Birthdays; visitors; dinners; autumn; Ray Bradbury; hyphens

Happy birthday to Karin! She looks about to burst, but the doctors say she could remain pregnant for three more weeks.

Tonight’s dinner was provided by Karin’s mom and grandpa.

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Happy birthday, also, to our sister-in-law Ana, who has flown up from Texas with Ada, our new niece.

Karin & I saw them yesterday, and then we were all fed by our Aunt Lorena & Uncle John.

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Not many leaves have fallen, but the weather is unambiguously autumnal.

I remarked that this is Ray Bradbury Month.

Mary: “What? You’re going to name your child Ray Bradbury?”

John-Paul: “No.”

When a nosy person asks what our child’s name will be – as Karin’s mom did, again, tonight – I say, “His name will be John-Paul-Karin.”

Some visitors from Esmeraldas

Yesterday, Karin & I went to the movie theater. The movie itself cost $6 per ticket – the only good deal in the house. Two popcorns and two drinks would’ve cost about $20. Two bottles of water would’ve cost about $10.

And then, to add insult to injury, the drinking fountains in our section didn’t work. (We did find drinking water at the other end of the building.)

We settled into our seats. The previews were uninspired.

Clearly, the movie industry is in bad decline …

… except for the Mission: Impossible series, which just keeps on getting better and better, and whose latest installment we’d come to view. (It’s one of the comforts of my old age.)

Mission: Impossible – Fallout is the “Thundergun Express” of movies. Tom Cruise hangs from a cliff, and from a tall building. He jumps out of a plane – in a lightning storm. He pilots a helicopter – in a dogfight with another helicopter, over the Himalayas. And, in Paris and London, he runs, and runs, and runs.

It’s best viewed on the big screen, what Tom Cruise manages to do.

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Afterward, we stopped by my Aunt Lorena’s & Uncle John’s house to borrow a book; and, lo and behold, who should be visiting but my Aunt Lorena’s own aunt and uncle, Amparo and René Bermúdez. It’s not often that I see people I knew in Esmeraldas, as a child.

We conversed in Spanish.

“How is Ruth?” they asked, referring to Mary, my sister. “Does she still have asthma?”

“No,” my Aunt Lorena said, “she has diabetes.”

“She has both,” I assured them. We all shook our heads.

“She exercises regularly and watches her diet,” I told them. “She’s in better condition than her brothers are.”

“Ah,” they said. “And little David, who wanted to play for Real Madrid?”

“Married to an hondureña.”

“And young Stephen?”

“To a nicaragüense.”

“And your wife, does she speak Spanish?”

“No.” (Karin later told me that she understood 25% of the conversation – and, yes, the, and other words like those.)

“With whom do you practice?”

“With no one.”

“You speak Spanish perfectly.”

“Yes,” I agreed. “For an esmeraldeño.”

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Before we took our leave, Karin & I went upstairs to greet my cousins, Annie and Vickie. Annie was in her bedroom with Johnny, her fiancé. Vickie was in her own bedroom.

After we talked to them, we came back down the stairs.

“Was Vickie in her own room?” asked my Uncle John.

“Yes,” I said.

“Annie and Johnny aren’t supposed to be in a bedroom alone together,” said my uncle.

“Well,” I told him, “you’d better go up there and drag them out.”

And then Karin & I left.

Some baby goats

A blustery, snowy day.

Karin told me: This is supposed to be spring. And I said: This is how springtime always has been – cold.

You can tell it’s springtime because of the baby animals. On Saturday, Karin & I went to the Farmer’s Market to greet this quartet of baby goats.

(I’m pretty sure Jasper weighs at least as much as one of these goats.)

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My cousin Vickie came over for supper, and she met Jasper and Ziva. Jasper went right up to her and chirped. Ziva hid under the bed, but she came out after a while.

Vickie told us about her podcast, The Trafficking Dispatch. (Just to be clear, Vickie opposes human trafficking.) Then we took her to her parents’ house, and we watched the NHL playoffs with her mother, my Aunt Lorena.

Xmas’s eve’s eve’s eve

One third of my vacation is spent. I didn’t write as much as I should’ve done. I can’t even claim to have rested well.

My cold persists. Its decline, while slow, is at least steady. (Karin’s cold yo-yos up and down.)

Ziva has been discreetly vomiting – we think she’s trying to work a furball out of herself. Tonight, Jasper did a tremendous vomit. He scarfed down his quarter-cup of supper (he isn’t used to dieting yet). What goes down (like that) must come up. Karin took pity and gave Jasper a little more food.

Thanks to my “Secret Santa,” I’ve received the first four volumes from my wishlist. Just eight more volumes to go.

Festivities begin tomorrow with a full night and morning of partying at Karin’s dad’s house. Then, we’ll spend Christmas’s Eve at my Uncle John’s & Aunt Lorena’s house. As always, I look forward to the mini-wieners and other snacks to be served there.

The Peruvians got an early Xmas present. Paolo Guerrero’s ban was reduced to six months. He will play in the World Cup. To the authorities, he offered up the old “coca leaf, not cocaine” defense.

Christmas 2012

Christmastime: family, family, and more family. It’s been kind of nice.

I hadn’t expected that Mary & Martin would be here in South Bend — they’d intended to go to Illinois — but on Christmas Eve, Mary got an infection and had to be admitted to Memorial Hospital. I visited her for several hours. It was kind of nice.

She’s out of the hospital now. She’s better.

I spent three consecutive days with my Uncle John, my Aunt Lorena, and their daughters, Annie & Vickie. Today I went to their house for Christmas dinner. At first they were surprised, but then they remembered they’d invited me. We ate spaghetti. It was good. … I convinced my aunt and cousins to read Wuthering Heights with me, one chapter each day. I’ve never read it. My aunt has, several times.

Annie was given a tree for Christmas — a Charlie Brown Christmas tree. Here it is:

:) :) :)

Tomorrow is Carlos Muñoz Day.