The whole time I've been writing there's been a pack of people outside on a balcony drinking, smoking, eating and talking. Don't these people work??

I can hear Natalie speaking French to someone -- her parents? They and her boyfriend have been visiting and are heading back to Belgium today.

OK, it's 11:30 am, I need to get up and get going! A pointed out El Corte Ingles to me, guess I'll go check that out. I'm off!

November 5 - Madrid

A's 21st birthday! Feliz Cumpleanos little birdie! She arrived here before 3 pm yesterday and after a tearful, noisy American reunion in the lobby we came upstairs for showers and I had a brief (too brief) siesta. Then we took off walking to wherever and ended up in Plaza Puerta del Sol. We window shopped and walked, then stopped for a bite -- not technically dinner since it was only 6pm. I had a Spanish omelet with some kind of really good sausage and A had a bocadillo (sandwich) & cerveza. Then we walked back up Gran Via and basically ran out of steam by 8 pm. We finished up the night with Hershey's cookies & mint bars and all those magazines I carted here (glad to get rid of those!)

So this morning we are off to the Prado after breakfast.

later that day ....
We tried to get breakfast at a cafeteria but the service was so slow (even by Spanish standards) we ended up leaving and walking down to Paseo del Prado and through a pretty little park. Across from the Prado we found a Starbuck's and had a non-traditional breakfast of tea & sandwiches. I spent a ton of time in the Prado. I was so amazed to see paintings I had only seen in books. Walking around every corner I had to keep from gasping out loud. (Yes, I am an art dork.) The portrait of Mary Tudor is here (see above, poor thing, she was not pretty) and I hear the Hans Holbein Henry the VIII is at Thyssen-Bornemizsa across the street. How did father and daughter, 2 English monarchs, end up in Spain I wonder (although Mary was 1/2 Spanish and married to a Spaniard as well). Saw an amazing wood sculpture of the penitent Mary Magdalene which completely blew me away. I wish I could find an image of her, she was amazing. Ummm, so much more: Rubens, Titian, Valasquez and Goya of course, El Greco. Oh! and the Lobster's favorite, Bosch. When you see Dali's work it's clear where he got his inspiration. Loved the Goyas -- even the black period. Very tragic stuff.

A abandoned me to my artistic love affair and so later we met up at the hotel again and I met Juan Antonio, her Spanish boyfriend... he led the way to Plaza Mayor. I got some great pictures and then my camera croaked. Canon is going to get a very nasty letter from me about the infamous E18 error.

After walking around Plaza Mayor we walked to Palacio Real and then back to Plaza Mayor hoping to catch an early dinner at Botin (the world's oldest restuarant and where Ernest Hemingway used to hang out) but 15 minutes after they opened they were on an hour wait so we went to another restaurant nearby, Las Cuevas de Luis Candelas. Juan ordered tapas and we had a pitcher of Sangria -- we had morcilla (black pudding-- I can't believe I ate that but it was actually good), potatoes with ailioli, bread, calimari, Spanish omelet. All very yummy! A got flan with a candle in it for her birthday. Ended up hanging in the hotel while A and Juan went to a disco -- I was watching MTV with German subtitles -- it was all I could find in English except for Sky News.

A wonderful day except for the broken camera. grrrrrr.

excerpts from Nov 3/4

Warning: all excerpts edited for content and embellished with afterthoughts.

11/3: random airport thoughts

1. white guys who eat at Panda Express with chopsticks -- little bit pretentious? Even the Asians are eating with forks.
2. Is pink camo so you can hide from Barbie?
3. Spent some quality time in L'Occitane and bought A her 21st birthday gift, Honey Harvest Body Balm.
4. backpack weighs 400# and is actually gaining the longer I carry it.

Have a terrible nervous stomach and am sick -- good I have a 5 hour wait. (In retrospect, not a great way to start the trip but felt like I had at least gotten that out of the way and in fact I wasn't sick the whole time I was in Spain, even with ice in my drinks, etc.)

