bending_sickle | There and back again (Reply)

The 5 hour drive was boredom itself, with my uncle cruiseing way over the speeding limit, and possibly over the this-is-stretching-it speed limit. Which is to say at a speedy 140 km most of the time. Sure, his car is sleek, shiny and smooth (a M-B) but Gran wouldn't stop exclaiming about the speed once we got home. Regardless, we arrived safe and sound to Gran's village just off of Burgos, population probably around 10. My other uncle, who is now going to take care of Gran, was there.

Here is a map, so y'all know where's what.

Saturday morning was spent checking out all the hidden nooks in the room mom and I usually sleep in, looking for anything useful. Mom's taken a lot of stuff to Gran's, from foto albums to unused hankerchiefs. I naturally enough had a list of stuff to bring back with me, including various creams, mom's computer, books (of course and random stuff. Because, yes, it's all very safe there, but it is also very inaccessible.

Gran was hi-sterical with the packing nerves, 'cause she's off to Burgos for the week. Gran's no travel woman.

I also took walks across the country (wheat fields mainly, with dirt roads), toasting in the heat, listening to the bugs, mistaking bees for a motorcycle, and nibbeling on wheat grains. I even took out my penny whistle and managed to play Peason's Farewell (except for the D note, which still sounds like the horrible dying love-child of an eagle and a loon).

I noticed that if you lean backwards far enough to see the wide horzon beind you, it looks remarkable round and planet-shaped.

I was also horrible mauled by a plot bunny which looks cute, smells like angst, but makes very little sense under scrutiny. I'll work on it a bit more, 'cause hot damn is it good.

Was also barked at by 2 or 3 dogs (together). I don't like barking dogs. I don't like strange dogs inches from my soft vulnerable flesh, barking at me.

Yesterday afternoon, uncle and I hopped into the car, got good and bored for 5 hours till we got to Cubelles at 10 pm, had dinner, then I went off to collapse and perchance dream. This morning woke up at ye ungodly hour and took the train (yet again not paying for my ticket because the ticket-validating-machine thingy was dead) and went to work. Packaged a bunch of cutting metal thingies, went home, bought food and now here I am.

Neil Gaiman is a wonderful blogger and I just can't say this enough. He provides links to 7-year old comics (as in, author is 7, not old comics), gives relationship advice, spreads the news of a bear treed by a cat and links to what amounts to a book-rec list (he's #21).

Non-Rayne Jayne recs are here courtesy of