the standoff

Big Jim and I were driving up the road from the coast after a very successful shopping excursion to Supersol, Big Jim particularly chuffed to have found (yet another) English bready thing with dried fruit he calls "malt loaf" (seriously, how many variations on this theme are there in English gastronomy). We pulled into town and began the ascent to our home in the El Monte section of the village, passing the Bodega, the museo del vino, and the ferreteria. We made a left onto the street in front of the hotel. After traveling 90% of the stretch made especially narrow because of a row of illegally parked cars on the right (the entire street is clearly marked "no parking" and emphasized by yellow-painted curbs), we encountered a man driving a small white van coming in the opposite direction. Both vehicles stop, and we wait patiently for him to back up the two or three car lengths, to where the street widens, allowing us to safely pass. Except he doesn't back up. He gestures for us to back up. I turn back to reevaluate the situation. We would have to back up about 15 car lengths to allow him to pass. Call me crazy but doesn't common sense say dude who only has to back up a few meters should be the gracious one here?! The Big Jim throws up his hands in a sort of "What gives?" manner. Dude shuts off the van and gets out and approaches---of course---my side of the car. The general line of discussion was "What are you doing?" "What are you doing?" I explain to him it is far more logical for him to back up the few feet required for us to pass rather for us to back up almost the entire street to let him do so. He refuses and then feigns to enter the bar of the hotel for a drink. Conversation ends with the universal "F.U." Because we were on a tight schedule for an engagement that night, Big Jim eventually relented and backed up to let the a-hole pass. As we continued on the climb to our house, I looked over at Big Jim and said, "Do you understand why I can't live here anymore? What the hell is going on with this damn town?" Seriously, this kind of crap just didn't happen in the village a couple years ago. A couple days later, we were relating the story to some friends of ours who live near the hotel. They told us of the day when they became blocked in on the same street because the car in front and the one that pulled up behind them both refused to budge, and one of the other drivers truly did go into the hotel bar and have a drink. Apparently this is now a common occurrence on this stretch of road. Of course, the entire situation could be avoided if the police in the village actually enforced any of the traffic and parking regulations. Call me crazy.... Sadly, this is just one example of how life in the village is changing, and not in a good way. Overcrowding, too many cars, too many big cars and SUVs, not enough parking, soaring prices for housing and basic necessities---like food for example, increasing crime, not enough good-paying jobs for those who haven't gotten rich from the land sales, Spanish and English upset because Moroccans will work construction for lower wages, young Spanish resenting the presence of all foreigners---not recognizing that without the foreigners their parents would never have been able to afford their suped-up four-wheelers and expensive clothes and gold chains, expats drowning whatever sorrows they have brought with them in alcohol...all these bad vibes are now palpable as one walks the town streets. The village has become one big bowl of negativity, and anyone who stays here for awhile runs the risk of drowning in it. Perhaps my language borders on the dramatic; however, the changes are dramatic. Another example: as Big Jim and I returned from our trip to Madrid, we pass by Granada. Since we had been there in March, literally thousands of homes have been built on the city outskirts, all the way to the motorway and beyond. Housing for easily 30,000 to 40,000 people has gone up virtually overnight. The same is happening all along the coast as well. And unfortunately, the infrastructure, the service industries, the utility cpmpanies, the medical and governmental agencies have been unable to meet the increased demands put on them by the surging population. We have a friend who currently is battling bladder cancer. He has his chemo treatments at one medical center in the morning and then has to drive to another facility for his afternoon radiation because the first hospital was already booked with PM radiation patients. Another unfortunate result is that some of the original expats are moving, not just talking about it like we (Big Jim and I) are. Wednesday night I am going to a farewell bash for our friend N., who used to run an art gallery and clothing boutique in the village. She's off to Kiev to help run an English language school. Like us, she has become fed up with dealing with big city problems without the positive tradeoffs city life offers---the cultural events, museums, varied shopping options, the diversity of people and opinions and ways of life. And so she goes. And I go back to researching apartments and housing markets elsewhere. Hasta pronto, mylifeinspain Postscript: Immediately after finishing this post, I went out to buy my daily baguette, as one does. On my way to the panaderia, I was stopped by our friend U., who spent the next 15 minutes venting her spleen about her frustrations with the post office (see also my entry of 19 August 2005). This morning her credit card bill from the UK was delivered; however, the letter had been sent weeks earlier, and her payment was due August 17th! She now has to pay a 20-pound late fee. Some can say, well she should have tracked down the bill earlier (like I had to do with our phone bill), but come on, how many people have the time to do this all the time. Plus, the lines are already long enough with all the people from the campo who have to come to town to pick up their mail; can you imagine what they would be like if the townspeople, who are supposed to have "regular" home delivery, suddenly all queued up as well looking for their bills and other time-sensitive mail? Crazy! The obvious problem is that the post office is now understaffed because of the influx of expats, and clearly the solution is that more employees need to be hired. Simple. But will it happen....