11/4:

Sitting at the H10 Villa de la Reina waiting for my room to be ready. Stomach settled down in time for the flight which was uneventful except for one glitch in KC. The blonde at the Continental desk kept telling me I'd have to pick up my bag in Paris but with only 55 minutes layover I didn't think I'd have time to make my Madrid flight. I kept trying to question her and she was in a huff so T turned to me and said "Just talk to someone in Houston", referring to rebooking my Paris-Madrid leg so I'd have time to pick up my bag and recheck it. I guess she got offended because about 10 minutes later she stopped us in the terminal and said she'd checked my bag all the way though to Madrid "since we acted like she didn't know what she was doing". I didn't think she knew what she was doing but I never said so. We tried very hard to be polite and explain that we were concerned about the short layover -- she was having nothing to do with us. I figured my suitcase would end up in Venezuela but it was actually first off in Madrid.

Once I got to Madrid I thought I'd have to go through customs but there was nothing. I was even stopped by a police officer who just waved me on. What is up with this room? Trying to be patient. Drinking old Sprite and eating trail mix, want a shower and a nap and want to call A. It's 2 pm Spain time and 8 am my time ... 3 hours of sleep in the last 26 hours. Tengo mejor jet lag.

I'm back .....

I'll try to put up some excerpts from my journal over the next few days. Still waiting for the pictures, too, but more about that later.

hasta noviembre 15

At some point, all the planning and worry just dissolves into an attitude of "whatever happens, happens". I'm just going to be kicking back and letting everything roll.

I hope this is wonderful. I'm still scared to death.

Will post soon, friends.

Rose

Halloween Haters Anonymous?

I used to love Halloween. For the record I now only like it if I have an excuse to dress up and a super cool costume to wear. Yesterday I had neither.

I returned home at 5:30 to see the pack of scary teens from the block behind us walking away from my house in full regalia. I was happy to have not been home for that particular trick-or-treat. So happy that I waited at home with a minimum of lights on until T came back and then... we left.

Bonus: halloween candy, no trick-or-treaters.

Next year, I think I'd like to go back to our previous years' tradition of being out of state when Halloween comes.

Of course, that won't stop me from buying candy ...

In other news, 50 hours until I board my Air France flight to Madrid...

3 days and counting

Just three days to go until I leave for Spain. Almost packed and still debating over what books to take…

I’m freaking out a little.

See more progress on: travel to europe

confessional part 2

1. While I know what I must do to help myself, I don't really know how to do it. I have a lot of growing up to do.
2. I have to choose just 2 books for Spain. There are 8 or 10 on my table and one in my car. I alos have like, 5 magazines I haven't read.
3. I never sleep any more. I doze and wake and think about my life until the waking and dreaming wind together and things stop making sense.
4. I dreamed he turned to me and said, "Why are you always so far away?" It scared me so much I woke up.
5. I have 4 1/2 feet of magazines I need to go through at work. I measured them.
6. I bought a phrase book and now I know how to cuss in Spanish.
7. I'm looking forward to 16 hours on a plane but I'm sure I'll change my mind a couple of hours in to the flight.
8. I want to lie in Spain and tell people I'm Canadian so they won't ask me about Iraq or Bush or the White Sox.
9. Sometimes I think about going home and getting drunk -- I never do. But I sure think about it.
10. My 11th wedding anniversary is Saturday. I never believed that anyone would love me for that long.
11. "Love, Actually" makes me cry. Every time. It's the scenes in the airport that get me most. It's that concept of how we, at our most basic, are really loving beings. I also like that there are so many stories interwoven into the movie and not all of them have happy endings. Love isn't always requited. Love isn't always joyful. Sometimes it's damn hard. But it actually is all around.

"Let's go get the shit kicked out of us by love!" - Sam from "Love, Actually"

confessional

• less than 2 weeks until Spain. I have not done one thing to brush up on my Spanish. I have not packed anything, I have not bought my phrasebook.
• I like Old Navy just below waist flare jeans, they make me feel cool, which I am not.
• my nails are getting really long again. they feel funny.
• no matter how much hairspray I put on my hair it still looks like I've been electrified by the time 4 p.m. rolls around.
• I absolutely am in no way ready to deal with the holidays.
• I am absolutely in no way ready to deal with my life.
• No matter how cool a trip I am about to take, I would always rather go somewhere else. Last year I was wishing for London on the way to Hawaii. This year I am wishing for any country that speaks English.
• I'm afraid to go to Spain. There!! OK?? I'm afraid.
• I'm also afraid of life after Spain.
• Fear is not my friend. I know this but the head and heart won't connect. In fact I know many things these days -- more than I used to. But the knowledge does not translate to the sluggish regions of my patchwork heart.

