Christine McMillan, SUPERSTAR!

Since beginning this chapter in my life, there are changes that I have made very deliberately and which I relish on a daily basis. To set the alarm is a kin to a form of torture (and only resorted to in the most necessary of situations). “Work” is something that I actually look forward to and my productivity is something that now comes naturally, although I spend far fewer hours “in the office”.

For all these advantages, there is something, however, that I greatly miss from my lawyering days. I now work alongside my life partner and I could not ask for a better mate (in life, love and the office), but I miss dearly the friendships that took root and blossomed in the daily 9 (okay, we'll be honest) 10 to 8 drudgery of what was then my existence.

When you spend that much time with people, I guess you are bound to love them or hate them. At my last job, I was blessed with probably the best co-workers I could have dreamed up. My bosses were not only the best in the business, but my mentors and buddies. Our secretary and paralegal in the section were amazing at their jobs but also confidantes and friends, and the other associates were, by and large, fun, funny, ubercompetent and all-around good people. But the daily absence of one peron in particular is most felt.

There was a lot of build up to Christine's arrival (or perhaps better said, victorious return) to our section. She had worked as a summer associate at the firm prior to my arrival. All my bosses were incredibly excited that she was coming back as an associate attorney after finishing law school and taking a year to clerk for district court judge in Austin. According to all sources, she was smart, diligent, detail-oriented, eager, hard-working and had given up any sort of hope for a personal life long ago- in short, the dream junior attorney.

Needless to say, I felt threatened. Like the aging prom queen who had learned to trade on her looks for so long, I recognized that I lacked at least four of these six qualities but had made my personality the currency on which I traded and, for the moment, thought that I was fooling my bosses into believing that I was sufficiently enough of these missing qualities to keep treading water. Also like the prom queen whose currency was depreciating, I didn't need someone coming in and serving as a measuring stick against the true deficiency of these fundamental attributes of a young and rising lawyer could be measured.

And everyone was right. Christine is not only incredibly intelligent, but smart in the kind of way that attorneys that are really great at their jobs are smart, the kind of smart that justifies the $800/hour billing rates.

She also has the personality for the job. A partner could come to her at 6 PM on a Friday before a holiday weekend (this scenario is, unfortunately, all too realistic) and tell her that she needs to write a 300-page legal document that is meant to cover all the nuances, intricacies and possible worse-case scenarios of a loan worth $600 million. The client expects the document first thing after the holiday weekend, and of course the partner will need to review it before it goes to the client, so that means a deadline of 3PM on Sunday. While only a handful of associate attorneys would ever have the balls (or independent wealth) to flat-out refuse, most would at least let the partner know what plans exactly she was going to have to cancel, then salvage her abbreviated holiday weekend by going out and getting drunk before hitting it hard on Saturday (at least, that's what I imagine most would do).

Not Christine. Christine would (and does) cancel everything, perhaps pull out a pair of sweats she keeps in the office, get comfortable and go through the document once before turning in at 3AM, only to go back to the office at 8 AM and fine-tune her work. Her goal is to hand it off to the partner in the best shape possible so that he has to spend as little time as possible correcting her work. She is exactly who you want working for you if you are a partner or the client. She is, in short, a legal superstar.

I should have hated her. Not only did she put, so I believed, my deficiencies so clearly in relief, but she set a standard much higher than what is required to survive and even thrive in the notoriously cutthroat world of Big Firm law. If she had had the accompanying personality traits that are usually hardwired on the double helix (manipulative, greedy, duplicitious, selfish), then I would have probably, lamely, sworn to take her out, only to lose steam before the campaign of sabotage could ever get underway. But that didn't happen because in addition to being wicked smart, hardworking, blah blah blah, Christine is, in another word, a sweetheart.

She is humble regarding her talents (too much so, in my opinion), incredibly generous of her time, affection, and resources and has the rare combination of being both a good listener and conversationalist. She is funny, irreverent, honest and, when work permits, she can hold her own in knocking out a bottle of wine. I have so many wonderful memories of sitting in Christine's office, talking about unreasonable superiors (unlike her, I did take issue with the surprise, late-day work assignments), incompetent opposing counsel or even parsing through the significance of my last exchange with Sergio (she was, after all, a witness to it all).

I loved that office because despite the pressures to conform that characerize the practice of law, particularly Big Law, I was allowed to be quirky me. And Christine embodied that acceptance, and in terms of man hours/wasted billable hours, put up with me more than anyone else.

Since our move to Madrid, my and Christine's friendship has had to adjust to the changed circumstances. Unlike most of my best friends who live across the globe, our friendship was based on regular interactions. Frankly, I didn't know whether it would survive the distance.