the lost week

Well at least the fever has passed and I can now breathe again through my nose. I am still eagerly anticipating the day when my diet consists of more than toast and Fanta limon, but hey, at least I am no longer in bed wrapped up like a mummy when it is 90 degrees and sunny outside! Sparing you the intimate details, this has been one of the nastiest bugs I have had in ages, and apparently a bit of an epidemic has spread through the village. Before I had a chance to call Miguel to let him know I couldn't make Spanish class last week, he beat me to the punch---poor guy has it as well. It's hard to believe that the summer will soon draw to its close, but all the signs are the there. The grapes are beginning to arrive at the winemaker's facility at the top of our street, and the youngest children went to school this week for their orientation. And the days are noticably shorter; by 9:30 now the streets are almost dark. Despite the dry, still heat of the day, the cooler breezes kick in at night, curtain flapping in the wind. And all the last-minute football (soccer) wheeling and dealing and player trades---must remember to unsubscribe to CNN's e-mail news updates for Spain; I reckon 90% at least are just football updates. It was wonderful to have Big Jim around for at least a couple weeks of the summer. The season is by far the most social in the village, and for this reason the most difficult for me to manage his absence. When he's not here, one of the things I miss the most after an evening out is the whole chit-chatty analysis of the evening that we (and I suspect all couples) do. You know the whole "Aren't soandso such nice people?" and "God, what was wrong with soandso? They were miserable all night." I think I enjoy this part of the evening sometimes more than the actual social event in question. Although after almost a week in bed, I do look forward to seeing more faces than just Mary, Lou, Murray, and Rhoda (from the classic Mary Tyler Moore Show, for those of you too young or not sufficiently indoctrinated in American TV culture). :-) Hasta pronto, mylifeinspain

i know how she feels....

For the second night, the precious Boo is refusing to come to bed. Rather, she is lying by the front door, keeping vigil for the Big Jim. :-(

summer flu

Big Jim is safely back in Islamabad. (The precious Boo waited up for him all night downstairs by the front door :-(.) He kindly left me with his flu. We spent our last few days together making tea (we have these fantastic herbal teas from Germany specifically for bronchial and sinus infections; they are the best!), comparing phlegm, and inhaling Olbas oil, which frankly I believe should be designated a narcotic given its addictive qualities, although according to its ingredients, it is just a bunch of essential oils. So forgive me for writing just a short note now; will resume regular blogging when the fever lifts. Hasta pronto, mylifeinspain

happy friday/another post office rant

It's 3:30, and I am still in my pj's (although, Dad, it is technically considered "loungewear" so don't have a coronary). Ahh, vacation bliss. It's another overcast day in the south of Spain, so we cancelled the beach excursion so that Big Jim could do some computer maintenance and I could putter. We are going to the garden center in a little while, though, so I will eventually achieve something today. Apparently, the village post office is also lounging about this summer. Wednesday I went there in search of our telephone bill. It is usually due the 18th/19th of the month, and as of the 17th, we still hadn't received it. Eventually, Gabriela dug it out from a huge stack, and I was glad I had gone to retrieve it because the bill was indeed due the 18th. And because the bank accepts payments on only Tuesdays and Thursdays between 8:30 and 10:30 am, I had only one day to pay our factura before the evil Telefonica people would shut off our service. Judging by the remaining pile of similar bills, I wonder how many people in the village are finding themselves without telephone action today.... Anyway, my visit must have reminded Gabriela and Co. to deliver the post to our street because yesterday when we returned from the beach we actually found three bits of mail in our postbox. One was a bank deposit notice dated July 15; the second was a letter from Telefonica announcing increased speed on our ADSL line dated July 18; and the third was our electric bill from JUNE, dated as received in the local post office on July 7, for which I paid after receiving the late notice 3 WEEKS AGO! This has to be violating some sort of postal law, no? And shouldn't these obviously time-sensitive letters be made a delivery priority? Call me crazy, but I think the answer is YES! Gotta go. Big Jim has just announced T-30 minutes regarding our departure to the garden center. I am currently being overrun with pepper plants and need to buy a bunch of soil and many, many more pots. Hasta luego, mylifeinspain

