I'm sitting at my favorite weekend location - Panera in Valpo. I used to be a regular at Starbucks down the street, but I moved over here when I discovered the phrase 'free WiFi'. Powerful stuff, man. I really miss the environment over there, but I am probably not going back because (1) I'm too cheap to pay for this Verizon wireless internet that you can pick up anywhere, and (2) the corporate apes at Starbucks didn't answer my feedback email asking them when they were going to get WiFi at the Valpo Starbucks (and I didn't even mention anything about not being willing to pay for it!). Anyway, the result is that I come to Panera nearly every weekend to check my email, write to my gentle readers here on the blog, and suck down mug after mug of liquid energy. Really, some of life's greatest pleasures are so meaningless in the grand scheme of things...
So, despite the fact that it is driving me nuts that I can't put tildes on the N's in the title of this post, let me tell you about my dreams. In the last week I have had two dreams in Spanish. Now that's not entirely unusual since I am fluent in Spanish (I was lucky enough to live in both Mexico and Spain when I was younger). The weird thing, though, is that usually before I have a dream in Spanish I have been watching a movie on Telemundo or conversing with my friend Patricia in a lovely form of Tex-Mex Spanglish that I'm pretty sure nobody else could decipher if they were listening closely. I did talk to Patricia a couple of times this week, but not as much as usual; in fact hardly at all since I was completely swamped with work and other stressful forms of major dysfunction.
Despite the lack of exposure to the adopted mother tongue, however, the dreams have come loudly and clearly. The first one I don't remember so well because I didn't think about it too much except for a quick 'hey cool, I'm dreamin' in Spanish'. Last night's dream was pretty intense. I was back in Spain accompanying a pianist on his tour through La Rioja. I was like his business manager or something, and he was asking me to stay in Spain with him. It was very vivid and surreal and I was a little bit freaked out when I woke up. I haven't been back there since 2001 when I was there to walk the Camino de Santiago (and arrived back in the US exactly two weeks before September 11th). I have always considered Spain my home, though, and I wonder if on some cosmic level it adopted me too. Weird, huh? I think maybe I had better go out for tapas this week and rent 'Women on the Verge of Nervous Breakdown'. Maybe that will make the freaky dreams go away.
A new daddy just walked by me with his very new baby girl. He looked so happy. Kids are so amazing. They teach you how to look outside of yourself and love someone purely and unselfishly. A friend of mine has a 10 year old daughter that I absolutely adore-it is so amazing to watch her grow up and learn every single thing in life. She's not my blood; she's not even my family, but she teaches me that being responsible, caring, compassionate and patient for her sake is so much more important than any single thing that flusters me in my day to day life. I don't get to see her very often, but when I do, it is my greatest joy since I don't have children or nieces or nephews of my own. Hence, word from me to all those parents out there - be ever so grateful for your babies - and take some time out from teaching them once in a while to learn from them.
That's all for today...gotta get back home and keep cleaning the tank (I told ya I have been neglecting it - it's a MAJOR job to clean it up!!)