jamie's wanderings

 When I studied theology and the bible for my university years, I don't think I would have ever imagined sitting here today in Spain, clutching my laptop on a Sunday morning, telling you about what this strange life is like.     This last week, I found myself wandering the coast of Spain in two different directions with my reluctant-to-be-called boss, Miguel Angel. The first journey on Wednesday took us to a town called Albunol, where we finally signed in the notary for a home that we initially began selling in February.     Like many country homes, it had been added to, and it was not reflected in what we call the nota simple, or simple deed, that is reflected in the public record. In order for a home sale to occur, this doesn't usually present a problem, except when the buyers wish to mortgage the home.     Even though these buyers were already in their 60s, they felt the need to take out a mortgage and thus began the months of descending into the Spanish bureaucratic hell of

 Almost three years ago, Andrew and I were shocked to hear that Jose and Sara got into their car to do some last-minute shopping and never came home, killed by a drunk driver in Texas that day before Thanksgiving evening. It stung and ached then, and it still does. A couple of months ago I drove over by their old flat and I suddenly could hear Jose's voice peal with laughter and it was as if he told me how proud he was of Andrew and I. I burst into tears and missed them dreadfully. Backing up, Sara and Jose were here when we first arrived in 2003 and stuck around for a year or so after we came. He was from Granada, she was from Texas and Andrew and Jose practiced their languages together. We were part of a rather scrappy bunch of 20 and 30 somethings and ate a lot of bad food and laughed alot together. But, Jose wanted to stretch his wings and so they moved to Texas, they made a life, had two boys and would occasionally come back and visit. I always assumed that they would come and

      One of the things I've promised in this blog of ramblings is to cover more of the last several years and connect the dots between my earlier posts from 2007 to 2015, to suddenly appear on the blogger map again in 2023. For many reasons, 2020 was a massive year of upheaval and change, and for my husband and myself, it affected our lives physically, emotionally and spiritually. As Covid began to take its toll on the world, we found ourselves packing bags for my brother's long awaited wedding. We went, we danced with a feeling that it was the end of the world as we knew it, and then we faced 4 months of living with my parents as the world turned and burned. We said sad goodbyes to my uncle as Covid took his tired, worn-out body from us. We cooked a lot, waited a lot, and talked on the phone a lot with people in Spain as I watched my business implode and then surprisingly restart, but only to succumb to second lockdowns and curfews imposed in October of 2020. And finally, we

Olive oil makes the world go around where I live. Property is measured in how many trees it possesses, how many kilos of olives it produces, and its subsequent liters of liquid gold. This year, one of my learning curves, is about this element of olive oil, and how it makes the world go around in Southern Spain. For the last two years for Christmas, my landlord has brought me a bottle of olive oil from Montefrio, and it is some of the best. It's so good, I use it for tostadas and salads, and never for cooking. The other day I finally ran out and it was a sad moment. And I asked God for more. See, I think God cares about the tiny details because that's what life is really made up of. The oil, the parking spaces we need in the city, the daily bread, that's why in what we call the Lord's prayer, He tells us we are to ask for it. ...give us our daily bread... In the midst of Covid, Andrew and I lost the whole business and a lot of hope. Just as we lost the business, someone