But not only has our relationship survived but I believe that we are better friends now than the day I left Houston. Since she is always in the office, I know exactly where to reach her at all times and, similar to when we were just two doors down from each other, I can surprise hijack her time and attention, though now by calling her from random Skype numbers as opposed to closing her door behind me and ignoring her impotent assertions that she needed to get work done.

Because Christine had been witness to the evolution of my relationship with Sergio, she was one of the first people I wanted to tell about the engagement and was the first person I asked to be in the wedding (admittedly, this offered the additional benefit of decreasing the probability that she would cancel last minute if she were actually in the wedding party). She did two all-nighters back-to-back in order to fly down to Austin and then drive over to Fredericksburg by 10 AM the day before the wedding, despite being exhausted, suffering from a back injury and being on the verge of what sounded like death, judging from a persistent cough.

Once Christine was there, she took all that energy, attention and brain power that clients happily pay hundreds of dollars an hour for and devoted it all to such mundane tasks as making sure my fingernail polish didn't streak and getting us to the wedding on time. Just like Christine does in her job, she sought out holes to plug and ways in which she could make everything easier for us. This generosity of spirt and attention was much welcomed and both Sergio and I were so touched by it. And, as if this wasn't enough, Christine hosted us for over a week in her apartment both before and after the wedding, allowing us to use her place as the center for operations, despite the fact that this arrangement forced her on the couch. (?!?)

Christine, you are a true sweetheart, we love you and we hope to have the opportunity to do for you what you have so selflessly done for us. We are always here for you.

In No Particular Order, Wedding MVP #2

I remember having a discussion with a mentor a couple of years ago in which he called me “middle-aged”. His argument was that, even if he granted me a generous lifeline of 90 years, middle age, by definition, would be years 30 through 60. I argued against his logic vehemently (everyone knows 30 is the new 20). I was single at the time, going out often, childless, petless and mortgageless. How could I possibly be middle-aged?

Since then, something has changed. I still remember clearly college life and my 20-something adventures, but they feel distant and unrepeatable. Another fact that argues for the now-rightfulness of my middle-aged status is the fact that I have known my oldest friend for over 25 years.

Megan and I met in the third grade when the McInerney family of 6 (my earliest interaction with Catholicism) moved into our neighborhood. She was a lot of things that I was not. For starters, she was pretty and sweet to a fault, and thus popular. Megan made everyone feel special and worthy and, on the rare occasion that she said no to something (birthday party invitation, sleep-over, marriage proposal), she did it in such a way as to make the the other person feel like she really did want to accept, but it was completely outside her control.

I am reminded of a great line from the movie The Talented Mr. Ripley, where the girlfriend (Gwyneth Paltrow) of one of the central figures (played by Jude Law), Dickie, says of Dickie that “it's like the sun shines on you, and it's glorious. And then he forgets you and it's very, very cold”. Being around Megan was always like the former, without ever being subjected to the latter. She made everyone feel good about themselves, special, even the social rejects, nerds, geeks (before geeks were considered cool) and other misfits that never stood a chance in the cutthroat world of childhood and high school hierarchy.

Megan had other aspects of her personality that I admired. She was the only person that I knew that really enjoyed learning. Her appetite for knowledge was so voracious, that I remember her committing to reading her family's entire encyclopedia set, which she did. She especialy loved math but was equally gifted in the right cerebral hemisphere and excelled at every subject, always among the intellectual heavyweights not only of the Georgetown High School Class of '95 but also at Vanderbilt, where she was only the second person to graduate with a double major in Molecular Biology and Biochemical Engineering.

Though self-effacing, Megan has a fierceness, will power and determination that is truly extraordinary. I remember when she decided to run a marathon but due to life circumstances at the time, was unable to train for it. This would have exempted any mere mortal, but Megan still set out to run that race- and did. All 26.2 miles of it.

Her kindness, beauty and atheleticism made her a shoo-in for Homecoming Court, varsity cheerleading, class president and every other popularity-derived honor.

To recap, she was beautiful, intelligent, multi-talented, popular and genuinely nice.

Based on all this, I should have hated her. But I didn't. I too was just as susceptible as the next googly-eyed dork to her kindness, acceptance and generosity. And there was something else, too. Megan let few people see anything but the sunshine, but with me she shared other aspects of her personality that weren't always unqualifiedly positive, and I with her, adding a depth to our friendship that made it authentic.

