Paper snowflakes and the art of being an old woman.

When I was little, I would spend hour cutting things. I cut my sheets, my hair, all the fur off of Emma's huge stuffed puppy playing Emergency Vet, I cut cherries with my mom in the kitchen, I cut all the hair off Emma's Repunzel barbie and told her it would grow back, I cut the back of Margaret's hair (she doesn't know that and I don't think my mom does sooo....) and I cut a million paper snow flakes. I used to have a book of designs, of super fancy ones that you can make. Most the time, I stuck to hearts and triangles, kept things easy so that I could produce them in bulk. I was fairly sure that if I made enough I would fill our whole house with snow and would be able to sled in it. Or jump in it like a pile of leaves. The amount of trees I destroyed probably rivals the amount of paper used to print the entire Harry Potter book series. Today in Spanish we were in one of our usual food discussions when Miguel (Mike) opened the door and came, as I think it is best put, strut-sliding into the room. He was carring one of those hand made snowflakes that you cut out of paper and leave tiny pieces all over the floor for your

mom, the janitor, the responsible roommate or your baby sibling and playing that song "If you want my body and you think I'm sexy......." and progressed to cross the room, tape the snow flake on the wall, stroke our teacher's leg and leave. I'd really like to say this was a surprising or abnormal experience, but we all know that would be a lie. Between the paper corn, paper hand turkeys from Thanksgiving and the snowflake on the wall, I am fairly sure our teacher half sprinted out of the room when class was over. I can say proudly that I have learned a handful of useful Spanish phrases, I have learned about the EU, and I have learned how to perfect a hand turkey in class this semester. My college advisor will be over joyed at my extensive education and increased knowledge. A few days ago she wrote me telling me she hoped I was soaking up the experience... I don't really know how to respond to things like that because I don't know what is normal for a study abroad experience and if that is what I am doing, but if so, I am very proud of America and our ability to make sure everyone knows just how much we learned in Kindergarten and that we are still able to transfer our art abilities with paper to real life situations. You never know when you'll need some paper snow or an Indian paper headband, and honestly I would be far more interested in a job involving either of those than a job involving Calculus. Which comes to conflict with the fact that I will never have the patience to teach Kindergarten, and seeing as I can't just be in Kindergarten repeatedly and have to go to college, I really find the fact that we are reverting back to that while in Spain to be the most "soaking it up" experience possible.

Yesterday I got lectured by my mother about walking home... it was 4 degrees celcius and rainy, which apperantly is code for "You better get your behind on a bus or else." in Spain. Meanwhile it is -15 in Sweden and they just got three feet of snow. That's more like what I'd call unacceptable weather, but if you are from Spain you are allowed to think that rain and 30 degrees is unacceptable. So I am destined to get yelled at on a weekly slash daily basis because I refuse to think that it is necessary to pay three bucks a day to ride the bus when I could walk and spend that ten minutes being grateful that it isn't a blizzard and that I don't have to shovel my car out of the driveway every morning. I am also completely anti-umbrella, mostly because I have had far too many in-the-eye experiences with them while crossing the street. When it is raining, bus stops and cross walks become the number one eye-trauma zones, I strongly recommend wearing sunglasses and ski helmets at all times.

I wrote an email today to Margaret, and realized that the extent of most our conversations thus far have revolved around food. She told me every single thing they had at Thanksgiving dinner, at which point I had a pity party and ate the other half of the box of Wheat Thins my mom mailed me. I knew I was broke when I went to the secretary today to ask about my lost sweater (I lost my Lululemon. I want to punch myself and am suffering anxiety and will go through the five stages of grief soon.) and saw post cards that say "Universidad International Menendez y Pelayo" which nobody would want because they are hideous, but I was thrilled about because they are free. Everyone can expect some very awesome Christmas cars with "UIMP" on them. When people ask me which school I go to here, it is never fun to say "Oh, I go to UIMP." They literally call it wimp. There's nothing class and awesome about telling someone that, but if you call it the full name you either a. mispronounce it or b. sound retarded because nobody calls it that.

I'm laying in bed right now in all my clothes with two sweaters and a scarf wishing that the heat was on. I have spent the past three hours trying to get Grey's Anatomy and Private Practice to load while repeatedly contemplating if I was going to get my runny nose self out of bed to go watch them light the Christmas tree down town. Somewhere between the pipe leaking in my brain causing me to spend the vast majority of my time blowing my nose, and the pouring rain I decided the wise idea was to accept my old lady existence and stay trapped in bed. There also gets to be the point that your warm socks and wallet are begging you to stay in. Your socks because, well, for the first time all week they are dry and your wallet because in the morning it would be a lot nicer to buy donuts with the money that would have been spent on drinks and cab rides. The way food motivates me to make healthy decisions is kind of appalling... it motivates me to run if I bribe myself with a treat, it motivates me to study if I refuse to snack until I am done or if I go to a cafe and get coffee in exchange for a study session, it motivates me to be my liver's friend and buy food instead of drinks and it motivates me to work so that I have money to buy more food. The fact that I am not yet obese is also appalling and fantastic. I am determined that I will be an old woman in about two weeks because between the food motivation of staying in and my desire to finally have time to read and sleep is just too great to match the prospect of going outside and freezing and smelling like smoke. So I think that for the time being I am simply going to accept my old granny life and take a bath, read Pride and Prejudice and spend the next five hours watch the BBC Pride and Prejudice with Colin Firth and pretending like the rain is snow and that the kleenex all over my bed are paper snow flakes.