The Addams Family

The Spanish are wringing their hands over this picture that appeared recently in the local Spanish papers after being leaked from the U.S.  In it, the Spanish Prime Minister, José Luis Rodriguez Zapatero, appears with his wife, their two daughters, and, of course, the Obamas.


The word around town is that the Prime Minister struck a deal with the Spanish press years ago not to publish pictures of his children,  but now that this one has been leaked, all bets are off.  The poor girls will be photographed mercilessly.


But some say that the real reason everyone's upset is that they cannot believe that the Spanish teens were allowed to meet with the President of the United States in Goth attire.  Sticklers for protocol, many Spaniards are embarrassed by a Prime Minister who wouldn't instruct his family to dress properly for such an important picture.


My brilliant 20-something Spanish teacher (who has just completed a 10 year Goth phase herself) sees it slightly differently: why, she asks, when there are so many beautiful goth clothes and shoes available, did they have to represent us in those goth boots? 

Urban Cowboy

We've been city dwellers for 6 weeks now, so I don't expect to hear cows mooing in my apartment.  Yet, there it is again, coming from Sam's room.  I crack the door and see my boy's face lit by his computer screen.  He sees me eyeing the mess in his room.

I'm trying to keep the crows from ruining my crops, he explains.

The crows? We live at the top of a six story building, yet I haven't seen crows.  Could you please clean up your room, I ask? And hang up the towels.

I have to harvest my peppers now or they'll rot and I'll lose the $25,000 I've invested in seed.  With fervor, he completes a series of repetitive mouse movements to "harvest" his crops and gain points to buy other farm items.  He's saving for a farmhouse.

Welcome to Farmville, the computer program that lets anyone, urban or suburban, run a farm into the ground or be the creator of a beautifully planned plantation complete with livestock, plants, decorative farm elements (lakes, hedges, horse jumps, etc.)  and animals you can gift to friends.  Sam shows me his friends' farms -- Regan's, Madeline's and Tim's -- all grander scale operations that require a lot of tendin'. Woah, Sam chuckles, Tim really needs to harvest his wheat!  Sam's farm is modest in comparison.  Surrounding the 8 or 9 tillable acres are some trees and a dozen or so farm animals.  Some were gifts from friends.  He's splurged on a small pond with a bench nearby. Fruit trees shade the area.  It's a peaceful place to sit, he says wistfully.

Now he's deciding which crops to plant next.  Crops yield different quantities of food and different profits at market.  Sam calculates the possibilities.  He likes the returns on squash and raspberries, but different crops demand different harvesting times requiring the farmer to plan his schedule accordingly.  Sam doesn't want to wake up in the middle of the night for raspberries, so he chooses squash.   That'll allow him a full night's sleep.

Genius, I'm thinking.  It won't be long before you get that farmhouse, I tell him proudly.  I pick up the towel and hang it myself.

Actually, if you let me use your credit card, he says hopefully, I can buy the $50,000 farmhouse for $20 dollars.  Then I won't have to live in the $1,000 farmhouse.  He sees my face and turns back to the screen.  Okay, okay.  I'll get the little farmhouse.  And maybe Madeline will send me another sheep.

Man in White Heels

(Forward to minute 2 when he loosens his jacket and the fun begins)

Recently, Chip and I were lucky enough to be given tickets to see the master Flamenco dancer, Rafael Amargo, in the beautiful Teatros del Canal. Chip didn't share my excitement as we settled into our seats; he removed his glasses as though he were getting ready for bed and 
folded them into his breast pocket. The audience was packed with young ladies and men visi-bly excited by their proximity to the Latin dance master. After a few minutes, the lights dim-
med and the curtain rose. There, frozen in the spotlights was a tableau of dancers (including two beautiful topless women.) They posed for several minutes as the excitement rose to a 
crescendo.  Then the fun began.

Chip reached for his glasses and never took them back off.

Our Irish Twins

You may know that we have teenaged triplets; you might not know that we have Irish twins.  Lucia, Clark and Sam's brotha-from-another-motha, Thunder (8),  and their sista-from-another-mista, Roxie (7), are a mere 11 months apart.  Roxie, our long-haired, blond miniature dachshund and Thunder, our Mensa-card-carrying black and tan, have been in Madrid for a couple weeks now and are definitely showing signs of culture shock. Actually, our canine children are exhibiting the very same behavior that Lucia, Clark, and Sam did when we first arrived in this country (and still do on occasion.)

Mood Swings: There's a lot of anger brewing under that fur.  Roxie, always an even-tempered squirrel chaser, finds herself in the squirrel-free city of Madrid.  She lashes out by barking incessantly at other neighborhood dogs whenever they try to welcome her to the hood. Barking loudly at bugs, traffic noises filtering in through the windows and wind has replaced her squirrel games. Thunder, our much more cerebral pet, has retreated into a moody passive-aggressive world of his own. Always a rule follower, he now refuses to sit on command.

