After Le Divorce

How is it that the word, “marriage” is so terribly close in appearance and pronunciation “mirage”? Is it an accident? A cruel twist? Or a very deliberate and horribly overt offering from the hand of God Himself? I just saw “Le Divorce” at the Carmike 10, in Longview, Texas. And while I was not the only person in the theater, apparently, I was the only person who was listening. There were some very clever points made, and I was the only one who laughed. In fact, save one terribly obvious visual joke, I might have been the only person in the audience to have any detectible response to anything at all during that two hours. So alone I felt. And I hated that feeling. Every time that I get that feeling, and I mistakenly let it become common, I have to leave. Not just to go to the restroom or something equally mundane. I mean LEAVE. As in to cast away all that is mundane. Should I be in this apartment? Is it really anything more than a well-appointed storage room for the things I’m not even inspired enough to unpack fully? Perhaps if I were dedicating myself in this moment to cleaning up the rubbish scattered all around, I would find myself more satisfied in my current situation. I must remember, at all costs, that I am also having my period. The first one in a long time at the end of a month of taking birth control pills again. Purely for medical reasons, of course, as I have not so much as shared a fork with a man in almost two years. Maybe it’s because the movie was set in Paris. Maybe it was because of the scarves. One of my favorite things on planet earth. Not just because I went to Paris. But because I love that such a simple change from yesterday can make such a glorious change in today.

La Corrida En Sevilla

May 17, 2002 WARNING!  some of you do NOT want to read this. (specifically, Teshuvah, RAK, and PJW-S) due to subject matter involving killing animals for sport.  and dinner. yesterday, i went to the ballet.  the "dramatic ballet dance with death", according to matador Mario Carrión.  yep, a bullfight. after the disastrous trip to Granada, i needed to "cleanse my palate" so to speak.  and love Spain again. i went by the Plaza de Toros and bought two tickets, for me and Deborah, and went over to her house to hang out for a while until it was time to go to the ring. we strolled over, stopped for a coffee, then went in to take our seats. which were outstanding!  i don't know how. we were on the tercera barrera (third row) under the "box" where the king and queen sit when they come to a bullfight in Sevilla.  needless to say, it is the side the the bullfighters "play" to.  the ceremony started with all the toreros entering the ring, along with the picadores on horseback.  it is very beautiful with every torero being dressed in a different brilliant outfit.  all the toreros wear pink stockings and black slippers.  supposedly the bulls can see pink, in addition to red. at this bullfight, the entire ring and all the toreros entered to music and then stood in files on the bullring floor, removing their hats to observe a moment of silence for one of the Plaza de Toros of over forty years. so it began.  then the toreros all enter the ring together, and you wait for the first bull to be let into the ring.  he comes out, ready to fight.  all the toreros use identical capotes (working cape) that is hot pink on one side and yellow on the other.  they all use these, at alternate times, to taunt the bull and lure him to all parts of the rings.  if he gets too close to the torero, he can jump behind a protective wooden wall, which the bull then hooks with his horns, trying to get to the torero. this goes on for a bit, this is called the first tercio (third).  then the picadores enter the ring on horseback.  they carry a long lance which they use to pierce the back/neck muscles which then cause the bull to lower his head for the kill.  enter the banderilleros (three persons...or one person three times), who have approach and pierce two decorated banderillas into the back of the bull.  then all but one torero leaves the ring, and this is the one who will actually fight the bull one on one.  he taunts the bull for a while with his capote and after a while, he exchanges his capote for the red muleta (a flannel cape on a wooden stick) and his sword.  he then has ten minutes to kill the bull.  anyway, it was very exciting, because there were all kinds of crazy things that happened.  one of the bulls really had it in for one of the picadores and his horse and began lifting the horse off the ground with his horns.  at one point, the bull slammed the picador and his horse up against the wall, and the picador was thrown to the ground.  right in front of us. and then, during the fifth bullfight, César Jimenez (in the picture i attached) was downed and injured by the bull.  he continued with the fight and was awarded the bulls' ears, which you will read is very prestigious.  he also got to take a vuelta (pass around) the bull ring.  before his bullfight, he had tossed his hat to a little boy in the ring, which is the torero's way of dedicating a fight to someone.  the little boy threw it back to the torero after he had won and killed the bull. i want to go again.  donations?  if anyone comes to visit me, we must go! anyway, after that, all excited, we treated ourselves to a delightful meal at San Marco, an italian restaurant here in town.  muy fun.

The Farewell Dinner - April 2002

Had a fantastic time last night at the dinner cooked by the New York chef. Pork Loin stuffed with almonds and apples and something else. Some kind of chutney that was fantastic with hidden essences of somethingor other. A lovely sauce for the pork. Grilled asparagus. Bread with roasted garlic and real butter. Cous-cous and homemade apple cobbler with vanilla ice cream. And we all (there were about 14 of us,including the wacky couple who owns her apartment building) and we dined on the rooftop terrace with blinking Christmas lights strung all around. It was fantastic. And there was a girl there from Houston. What I discovered once I got there was that two of my favorite people I have met in school (Deborah the chef and Betina from Austria) were housemates and didn'teven know each other because of different schedules and so many people moving in and out all the time. It was hilarious. So there we were all together, and I knew more about each of them than they knew about eachother. Too funny. In attendance: Ian, age 18, from Denmark, Emma, age 18, from LondonTom, from London, Sarah, 35, wine expert/buyer, from San Francisco, Jenny, ex-Enron girl, from Houston, Yost from the NetherlandsDavid from SwitzerlandDeborah, 38, from New YorkBetina, 32, from AustriaMe, 34, from Texas, Erna and Pedro, Dutch couple who live in Spain and own building, Dan, ex-Barnes and Noble guy, from San Francisco, Nancy from ?, Linda and Ingrid from Iceland -- they call them "TheTwins" because of their Nordic similiarities, but theyare not family, even though they always shared the same twin bed when they lived in the apartment together (?)You would have loved it. Dan is thebald, African American Richard F. too too too funny. He did hilarious impersonations of Erna, the landlady, after she left. Anyway, we sat on the roof, eating and having somelovely wine, until about 2:30 this morning. Needless to say, public transport was out of the question, andI was pretty far from a taxi stand. So they invited me to stay in one of the extra beds. I took them upon it. Deborah gave me a new toothbrush, and I shared Bettina's huge room with her. I went to sleep pretty easily, but then I woke, with my body flipping out a little from having had so much food in one sitting for the first time in two weeks. It was absolutely delicious, but my body was a little shocked. Anyway, I got up and walked around and went to the restroom and discovered that the toilet wasn't exactly bolted to the floor. Some of greatest adventures in my life have occurred in other people's bathrooms. Anyway, after some time, I felt like going back to bed and laid there, unable to fall asleep (allergies are raging) for a long time. Then I started hearing dogs frolicking in the streets through the open windows. Finally went to sleep and got comfortable and was awakened by a very persistent resident rooster crowing to bring up the sun at who knows what time. I did not look at a clock. Did not want to know how short my nap had been. Anyway, after the rooster took a rest, I went to sleep and woke up around 10 am. Did not go to class today. One of my teachers is sick anyway, soI did not feel bad. There is no punishment at this school, I will just be a little clueless in the other class on Friday. Oh well, it was worth it. So about the smoke allergy. Loving Europe on thisother account. Bettina and I were wandering around today, and she told me about a pharmacy she had gone to where they had been really kind and helpful. She took me there, and the pharmacist asked if he could help me. I said, "Busco un milagro" (I am looking for a miracle). He laughed and said, ¿"Un milagro, sí? So I explained that I have a smoke allergy and I had not brought anything with me from the States. He asked what I had been taking, and I told him Zyrtec. He said, "Of course we have that!" So I said that it was very expensive in the United States (Approx. $70 for a month's supply), and he said, "No. They are really cheap here. And you do not need a prescription." So, for 7,50€ (less than $7 U.S.), Ibought 20 Zyrtecs. My life has changed for the marvelous. Needless to say, I will be stocking up on these before I come back to the States with my no-health-insurance-having-self. WOW! So, all that to say if anyone was going to try andsend me those (which is probably illegal orsomething), forget it. I am in Zyrtec heaven. Anyhoo, I am checking email before lunch today, because I anticipate a tepid (by choice) shower and along siesta today. Hopefully. Here I go. Hope you are all having a great day and recognizing every little miracle. P.S. Bettina says I found the Zyrtec so cheaply because I had given a homeless guy the half that was left over of my fresh bottle of water from the grocery. The universe will provide.