medusa/noche del vino

Yesterday, August 16, may be the day mas tranquilo of the entire year in the village, the day after the Noche del Vino. Other than the bread shops, everything was closed until the evening, and even then the waitstaff at Perico's still seemed half asleep. (On the subject of bread shops, where do the madrilenos buy bread? I didn't see a one panaderia during our brief trip there.) Big Jim and I skipped the piso (the traditional stomping of the grapes) this year and opted to spend Monday at the beach. We arrived to find few people in the water, but after a little while I decided to investigate. I figured the Sea must be cold, which would explain why most were just wading about to their knees. However, I found the temperature to be quite pleasant and therefore plunged right in. Swam out quite a bit and then down the shore line, looking back at our village tucked neatly into the mountainside. And then my tranquil little scene was abruptly interrupted by pain; nasty sharp pain smacked my arm and then my thigh. Without seeing the offender, I knew straightaway the culprit---a jellyfish, or medusa had entered my path, or vice versa.
Medusa's revenge. I quickly swam to shore and rubbed my welts with ice water from our thermos flask. After ten minutes or so, the pain subsided, and I was able to resume reading of my beach book. But the nasty sting marks are still lingering and probably will for a week. I reckon after my wasp encounter and now the jellyfish, I am now due for a bite by some land-dwelling creature, perhaps a scorpian or some highly poisonous snake in Pakistan. Must remember to stock up on antivenin. Before we went to the beach, I stopped by the town hall to see whether there were any tickets still available for the music in the square that night. The performances are gratis; however, 2 euros buys a seat on a wooden folding chair invariably squeezed up against a fleshy abuela. But nevermind---after a couple plastic cups of the free local wine, the 2 euros is money well spent. We skipped the hour-long speeches from various local dignitaries and instead shared a glass of wine with M.A. on our roof terrace and headed to the square only when the music began. As I commented in my Noche del Vino review last year, there were again very few expats out for the music. I suppose many were done in by the free wine earlier in the day. And what a pity because the performances were all excellent, except for one singer whose performace was just shy of inspiring. Arcangel was back for a repeat performance from last year, and he and his guitar player were simply awesome. As was all the dancing.



Unfortunately, the last dance troupe was missed by half the people, who had stumbled home before their 3 am start time. Many of the abuelas around me lamented how early the performances ended (3:45 am), but I believe this is a result of the changing times. Many folks in the village no longer work in the town and thus Tuesday was not a holiday for them. Perhaps this is something the organizers are going to have to consider in future years. The weather has been strange the past couple days---not particularly warm but definitely overcast and humid. We skipped the beach in favor of a sort-out at home. Big Jim filled several bags with shredded bank statements going back to 1993. It may seem like a strange way to pass time during his visit, but sometimes it is nice just to do typically boring mundane things when we are together. Sitting down at our dinner table, cuddling up on the sofa with the pets to watch a movie, hanging out in the office together---these are the things we most miss when we are apart. The weather looks more promising for Thursday, so we will again try for a day at the beach. But this time I will be on better guard for the nasty medusa. Hasta luego, mylifeinspain

