the village sleeps

It's almost 9:15 am, and I'm the only person awake on Calle Salares. I love that all of my neighbors (and Big Jim) are late risers, particularly on Sundays. It's nice to see people take advantage of their day of rest. This weekend is just speeding by. I worked yesterday because I'm trying to finish the assignments I have on my plate before the feria begins later this week and before T. arrives Thursday evening. Big Jim was busy yesterday as well. I believe there are people who think he must not have enough to do because of being out of work, but that is so not true. First, he ran out to the produce market to pick up a few things we didn't find on our shopping trip Friday: some gorgeous plum tomatoes (which interestingly the Spanish call "pear tomatoes") and more cherries. I never liked cherries before, or perhaps I never liked the varieties of cherries available in Pennsylvania. But here, I can't get enough of them. Big Jim quickly dropped off the purchases and then rushed out again to meet J. The Spanish builders (a husband and wife team) of J. and M.'s house in the campo just finished another house outside of Canillas, which they are about to rent. So they needed Big Jim to take digital photos of the place before the new tenants move in. On the way back to town, he met M.A. in the square. She had an appointment to look at a used computer for sale and wanted Big Jim's opinion. We have been encouraging M.A. to get another computer for a year. She's been using an archaic Mac and having lots of problems with her Internet connection, which she uses to keep in touch with her friends back in Norway. It turned out the PC for sale was a great deal (190 euros for a pentium II), and M.A. has plunged into PC world. Her one complaint: the solitare program is different than the one she has on the Mac. There are few computers in the village that Big Jim hasn't worked on at some point. People have suggested and Big Jim and I have discussed him making a business out of this, but truthfully it's not the right line of work for him. I tried to explain this to a chef friend of ours by making the analogy that Big Jim becoming a computer repairman would be like limiting her work in the kitchen to grilled cheese sandwiches.  As it is, our house looks like a computer graveyard. Big Jim currently has three computers he's working on for other people. We have three spare monitors in the washroom, perfectly good throwaways from our friend G.'s workplace, in addition to Big Jim's three computers and my laptop.  Rarely, Big Jim has accepted payment from people, when they absolutely insist. But most of the time his customers show their appreciation in the form of bottles of wine, although he has also accepted a couple of paintings from one of the local artists and a few quail from a farmer (the quail were delicious, by the way). Never a big fan of cash, I like to see that the barter system is still in effect. Last night we had dinner with our friends D. and U. They are lovely people who have retired here from London and are my surrogate parents away from home. They have been having a tough time of late as well, so we haven't seen much of them in the past six weeks. D. has congestive heart failure and really cannot be outdoors in the summer heat. Therefore, they tend to bunker down in their air-conditioned rooms for the majority of days from June through mid-September. We had a delicious dinner on their roof terrace last evening. U. is a fabulous cook. She took her gap year after university to take a culinary course in France. Being always thoughtful, she made American-style fried chicken for us last night, three salads (shrimp and crab, potato, and a simple tomato, cucumber, and onion number), and strawberries with homemade meringue for dessert. Her desserts are the most amazing, and the chocolate cream pie she does is her masterpiece.  It's just turned 10 am, and the smell of freshly brewed coffee will soon spill out of the neighbors' kitchen windows. It's time for me to get another cup myself and wake up Big Jim. I actually have the dogs do this dirty work. Big Jim is the most miserable person in the morning. It takes at least an hour and two cups of coffee before it's safe to say "Good morning, how are you?" He claims that is too difficult a question for him to manage first thing in the day. So, I've taught the dogs to wake him up. I just say, "Go wake up Big Jim" and they do. Mr. Beebs jumps up and kisses his face. Precious Boo is more subtle. She stands next to the bed and quietly huffs at him and gently kisses his hand. We have very clever dogs. Must get to work. I want to finish editing a few files before we head to the beach this afternoon. It's turned a bit warmer in the past couple days (about 87, 88 F), and a few hours of doing nothing by the Med is definitely in order. hasta manana, mylifeinspain p.s. if you haven't done so, post your pin on the guestmap. :-)