Becoming Flamenco

last night i went to a flamenco concert. where one is able to see 8,000,000 kinds of talent all at once. the first part of the show had a female featured artist named Rosario Toledo, dancing in front of a row of five guys -- two singers, two guitar players and a percussionist. she was the picture of grace and art (gracia y arte). it was absolutely stunning. she was all muscle and clearly as strong as an ox, but yet every one of her moments were fluid, like she was a cloud of smoke drifting across the stage. the second part of the show featured a male artist named Alejandro Granados, and he was fiercely strong and animated. He was performing with three singers and a guitar player. Also stunning. At the end of his 'set', he called forward the players and each of them did their own little flamenco performance. It was three hours of WOW! not to be confused with those scary potato chips that Lay's started making that don't have anything natural in them. I just figured out that there is some little back room to this internet cafe. Hopefully not where the next world war is being plotted. Tonight is the night of the dinner cooked by the cheffrom New York. and i cannot wait. have only had dinner once since arriving here almost two weeks ago. hope i don't embarrass myself. i am probably safe there. Deborah, the chef, is living with several other people in an apartment, and several of them are finishing their school this weekend, so this is their farewell dinner. She was very kind to invite me. Selene went to the hospital today for allergy testing. Finally. I am sure they will find that most things they do and products they use are bad for her. Because they give me allergies too. Smelly lotion and shower gels and such. Not to mention all the chocolate and candies she eats. This could be a tragic lifestyle change for the little munchkin.

Transitional Thoughts

you would think these things would subside. but iguess if you are allergic to smoke and tobacco, youare just going to have to learn to accept limited breathing capacity or always be doped up. i am seeking some euphoria in the middle. at least. africa hot again today. and am wondering if when i go to morocco it will be the same or worse. hmmmm. hope to make that trip in a couple of weeks. partly because i have always wanted to go and partly becausei think it will be fun to take the ferry. hee hee. today i purchased a new hairdryer. mine was just notgoing to work with the adapter/converter scene. when i use it, it will be the very first time that i havedried my hair since april 10th. wow. not that it isn't evident. but this one thing could change the course of my european experience. don't you think? living with college kids preparing for exams andwriting papers is giving me a few second thoughts about my desire to go to graduate school. we shall see. have to be accepted first. and come up with the tuition second. achieveable. i suppose. am perpetually confounded by the college age boys living in my house with me. may i never have to be that young again. and without the wisdom of the past thirteen years.for the life of me, i will never understand the addiction of video games. or computer games. but ithink that is okay. i am going to take a siesta now, i think, even though i am supposed to go on a tour of La Catedral. don't much feel like it, and if i force myself, I am sure that i will not enjoy it. nappytime here i come. if Selene will be quiet. she pierces through the strongest earplugs. pobrecita. bye bye for now.

End of The Feria de Abril

first of all, to July and Bardo...muchas gracias forsending me an actual piece of paper mail. I got ittoday. what a lovely surprise. and so much appreciated. it is hot water boiling hot here today. i was taking a siesta after lunch, but Selene had a screaming fit about something ridiculous. luckily, her brother washere to reason with her so I did not have to listen toher fight with her mother for an hour. God save me if I ever had a kid like that. today, when I walked out of my house, a house painterworking on the house across the street made some comment, so I said, 'Hola' and as I went down the street, he shouted after me, 'beautiful!'. that was worth leaving the house for. it's much more customary here to tolerate that rather than get upset about it. i'll take the compliment. he was supermodel cute too,so that helps. today, i learned that the Sra. does our laundry as part of the deal. hmmmmm. that kind of freaks me out. but i guess i have to do it. she probably does not want random people messing with her Hoover washing machine. Megan, the fourth student in the house, is back from vacation with her parents. They have moved on to Portugal, and she appears to be happy. It is her first vacation with her Dad in ten years, and it is involving the first with her step mother ever which I think has been hard for her. We talked for a longtime last night, and I assured her that those kinks work themselves out if everyone can find the adult inside themselves and digest every change slowly and deliberately. Last night was the last night of the Freakin' Feria de Abril as I came to call it, not so much with love. It brought way too many people (millions) into my neighborhood. Some of them not so nice. Anyway, at midnight, they extinguished the lights that decorated the whole park and did a 30 minute fireworks show. As there had been other people staying in Megan's roomwhile she was gone, I thought that they had moved herbeds around. I thought I heard her moving around furniture around and went upstairs to see if she needed help. Turns out, through my earplugs, the gargantuan FIREWORKS only SOUNDED like furniture being moved. She was dead asleep and it sounded as if WorldWar XII was going on. I tried to see the show fromour upstairs terraza but I could not. So I went back to bed. I need my bottle of water I left at the film place. Bought a bus pass today so I can flit all over town without having to pay every time. Works well for me. No fumbling for change, and you save a lot of money. Did I mention that I ate an octopus in Cadiz. Not a whole one, but it surely was tasty. Did I mention that if you call me on your lunch break, it will be 7pm here in Sevilla? Did I mention that AT&T has some great international calling plan where you pay $2.95 a month and it onlycosts .14 cents to call Spain? Did I mention that I may go to Morocco May 10-12 if I feel comfortable paying the $180 it costs? AFRICA. just like I have always wanted to see. with guides who know what they are doing.