madrid impressions/fotos

After Mr. C. got over his angst regarding my visa, he proved to be a most helpful man. He spent at least twenty minutes showing us different travel routes for both weekend and day trips out of Islamabad. We talked about Pakistan politics, food, disease, and life in general. I think we parted on good terms. Anyway, we spent the rest of our time in Madrid just being tourists. August visits have their good and bad points, the positive being half the city in down on the coast for their summer holiday/the negative being half the shops and restaurants are closed for the month. I think, though, for first-time visitors, the positives outweighed the negatives. We stayed at the fairly posh Wellington Hotel (http://www.tripadvisor.com/ShowUserReviews-g187514-d228658-r3449197-Wellington_Hotel-Madrid_Madrid.html). The reviews on tripadvisor are mixed, but our experience was excellent. We had a large room (by any standards, but especially by European standards) with a king-sized bed, beautiful (again) large bath, and attentive service. The breakfast buffet is expensive, although the cost is included in some packages, but it was very good regardless, and frankly comparably priced to other similar sorts of hotels in major cities (I believe we paid $20-25 for breakfast at the Algonquin in NYC a couple years ago, for example). And the location is fantastic---only two blocks from the Retiro metro stop and the park itself. I have stayed in all sorts of hotels, from cheap hostels and Motel 6 to the Savoy in London, and the Wellington certainly ranks in the top 10 percentile.
Not only was our bed turned down and chocolates left, a fine-cotton cloth was placed on the floor by both sides of the bed. Never seen this before, not even at the Savoy. We loved, loved, loved the Prado (check this one off my Spain "to do" list; plus I have now been to all the major collection museums except for the Kunsthistorisches Museum in Vienna), as well as Retiro Park.
El Bosco
Retiro
I just loved these pine trees---and they were superfragrant as well. The metro system is fantastic (and surprisingly not smelly---it is August after all) and cheap. We bought a 10-ride Metrobus pass for 5.80 euros. Because our stay was so short, I cannot give a fair assessment of Madrid, just first impressions. People were friendly and helpful, and it was a joy to hear Spanish spoken so articulately. (I know I always go on about this, but if you had to try to translate and then decode our village dialect on a regular basis, you would understand my utter glee of being able to converse in proper castellano once in awhile.) Lots of trees everywhere, which seemed to do double-duty as shade provider and traffic buffer. We were amazed at how quiet the wide avenues were, even during busy travel times. Had a good meal at an old traditional Madrid tavern called La Bola (on c/ Bola). Food was very yummy. I had sauteed spinach with pinenuts and Big Jim had a bean salad as starters, and then swordfish for me and leg of lamb for BJ. We both had flan for dessert. As I said, no complaints about the food; however, the service was too quick, especially for Spain! My entree was brought as I finished my starter, and the waiter came for our coffee and dessert orders while I was still eating my swordfish! Bad, bad, bad. Overall, though, a most-fun minibreak, and I look forward to seeing more next time. For now, enjoy the rest of the pics; Big Jim and I are off to the beach and then back for tonight's Noche del Vino festivities.
Park gates
I love fishy fountains. :-)
Although this rock fountain was also pretty nifty.
After a day of art, a lovely space to relax.
Big Jim chilling at La Bola.
Crusing downtown.
Yet another cool fountain.
Still cruising.
Last shot before hitting the motorway.... Hasta pronto, mylifeinspain

quick message

Just a quick note to say we are back from Madrid, and SUCCESS at the embassy! After receiving phone calls from the foreign ministry in Islamabad and a fax from the US embassy in Washington DC, Mr. C. was waiting for us (and was not a happy man). But more on that later. Most importantly, I am now proud owner of a 1-year, multiple-entry visa to Pakistan. :-) Am off to the shower now. I do not advise anyone drive across La Mancha in the middle of an August afternoon. More later w/ details of the visa saga and impressions of Madrid (and fotos, of course). Hasta pronto, mylifeinspain

napping husband

a jetlagged, but content, Big Jim. :-) The wife (as well as the pets) is very happy to have him home. Much enjoying day 1 of summer vacation 2005. Plans for today: nothing, but we are going out for dinner this evening. Our "stressor" for the day is deciding which restaurant to go to later. Okay, back to siesta. Hasta pronto, mylifeinspain