Now that I've confessed it's time for penance....

Time Magazine lists these books as the best English language novels from 1923 to present. As a book lover, I must have bad taste in books because most of these look like that list you got in high school English where you're thinking, "My lord there isn't one single book on here I'd actually want to read." Then again I have read a few (see the red ones) and read some other novels by same authors -- Like I've read just about everything ELSE Margaret Atwood has written...

A list like this just makes me feel guilty about the stuff I do read -- but that's why I'm no longer a student. After 19 1/2 years of education, I can now read what I want.

Funny little side note about Kurt Vonnegut. When I was a junior in high school I got one of those aforementioned lists and my teacher said we could only read Vonnegut with permission from our parents. I promptly went home and asked my mother if I could read Vonnegut. My mother, who is not a reader of much more than "Organic Gardening" said she trusted me to read whatever I wanted. I proceeded to read about a half dozen Vonnegut books, all of which I liked until the last (Galapagos, for those keeping score). Having satisfied my rebel instincts, I once again retired to tamer fare, such as Watership Down and Nicholas Nickleby.

The Adventures of Augie MarchSaul Bellow
All the King's MenRobert Penn Warren
American PastoralPhilip Roth
An American TragedyTheodore Dreiser
Animal FarmGeorge Orwell
Appointment in SamarraJohn O'Hara
Are You There God? It's Me, MargaretJudy Blume
The AssistantBernard Malamud
At Swim-Two-BirdsFlann O'Brien
AtonementIan McEwan
BelovedToni Morrison
The Berlin StoriesChristopher Isherwood
The Big SleepRaymond Chandler
The Blind AssassinMargaret Atwood
Blood MeridianCormac McCarthy
Brideshead RevisitedEvelyn Waugh
The Bridge of San Luis ReyThornton Wilder
Call It SleepHenry Roth
Catch-22Joseph Heller
The Catcher in the RyeJ.D. Salinger
A Clockwork OrangeAnthony Burgess
The Confessions of Nat TurnerWilliam Styron
The CorrectionsJonathan Franzen
The Crying of Lot 49Thomas Pynchon
A Dance to the Music of TimeAnthony Powell
The Day of the LocustNathanael West
Death Comes for the ArchbishopWilla Cather
A Death in the FamilyJames Agee
The Death of the HeartElizabeth Bowen
DeliveranceJames Dickey
Dog SoldiersRobert Stone
FalconerJohn Cheever
French Lieutenant's WomanJohn Fowles
The Golden NotebookDoris Lessing
Go Tell it on the MountainJames Baldwin
Gone With the WindMargaret Mitchell
The Grapes of WrathJohn Steinbeck
Gravity's RainbowThomas Pynchon
The Great GatsbyF. Scott Fitzgerald
A Handful of DustEvelyn Waugh
The Heart Is A Lonely HunterCarson McCullers
The Heart of the MatterGraham Greene
HerzogSaul Bellow
HousekeepingMarilynne Robinson
A House for Mr. BiswasV.S. Naipaul
I, ClaudiusRobert Graves
Infinite JestDavid Foster Wallace
Invisible ManRalph Ellison
Light in AugustWilliam Faulkner
The Lion, The Witch and the WardrobeC.S. Lewis
LolitaVladimir Nabokov
Lord of the FliesWilliam Golding
The Lord of the RingsJ.R.R. Tolkien
LovingHenry Green
Lucky JimKingsley Amis
The Man Who Loved ChildrenChristina Stead
Midnight's ChildrenSalman Rushdie
MoneyMartin Amis
The MoviegoerWalker Percy
Mrs. DallowayVirginia Woolf
Naked LunchWilliam Burroughs
Native SonRichard Wright
NeuromancerWilliam Gibson
Never Let Me GoKazuo Ishiguro
1984George Orwell
On the RoadJack Kerouac
One Flew Over the Cuckoo's NestKen Kesey
The Painted BirdJerzy Kosinski
Pale FireVladimir Nabokov
A Passage to IndiaE.M. Forster
Play It As It LaysJoan Didion
Portnoy's ComplaintPhilip Roth
PossessionA.S. Byatt
The Power and the GloryGraham Greene
The Prime of Miss Jean BrodieMuriel Spark
Rabbit, RunJohn Updike
RagtimeE.L. Doctorow
The RecognitionsWilliam Gaddis
Red HarvestDashiell Hammett
Revolutionary RoadRichard Yates
The Sheltering SkyPaul Bowles
Slaughterhouse-FiveKurt Vonnegut
Snow CrashNeal Stephenson
The Sot-Weed FactorJohn Barth
The Sound and the FuryWilliam Faulkner
The SportswriterRichard Ford
The Spy Who Came in From the ColdJohn le Carre
The Sun Also RisesErnest Hemingway
Their Eyes Were Watching GodZora Neale Hurston
Things Fall ApartChinua Achebe
To Kill a MockingbirdHarper Lee
To the LighthouseVirginia Woolf
Tropic of CancerHenry Miller
UbikPhilip K. Dick
Under the NetIris Murdoch
Under the VolcanoMalcolm Lowry
WatchmenAlan Moore & Dave Gibbons
White NoiseDon DeLillo
White TeethZadie Smith
Wide Sargasso SeaJean Rhys