Anti-social behavior:  We've raised our dogs in the same way that Dr. Skinner, the famous child psychologist, raised his daughter -- in a box. Our box was bigger, of course, by a few acres, but still, R and T haven't socialized much with their own kind.  In Madrid, where the humans greet strangers with a kiss on each cheek, the canines are, naturally, more open and friendly as well. Our twins are expected to be gracious with the neighborhood dogs who have different boundaries, different customs and speak a whole different language.  One woman, who thought that Roxie (and her parents) couldn't understand her, actually called her "gorda" -- fat!  Now Roxie will only play with Thunder (see "lethargy" below) or a rubber, bikini-wearing chicken we found in the hood.

Lethargy:  If Thunder could, he'd insert a canine catheter and demand his meals on a tray. He doesn't display any of the joie de vivre or quick witted repartee that was once his trademark. Instead, he elects to climb to the top of the tallest chair in the room and curl into a ball remembering good times in Connecticut - or - lick himself from dawn until dusk.


Ah, culture shock.  It's not fun when the kids lash out about the move, but we expected that.  We didn't expect our twins to have such a similar reaction.

Someone in Spain is Making a Living on Misprints

T-shirts seen while walking the streets of Madrid:

Daddy's Bitch

Huge like that! (on a body builder type)

Abercrambie NYS (New York State?)

You Ain'ts Got To Worry About Substance When You Gots Style (philosopher?)

Shopping with Giranimals

Would you rather purchase this meat -- whatever it is...

Or this one?

Or this one?

Foot Fault

List of Perkins' Childrens' Transgressions
on their First Day of Spanish School

1. Loosening shoe.  Clark was reprimanded for loosening his shoe to relieve a blister forming on his heel.  Apparently, there is a rule against shoe adjustments.  A full shoe removal warrants a detention.  I'm not kidding ... fall-out from the shoe bomber?

2. Being an American.  Lucia's teacher started the first morning of school with a warning to the class that she would not tolerate cheating like the Americans.  "All Americans cheat." She also warned that she would confiscate all students' drugs.

3. Choosing a different seat on the bus.  Clark, notorious for his car sickness, had the audacity to change his seat from the back to the front of the bus.  Telling the bus monitor that he was going to throw up did not stop the barrage of Spanish reprimands.

4. Being late for class.  Fair enough.  Sam received his first detention ever for being late (with a group of his new friends) to class after lunch.  With no bell ringing, no watch, and no idea when he's supposed to be back in class, he may get more.  Trouble is, he didn't learn the term "detention" in Spanish to know that he'd received a detention.  So, he missed it.

5. Not reciting Catholic prayers (in Spanish).  Clark again.  When asked by his teacher why he wasn't participating in religion "class" (He says it was a Catholic mass), Clark replied that since he is neither Catholic, nor Spanish, he doesn't know the prayers.  And if he did, he wouldn't be able to recite them in Spanish.  Not knowing Spanish is tolerated in some classes, but not in religion.

First Day of School!

School started today.  You can see for yourself the kind of excitement we all felt.  We received several different answers about when and where to catch the bus.  Surprisingly, the kids didn't want us to accompany them to the bus stop, so we were very inconspicuous...

(hint: to see full screen, click on the youtube image.  Otherwise you lose the right part of the screen)

Sauteed Police

We decide to dine at a place in our hood tonight - Fabula.  It reminds us of a hip restaurant from home with modern art, dark walls and electronica playing softly in the background.  Then we get the menus -- no English translations available and nada English speaking person to be found. One teen suggests we just close our eyes and order whatever our finger lands on, a sort of Spanish roulette, but we're not brave enough to pull the trigger. Then we have a brainstorm!  We'll use the translator on my Apple iphone to decode the menu.  The iphone can do no wrong.

First menu item: Tartare de boletus y aquacate con naranja de sangre y carbineros salteados.

Translation:  Avocado tartare with mushrooms and blood Narang and sauteed police.

Supermarket Confessional

Some people are genius grocery shoppers.  I am not.  There's nothing I hate more than going to a Super Stop & Shop.  I start to hyper-ventilate and before I know it, I'm phoning a friend, a genius super-shopper, for advice: Taylor, where are the legumes?  With the precision of an air traffic controller, she calmly directs me to the exact aisle and shelf for french lentils, recommends alternatives, offers advice on fat content and prices per ounce by brand. She and KK know this is true: I literally haven't been to a supermarket more than twice in the past five years.


We have eaten, thanks to an excellent right-hand woman, Maria D., who, among other things, has been stocking our cabinets for over 6 years.  Maria shakes her head sadly when I mention my food shopping anxieties in my new city of Madrid. She knows I'm out of my league.

Now I'm in Spain, without Maria and Taylor.  I'm advised to shop on-line.  See the screen I'm presented with above?  I'm not sure I could navigate that screen in English, but in Spanish it's a total wash.  We're eating out alot...