During our latter high school years and throughout college we drifted apart. I remember Megan visiting Georgetown our sophomore year and, when my college boyfriend broke up with me, I spontaneously and tearfully flew up to heal with Megan (which involved a road trip to Graceland- totally awesome). Shortly after graduation, Megan married her college sweetheart, John Paul, and I proudly stood next to her in the wedding, honored to be the only non-family member chosen to be a bridesmaid.

We then went a full 10 years without seeing each other, talking only sporadically as our lives unfolded, so differently. Megan and John Paul moved to  North Carolina for his medical residency and to start his own psychiatric practice, while Megan left her position in a DNA research lab to start their family (the next generation of a McInerney family of 6, but this time with 2 bad-ass dogs). Meanwhile, I was bouncing around the country and then the globe, working on a presidential campaign, followed by a move to Ecuador, and then a return to Texas for law school and to practice law.

Despite the distance and divergent life experiences, every time Megan and I talked it was like we were able to pick up where we left off. It was always easy, and I always felt good after talking to her. Finally, after her fourth child, it struck me as ridiculous that she now had this whole family whom I had never met. I resolved to drive from Houston to Durham with my dog Max on Christmas Day 2009 to visit her (though my journey started a day late due to the fact that I spent that December 25^th on the phone with a guy with whom I had had a first date the day prior- Sergio!).

I spent a lot of the week in Durham observing Megan-the-Mom and getting to know her four kids, who are just as funny and smart as she described. I enjoyed long-forgotten memories of 8-year-old Megan when her daughter Lana said something particularly insightful or when I looked into her oldest son Liam's eyes or when I observed her third child Sebastian's stubbornness.

Like with everything Megan sets out to do, she does it well, and being a mom is no different. She has four children under the age of 7, and where mere mortals would become overwhelmed or impatient or angry, Megan takes it all in stride. She treats the raising of her and John Paul's kids as a full-time job (with plenty of overtime), and takes on the jobs of developmental researcher, nutrition specialist, and spiritual instructor in addition to the more mundane tasks of primary caregiver, like making sure they don't put poo in the air vent.

When Sergio and I began planning our wedding, I knew that I wanted Megan to be one of people up there next to me. She is the only childhood friend with whom I have any real relationship, and I wanted her to meet all of my other wonderful friends- the “family” that I had been growing that was unknown to her. But I know that life is infinitely more complicated when you are mom to four young kids and the wife of a doctor with his own independent practice. Besides, as I learned planning our wedding, we are past the age at which people get excited about our decision to get married, particularly when it is your (my) second marriage.

Megan responded to my request so enthusiastically and without any reservations that I was truly moved. There was no equivocation in her acceptance, just the reiteration of how happy she was for me, and how deserving I am of the love of such a worthy partner. I can imagine how difficult it was for her to take three days out of her life, leaving her kids for the first time ever, and yet not once did she utter a single word about it. She was unequivocally happy for us the entire time, shining that bright sunshine on me. Megan took her wealth of talent, energy and determination and devoted it all to me for the duration of her trip.

Throughout the course of the weekend, Megan told me numerous times how honored she was to be there, and how I was her best friend. With the majority of my relationships, I am accustomed to putting out more affection (and usually energy into maintaining the friendship) than the other person. With Megan, she is more generous with her love than me. With the exception of Sergio, it does not come naturally for me to tell someone that I love them. But Megan never hesitates to end our calls with “I love you!” and every time it leaves me happy. She shone all that love on me during the course of our wedding weekend.

In addition, Megan made me her number 1 priority all weekend long, and I could not have talked her out of it had I tried (I didn't). I mentioned that I would like to get some exercise the morning of the wedding and, sure enough, at 6:30 we were out the door, despite the fact that she did not not have weather-appropriate clothing (her bare little legs inspired one crusty old cowboy to comment what a “tough cookie” she was to be braving the cold).

The cherry on the MVP sundae, however, involves what could have been a disasterous turn of events, but for Megan. I struggled to find a hairdresser in Fredericksburg who felt confident enough to assure me of her ability to do “fingerwaves” for the Big Day. In the eleventh hour, another friend and wedding attendee, Kris Lunner, managed to dig someone up, who, with great rangling and the possible relinquishment by Kris of her own blow-out, could manage to squeeze me in at 9:30 that Saturday. Come 10:45 of Game Day, the salon's doors were still locked. This could have potentially sent me into a panic, but for the fact that Megan, ever so confidently, told me not to worry about it- she would look for a video on youtube, and would figure this whole fingerwave thing out.