Pretending in Sevilla

Today at school we had to learn to use various Spanish phrases to express incredulity or surprise. The teacher, Gabriela, made us all write a 'title' of an embarrassing event in our lives and everyone in the class had to guess whose embarrassing event it was. Then the person whose moment it was had to tell the story in front of the class. Scott and Cyndi, can you guess what mine was? had to do with email at Balmur. eeeeeeeeeeeeeek. and Foghorn Leghorn, so to speak. anyhoo, when i got home from school today, Selene was hanging over the terrace, and she spoke to me while I was walking down the street. I went up to visit with her and use the restroom. She was playing with a crayon as if it was a cigarette, and she had her little doll in a stroller. I asked her if she was smoking and told her she never should. She informed me that she was playing and that even if she was smoking they make cigarettes that make smoke but don't have nicotine. good lord. So i sat down with her and she asked me if i wanted to play. So i said, 'sure'. She told me that I was her friend and that I had two kids, whom I could give personalities and names. I have a nine year old son and a two year old daughter. My name is Lucía. She took over and I never got to name my kids. I surprised her (as my play character, Lucía) and told her that I was 'expecting'. Her story. She was Melaní, and she has two kids too. Daughters. Diana and Alicia. She is thirty years old,and her husband has been coming in late. Like at 3 and 5 in the morning. She doesn´t have to live that way, and she believes that he has been messing around with his secretary. So she confronts him one day, andshe tells him that she is unhappy and that she knows that she does not have to live this way anymore. If her kids want to visit him on the weekends that is fine. If she needs money to do something, she will ask him, but she is throwing him out. She is happily single now, and she is going on with her life. When I asked Melaní if she didn´t have thoughts about finding a boyfriend or perhaps marrying again, she stated vehemently, 'No!' And followed with, 'Well, there is this guy that hangs out at the bar on the corner who kind of likes me, but I am not looking for anything like that. I am content with my life just the way it is. I do what I want, when I want. I maintain my home, take care of my children and I have a job. That is all I need.' I am not even lying to you that this really happened with Selene the ten year old. She was BLOWING my mind. And she said it all so fast...like it was really the truth. Met annoying girl from Los Angeles today named 'Summer'. She annoyed me from the first day, but we wound up in a small mob together by the espresso machine, and I soon found myself involved in a big conversation about how fast Southerners talk with some strikingly handsome gentleman from Germany whose name I can say but not spell. I was the first person he ever met from Texas. That is because I don't think most of us ever leave there. Wouldn't you know that one day after writing about how loud it is here, one of my teachers assigned us toread a newspaper article about a study done about noise and how much our bodies can healthily tolerate? Japan is the loudest country and Spain is a close second. Madrid being the loudest city. Which I think I can vouch for. This keyboard has been dipped in caramel candy I think. Sorry if i have missed any sticky finger mistakes so far. But i am not going back to check now. BUY the new Sheryl Crow CD. probably a frivolous way to spend money when living on a fixed income, but I will pass on some coffees to make up for it. i Love it. Love. Some groovy vocal guests, including one of my all time favorites, Doyle Bramhall II, on several. Listen with good headphones because there is some really interesting stuff going on in those mixes. I am such a geek. Am going to the fair tonight with Betina from Austria. Neither of us have deemed ourselves able to stay up all night and drink, so we figured we would do well together. That is at 8:30 pm. So I won't have to be there to not get fed tonight. I hope this is just a special week of no dinner because of the fair. I would rather not have my buttered untoasted bread in the mornings in exchange for supper. Cheaper to subsist on juice-coffee-donuts than to fake your way through dinner. Actually have not eaten an evening meal except once since I got here. Whoosh. Boobs disappearing.If anyone knows anybody whose name should be added to this list...I did some strange importation of a semi-accurate address book...please let me know, or have them e-mail me. Off to explore the public transit system. The bus is my friend. And it is cheaaaaaaaaaaaaaap. I will be out late tonight, so if you want to call me when you get home from work, you can. (Ref: Unca Jeff, you can buy me a beepah if you really want to)

Today at school we had to learn to use various Spanish phrases to express incredulity or surprise. The teacher, Gabriela, made us all write a 'title' of an embarrassing event in our lives and everyone in the class had to guess whose embarrassing event it was. Then the person whose moment it was had to tell the story in front of the class. Scott and Cyndi, can you guess what mine was? had to do with email at Balmur. eeeeeeeeeeeeeek. and Foghorn Leghorn, so to speak. anyhoo, when i got home from school today, Selene was hanging over the terrace, and she spoke to me while I was walking down the street. I went up to visit with her and use the restroom. She was playing with a crayon as if it was a cigarette, and she had her little doll in a stroller. I asked her if she was smoking and told her she never should. She informed me that she was playing and that even if she was smoking they make cigarettes that make smoke but don't have nicotine. good lord. So i sat down with her and she asked me if i wanted to play. So i said, 'sure'. She told me that I was her friend and that I had two kids, whom I could give personalities and names. I have a nine year old son and a two year old daughter. My name is Lucía. She took over and I never got to name my kids. I surprised her (as my play character, Lucía) and told her that I was 'expecting'. Her story. She was Melaní, and she has two kids too. Daughters. Diana and Alicia. She is thirty years old,and her husband has been coming in late. Like at 3 and 5 in the morning. She doesn´t have to live that way, and she believes that he has been messing around with his secretary. So she confronts him one day, andshe tells him that she is unhappy and that she knows that she does not have to live this way anymore. If her kids want to visit him on the weekends that is fine. If she needs money to do something, she will ask him, but she is throwing him out. She is happily single now, and she is going on with her life. When I asked Melaní if she didn´t have thoughts about finding a boyfriend or perhaps marrying again, she stated vehemently, 'No!' And followed with, 'Well, there is this guy that hangs out at the bar on the corner who kind of likes me, but I am not looking for anything like that. I am content with my life just the way it is. I do what I want, when I want. I maintain my home, take care of my children and I have a job. That is all I need.' I am not even lying to you that this really happened with Selene the ten year old. She was BLOWING my mind. And she said it all so fast...like it was really the truth. Met annoying girl from Los Angeles today named 'Summer'. She annoyed me from the first day, but we wound up in a small mob together by the espresso machine, and I soon found myself involved in a big conversation about how fast Southerners talk with some strikingly handsome gentleman from Germany whose name I can say but not spell. I was the first person he ever met from Texas. That is because I don't think most of us ever leave there. Wouldn't you know that one day after writing about how loud it is here, one of my teachers assigned us toread a newspaper article about a study done about noise and how much our bodies can healthily tolerate? Japan is the loudest country and Spain is a close second. Madrid being the loudest city. Which I think I can vouch for. This keyboard has been dipped in caramel candy I think. Sorry if i have missed any sticky finger mistakes so far. But i am not going back to check now. BUY the new Sheryl Crow CD. probably a frivolous way to spend money when living on a fixed income, but I will pass on some coffees to make up for it. i Love it. Love. Some groovy vocal guests, including one of my all time favorites, Doyle Bramhall II, on several. Listen with good headphones because there is some really interesting stuff going on in those mixes. I am such a geek. Am going to the fair tonight with Betina from Austria. Neither of us have deemed ourselves able to stay up all night and drink, so we figured we would do well together. That is at 8:30 pm. So I won't have to be there to not get fed tonight. I hope this is just a special week of no dinner because of the fair. I would rather not have my buttered untoasted bread in the mornings in exchange for supper. Cheaper to subsist on juice-coffee-donuts than to fake your way through dinner. Actually have not eaten an evening meal except once since I got here. Whoosh. Boobs disappearing.If anyone knows anybody whose name should be added to this list...I did some strange importation of a semi-accurate address book...please let me know, orhave them e-mail me. Off to explore the public transit system. The bus is my friend. And it is cheaaaaaaaaaaaaaap. I will be out late tonight, so if you want to call me when you get home from work, you can. (Ref: Unca Jeff, you can buy me a beepah if you really want to)

welllllllllllll. today was fun. in class, we had a dance lesson. yes, a dance lesson. to begin learning the 'sevillanas'. it is a simpler form of flamenco that they do here in Sevilla, just whenever they feel like it. like they will just be standing around and someone will start singing a song, and boom! they are in a circle doing the dance. it is fantastic. i did well in the class; unfortunately, Olaf from Germany was my partner most of the time, and let us just say that Grace is not his middle name. but it was fun. then i had to have as my partner the Swiss girl with everything pierces. de-light. i am dead dog tired. toured the Alcázar today. Once a fort. Then a royal palace. it is where King Juan Carlos and Queen Sofia stay when they are in Sevilla. The school does all kinds of cool cultural stuff like that, and it is almost always free for us who are enrolled in classes. THAT is a deal. Saturday, I am travelling to Cadiz and Jaén, which should be fantastic. Also with the school. I think I am about to be late for dinner, but I am not sure the Sra. is really cooking this week, with the Feria going on and all. The past two nights there have been no dinners. Great lunches but no dinners. So today, I stopped at the market for some sneaky snacks to keep in my room should I get desperate. Did I mention that Antonio Banderas is the celebrity spokesperson for Lay's Potato Chips Here. Lay's Meditteraneo. That sort of ruins him for me. That would be like Anthony Hopkins pitching fava beans and chianti or something equally demeaning. oh, well. it's a living i suppose. After that horrible 'Original Sin', Lay's probably seems like a pretty bright spot on the resume for ol 'Tonio. anyhoo, no real new news today. Just have been consistent so far...look for that to end soon!

