Wednesday, May 17, 2006

Skee Ball?

I was reading Medusa's blog and realized that many of us have our 80's guilty pleasures. I am relishing one of them right now: I am listening to Abba. My husband has sought shelter in the extra bedroom and closed the door. Granted he didn't say a thing, but the self-imprisonment talks louder than words. Meanwhile "voulez-vous" is blasting in the living-room while I make a tortilla so as to use the last of the potatoes and onions before we go away, all the while twirling around... Do I really like that group? I don't even know but it brings back memories of being young and full of energy, therefore it feels good.
Yeah the 80's!

Thursday, May 11, 2006

The right stuff

I got up at 6:00 AM to finish up a paper. Yup, I like what I'm doing. Now I'm dead at 9:00 PM. It's a price to pay.

Oh my

The worst thing about getting ready to see your mother and grandmother after too many years is looking at yourself in the mirror. You realize 1) that you've aged and therefore 2) gravity has started to play tricks on your body, 3) that you haven't been careful and have some really awkward patchwork of a suntan because you've been in the garden —wearing t-shirts, tang tops and gardening gloves— and therefore dread the moment you have to get into a bathing suit. I am tanned, but in a scoop kind of shape from the neck up, the arms but just between the edge of the sleeve and the gloves, and I had the great idea of folding up my pants so my legs could get a little color... up to the knees. Not a pretty sight when you see the whole I'm telling you. If I go to the beach I'm going to look like some tan and white quilt... my grandmother will surely deny knowing me.
And then there's the eyebrows that in a fit of terror while writing a paper I plucked... never ever touch your eyebrows when you're stressed. I have bold patches above my left eye that will surely not grow before I meet those that think I'm perfect.
Instead of meeting the young perky thing they know, they'll see a middle aged woman with a bold spot on one of her eyebrows who looks half tanned, half dead. Hopefully they'll only see the happy person I've become. Maybe I'll hide their glasses so they can't see me up-close.

Monday, May 08, 2006

But who's counting

T minus 8 days until the end of the semester. One 10-page paper down, one more to go. In 12 days not only will I be done with the semester, papers, classes, readings, but I will most likely be enjoying good weather and looking forward to some savory foods for lunch and dinner while planning future meals. All this accompanied by two great ladies and hubby, sitting under a parasol in the southern Spanish town of Calabardina... Yeay! I shouldn't think of it right now because somehow the thought of grilled seafood accompanied by anything that tastes like something does not mix well with a book analysis...
It's going to be interesting to say the least to see my husband surrounded by three generations of women in my family. One thing for sure, being the only man and the tallest (yes, we're all midgets) will most definitely guarantee him privileged treatment. The way I see it he will be getting a glimpse of the future. My grandmother, my mother and I look exactly the same, with a few wrinkles here and there to distinguish us from one another. Characters on the other hand have been subdued as generations pass. In other words, my grandma is the judge, my mother the lawyer and I the diplomat. My grandmother has the strength, if not physically definitely mentally, of a bull. My mother has the strength of endurance, the woman doesn't stop, the amount of energy she has is incredible. Me? well, I'm still trying to figure that one out.
But I can already see it. If Nadir (hubby) happens to do his stuff, like, oh I don't know, clear the table after dinner, either my mother will get up in a dash to do it before him, or my grandma will tell me to do it so that he doesn't have to because "that's not how you keep a man" or "that's not right" ;o) It's all good. I'm looking forward to these interactions, and being the diplomat that I am I will smile and wink at Nadir, so as to say "maybe now and here... but wait until we get home". As long as I'm fed, I'll clear the table.