And, once again, she did. I didn't know it at the time, but apparently as the afternoon wore on and the zero hour approached (and then passed), Megan was feeling just a wee bit stressed. The youtube video hadn't worked out so well, and determined to get my hair perfect (not to mention my make-up, which she also handled like a pro), she was running out of time. I was completely oblivious to all of this, as she apparently stood behind me cussing animatedly but silently, as I blissfully drank one glass of wine after another. To put this feat in perspective (anyone who was at the wedding can attest to the miracle Megan pulled off), I had literally struggled for 3 weeks to find a professional hairdresser who could claim sufficient familiarity (forget competency) to attempt what Megan pulled off, cold.

Whatever the downsides are to growing old, friendships like ours offset the losses. Megan, you are my dearest and oldest friend, and I thank you not only for everything you did for my wedding, but, after 25+ years, continuing to to make me a part of and a priority in your life. I will strive to do the same for you, and I love you.

Monday Morning Quarterbacking- Wedding MVPs

The wedding is almost one month past, and I cannot believe how quickly it came and went. I want to preserve the emotions and the memories, and in that vein, I am trying to put proverbial pen to paper and capture the experience before it fades, before what I loosely refer to as our “real life” takes hold.

Something that I did not expect but will probably have the longest and most meaningful impact is how my impressions and feelings towards certain people were affected, based on their actions and words in connection with the wedding. I suppose that it is rare that you ask and expect (so) much from so many people, but when your expectations are met, it is rare and wonderful. Even more impactful is when your expectations are exceeded. I don't want to ever forget or overlook those few people that not only delivered, but set a standard that I am now going to try to meet when I am in their position.

Dorota and the Amazing Technicolor Wedding Cake

One of the nicest surprises to come out of the wedding is my closer relationship with Dorota Grobler. When Sergio and I began planning our wedding and were thinking of ways to limit costs, I immediately had the idea of asking Dorota to make our wedding cake.

Dorota is a woman of many talents (even more than I knew 2 months ago). Though by practice and profession she is an accountant of many years, she recently changed careers and began managing the many residential properties that she and her husband own, while simultaneously taking care of her and Heinrich's 2 wonderful daughters. (It was a foregone conclusion that Genevieve and Lavinia would be our flower girls, but another shout out goes to Dorota for that as well; she made sure the girls were beautifully gowned and took care of all the logistics without any help from me, for which I am also incredibly appreciative.)

She is also an amazing chef and talented baker as well. I did not sufficiently appreciate what I was asking of Dorota at the time and truth be told, she probably didn't either. She had never tackled a multi-tier wedding cake before, and not only did she not hesitate, but she set out with such energy and determination that I was impressed. She sent me links for a variety of wedding cakes and when I told her that I had seen a fierce cake that looked fairly normal and conservative on the outside but was crazy colorful with tie-dye like swirls on the inside (a nice metaphor for both Sergio and me, I thought), she didn't bat an eye and ran with it, researching how exactly that effect is created and then set out to recreate it. Come game day, Dorota and her mother, Marlena (whom Dorota and Heinrich flew in from South Africa specifically to help with the girls so that Dorota could come to my bachelorette party and Heinrich and Dorota could fully participate in the wedding festivities- another example of why the Groblers are amongst our best friends) spent over 4 hours icing the cake that they had already put countless hours into preparing.

All of this would easily have qualified Dorota for the wedding All-Star Hall of Fame, but it doesn't stop there. Dorota and her husband, Heinrich, went to great trouble and expense so that Dorota could attend my bachelorette weekend in Napa (Heinrich also deserves a medal for sacrificing Sergio's New Orleans Mardi Gras bachelor party so that Dorota could come with us). And, after all this, she still willingly shared a bed with me for all 3 nights, undoubtedly suffering through countless unconscious advances as I mistook her for Sergio.

Dorota was one of a very few people that truly made me feel special throughout the preparation for and execution of the wedding. She participated to the fullest, and helped me enjoy the moment to the fullest, from taking care of things as big as the wedding cake and making sure we made the flight for the bachelorette party to the more easily forgotten aspects of making sure I had a purse that coordinated with my wedding weekend outfits, sexy lingerie for the honeymoon (for which Sergio was very appreciative) and a glass of wine in my hand throughout the rehearsal dinner. She acted not only as the wedding cake baker, flower girl coordinator, and bachelorette bedfellow, but as an adviser, listener and confidante as well.

What makes this all the more touching and special is that fact that, prior to the planning of our wedding, I would have said that my relationship with Dorota's husband Heinrich was stronger than my relationship with Dorota. The wedding gave us opportunities to get to know one another better and spend time together, and I have such a tremendous amount of respect and love for Dorota. I appreciate all that she did specifically for our wedding, and who she is every day, and I now consider her one of my closest friends, separate and apart from my relationship with the Grobler family unit.  

