Not a tail I distort on the Morning Report!
I should just watch The Lion King. I really love it and I listen to the musical's soundtrack quite a bit. But then since I don't have a whole lot of music, I listen to the same 300 songs over and over again. It's quite boring; please send music.
Anyway...life here in Spain is going well. This morning, Gabriel woke up sick, which isn't fun for him. But I got to stick my tongue out at him before I left for class this morning. He was so cute. He was sitting on the couch watching a movie in his pajamas while opening and closing these boxes he found the other day. He really is easily amused. But he's so cute...
Last night, Angel came home from visiting his parents in the Principality of Asturias. His mom had surgery on Thursday so he spent the weekend visiting them and helping take care of her. So last night, I walked in the front door after a fantastic skype date with Kyle. And Gabriel came flying out of the playroom/dining room, expecting his father.
Instead he found me. So he just stared at me while I put my purse and backpack in my room. And then when I turned around, he started running so I chased him into the playroom/dining room...where we ran into his mother, Daniela, and Marian's aunt and uncle. It was a little embarassing but they were very nice.
And I got empanadillas for dinner; they're my favorite. By the way, the picture is of the Prince of Asturias. He is the heir to the throne of Spain. You can learn more about him here. He is the son of the King of Spain and all that jazz. I'm not quite sure how/why Asturias gets him as their prince. I think it's kind of like the "Prince of Wales" bit that Charlie-boy has going on in England. Ah, Charlie-boy, he's a good old chap...
Life here isn't terribly exciting these days. I'm looking forward to doing some travelling next month and not quite sure how to entertain myself these next few months.
Why do the Spanish come inside to smoke when it's cold or rainy? I'm going to get lung cancer from these jerks.
And why do women who aren't twigs insist on wearing skinny jeans? Or why do brunettes go blonde? And what the the poetic world's obsession with the idea that blondes are prettier than brunettes. I take offense.
I think I'll get off my soap box now. Please go play with Wikipedia; it's fun and occasionally correct.