oh my goodness. just got back from nearly five hours at the Feria de Abril. lordy. these people truly shut down their lives for a week and just go out to this big gigantic party. i think i wrote about the Casetas yesterday. got to go into one with my host family. muy fun. Had an 80 cent beer. did you hear me? 80 cent beer. A gift from my host mother. nice. almost all of the women and little girls are dressed in FULL flamenco dresses and regalia. beautiful. there are horses and carriages everywhere. then men dressed in suits and ties to hang out in tents. They know how to do it right.i did notice one thing. went to ride some more rides with Selene. El Sapito Loco (one crazy frog ride) was wild. like these rides go harder, longer and faster than ANYTHING at Six Flags, Astroworld OR Disneyland. no lie. a real trip. but the curious thing is the 'carnies'. the people working the rides. no lie. Dressed in Ralph Lauren Polo shirts. so nice. Have all their teeth. just got distracted by this VERY handsome man sitting next to me in the internet café who keeps looking at me. okay. i'm back. yeah, almost all the guys working the fair rides are pretty dressed up. ahhhhhhhhhhh. yes. was passing by a caseta today, and this man started yelling 'cuidado, cuidado' at us. looked down and he was assisting his little boy (about two years old) in sticking his little winkie out through the slats of the iron railing to have a pee -- aimed outward toward the passersby. too funny. poor little boy has been exposed to half of Spain now, though. then there are the ultra modern flamenco girls. Who have on all the dress, mantilla, mantoncillos and flowers in their hair. wearing combat boots talking on cell phones. then there are the well dressed men. it isn't everywhere a macho man can get away with wearing a linen suit with a pink checked shirt and a sherbet green tie with little pastel flowers on it. nope. not just anywhere. that is where i will be when i am able to log on. gotta run. might miss dinner. after all it is ALMOST10 pm. p.s. there are a bunch of people who have not written me back. if you want to stay on this list please respond somehow by this coming Saturday the 20th of April. i don't want to bug people with these long ol' emails.

First Week In Sevilla

well hello again. here i am in an internet cafe in Sevilla, España. let me just say that for however confusing the Euro keyboard is, it´s nice to have this --Ñ-- at my disposal at all times without doing anything extrain the word processor. i arrive here last night (Saturday) and took thetaxi with the older gentleman whose map I had to read for him -- he told me 'eres muy guapa'. gracias. 'no gracias, es la verdad'. have moved into my host family's home. Sra. Puri (short for Purificación) has three other college students living with her who are hideous. They have been living here since January and barely speakSesame Street Spanish. i'd be a native by now, i think. oh, well. like i just wrote to my sister, whoever saidit spoke the truth: 'youth is wasted on the young'. que lástima. am going to the feria tonight with the Sra. and her daughter, Selene. who is a bundle of energy. 10 years old. allergies like a fiend. and all girl. only all TEENAGE girl in her way. a backtalker anda googly eyed teen idol watcher. we have bonded over same. look up somewhere on the internet 'Operación Triunfo' -- it appears to be a dancing/singingmusical group of 16 beautiful people who go around and do shows. Rosa, Veronica, Chenoa, Nuria, David Bisbal, David Bustamante, Gisela, etc. those are all the names I can remember from my orientation thismorning. we are going to see them in concert on may 23rd she says. okay. she asked me while i was showing her some of my photos, ¿eres famosa? no. no soy famosa. pero, conozco a unas personas famosas. ay, Dios. me voy. Que le vaya bien

Madrid To Sevilla

oh heavens. sorry if you just got a blank email from me. am trying to make new address list here on the run. think i erased my fun email i already typed soplease be satisfied with following: am in madrid, waiting to fly to sevilla. where I move in with my host family. have cell phone. call me anytime (well i am 7 hours later than Central time, so consider that but from all I have seen there is no sleeping over here). NOTE: calls incoming to me on my cell phone do not cost me anything, so do not worry about that. i am sure i will be missing telephone conversations calls muchly. must go now as have to take subway to the airport where i will then extract my luggage from locked storage and wait to get on the plane. woo hoo. come visit me. my classes end may 24 and i am looking for a reason already to stay longer. you just have to buy me a sangria if i look thirsty! time to go now. make this my default e-mail address in your address book as i have not much love for AOL, and this is easier to check on the road.

hard to believe that it's been six months since i left nashville. i've completed my work at the warehouse, which turnedout to be more purposeful than anticipated. there hadbeen no one doing my job before me, and by the time ileft, a whole department had been created, which i> was called upon to make staff recommendations. so idid. now six people -- including one guy with anelectrical engineering degree and his wife, who has amarketing degree -- have jobs that allow them to use their REAL skills. instead of just working on anassembly line putting boxes into other boxes forshipping. very very exciting. oh, and they all gotraises too!>> anyway, i do believe that i have made some newfriends -- almost all of them from Mexico and beyond-- and i gained a new perspective on the world that isfarther reaching than any I've ever had before now. the world does not start and end in MY world alone. there are so many ways in which we can be useful. andfeel good about it at the end of the day. and want todo that again tomorrow. that's what i am doing right> now. and it makes me happy. it's difficult forsome people to understand. but i've decided that forthe rest of my life, i am going to do what makes mehappy. and if the paycheck, the company i keep, the> commute or the way i feel at the end of every day isnot worth it, i am going to do something else. i hopethat each and every one of you strive for purpose inevery day that you have been given. it's worthfiguring out. now. meanwhile, back at the ranch, i amflying to spain on thursday april 11th.