Dorota, thank you.

The NIE Escapades

NIE is short for Numero de Identidad de Extrajero or in the common tongue, Identification Number for Expatriates or Foreigners.  A much easier way to think about it is residency. There are two core requirements for getting your NIE.

1.  A valid reason for living in Spain
2.  Good current standing with your home country

If you've read this blog before, you know that the process is significantly more complex than this.  The simplicity of the above requirements would make the process appear a cakewalk in any country, most of all Spain.  But Annie and I are now smarter than that.  We are hunkering in for a battle and possibly the war that we know will ensue.

Now that Annie and I are married, this is the first step to get her the proper documents to be able to start and own and business here as well as get health care.  By the way, marrying a national is a valid reason for getting your residency in Spain as it is in most countries.  It should be a simple matter.

This post is the start of our process, not the end.  My goal is to track it here so that I don't forget anything and I can use this forum as a type of release valve for our inevitable frustrations.  I'd first like to introduce you to two SAG Laws...named appropriately enough after the two authors.

The first SAG Law (SL1) relates to getting something from the government.

The first office you are sent, either (and especially) by talking to officials or by searching the Internet, is not the correct and final place to get what you're looking for.  Neither is the second, third, or fourth.  If you're lucky, it'll be the fifth.  If you're not, who knows.

The second SAG Law (SL2) is...

If you think you have finally reached the correct office, apply SL2, which is...when you make your appointment, and the date you get back is within the next 6 months (i.e., you have to wait less than 6 months), you are not at the correct office.  Keep searching.

In Spain, like in the US, there is a general phone number for things government-related.  In the US is is 311 I think.  In Spain, it is 010...and this is where our journey takes flight.

We opted to get married in Spain before the US to start Annie's NIE paper process.  We paid 250 euros to do it a month sooner than the free option just for the possibility of getting the nasty paperwork going sooner.  A funny side story is that when we went to pickup our marriage certificate, they pulled out this HUGE book, like something out of Middle-Earth, for us to sign.  I would not be surprised if there were 5,000 pages in it with hundreds of lines per page for couples to sign.  It seems archaic yet romantic in certain ways.  I digress though.

After getting married, we did the obligatory Internet searches and asking people we knew that had gone through this.  We found a ton of stuff.  And I mean a lot of information.  All very inconclusive with most being merely editorials like this one.  No links to official government websites, at least none that worked.  We did end up at a process sent to us by an American friend of ours that seemed the most legit.  It was dated in 2010 which is a pretty good sign.  The last step in the process was to call 010 to get the information for the office where we needed to get an appointment at.

The lady answering the phone listened to our story and confidently told us the name and address of the office we needed.  She even told us that no appointment would be needed.  BOOM!  Red flag.  No appointment?  Was it our lucky day?  Would SL1 and SL2 both be broken on the same day?

It didn't take us long to get to the office...about 45 minutes and two metro rides.  It was a huge complex.  It could have been a palace in a past life easily taking up 10-15 football fields.  We make it to the front desk and talk to officer on duty.  After explaining our story to him, he gave us a look that instantly told us that the two laws were safe and there was absolutely no threat to either one.  One of the things he said was "I cannot imagine why anyone sent you here".  I'd need to ask Annie, but I don't think we were phased much.  We're learning.  After about a 5 minute conversation, the officer told us where we needed to go, and it happened to be across the street.  To his credit, he told us that he wasn't 100% sure it was the correct office but that they would probably know where we needed to go.  In a scene from Frogger, Annie and I sprinted across a 4-lane street with cars zooming by, somehow making it over without incident.

We sign in at the security kiosk of the new building and are sent up to a 3rd floor office.  The office contains a large room with 8 or so desks and no dividers or cubicles.  It is your run-of-the-mill corporate environment not meant to take visitors or guests.  The lights are turned off and it's empty save for one gentleman in the corner at his desk eating his lunch.  He sees us walk in, calls us over, and puts his lunch away.  We're feeling pretty awkward at this point as he talks to us with his face stuffed with some potato concoction.  We explain to him what we're looking for and that we were sent here from across the street.  Another "who in God's name sent you here" expression followed.  He shuffled through a stack of papers on his desk, produced a form that looked promising, and started writing notes.  He mumbled through, mostly incoherently, other possible offices we could go to.  We quickly realized that this guy had no idea what he was talking about nor that he had any chance of helping us.  We took the scribbled piece of paper he produced and got out of there.  Damn these laws are strong.

