All the cool kids are doing it.

When I was in high school all of the cool kids were a part of student government.  Therefore I was too.  All of the cool kids ran for class council positions.  Therefore I did too.

High School was a blast!  Of course filled with all of the self-doubt, outfit anxiety and “will anyone sit with me at the lunch table” you would expect.  But nonetheless, I look back on that time with fond memories, broken hearts and all.

Holding the position of VP of the Senior Class was cool for many reasons.  My best friend was President and we got to hand out “Senior of the Week” awards every Monday.  Not to mention our pictures were displayed on the wall outside the attendance office.  Like I said…cool.

It remained to be cool until about a year ago.  It was brought to my attention that a little thing call our 10 year reunion was right around the corner. Guess who was automatically one third of the planning committee?  To say I was less than enthusiastic about this would be an understatement.

But like most things in life, it all worked out for a reason.  The reunion fell two weeks before my big departure. I was able to see friends that live around the country, and the entire weekend was a huge success!

In typical high school fashion the weekend included everything from “what should I wear” fashion shows and slumber parties - to drinks, dance parties and 3 a.m. dinners.  And oh yeah, two girls wearing the same dress. Like I said... typical high school....very cool.

Moving in with Mom and Dad.

Honestly... never thought I'd say those words.

For the next 3 weeks I'm living with the parents.  There are a few things to consider here:

I have not lived with anyone... anyone... in about 6 years.  Not a dog, cat or fish.  Hell, even my basil plant lives on the porch.

I could look at this time with fear and anxiety... but I actually think this time at home is all part of the master plan.

When I get to Madrid I will be living with the spaniard.  We have all heard the horror stories that moving in with your significant other can illicit.  I figure living with mom and pops for 3 weeks will be my boot camp class on sharing.  My crash course in cohabitation, if you will.

Since returning to the states 2 weeks ago my condo has been dispersed throughout the city.  My wonderful friends have taken everything from couches to clothing.  Ironing board to books.

This whole process has been surprisingly seamless.  The spaniard says it's because I am a master planner... I tend to agree.

So... How Many Suitcases Does It Take To Pack Your Life? ... 5.  My life fits into 5 suitcases and 6 boxes.

Progression in pictures:

Bye bye coffee table

... and dining room table.

Organization for storage and shipping.

Empty dresser -- > enter boxes.

All gone.

A special thank you goes to my dad.  He removed all of his suits from the guest room closet for me.  You see, it is he, not my mom that needs two closets.

Like father - like daughter.

Without his help,  this next disaster in organization might not be possible.

All stuffed in.

Through Each Others Eyes

Our last night in Barcelona was spent on the rooftop terrace of Hotel 1898. 

Amazing views, serene setting... mediocre cava.  Can't have it all.

The evening was perfectly relaxing with fantastic conversation.  I recall debating the cultural differences that each of our respective countries brings to world's business table.  Love.

Our evening also involved an impromptu photo shoot.

Appropriate

Is it appropriate to insist on bringing all my 3 inch heels when moving to a city where I will be walking at least a mile to get anywhere...

Is it appropriate to insist on bringing my favorite smoothie straw...that just so happens to be covered in red penises - thank you bachelorette party!

Is it appropriate to bring baking utensils and mixing bowls when my kitchen doesn't even have an oven...yet...

Is it appropriate to bring my favorite over-sized, long sleeve, t-shirt - stolen from my high school boyfriend?

Regardless... it's all happening.  What's "appropriate" anyway?

"The only thing you need to get a date...is another date."

I don't know how many times I have heard that the grocery store is a great place to meet someone.  You can tell a lot about someone by what's in their cart:

- Fruit, Veggies, whole grain cereal - Yes, please!

- Double stuffed Oreos,  a case of Bud Light, and a case of frozen Hungry Man Meals - NO, thank you!

Part of the screening process can easily be done with a quick scan of the eyes.  This picking someone up at the market was always a mystery to me.  It had never happened.  And it always seemed awkward.  How do you start a conversation and not look like a total creeper?

Well, it happened. 

I was perusing the olive oil section.  Reading the back of the "imported" oils to see where they are really from.  For the record, most imported oils are bottled in Tampa, FL - really.

So as I am reading this very nice looking gentleman starts looking at the oil too.  He so cleverly asks me, "is there something that you are reading that I should know before making my oil selection?" See, not a creeper at all.  I go on to explain my thesis regarding oil production and bottling.  How most Italian oils are made with Spanish olives, and how I should know this because I just got back from Spain.

The conversation continues with how he loves Spain.  I throw in that I better love it too because I am moving there. (All a part of my conversation plan)  Why are you moving he asks.  I so eloquently and concisely tell the story of meeting my love.  I mean, we wouldn't want this seemingly nice young man to try to get my phone number.  I was trying to spare the awkward, "actually, I am seeing somebody" comment - which let's face it - in most of these instances is usually a lie.

All in all a nice interaction with a nice person.  There still is such a thing as human kindness.  And I know I better soak up all of these American niceties while I can.

So this all goes to show... the only thing you need to get a date... is another date.  Thank you Carrie Bradshaw.

Home Again, Home Again

I am back home on this side of the pond.  As I write that I am thinking the "this side" comment will soon not say anything about my actual location.

I am at my home on the west side.  West side of the Atlantic.  East side of the U.S.

For simplicity let's use the Atlantic as the middle of the universe.  Florida = west side.  Madrid = east side.  Agree?  Agree.

Crunch time.  1.5 weeks to move out of my condo. Donate and give away all of my worldly possessions.
Begin the process of obtaining a residence visa for Spain.  I hope the Spanish Consulate agrees that I will be an asset to their country.

Breathe in - Breathe out - One step at a time - Know that it will all work out - Remember why I'm choosing this choice...

and when all else fails find serenity remembering this...

this...

and this...

This is my life - Part 2

How do you work this microwave / convection oven / whatever this damn kitchen appliance is?

It´s hot - It´s freakin HOT! Where is the central air? And why doesn't anyone run the AC that they have?

No sardines... means NO sardines.

When I smile, say hello, goodbye, thank you, whatever... it´s nice to be acknowledged.

Customer Service. Anyone? Anyone??

Life will be easier when I am fluent in this language. Shop owners and restaurant managers beware!

This is my Life.

First cooking experience in the kitchen. Calabaza squash. After a few grunts, groans, and choice words, it was a success.