Stirring the pot, raising hell and rearing children in the Bay Area


Posted on Jun 30, 2011 in Europe |

I look at the clock and see that it’s 9:04 a.m. — if I don’t throw on a skirt and head into the house, I’ll miss the warm coffee and fresh jugo de naranja, chorizo and Manchego cheese. I stumble outside my door and the hills of rural Granada greet me with their greens and browns and golds. I am home.

I glance at the clock 12:04 a.m. — cleaning up the dishes from dinner tonight. I’m not at El Amparo. ┬áIn Granada breakfast is being served. I’m not in Granada. I’m am home.