Have Shoes, Will Travel

I think that was the title of a tune from the Sonics' epic 1965 tome on life and how to live it, but in my case it's more of a generalized philosophy. Just the other day, I was awake and about and ready to ramble and my parents were not so - well aware through casual observation how one comes and goes from the place that I call home - I executed a logical action plan and opened the door myself, shoes in hand for when they became essential, and went out into the wild indoor yonder to wait for the elevator like I've seen my parents do many times. HAHAHAHAHAHAHA! I am what's known in the trade as a Hot Ticket and I was only apprehended due to my inability to not talk aloud to myself and let my echo give me away. Nonetheless, I've added a whole 'nother dimension to my menace, which means I am more closely watched, which means that my needs are more closely catered to than ever before. It's always good to force everybody else's hand before you even think about your real move.

Meanwhile, it's been a long time since I've written, I know. Nearly 20% of my entire life has gone by since then. And looking back, I realize that I didn't even get around to commenting on my short-lived, but harrowing day-care experience. In short, the woman in charge looked like Phyllis Diller on a bad make-up day and it was baby reform school all around. I spent six LONG days in their "care" and I made my point so adequately that the experiment was actually curtailed in the middle of the second week. I achieved this primarily by hollering and wailing each morning when I was being dropped off by Daddy and then feigning a catatonic trance when they finally came to recover me in the early afternoon. I'm afraid that I was just not ready to mingle with other babies on somebody else's terms.

Since then, I've gotten better at interaction with people who aren't my parents, grandparents or other immediate family, and I often treat other children with respect and cariño. I hug other babies, throw them a bone in the form of a toy I'm not using, and don't hesitate to remind strangers of what sex they are by approaching them with my arm and index finger extended yelling "nene" or "nena," although I do make mistakes from time to time. Regardless, it's still a vast improvement over when I used to greet people with the all purpose, "EYES."

I'm also ramping up for Christmas and, while I still don't quite get it, I appreciate very much the big and little lights that seem to be everywhere and get distraught if I am anywhere that is Christmas tree-less. I am as bilingual as they come and speak better Spanglish than a Cuban hooker in Miami. Spanish is gradually taking hold of my vocabulary, but English enjoyed a big head start thanks to its plethora of monosyllabic verbs and nouns. My Mama is still my indispensable person, though I think and speak of everybody else I know often and take Saturday and Sunday naps with my Papa. I love to be outside as much as possible, think that Barcelona winters are laughably mild, and much prefer playing with water, compact discs and DVDs, money, gravity, and kitchen utensils than anything Imaginarium could possibly throw my way. So - that's it for now - tomorrow I'll update the aesthetic side of my existence with some pictures.