blog search

I've updated my blog list a little but to be honest, I'd love some suggestions of great blogs anyone has read. I like my blogs but many don't update very regularly and (unless the author is a personal friend) if it isn't updated for 2 months, it gets the boot.

So anyone read or written any good blogs lately? It might be a long winter.

Home

Tuesday I went to Lake Geneva, WI to visit a company I have been working with for a couple of years. Although the trip made for a long day (about 15 hours door-to-door) the driving portion was amazingly pretty: crisp blue skies, bright sun, red, orange and yellow leaves, pumpkins, mums, old rustic barns. I swear it looks like the whole state of Wisconsin hired a professional landscaper. It was just that pretty.

Ruminating during my marathon trip ... I thought about home. Not my home specifically but rather the concept of home. My perception of that company and the people in it changed when I saw their beautiful hometown, the pride they had in their work, the success they've had, the machinery, the buildings and so on. And that got to thinking about one of my favorite moments in any relationship -- when you see someone on their home turf for the first time.

Going to someone's house or hometown or even their office for the first time is an profound moment of discovery to me. You see immediately what's important: is it family, play, wealth, appearance, comfort, pets, spirituality? Are they neat or messy? Some people like to peek in medicine cabinets but personally I like to see what's in the fridge (although I promise I don't snoop). And when you look around town, what was the high school like? Where did they hang out?

And another telling thing to me -- how far from where they grew up are they now? I'm equally fascinated by people who are halfway across the country from home or those who are just a few blocks from home. I have a friend who recently found himself living across the street from where his parents lived when he was a toddler. It's sort of a fluke but not much ... his high school is down the street, so are his parents, a sister and brother. On the other hand I have a friend who moved out of her home state immediately after college and now lives 2 time zones away.

I also love houses -- looking at them, touring them. An afternoon spent looking at houses, even if I'm not in the market, is still fun. I almost got my real estate license so I could do it all day long. Furnished is better than unfurnished -- it's definitely the "stuff" that gives a place it's character.

So anyway, while I've always loved to travel and have these romanticized ideas of living somewhere new and different someday, I'm still just across town from where I was born. And honestly, after being away for just a day I was glad to come home again. (Traffic on I-94 will do that to anyone I think.) Home is more than a place to me, it's a comfort level, it's the concept and the dream of safety and rest.