We're rapidly approaching our wedding in the US and decide that we're not going to progress the NIE much.  We table it until after we get back in early March.

Fast-forward three weeks.  We're back in Spain

I do a bunch more on the Internet as we've made so little progress up to this point.  We're basically at step 1.  Searches, emails, blogs.  I do make progress though.  I keep ending up at an office outside of Madrid called Brigada Provincial de Extranjería y Fronteras de Madrid (Provincial Brigade of Aliens and Borders).  All government websites that list this office show, as one of its duties, Asignación de NIE, or NIE Allocation.  Plus, a number of blogs talk about getting their NIE this way by standing around at this office for hours on end.  This was very promising...albeit a little depressing...we thought.  It was a hike to get out there but we ended up finding it.  Another good sign was that we saw people of all ethnicities, folks selling international calling cards, and simply a very big todo that looked governmental with lots of shate going on.  We make our way to the security desk at the outside gate.  We opt to ask one of the policemen instead of entering [As an aside, the police in Spain are much more involved and pervasive than in the US.  They are much more than about keeping the peace.  Asking a police if we're at the correct office or where to go normally produces a decent result].  After all, there is a small chance we're not in the right place.

Strike three.  We were immediately told that we were not in the right place.  This office was only for renewals of the NIE, not getting a new one.  Why on God's green Earth are renewals and new NIE requests not handled at the same office is beyond me.  He told us that we needed to go to another office and gave us the address...and told us we didn't need an appointment.

We're quickly turning into bureaucracy savvy veterans.  We know full well that this new office is not our final stop and that we're about to prove that both SAG Laws are stone tablet worthy.

The next day (today in fact), we make our way to this new office.  It's a gorgeous day in Madrid so we're in high spirits.  As in all other times, we go packing books, our Kindle Fire, and plenty to keep us occupied in case we need to sit and wait hours if not all day.  On a positive note, we did not have to wait all day and the trip was rather short.  The downside was that we were yet again at the wrong office.  None of this is a joke by the way.  Annie and I are both smart and well-traveled.  We both speak, read, and write quite well in Spanish.  We've been through similar processes in both Spain and the US.  I wish I were making all this up, I really do.  After we were told we were at the wrong place, we were given a slip of paper with an Internet address on it and instructions for setting up an appointment.

When I went into the site to setup the appointment, the first available spot was in September.  The bad news is that we now need to wait 6 months to get Annie's NIE.

The good news is that we're nearly certain we've finally found the right office.

The (No Longer Pending) Nuptials

Believe it or not, we're tired.  One of the things that Annie and I talk about is how busy we've been for the last so many months.  We talk about how it'll be nice to get back to a steadier routine and give ourselves a chance to focus on a small number of things we're very excited about.

Since September when our good friend Ryan Allen came to visit us, we've been seemingly running from one place to the next for nearly 7 months.  Friends, family, road trips, holidays, wedding planning, and the actual wedding and honeymoon.  And I say 7 months.  The previous 5 months were filled is moving our lives to Spain, looking for permanent residence, moving again, travelling throughout Spain, setting up roots, and a marriage proposal.

"Is this guy really complaining about his cush life in Spain?"  No.  At least that's not the point of this post.  I have come to realize, and I never realize things until I go through them, that there's something to be said for routine and a steady rhythm to life.  We really are looking forward to having some time to get into that routine.  I'm really excited about pushing my web business to see if it can sustain us.  Making money doing something you love is a great option to have.  Annie is also pumped about her chance to turn one or more of her many ideas into a career.  She's turned into a pretty darn good day trader.  We have a restaurant idea that is percolating and may bear fruit.  We're both are close to finalizing a deal to make us landlords of a sort managing a vacation rental.  We're talking about having a family.  All these things get us really jazzed but are tough if you don't focus and give them time to mature.

So...we're excited and relieved at the same time.  We got back from a wonderful honeymoon and an even more spectacular wedding a few days ago.  After months of planning, the wedding weekend turned out perfectly.  So many people we care so much about were able to make it.  We saw so many people from every part of our lives and it touched us both very deeply.  We didn't get to talk to everyone enough, as we expected.  Or to eat or drink as much either, again, expected.  The photos and videos turned out great and we'll cherish them forever.

On the Eve of Our Spanish Wedding

A few days ago I began what has become quite an elaborate post about our upcoming nuptials. In trying to one-up myself in cleverness, I now find myself overwhelmed as 400 well-crafted words stagnate in an unnamed document on my task bar (I refuse to name it until I finish which means that I have not, against Sergio's best advice, turned off my computer since I started this literary quagmire).

