a wandering woman writes

Thursday, May 11, 2006


Back tomorrow with Astorga and León. My absolute-I-swear-and-nothing-can-persuade-me-otherwise final (part time) day at work is May 26. In what I hope will be the courageous last stand of any remnant of my overachieving corporate self, I'm busy ensuring that I've done everything I ever wanted to do at the company, have left everything immeasurably better than I found it, have anticipated every possible future complication, and have left my beloved favorites (yes, all right, I have them) perfectly positioned to take over the world on my departure. All of that in 4 hours a day, 5 days a week. It may be ambitious, I am not sure.

Meanwhile, a word of advice.

Should you ever decide it's time to sprain an ankle, I'd recommend you sprain it in Spain.

I have extensive experience spraining ankles, and I can assure you, it's almost worth the injury for the comfort. In Spain, that is.

I have yet to say the word "esguince" (sprain) to anyone without the immediate response: What do you need? Do you have enough to eat? Shall I do your grocery shopping? Cook? Here, I thought I'd stop by with a gorgeous yellow plant. Where do you need me to drive you?

I don't mean to suggest that no one ever offered in the States, but it's the instinctive reflex of the reaction. I have to believe I have Spanish mothers to thank for this. Lesson number 12 in year 13 of Growing Up Spanish and Well Educated must be "buy groceries for the less-than-well." I've had the same experience everytime I've owned up to the sniffles.

I knew it was instinctive when an employee who's been battling me all week (as part of her cosmic mission to teach me patience and serenity) stopped dead in her Messenger tracks and asked me what I needed and what time she should arrive.

If you must sprain, I tell you, sprain in Spain.



  • Oh you are a trial. How am I meant to enjoy where I am?

    In Turkey, strangers in the street would say 'Gec misolsen' - 'Get well soon' while I was on crutches. People came to help, cook yes and give sympathy.

    If my country of residency continues with its present (oft-talked of amongst expats living here) reputation of 'difficult to know' people then it's the last place I want to be injured.

    By Blogger woman wandering, at 8:04 AM  

  • You sprain, I'll fly in.

    With a couple of Salmantinas, if you prefer.

    By Blogger wandering-woman, at 8:39 AM  

  • I'd prefer not to sprain at all...but Spain sounds like a good place to sprain an ankle, if you must sprain one at all.

    By Anonymous Adrift At Sea, at 3:38 PM  

  • Can you also say, "I have need of mothering; can we pretend I have a sprain?"

    Given me something else to think about - how I respond to the 'sprains' among those around me....I'll be much better next time. :D

    By Blogger Kate Winner, at 5:16 PM  

  • Just got back to the comments, sometimes I forget I've written, writes the doddery one.

    Okay, and remember you offered when a wibbly Di phones up with her sprain. :)

    By Blogger woman wandering, at 5:55 PM  

  • Yes, Yes, Yes.

    Yesses all around for all three of you.

    By Blogger wandering-woman, at 1:10 PM  

  • How did I miss this post?!
    I'm so hppelessly out of the loop here it's ridiculous. I am going to freshen my tea right this minute and hang out with you here as you attempt to make your last corporate stand on a leg that hardly bears weight.
    You do like a challenge, don't you?
    Seriously, my blue eyed lass, heal quickly. I see much hiking ahead for you. Will be checking out Groove-a-rama shortly!

    By Blogger Laura Young, at 6:11 PM  

  • Hiking, yes.

    Heal, foot! Heal!
    Been hobbling a week and trust me, the thrill is gone.

    By Blogger wandering-woman, at 8:32 PM  

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