friday fotos/garden (and other) updates

I haven't posted any garden photos in awhile, and so to prove to those of you who think I may have managed to kill off all of the greenery, I show you otherwise. :-)







and no photoblog would be complete without one cheeky dog pic. Most tend to be of Mr. Beebs; this is because the precious Boo is not too keen on cameras, so I have to be more sneaky. Mr. B., on the other hand, is a ham. In other news, Big Jim is feeling much better after last week's bout of dysentery. He has moved from "fart with caution" to "fart with confidence" status (my apologies for the commonspeak; his terms, not mine). Also, apparently my tourist visa to Pakistan has become a bit of an international incident. Today the Colonel is meeting with a foreign relations cabinet minister to secure written confirmation that my visa will be granted, so I went ahead and booked us a hotel in Madrid for later next week. However, I told Big Jim regardless of what happens with Mr. C., I refuse to let it ruin our little holiday. I will simply tell Mr. C. that I am cursing him and his wife (or husband, for that matter) to many long and miserable separations for the duration of their marriage, and then I'm off to the Prado. Worst case scenarios if Mr. C. refuses to bend, I either make a quick trip to the U.S. to get my visa there (found Air France ticket for 400 euros) or I cancel my flight for October (and lose 200 euros), get my visa when we are in the U.S. at Christmas, and visit Pakistan early next year. Three days until Big Jim is back!!!!! He currently is off gathering me supplies of pretzels (yes, crazy but he can easily buy good ole PA Dutch pretzels in Islamabad) and assorted cheap DVDs. Have a nice weekend, everyone. :-) Hasta pronto, mylifeinspain

stranger, bumps in the night

Two nights ago, I was in a state of peaceful slumber, dreaming of cool breezes and an endless bowl of tiramisu, when I was oh-so-rudely awakened by first a low but crescendo-ing gutteral growl, followed by a high-pitched, glass-breaking shriek and hiss. Cat fight, I think as I turn over, ready to resume my sleep. Scramble, bang, scramble, bang, crash, crash. I jump back up. The cat fight is in my house! I reach out to the nightstand, patting about for my thick-framed and -lensed glasses, and slip into my flipflops. Rubbing the sleep from my eyes, I determine the fun is taking place in the washroom, above. As I pass the office, I notice that our kitty diva, C.K., is curled up in her little bed, oblivious to the drama upstairs. Hmmm, interesting. I flick on the light just as a cat tail pops out of the washroom window, onto the roof and terrace below, safe from the antagonizing force also known as Mr. Beebs. I scan the room for clues and quickly deduce the following. Neighborhood kitty cat, probably Twitchy, is out hunting gecko and comes across what he thinks is a public restroom, C.K.'s litter box. He goes about his business, but Mr. Beebs, always an opportunist where the litter box is concerned, hears the scratching about and decides to investigate. Cat/dog confrontation, multiple failed escape attempts by cat, pile of fallen flower pots, and finally success out the window. I restack the terracotta planters, turn off the light, and head back to bed. Mr. Beebs curls up under the covers with me, gets in my nook, and rests his head on my shoulder (this makes Big Jim very jealous, mainly because Mr. B. is supposed to be HIS dog), and is fast asleep in minutes. I, on the other hand, am far from sleep after the hullabaloo. I toss, I turn, well as much as one can with a conjoined dog appendage. I count backwards from 100 and then, discouraged, start again from 1000. I get bored in the 700s and throw back the blanket, stomp into the TV room in such of a DVD with really boring, self-involved commentary, my surefire cure for insomnia. Ahhhhh, success. Back to that endless bowl of tiramisu.... :-) Hasta manana, mylifeinspain