Slooooooow Talkers

This morning, I awoke to the sensation of my cat licking my underarm. Does that make me a salt lick? Last week, I was not sure that it could get any worse. Or that I should stick around to find out. But I did. And it did. Actually, only in terms of bizarrity, not with regard to my personal safety, as it was last week with the high school experience. Have been sleeping with the local NPR station playing softly in my bedroom, as it is easier to tolerate than the sounds of the neighborhood, which, at any given time, might include a distant gunshot or an extremely loud car stereo system. It makes for some interesting subliminal messages. And some questionable lines between dream and reality. This morning, I thought I was learning a Bob Fosse dance in my sleep when Liza Minnelli was singing “All That Jazz” to me, and I was unclear, upon waking, whether or not it was really happening or not. Then George W. Bush was speaking to the United Nations General Assembly. Broadway. Afghanistan. Broadway. Uzbekistan. Where am I? When I realized I was still just wearing my five times too large pajama pants and $1.99 GAP T-shirt, instead of fishnet stockings and a three sizes too small leotard, I saw the light. Marshall, Texas, exotic wonderland of lights. Where to begin. At the beginning of last week, I was posing as a fifth grade math teacher. And, lucky me, Mrs. P had arranged for me to have to EARN my $55.00/day. I was charged with the responsibility of introducing a new math concept : probability. What? In the fifth grade? Based on my limited experience in the past month, fifth graders can barely write their own name. And are still getting excited about the prospect of writing in ink, rather than with a #2 pencil. Okay. Let me study the teacher’s manual really quick. For I am quite sure that I understand the concept – I mean, I HAVE been to Vegas. But how to tell those less-than-fresh-faced beings about it all. I had some definitions. We’ll have them write those down. Then go through the practice exercises in the textbook. They’re using a bag of marbles as their example. And I’m reflecting on my 7th grade language arts teacher, Mr. Yow, who at least recognized how banal the book’s language could be. He theorized that if his example sentences (while learning to diagram sentences) had something interesting in them, we would be more likely to pay attention, remember and be changed by his teaching. So, instead of, perhaps, “Mrs. Jones attended Brown University and studied British Literature”, Mr. Yow might have asked us to diagram the following sentence: “Mr. Gonorrhea attended the KISS concert and ate big, green boogers during intermission”. Really. Back to fifth grade math. I was convinced, in my own sick mind, that instead of “You have a bag full of all red marbles. What is the probability of pulling out a blue marble?” it might have been more tangible, for instance, to say, “You have a room full of six ‘uncles’, what is the probability that one of them is your father?” I stuck with the textbook. And they were duly befuddled. There were a few hilarious, non-math-related incidents on Monday and Tuesday of last week, though. Like the one day that my cousin, M*** (one of the aforementioned 5th graders) came up to me in class, after a 35-minute recess/lunch period, and said, in a weak, sloooooooooow voice, “Miss Wright, my mom told me that if I got to feeling real bad, I should call her at work so that she could call the doctor and get me an appointment”. So I said, “Have you got to feeling real bad? Right here after lunch and recess?” And M*** said, “Yes, ma’am”. So I wrote him out a hall pass and sent him to the office, reminding him to make sure that an office worker signs the pass for him to come back to class. He goes. I assist some students in their practice, and he returns, as instructed, having secured Mrs. B’s signature on his hall pass. He returns to his desk. About fifteen minutes later, he approaches me again, saying, “Miss Wright, I really think I need to go call my mother”. What? I said, “M***, didn’t you just go call your mom?” Response: “No, ma’am, I didn’t get a chance to call her”. Well, what the hell did you do in the office? “You told me to get that hall pass signed and come right back.” Oh my God. Future of America. What I really wanted to say was, “If I gave you permission to go to the restroom, would you require permission also to unzip your pants, evacuate your system, wipe your butt and re-dress yourself before returning to class? Or would you simply stand there and return a few minutes later?” Next day, Antonio Roach, a sweet and needy little boy who commands adults’ attention by misbehaving in class, came in after recess/lunch claiming that he felt sick and needed to throw up. I just told him, in his perpetual hoax mode, that he should make sure to stick his head in the trash can if the impulse should become reality. He went back to his desk, the urgency dissipated. About ten minutes later, I was assisting a student at my desk, and he returned, with the same claim. I said, “Antonio, what did I tell you to do if you felt sick?” He said, vomiting undigested fresh grapefruit in the trash can right beside me, “To make sure I put my head in the trash can?” Yes, Antonio. Thank YOU for following instructions. Later that day, I had to go to Wal-Mart, diabolical institution that it is, for some cat food and litter. I picked up a few other things there as well, because they apparently have the right to sell one of everything. I stood in the shortest express line that I could find. Manned by Ski-Anne (two words, rhymes with city in Wyoming), who is checking out a fellow Wal-Mart employee who has blatantly disregarded the item limit in the express lane. And who has rocked Ski-Anne’s world by wanting to pay for her purchases with her Wal-Mart payroll check. This is a new one. And it locks up Ski-Anne’s computer. Due to inexperience, of course, not ineptitude. After four calls for a customer service representative to register three, someone finally arrives. Why did I stand around and wait? How could I not? The purchaser was going on about how her “auntie” (pronounced ‘ay-nee’) will straight up leave her if she’s not outside in two minutes. Ski-Anne was incredulous. “she’ll leave you?” --yeah, girl, she done it before. Then Ski-Anne was complaining about how hard her day had been, and I said, well, then it could only get better right? And she responded, “Well, I’ve only been here an hour, and knowing how stuff goes at Wal-Mart, it could get WAY worse!” I said, “Well, at least you’re not buried under rubble.” And she said, “Well, I don’t know, it gets pretty scary here, and I’m not sure that being buried under rubble wouldn’t be better.” Oh, Lord. So, now I’m definitely staying in this line. For then, completely unsolicited, Ski-Anne begins telling me about her fascination with the apocalypse and how she’s read the Book Of Revelation she doesn’t know how many times. And she assures me that this can’t be the end of time because in the Book Of Revelation, it states that there HAS to be a twenty-year period of barrenness in women (no pregnancies, no babies born) before the world can end. So, I say, “Well, sister, let me tell you, I’ve been teaching school for the past three weeks, and that is DEFINITELY not going on!” Enjoyed the CMA Awards this year. A far cry from the disaster they were last year. Lots of really great songs…no dancing…and a few surprises. Anyhoo, the back half of the week is a bit of a blur…….my mom’s out of town for the next three days, so who knows what might go on on this little street!

