Livin' In the U.S.A.

Do Do-Do Do-Do Do-Dooo!

Hey y’all. I have a new American accent, but it’s not from Boston because that was only fun to have when Nomar still played for the Red Sox. That’s right, I’m fresh back from seven cold, mostly snowy days and, since that amounts to almost three percent of my entire life, I think that qualifies as having lived there. Actually, I spent the entire time in Hingham, which is where my American half hales from and my Grandma Sheila still keeps house. Also appearing there on a regular basis were my one-and-only Cousin Melaina and Aunt Valerie, with special visits from Ana and Hoyt, Jim Sholler, my Dad’s Aunt Linda and Cousin Amy and her son Maxi-boy, his other Aunt Sandy and her husband Rick, and his paternal Aunt Jeanne and cousin Diane. They were all nice, brought me clothes that the girls here won’t have and toys that make interesting sounds and tax my baby simplicity somewhat, and watched me play and just be myself. I made good use of Maxi-boy’s old car seat and tooled around Hingham quite a bit and this time my father was driving so I had to sit on the other side of the backseat in order to see my mommy.

We didn’t get to spend time outside walking around like we usually do in Barcelona, but I did see some American shopping malls and American television. My attention span is on the limited side, so when I do see TV, I mostly dedicate my energies to figuring what the different buttons on the remote control do. The Teletubbies managed to put me into a stupor, however. Very weird.

I got to know my Grandma Sheila very well and I’m looking forward to her coming over to see me at my place for my birthday in March. I think it will be a while before I can handle another one of those day-long journeys over the ocean, though I did behave so well on the Zurich to Boston route that the quiet old lady seated next to my father commented on “what a good baby” I was as we landed at Logan. Once we got out into the parking lot there the cool air felt so fresh on my face that I had a big giggle and knew that I was in for a good time over there. The ride back was rough – including a four hour layover – but Yaya Cristina and Avi Miguel were waiting for me and my jet lag kept me up all day until nearly midnight. Unlike old people, whose recovery process from such ordeals can best be described as akin to turning around an ocean liner, I was back to my chipper self within two days. In my absence, Barcelona has transitioned into full-blown Christmas/Three Kings mode and I will be wheeling all around the city in my Bugaboo – chock full of the kind of inspiration only unhinged consumerism can provide – until you hear from me again. Bones Festes!