pulling strings

Was originally going title this entry "Visa Woes", but then I thought two "woes" in two days sounded pitiful. So I went with the more optimistic "Pulling Strings". I am by nature a fairly "by the book" sort of person. But the more I travel and the longer I live outside the U.S., I realize this way of thinking gets you nowhere fast in many situations. For example, Big Jim and I sat for 45 minutes at the Tangier port because I didn't want to hand over my passport to one of the slick, fake leather jacket-wearing unofficial "processors", who walked up and down the rows of cars shouting promises of a smooth and speedy entry if you chose them. After said 45 minutes without moving but an inch in line, I eventually lost my resolve and gave in, and we forked over the payola required for the return of our passports. It's a shitty "system", but regardless it is the system. So when Big Jim asked me to send him a scan of my passport so that our high-ranking friend in the Pakistan military (henceforth referred to as "the Colonel") could write a letter of reference to help grease the wheels at the Pakistan embassy in Madrid, which we plan to visit later next week to obtain my tourist visa for the October trip, my initial reaction was to balk. "I don't need any special reference letter. I can wait in line like everybody else," I said quite huffily. Big Jim got appropriately huffy back, "Suit yourself then!" And the matter was dropped. Until today, after I spoke with Mr. C. at the Madrid embassy. For old-time readers of the blog, you may remember Mr. C. He is the man who charged Big Jim three times the price we were originally quoted for his visa. Refer to this entry http://mylifeinspain.blogspot.com/2004/12/missing-consulate.html and the subsequent titled "more later..." for background info. Anyway, I called the embassy today to verify their hours (how'd you like this workday: they are open 9:30 to 11:30 am!) and the documents required for the tourist visa. Mr. C. tells me he needs a letter from my bank. Now I had already checked the web site before calling, and nowhere does it say banking details are needed for a tourist visa. Plus, I knew Big Jim didn't have to take such a letter for his business visa. So I question Mr. C. about this, and then he asks me where I am from. I tell him I am a U.S. citizen. "Oh, madam. I cannot give you visa. You are not EU citizen. You must get your visa in the United States." So I then go to the Pakistan embassy web site in Washington, DC, and again it lists its only requirements for a tourist visa as the completed application form (which is quite short and basic), two passport photos, proof of my travel dates (i.e., printout of my e-ticket), and $120 USPS money order to cover the costs. I decide to give them a call. I speak to a very helpful man, who tells me he has no idea why Mr. C. won't issue my visa. Normally he issues the visas through the mail, but because I am out of the country, he informs me it is now illegal to send your passport across international borders (who knew!). He advises me to call Mr. C. back and tell him I spoke with the embassy in the U.S., and that Mr. C. should send him a letter stating why he refuses to issue my visa. I of course cannot do so today because the office is Madrid is now closed, and I am also beginning to feel as though I am about to start up some sort of international incident! My next action is to Skype Big Jim and get him caught up to speed. I e-mail him all the details of who I spoke to and their contact info, so that he can pass along to the Colonel first thing tomorrow morning. I hate to have to resort to pulling strings, but unless my friend in the Washington embassy can get Mr. C. to bend his apparently self-written set of rules, the Colonel may be my only hope of not having to make a mad-dash visit to the U.S. in September to sort this out in person. Is it me, or is this just lunacy? And why is it that so many of the folks who work in these offices have such a sense of self-importance? Mr. C. is not the first sort of person like this I have run into embassy offices. The folks at the Spanish consulate in New York are notoriously unhelpful and unfriendly. They never, ever answer the telephone, nor do they ever return messages whether you leave them in English or Spanish. One time I went there, the main building entrance was under construction, and I consequently spent twenty minutes trying to find the loading dock, which apparently was the only way into the place. I sat there with my forms for two hours before I finally asked a woman how much longer my wait would be. She informed me that because I arrived at 12:05 pm, not before my 12:00 appointment, she would not be able to process my paperwork until the following day. My pleas and explanations for tardiness were dismissed with a curt "manana" and shoulder shrug. So let's hope the Colonel can work his magic. He helped Big Jim get the appropriate paperwork for his visit to Kashmir, so how much trouble can a simple old tourist visa be? I just want to go and have some nice curry and buy some wool shawls and blankets and visit some of the ancient Buddhist sites in Taxila and meet all the lovely people Big Jim keeps talking about. Seriously, Mr. C., I will be no trouble. So if you can get off your little power trip for two minutes and sign off on my paperwork, I would be most grateful. Thanks! Will keep you posted.... hasta pronto, mylifeinspain

