Monday, 18 October 2010


Sometimes, when I'm walking home at night, I pass the glass of an enourmous shop window exhibiting colourful imported rugs and hand-painted cabinents, and I think about money. How I sometimes wish I could just have an unlimited supply whenever I saw something beautiful.
I would like to arrange this with someone, make some kind of bargain that I wouldn't really live any differently. I wouldn't buy an expensive car, or real estate, or shares. I would just like the money to buy beautiful dresses, meters of bright fabric and goat's cheese when the urge arises.

I would suprise Salva with vintage instruments tied up with red ribbon, and send cases of Ribera to my parents.

I wouldn't even worry about the vaccuum cleaner, new hot water system, storage furniture, and baby apparel that we need. Yesterday there was a double bed on that list and today it is sorted.

Those things always work themselves out, the indian rugs never do.

Thursday, 7 October 2010

Autumn is back. The days are getting crisp, and slightly shorter. The mornings are glorious.
The smell in the air is motivation. It happens to me every year. Something about the chill in the air reminds me to be busy.

So I'm back in the studio after many months. I'm cooking amazing meals, and freezing some. Tomorrow I'm going to my first pre-natal yoga class. And this week I taught 8 English classes. I was so good in about 4. I was like, a fantastic English teacher, and my students just couldn't believe it.

I'm alone, for the first time in many months. It's a glass of red wine in the bath kind of moment, but I don't know about the wine. I wonder if the baby would notice?

How I love this baby. My sources tell me it is the length of a banana this week. If that is true, then I'd like to know what it did with the rest of my organs.

If she is a girl, she has a name, and her photograph is imprinted in some part of my left brain, where everytime I imagine her, she comes up looking exactly the same.
If he's a boy, then he remains a complete mystery. But I do love boys.
Either way I'm going to make a mobile and some bedding from vintage sheets. Salva is going to make a bassinet. We're going to go to IKEA and take some measurements, steal some scandinavian design.

I met a woman yesterday named Purificación. Now that is an out-there name. She shortens it to Puri. I don't know if I would do that. Perhaps I'd claim a name like that.

Speaking of being back in Spain (after almost 3 months in Italy) I think we are happy. That might have something to do with the near 20 kgs of Italian products we brought home with us in the car. If we can have sun-dried tomatoes and real Parmesan while NOT living in Italy, well that's just grand. And things are calming down. Every day there is something less to organise, a few more minutes to reflect.

And reflecting I am. I told myself I wasn't going to buy any parenting books, maybe ever. But we got one, big one. Actually it's three books in one. It's by Carlos Gonzales, who is the (muffled?) Spanish voice on breastfeeding and attatchment parenting. Most of it is pretty convincing. Salva liked having the book until I started talking about it too earnestly, just last night.
Let's just see how it goes.
I suppose that's wisest.

Friday, 1 October 2010

After 5 months

Writing and self-publishing was such a good excercise for me. I don't know why I stopped. I think it happened when I was made suddenly aware (by a psychologist, interviewing me for a place in a master of art therapy) that googling my name brought up a page that may not be filled with my innermost thoughts, but certainly contains alot of information about my personal life.

I suppose that was obvious... and it doesn't matter I suppose.

I need to write, now more than ever.

Because I live in a foreign country, no, make that 2 foreign countries. And that can be difficult, funny and always interesting. Need to soak it up. Documenting these experiences is almost a responsibility.

Because Salva and I have a place for dreaming, to call our very own.

and then there is that fact that enters into our every single conversation.

Yes, approaching 20 weeks of pregnancy, we are starting to act as though we are the first people ever to reproduce.
His words today: "I'm so excited, do you think everyone feels this way?"

If I can start writing again, perhaps I can make some space in my head for some other possible topics of conversation.