Rather than sacrificing right now the hours it is going to take to finish it as it deserves to be finished, I have given myself a pass and am leapfrogging that post to memorialize this particular day before Sergio and I officially get married here in Spain.

The big wedding is, of course, the one we have been planning and preparing for practically since the engagement. It will be in the Texas Hill Country at a vineyard. My dress has been delivered, our ceremony written, 80% of RSVPs received (you know who you are!), all of the music hand-picked, bachelor/ette parties finalized, and, most importantly, the caterer, florist, DJ, hotel and venue will all have received all be  their final payments within the next week.

But for logistical reasons stemming from the incredible Spanish bureaucracy (see Sergio's previous post about another epic struggle with Hermano Mayor) and our desire to legalize my status, we are getting married first here in Spain. In August after  Sergio proposed, we began inquiring as to what is required for me to get residency status (similar to the U.S., if you are married to a Spanish national, which Sergio is, you are entitled to permanency residency and an expedited path to citizenship). We spoke with American friends who had gone through the process, consulted with an immigration attorney, compared the advantages of marriage to civil union and, after much legwork, presented ourselves to the marriage license office for our first appointment, of what would be many. That was in September, and although it may seem like a long time, we, against all odds, are going to be married in just 5 months from when we began. We weren't sure when exactly it was going to happen, and are paying an extra $350 in order to expedite our nuptials (we will be driving to a nearby town and getting married by the mayor).

It's a funny thing, though. On the one hand, this wedding is purely practical. If we were not living in Spain, or did not have plans to be here for a while, we would not have gone to the (great) trouble of getting married here first. Further, there will be a legally-binding ceremony in a few weeks in front of the people most important to us. We will be celebrating accordingly. The significance in the States of a Spanish wedding , or anywhere else for that matter, is, practically speaking, negligble. But on the other hand, it is not totally without meaning.

Sergio and I were talking about it the other day as we were walking home from the grocery store. He asked me if I was going to feel any different after we were married. There are certain things that are going to be different, but the impact of those differences is, I think, pretty minimal. For example, Sergio files away all of his emails into labeled folders so as to keep his inbox empty (compared to my organizational strategy which is to keep all emails in my inbox so that I know where to look should I need them again). He has a folder titled “family” and another for “friends”. Up until now, all emails from me have been relegated to the “friends” folder. I admit I am looking forward to being promoted to “family”.

Another change is that I am going to take his last name. This is not to say that I haven't been identifying myself as “Annie Garcia” when convenient (“Kersch” really stumps the Spanish lingua), but now I can do it without feeling like a fraud. Sergio will also begin wearing his wedding band, at least in Spain (since it would require explanation were he to wear it at his bachelor party in the States).

The truth is, I am not sure if and how I am going to feel differently. But this evening, when we opened a bottle of wine in celebration of our pending nuptials, Sergio toasted “to the love of my life”, which, for me, just reiterated the rightness of this next step, in Spain and beyond.   

Road Trip, Part Deux

The question we get most often from people is "what do you do with your day?" (If I mentioned this already, apologies. I'm getting old and never was very good with memory to begin with.) The answer I give differs depending on how interested I imagine the other person to be. Most of the time I pause, think for a few seconds, smile, and give a fairly boring answer, which I recognize is pure laziness on my part. Something like, "You know, grocery shopping, walking the dogs, checking the stock market, exercising." We've certainly developed a routine here but I still can't believe we've been in Spain for nearly 7 months.

Now I'm not sure where I was going with this and how I intended to circle it back the point of this post. I guess it's to say that my answer to the above question for the past month is quite different. How's that for a confusing and mind-bending intro?

As I've mentioned before, traveling was very high on my list of goal list in our time here. Same for Annie. It really is so easy to get to Paris, London, Prague, Rome, Berlin and so many other beautiful parts of Europe once you're here. Cheap too. Three months ago Annie came up with the idea of going to Berlin, a country she lived in for a year during her college days, home of her best friend Ryan, and one or our favorite cities, albeit for different reasons. A normal person would suggest flying there (since, as I just mentioned, it's mighty cheap and convenient). Not Annie "What Line?" Kersch. Her idea was to rent a car and drive to Berlin with the dogs. To put the trip in perspective for you US folks, it's equivalent to driving from Houston to New York and back. In stark contrast to our first road trip, we had the return trip to think about.

