Tuesday, January 01, 2008


New Years is so much about time and clocks striking 12. This year Rosemary called me on her way home (last night) to tell me she was going to stop for grapes. Eating 12 grapes as the clock begins to strike midnight is supposed to be good luck in Spain and the custom has been in my family all these years. Safeway had no grapes and Rosemary did not think about trying a corner fruit store. Most Spaniards would say it is a lot easier to eat those 12 grapes in the form of brandy or Champagne. We did none of those things and retired for the night. Midnight found Rosemary asleep and me finishing Reginald Hill's Death Comes For The Fat Man. And, no, I will not reveal here if Detective Superintendent Andy Dalziel (pronounced Deel) indeed dies.

I have written here about how Rebecca (when she stays for the night on Saturdays) is confused when I show her Sunday's (delivered at 9pm on Saturday night) New York Times. So I called her up last night at 9pm and told her that according to my New York Times it was Tuesday, January 1, 2008 at our home. It had to be the case, I insisted as it was clearly printed on the newspaper. I further confused her by telling her, "It's today here because tomorrow is today and your today was my yesterday." At that point my ever practical but still confused Rebecca said, "You should stop getting that silly paper."



The pictures here I took of Rosemary some 39 years ago in Mexico City. For anybody reading this I wish you a feliz y próspero año nuevo.