The Future Of America

I absolutely hate being rained on when I have someplace to go. Not that I’ve been rained on since I arrived back in my hometown, but I just wanted to vent that sentiment. I only accepted one teaching assignment last week, and when I accepted it, this is the confirmation that I heard on the ultra-sophisticated voice-activated, computer-generated ‘substitute management system’ : “MHS, Mrs. H, Advanced Math, Wednesday October 31st from 8:00 am to 3:00 pm”. Sounded innocent enough to me. I was very excited about being with ‘the big kids’. Had not really walked the halls of that school since my own graduation from there in May 1986. Oh how things have changed. There is an entirely new wing that was originally built to house the freshmen when they finally integrated them into the high school. When I was in ninth grade, we were on our own campus, Pemberton High School, which was the non-white high school before integration. And that is where ninth graders should be – alone, together, to forge some sort of pre-adult, communal identity, before being cast to the lions with the senior high students. I visited a few former teachers, heard a few crazy stories[1] and made my way to a teacher’s lounge, as Mrs. Holloway had conference period for the first class block. Much to my dismay, I learned that the high school has adopted block scheduling, which means that those heathens are in your charge for 1.5 hours at a time. No end in sight. The bell rang, and I made my way to room 905, which may as well have been room 666 as far as I am concerned. Halloween. Full Moon. Overcrowded classes. Recipe : Disaster. The class began filling the room, and I prepared to call the attendance roll. They were not nearly as impressed with my Spanish skills as the children at the middle school. I’m not sure what, if anything, would have impressed them. The first class was behaving alright at first, generally pretty disrespectful and mildly rowdy, but I was able to get them to at least sit down and accept the classwork that the teacher had left for them. There were several who never even attempted to take out a pen or pencil and pretend to make an effort. Those few I loaned my personal pens (which I value greatly and thankfully they volunteered to return to me) and the rest I just tried to watch over and make sure they were working. Well, as we are all familiar with attention spans of teenagers, that semblance of peace lasted only about 20 minutes. Seventy more to go. So then, they decided they wanted to pick on each other or just sit and visit. They were completely uninhibited about their conversations and other conduct. One kid looked at me and said, “Miss ******, you ever smoke weed?” Huh? What in the hell am I supposed to say to that? Correct his grammar? There was no answer that was going to be anything but sudden death for me. Then there was the ever-delightful Tony G, who began telling me about how he started smoking dope the summer before his ninth grade year, and you know, every now and then, he might get drunk on a special occasion, but usually he’ll just stick with the weed and the odd 40 oz. I looked Tony straight in the eye and said, “You know, it’s probably better if you don’t tell me all this.” “Why?” he wondered. I said, “Do you know Coach Harper?” Nods. “He is my uncle, and you know what else?” Appropriate look of interest/disinterest. “I spent six years working in the District Attorney’s office here in town, and they’re all still really good friends.” Deer In Headlights. No more from Tony G the remainder of class. And sweet little Jaumar M. He was wearing a Yankee’s jersey, so I asked him if he knew who won the game last night. Response: “I don’t watch no damn baseball.” Okay. He was one who had to borrow a pen from me. He was not doing his work, so I went over to stand beside him, put my hand on his back and talked to him for a while. I stood there for probably for or five minutes, and then Jaumar had had enough. Without even looking at me or stopping what he was doing, he just said, “Why is your hand on my back? I don’t like teachers or anybody else to touch me.” I didn’t move it. When we were standing in line to leave class, Barry G -- who at various impromptu times in the middle of class, would jump up on top of his desk and shout, “Do you know who I am? I’m Barry G!” Great. Sit down. – asked me, “Miss Wright, how many you been through?”[2]All I could think to say was, “Not nearly so many as you’ll ‘go through’ when you’re somebody’s bitch in The Big House’! Put that in your crack pipe and smoke it.” But I didn’t. And that was just the beginning of the day. But the rest isn’t any more interesting than that, so I shall spare you. I left the high school campus that day, swearing never to darken their door again. I suppose I was beside myself, because I started driving aimlessly around town and ended up at my Dad’s office, where I proceeded to cry off and on for the next hour. It was just so depressing and disheartening to me. And that was advanced math? Later that night, I ran into one of the high school counselors at a Halloween carnival. She’s also a family friend, and she asked me how my first day at the high school had been. I assured her that she was mistaken. It was my LAST day at the high school. I told her how horrible it had been, and she asked me whose class I was covering. I told her, and she said, “Oh, yes, she took Mrs. W’s place.” I talked about some of the kids in the class, and she looked at me, puzzled. “Barry G is NOT in advanced math!” I assured her that that was what Mrs. H had stated on the message. Lisa said, “You were teaching Math Modeling!” Huh? She told me that it was as far from advanced math that you could get. They require three years of math at the high school – Algebra and Geometry are required, and Math Modeling is where all the students who don’t want or aren’t skilled enough to take Pre-Calculus or Trigonometry or whatever are enrolled. Well, that explained something, at least. The disparity between my expectations and that stark reality. It’s difficult to remember what else happened last week. I spent one day with my cousin Eva, who was our next door neighbor when I was growing up in the country. She is seventy-four years old and is active, as always, maintaining a home and a small farm/large garden. When we didn’t have a washing machine, we would go next door to Eva’s house and use her three-legged old-fashioned one.[3] The kind that you had to hook up to the water hose and which had an external wringer that you had to feed each item of clothing through individually before hanging it on the clothes line. She taught me how to make homemade Popsicles when I was little, and there was always some fun chore you could help her do – feeding chickens, digging potatotes, working the flower garden. We had a nice time visiting. Was driving home from the movie on Friday night (Monsters, Inc. – great!) with my sister, and her three daughters, and we passed a business whose sign said the following “Simpson Pest Control : In God We Trust”. That was part of their logo! I just found it a funny series of words to strong all together. I have a picture to include, and hopefully, I will find someone with a scanner so that I can send it. It pretty much sums the whole thing up. [1] While chatting briefly with my ex-yearbook sponsor, Isabel L, who was trying fervently to talk me out of substitute teaching, even as a recreation, and she introduced me to another English teacher, Mrs. Ivy. She asked Mrs. Ivy to relay to me the story of Katoya, one of her senior students, and a recent outburst that Katoya had in class. Apparently, David was bothering her, and she exclaimed to the class, “David Smith’s mother sucks his dick!” Delightful. [2] Referring to men. [3] The kind I showed my nieces at an antique mall last week, and Mayzie asked, “What is that? Some sort of oven or something?”