Maybe that's why The Hobbit was one of my favorite books ... like Bilbo I always look for an adventure but in the end I want to go home to my little hobbit hole and put my feet up with a book and a nice cup of hot chocolate.

mental photo album

A 50 degree day with 2 feet of melting snow at Silver Dollar City, the sun sparkling off every surface, cold wind on our faces as we screamed and laughed on the roller coaster. Fried potatoes, spiced cider, s'mores made with chocolate chip cookies. My bark owl and mushroom birds for the tree.

The day I first said "I love you" while you were sitting on the rock wall in the park and you sang back your answer.

Driving through the pineapple fields on a Monday morning to the North Shore and loving how happy you were to look and not drive.

40 gallons of water with a 5-gallon bucket and a cheap plastic funnel in a driving rainstorm-- and how bad you felt that you hadn't checked the water tank light inside the camper.

Dinner at that restaurant in the Smokies.

The day you took me to the jewelry store to buy me my ring after 5 years of marriage.

Scrubbing bathrooms and fixing broken plumbing to get the church ready for its first service. Me singing away to whatever CD I had with me and Glorifying God with a toilet brush!

The anxious days after 9/11 when you were stranded half a country away and I just wanted you to come home to me.

Lying in bed trying to coax a new kitten up for petting and the "foot game".

Driving to my mom's with a new puppy on my lap... warm puppy tummies and that funky puppy breath.

Huge platters of fried oysters, clams, scallops and fish at that little place in Plymouth, MA and the sunset on Cape Cod. Fish every day!

Loonies and Twonies in Nova Scotia and a long lazy drive to nowhere. And fish every day!

The day we brought the girls to see the house for the first time and the nights we spent thereafter painting and stripping wallpaper and requesting corny country songs while we worked late every night for the wedding.

**I suppose when I am old and gone a little soft these are the memories I will call up -- and our daughters will smile indulgently, our grandchildren will wonder and they will shake their heads and say "No grandma, I'm not Angie".**

reunionville

My 20th high school reunion went on without me this weekend.

High school for me was not a super-enjoyable experience: not quite as bad as getting your wisdom teeth removed and not quite as good as being on a long plane ride with a boring book. I did not love it.

However being the curious and nosy person that I am I always enjoy seeing how people have turned out and how they've aged and my, some of us have aged a little more than others, have we not? Of course some of them turned out to be a little more sumthin' sumthin' than others, too, which is OK.

I'm lucky, I have great genes, so I'm still getting carded from time to time -- flattering, amusing and incredibly myopic but bless them anyway, I say. And I have a cool job and a good education and am generally happy with myself. Others, well, time has not been kind, either in looks, finances or life. The girls seem to fare better than the guys -- thanks to the gift of good makeup and a night-time skin regimen.

My 9th grade locker mate e-mailed me the pictures she took. How strange to look at those faces after all this time and think about the things we went through and the cliques and dividing lines that existed. People that wouldn't have spoken or acknowledged one another's presence were evidently tipping back a few and having a great time at the reunion. I'm sort of sorry I missed it -- but there's always the 25th. Maybe that time I will be in the pictures and not just looking at them.

I love books

Ever since I was a little girl I have had a real love affair with the written word. One of my early memories is my father bringing me a Hallmark Snow White pop-up book -- which I still have. I've attempted to do some writing of my own (hence this blog and the title) -- but not in a serious way. Really I read fabulous books and then give up hope of ever being that good, so I still haven't started my great American novel. Although from the looks of my friends' book projects, maybe that's a good thing...

So my list of books "on deck" consists of the following:

3 books I bought at the Cool Springs Barnes & Noble in Nashville when I was killing an afternoon waiting for the guys to finish playing golf with customers: Jonathan Strange and Mr. Norrell, Mirror, Mirror, Oryx & Crake

Also on my list: Rebecca, The Chronicles of Narnia, the two on my All Consuming list and The Man of Her Dreams, the Woman of His (which I am reading right now).

I also have a long list of other books I'd like to read, including Freakonomics, The City of Falling Angels, Assasination Vacation, Persopolis, and Syrup.

Beautiful books. Cheaper than a vacation and great companionship for long plane rides, waiting rooms, hotel rooms in strange cities and lazy Saturday afternoons (if such a thing still exists).