home office woes

There are many, many things I love about working from home. So many, that if I can manage to swing it, I intend to do so for the rest of my working years. However, one of the biggest challenges I have had has been with my scheduling, and more specifically, getting my friends here in Spain to respect my workday. I have tried many schedules, but I have found the one that works the best is 11 am to 8 pm, with a 1- to 2-hour break in the afternoon for preparing and eating my dinner. The 11 am start time is good because it allows me to do all my morning chores and errands and bread-buying before I get into my work. The later evening quitting time also works well because this is when most Spanish people end their workday; plus it allows me to work half the day of my clients back in the U.S. I am not always completely rigid with my hours. For example, I have Spanish class from 2:00 to 3:30, so I usually try to get an earlier start on Thursdays. And when I want to go shopping on the coast one morning, I may work until as late as 9 or 9:30 that night. I know this probably sounds insane to those not used to a Spanish workday, but these are not crazy hours here. Most people, myself included, don't have our evening meal (which for me is usually a sandwich or salad or eggs, or on the rare occasion, a bowl of ice cream :-) until 9:30 or 10:00 pm. Personally, I am cool with my schedule and that's all that matters. The previous paragraph was mainly background information for the rant to follow. Because I am "home", I have found many people do not seem to understand that I AM WORKING. Therefore, today out of absolute frustration, I am putting together a "Do Not Disturb" letter to hang on my front door. ******************************************** Dear friends, Despite the fact that I have told you many times of my work hours, you have come by the house/office anyway. I understand many of you are retired or work construction jobs and therefore have an earlier quitting time than myself. However, I apparently need to remind you (again) of the following: As much as I enjoy rioja, it is not cool to stop by unannounced for a glass of wine at 3:00 on a Monday afternoon. It also is not cool to call me on the phone every five minutes because I am likely to launch it out the window rather than pick it up! If you ignore the above and bullheadedly knock at the door anyway, and I do not answer, please do not proceed to shout my name at the office window because if I wasn't answering the door before, I sure am not going to answer it now! Do not wait outside for me to "return" and then say "What, you have been inside all this time?!" when I appear at the door to walk the dogs. If I don't answer the door, it is because I AM BUSY. But "it's 8:01 pm," you say. "It's past your work hours." Well, here's the skinny. When you work for yourself, sometimes quitting time may be 7:45. Sometimes it may be 8:08. You gotta be flexible, people. I punch my own time clock. And if I am still trying to finish up for the day at 8:02, it's my prerogative not to answer the door. [As an aside, I am not normally horribly opposed to answering either the phone or door while I am working. I have only reached this state because I have countless times picked up the phone or answered the door and told people that it wasn't a good time, yet I still had my ear talked off or alternatively found myself with someone sitting in my living room "just for a minute" while I fire up the kettle for a cup of tea or go to open a bottle of wine. And then an hour later....] No, I can't come out with you for drinks on a Tuesday night when I have a deadline Wednesday. Would love to but need to have completely clear head so that I can focus on my work, which as you know, given its very nature, requires said clear head. I could go on, people, so let's get back to basics. If I don't answer the door or the phone, I am either not home or busy with work and cannot be disturbed. If urgent, slip a note for me under the door. I will see it when I go to the kitchen to get a drink, which I do about every hour. DO NOT WORRY; I AM NOT DEAD. If I were, Almendena would have spotted that hours ago because she misses not a thing. And please don't take any of this personally, friends. I do love you. Finally, I have told you all already, but here's another reminder. I am going to be very, very busy this week because I am finishing up a project before Big Jim arrives next Monday. I have tons of other errands to run as well, plus get the house cleaned. So I may not have much time for socializing. We will all have plenty of time for that when he's back for vacation. But that said, don't you all get any crazy ideas and stop by unannounced then either. I may be off work for two weeks, but if anyone knows my husband, we will be busy (wink, wink). Got it? Good. ******************************************* Whew, feel much better now. I suppose many people who work from home face these issues, although perhaps my situation is a little different because there is such a high percentage of retired people living around me. Plus, telecommuting is still a bit of an oddity here in the village. Anyway, if any of you are work from home people or own your own business, how do you cope with the balance? Am sincerely interested in ideas as I don't seriously think I can post the above letter, no matter how tempting. :-) hasta pronto, mylifeinspain