Substitute Teaching, Fall Fest Injustice, Lying in Church

So you thought that the second week couldn’t possibly be any more bizarre than the first. Alas! Wrong again. Last week was only a bit odd – on Sunday, I had to drive my sister back to Dallas Love Field so that she could fly back to Nashville from her 10 year high school reunion, and my brother’s kids had been here for a short weekend visit, so I returned them to Mesquite, Texas. My sister-in-law Karen and I rented Bridget Jones’ Diary so that she could see it for the first time and so that I could see it for the fourth. And for me to at least catch a glimpse of what a single thirty-something gal’s life is supposed to be like! Karen, Chelsey, Brady and I went to Posado’s for lunch, and we determined that if you buy your chicken at Sam’s Wholesale Warehouse Club and put it in your restaurant’s alleged Tex Mex food with all the spices in the world, it STILL tastes like cardboard box. Ugh. I went to Half Price Books Records & Tapes as well as to Starbuck’s before leaving the metroplex. And the hot guy behind the counter said, “You have very nice eyes, too.” And I responded, “Is there a run on nice eyes tonight?” He laughed. Come to think of it, maybe I should have invited HIM to go to Starbuck’s with me. I didn’t have to be at work the next day. Oh but the day after that, I did. Posing as a sixth grade social studies teacher at Sam Houston elementary school. Let’s just say that Sam Houston himself must roll over in his grave knowing that his name is on such an institution. I’m here as an eyewitness to tell you that the public school systems are in grave danger. As is the future of America. (soap box alert) Mainstreaming, first of all, is of the devil. If you don’t know what this term means, apparently, it means that there is no regard for what kind of disparity there may exist in a classroom between the extremes of aptitude. When I was in school, we were grouped by levels. The teacher taught all of us the same way, gave us all the same tests and had the same expectations for each of us. But that was because testing had helped to determine that we were pretty much all in the same ‘range’ of ability. Not anymore. I was dumbfounded to learn that teachers have to teach to such a vast array of students on so many different levels that there is no way that students at either extreme are being served. And in the gross vacuum that exists between the top tier and the lowest tier is a fertile breeding ground for behavior problems. Trust me. OH, and the teachers also are not allowed to give all the students the same test. They have to ‘modify’ their tests, which means that their work is essentially doubled (again). Ludicrous. Research this practice, and take a stand. No one can learn in that environment. And from what I’ve witnessed, the teachers (God bless them all) who have excellent students just create more work for those students to keep them busy – not enrichment work – book reports, or papers or something else purely academic. Thereby teaching them that they’ll be punished for being bright. Hello, did ANYONE take Educational Psychology but me? Tonight, we drove down the road to visit my mom’s sister Tommie and her husband Sid. Tommie is a Language Arts teacher at the school where I was a substitute teacher last week. We talked a lot about some of the kids about whom I had questions. Elester was one of the little boys that I taught – he was really sweet, pretty bright, but a little difficult to corral in class. She told me that there had been an incident last week on school picture day where some little girl’s picture money (cash: a 20 dollar bill and four one dollar bills) had been stolen from my aunt’s desk while the students were at lunch. My aunt is a rather relentless warrior for justice (as she should be – the only example of such some of those children will ever have), so she went to the auditorium where all her students were lined up to take school pictures. She went through all the kids, asking them who was buying pictures and how they were paying. She had them all empty their pockets, and the money was not there. She went to the office and reported the money stolen. Then she went back to her class room to look one more time. Kristin’s order envelope had been torn open and was dropped into the wastebasket by my aunt’s desk. She knew that it had been thrown in there quite recently (as in during lunch time) since she knew that she had thrown away an empty box of Kleenex, and the envelope was in the wastebasket ON TOP of the empty box (reading Nancy Drew pays off, I’m telling you!). So she took the ripped, empty envelope back down to the auditorium and began asking anyone in there if they knew anything about the missing money. As she was leaving, one little boy said that Elester had asked him to hold onto some money for him during recess. Then he said that my aunt could confirm that story with Dedrick, another 6th grader. So she pulled Dedrick, the first little boy and Elester aside and took them to the office. She made the boys sit down, and she relayed the story to the assistant principal Mrs. Price. One by one, she brought the ‘witnesses’ into Mrs. Price’s office for questioning. The story was confirmed separately by both boys. Then they brought Elester in. They asked him if he had taken the money. He denied it several times, saying that the money was his and that his auntie had given it to him ‘last night’. (He lives with his auntie and his grandmother). Mrs. Price asked him for his auntie’s phone number, and he gave it to her. She then said, “You know, I’m going to call you auntie, Elester, and I’m going to ask her if she gave you that money last night.” They asked him over and over, and he finally admitted that he had taken the money simply because he had wanted to have his picture made and wanted to buy them. But his grandmother and auntie had refused to give him any money for pictures. My aunt asked Mrs. Price to step outside the office and begged her not to call Elester’s auntie, relaying a story about a colleague who had called the woman the last time Elester was acting up in class. He came to school the next day with his eye blood red and almost swollen shut. The teacher took Elester aside and asked what had happened, and he said that his auntie had hit him and tried to scratch his eye out. My aunt was crying and convinced Mrs. Price not to call Elester’s auntie but to try one more time to have him confess. He produced $21.00 from his pocket, and they asked him for the other $3.00. They asked him if he had spent it on lunch, and he said, ‘no’. My aunt went back to her class room and let Mrs. Price finish handling the situation. Mrs. Price reported to my aunt later that she had retrieved the final $3.00 from Elester but that it was a little smelly. He had stuffed it into his shoe. So sad. And it’s far more the rule than the exception. If you have the opportunity ever to tutor children or be a mentor of any value, please do so – I suppose it really does ‘take a village’. I accompanied my sister and her girls (the 3-M’s) to my sister’s school’s Fall Festival on Saturday. They each had twenty little tickets to play games (cakewalk, dart throw, ring toss, etc.) and proceeded, among them, to win three gold fish (much to their mother’s delight…eeek!), a boat load of candy, some toys and all sorts of other useless stuff. There was a bingo room, and we played a few rounds of Bingo together. There were two craggy old ladies in there, who had endless amounts of tickets and who were playing five cards apiece each round. And I’m thinking to myself, ‘all those prizes are just crap from the Dollar General Store that they could have bought ten times over for what they spent on those tickets!’ Whatever. Needless to say, of course, they kept winning, and those sweet little kids didn’t have a chance. At the end of the evening, the remaining prize items in the Bingo room were ‘auctioned off’, and Mayzie happened to be in there for that event. A few minutes later, she came out of the room, crying as if her best friend had just died right there in front of her. I asked her what was the matter, looking for open wounds or blood, and she managed to wheeze out amongst sobs, ‘there was this girl in there named Shelby who had tons of tickets, and she just kept winning everything in the auction because she had more than anybody else. It’s not fair. They should have let more people have a chance at getting those things.’ Now, here you must know that Mayzie did not have any tickets, and there was nothing on the prize table that she even wanted. She was upset over the principle of the matter. Her mom was elsewhere helping to clean up after the fair, so it fell upon me to try and explain the concept of fairness and of how some people just don’t grasp it, and how she should not get so upset over something she can do absolutely nothing about right now. So she calmed down, and I continued in the clean up effort. As I was walking away, she got all upset again, and blurted out, “the last line of the pledge says, ‘and liberty and justice for all’ – where is the justice in that?” She’s eight years old. This afternoon, I went to the county courthouse where my mother works (and where I used to work in the District Attorney’s office) to put together some packages to take to the post office. My mom sent me out to her car to retrieve some papers and money that she needed to order my Aunt Verne’s medicine. I was sitting in the driver’s side of the car, one leg out the door, and this man appeared from out of nowhere, and leaned down and stuck his head in the car. He mumbled something even I couldn’t understand, and I said, ‘What?” Then he said it again, unintelligible. Then I understood that he was asking me if I could do him a ‘small favor’. Mind racing. I said ‘No, sir, I am on a quick errand, then I have to return to work in THE DISTRICT ATTORNEY’S OFFICE. That appeared to have thwarted him. At least momentarily. So I decided that I didn’t want to sit out there long enough to sort through all the papers in my mom’s visor (aka her personal filing cabinet), so I grabbed everything, including the bank envelope with the money in it, which I had shoved under my leg when the scary man appeared. And he was in the car again! Asking me for two dollars for some gasoline. I just looked him in the eyes (which were less than six inches from mine) and said, “NO!” He went away, thank goodness. Rattled me, though. He had been watching me, I guess. Lovely. So I pack up my mail and head to the post office. I had several letters to mail, and I put those in the ‘stamped mail’ slot, then went into the counter area to fill out a customs form. Then, going through my remaining envelopes – ones that I needed to add extra postage to – I realized that I had dropped an un-addressed, un-stamped envelope into the bin. Great. Anthrax alert. So I told the USPS fellow behind the counter, and he looks at me and says, “I’m going to have to call a supervisor.” Great. Aiming to leave the country and I get myself on the FBI Most Wanted List. So he calls for a supervisor. I’m on a cell phone call trying to hear a juicy story from a friend back in Nashville. And the supervisor comes out. Meanwhile, I’m watching the rest of the patrons, hoping they don’t go Flight 93 on my ass. I show the supervisor an identical envelope (my favorite kind – the plain brown wrapper kind) so he’ll know what to look for, and he goes back behind the curtain. Then he shouts to me from the other room and asks me to come to the special counter with him. Sweating. Lugging two packages and some other loose mail. Dropping customs form. Trying not to draw any more attention to already conspicuous self. He tells me he can’t find any brown envelopes in the bin. So I determine that perhaps I mistakenly left it at home. Then he notices my little brown box that I am shipping to London, UK (oh, like that’s not suspicious in Marshall, Texas), and he asks if he can photocopy the other little brown envelope that I have, ‘just in case the lost one turns up, he’ll know who to send it to’. Well, now they have a handwriting sample, fingerprints AND my home address. Only me. I got home and found the ‘missing’ letter in my book bag. I had not taken it to the post office at all, as I was not sure that I had my organizer in the car with the correct address. Ugh. Just came back from visiting my great aunt Verne (short for LaVerne) – my mom does her grocery shopping for her and picks up her prescriptions for her as well. We cooked meat loaf, turnip greens and yellow squash tonight so we we took her over a warm plate of dinner as well. She greeted us at the door, saying, “Well, I’d done give up on y’all comin’ over, so I’m cooking myself some chili in the kitchen.” Then she decided that she would have the chili for breakfast and eat our dinner tonight. By the way, it was only 6:30pm when she had given up on us. As we walked from the kitchen back into the living room, she said to me, “Girl, you have sure gained a lot of weight; I don’t believe I’ve ever seen you so heavy.” Delightful. Then she said, “How do you do it? No matter how hard I try, I cannot gain any weight.” So, to her it was a compliment? And she envies my girth? I’ll tell myself that. Then we sat down to visit, and she asked me if I wanted to see pictures of her daughter-in-law. I said, “Sure.” So she went into her bedroom and gathered some snapshots of her new daughter-in-law. I looked at them and asked her name. She said, “Cindy.” Then she proceeds to tell how Cindy has told her that she has to have dialysis and chemotherapy. Then my Aunt Verne asks my mom, “Do you have to take chemo when all you have is sugar diabetes?” My mom doesn’t think so. Then Aunt Verne talks a little about how she thinks that Cindy is mad with her because she hasn’t heard from her or her son Ron since last Friday. I asked her why she thought they might be mad at them. She said, “Because they asked me if I wanted to go to church with them on Sunday, and I responded, ‘Now, Cindy, do you think if I wanted to go to church, you would have to ask me?’” But she said what she really wanted to say was, “If I go to church, does that mean I have permission to lie all the time like you do?” Go Aunt Verne! Other adventures this week: went to Nacogdoches last weekend to see Gary Allan, Sara Evans and Kenny Chesney. Had fun – Gary only played 30 minutes, so we all pretty much just hung around backstage at the coliseum and on the bus, dodging scary ‘fans’ until the entire show was over. Then to the Whataburger. Of course – what else would you do after a late night music event in Texas? Also signed up for local internet service last week and was able to cajole the fellow, Ben, to sign me up with no contract, so I can bail as soon as I know I’m leaving the country. I was quizzing him (as he seemed the type who would know and tell the truth) about building one’s own web page, which is something that I hope to do while I’m overseas to help keep in touch with everyone. So I asked him how difficult it was to learn HTML and were there any easy programs to learn to do so? He rattled off a few but ensured me that there were a couple that were really great – Adobe Photo Shop and DreamWeaver. So he told me a little bit about those, and he said, of course, that the downfall was that they were pretty expensive ($250 or more). Then he gave me a wink wink nudge nudge and told me that he’d share his with me if we could just keep it between the two of us. Well, maybe, Ben, but that is ALL that there will be between the ‘two of us’. Lord E. Mama.

The Tangled Web

So I have just completed week one of being back in my hometown of Marshall, Texas. I will begin by saying that it is quite a phenomenon to be approached by people who have known you since you were in diapers and to have them talk to you as if you have kept in touch for all these years. Quite a phenomenon. The first day that I passed through, on my way with my friend Rita, to Central Texas for some visiting with friends, family and some fun music stuff, I had to go by the service station to get an inspection sticker on my car. This fellow stopped in, and I thought I recognized him, so I asked his name. He said, "Chris", and I introduced myself -- we went to high school together. Then he just looked at us and said, "Y'all broke down?" It was so funny. As if he presumed the only reason I could possibly be in Marshall, Texas, was if my vehicle had betrayed me and rendered itself useless. We set out for Waco, Texas later that day, and at one fuel stop, we engaged in conversation with a man with multiple scars on his bald head in the convenience store. He was telling a story about one of his wives that he had been with near Nashville, Tennessee. But he had left her. Because "she needed to be left". Okay. Then, in Athens, Texas, we saw a fun little shop on the side of the road called "Still Life Taxidermy". That one made the trip notes page.The first few days that I was here, I just worked on unpacking boxes and trying to settle myself into the room that my mother has set aside for me. Learning to be comfortable on a twin sized day bed after having slept for five years on a queen size bed (generally alone) is quite an adjustment. But not the biggest one. Last Tuesday, I attended the Marshall Independent School District's Substitute Teacher Orientation Meeting. Let's just leave it at the fact that I was far more disoriented when I walked out of that room than before I arrived. When the woman conducting the seminar actually said regarding paycheck accuracy, "if you find that the information you have on your days of employ does not 'jive', as it were, with the information that the school district has, please call", i nearly died. She actually instructed a room full of adults on several occasions to underline a certain word in a sentence (e.g. "commitment" or "responsibility"). Then she imparted the knowledge that page two would follow page one in the handbook. (Yep.) I left that meeting and immersed myself immediately in my "moving to Spain" research project. What did the rest of the week hold for me? More unpacking, some visiting with family. My sister was coming home on Thursday evening for her 10 year high school reunion, and my niece and nephew were also coming in on the weekend for a few days. Saturday, I attended my nephew’s two-year-old birthday party at the McDonald's in Henderson, Texas. There were quite a few people there, adults and children, and as usual, in those situations, I hung very near my immediate family. I am not that close with my step-brother's wife, so I did not know many of her friends who were there, with their children. My sister did, however, overhear one of the parents, a pregnant mother of one, say, "Football means nothing to me. NASCAR is our lives." (Yep.) Later, at the end of the party, that woman's child, Cassie, 3 years old, wanted to take some of the helium balloons home with her. So her mom told her she could have one, and Cassie wanted them all. They compromised, and Cassie was allowed to choose one of each color. So she told her mother that she wanted a Bobby and a Tony. (Huh?) Karyn and I immediately began to pay closer attention. A Bobby and a Tony? The mother proudly informed us that that meant green and yellow. Why? Because NASCAR driver Bobby Labonte drives a green car, and NASCAR driver Tony Stewart drives a yellow car. My father and I got up and walked outside for air. Can you believe that? Isn't Cassie's kindergarten teacher going to have fun fighting with her over the seemingly incorrect 24 box of Crayons?Later that evening, I attended a birthday party for my step-brother, given for him by his girlfriend. She was throwing the party for him, her father and another family friend. A surprise at the local Italian restaurant, Gucci's. She is pregnant with my step-brother’s baby (or so she says), but she is married to Gucci's nephew, who lives in Houston (so he could obtain U.S. citizenship). Now, you have to understand that the girlfriend has had some drinking and drug problems in her time, and they appear not to have subsided, even with her second pregnancy. She was so loaded that she could barely keep her eyelids open during the fiesta. Then this older fellow comes and sits down by me and my step-sister (a high school Spanish teacher). And he starts blatantly flirting and hitting on us. He is so drunk that he can barely speak properly. He introduces himself to us as "Rick" and is asking us our names and how old we are. I ask him what his relation is to the party guests, and he says, "I'm Methodist". I said, "relation, not religion". Then he begins to tell us the following joke, "You know what the difference between Methodists and Baptists is?" No. "Methodist ministers will speak to members of their congregation in the liquor store, and Baptists ministers won't". Delightful. At which point my father thought it would be funny to introduce my brother-in-law, "Rick, I'd like to introduce you to my son-in-law, he is the pastor over at M******* Baptist Church here in town". It was hilarious. Rick goes away briefly, and my sister and I take the opportunity to discuss all the bizarre people at the party, but in Spanish, so no one else could understand us. Never have I been so thankful for a gift in all my life as at that moment. By the way, Rick is my brother’s girlfriend’s dad, who is currently married to her mother. He came back for more, and thanks be to God that our pizza arrived for take out at a very crucial moment. Back at the house, I was having arts and crafts fun with the kids, and I decided to see if I could remember how to make paper dolls. So I began my trial and error process, and the first set I created had four legs. My sister picked up one of them and handed it to her mom, introducing it as her next grandchild (due to the scary drugs the step-brother's girlfriend was doing while with child). Sick, yes, but I choked back a laugh. Today, the big adventure was going to the Social Security Administration Office to get a new Social Security card. Mine was in the batch of things stolen in Barcelona earlier this year, I think, for I cannot find it anywhere. There was this fellow in there going on and on about how he really needed to get this business taken care of because the cafeteria at the Marshall Memorial Hospital (it hasn't been called that in at least ten years) was opening at 11:30 am, and he really needed to be there. If he said it once, he said it a hundred times. And he kept making sure that everyone in the room had taken a number. And that they were in order. And what should he do with the ones that earlier patrons had let fall on the floor? Yikes. Tomorrow (Tues. 23 October), I have my first substitute teaching assignment. Fourth through sixth grade social studies. Eeeeeeeek. Everyone knows what a delight I think children under the age of sixteen are, right? Include me in your nightly prayers, please. Make that hourly. I'm sitting in a terribly uncomfortable chair, so I will go now. Please keep in touch. And if you have any questions about any of the aforementioned information, please do not hesitate to write.