So that's what we did. 26 days, more than 6,200 km (4,000 miles), 11 countries, a two-door M-series white BMW, two dogs, camping and skiing gear, an iPhone, 15 tennis balls, a camera, and two adventuresome souls. There are really too many stories to put into a blog post...so I'll spare you. I like pictures much better than words so I'm going to take you through our last month using, what else, a photo montage.

The Map
Here is the map of our full trip complete with Google Maps goodness.  To keep you on the right track, we started up through France and came back around through Austria and Italy.

Spain (Nov 9-10)
We left Madrid much later in the day than we wanted to, and, after a stop at a boarding place we plan on leaving the dogs at over Christmas, we were off.  We camped in Roses the first night, a small city very near Barcelona and often quoted as the home city of El Bulli, one of the most famous restaurants in the world.  One story.  We reached the urban-esque camp ground, set up our tent, unpacked, felt all sorts of wildernessy and outdoorsy.  Even though there were restaurants all around, we wanted our camping experience to be authentic.  So I pulled out our butane stove to heat up some food we packed only to realize that I forgot the lighter or any matches.  N00b!

France (Nov 10-11)

France turned out to be merely a stop-over on our journey to Holland.  We once again camped and our second night was spent in a private, oddly situated campground just west of Lyon where the owner didn't speak a lick of English or Spanish and had to resort to crazy hand gestures to communicate.  Before going to bed, we went to the nearest small town (Craponne, not a joke) to grab a bite to eat.  We took the dogs and found that the restaurant was ok having them inside.  This was the first of many such experiences that allowed us to be with our pups much more than we would have ever thought possible...definitely enriching the entire trip.

Luxembourg and Belgium (Nov 11-12)

The third night was spent in a Luxembourg trailer park.  On the drive to Steinfort, we learned that Luxembourg is the richest per-capita country in the world.  Yes, a trailer park.  This would be our last night camping with the frigid weather hitting us pretty hard.  A near choking spell by yours truly, a trailer park rave, the first signs of the famous European Christmas Markets in Belgium, and the dogs once again being allowed inside a restaurant were our highlights.

Holland (Nov 12-17)

We spent nearly a week a Holland.  Over my years at Shell, I fell in love with the country, it's people, and their way of life.  Annie really wanted to spend some time in Amsterdam and there were a few friends of ours we wanted to visit.  The first night was in Leur, near Breda.  My good friend Arjan lived nearby and we made a stop here to spend time with him and his family.  It was perfect timing as Sinterklaus was making his way through Leur that Sunday and had with him a decked out boat and plenty of Swarte Piets.  Three nights in Amsterdam and one in Nijmegen completed our trip.  A Dr. Pepper sighting, Occupy Amsterdam, SRG pigging out on brat, famous Dutch frites, and another Christmas market in Nijmegen were but a small list of highlights.

Germany (Nov 17-27)

 The original destination idea for this trip was Berlin to see Annie's best friend Ryan.  We were finally, after more than a week, driving into Germany.  We stopped for one night in Bad Harzburg, a small town outside of Goslar, a city Ryan recommended for their markets.  In Berlin, we were able to celebrate Ryan's birthday with him, also a factor in our planning, but also do an American-style Thanksgiving with him too.  Annie did a spectacular job spending the whole day working on a crazy dinner menu.  For Ryan's birthday, we took him to his favorite Italian restaurant where Annie was nearly drooling and falling over herself for one particular item they had on the menu (we forget the name but it was fresh pasta tossed a huge Parmesan bowl with a bunch of truffle slices covering it).  We did the Glühwein thing, ran around a truely amazing Christmas market, stuffed our faces with Curryworst, and spent time with another of Annie's college friends, the other Ryan.

Czech Republic (Nov 27-29)

Prague is one of the few cities that most people recommend when talking about Europe, at least to me.  I'd thrown it out a bunch of times to Annie and so we decided to do two nights there instead of one.  In terms of the sights and views, it was certainly at the top of the list of everything we had or would see.  As for the vibe of the city, it was near the bottom.  Not sure why.  We staying near what seemed like an erotic zone of the city with sex shops all around.  It was a bit seedy and that could have lent to my feelings.  The other part that I've thus far failed to mention was a lack of any suitable WiFi connection.  I know, I know, we're in ancient European cities, we shouldn't be clamoring to stay connected.  Enjoy!  Regardless, the total lack of WiFi was a theme or our trip and, although most hotels claimed they had it free, none delivered.

Austria (Nov 29-30)

We made a short stop in Innsbruck before heading on to see my Aunt in Switzerland.  After a short power-nap, we were ready to hit what turned out to be an eerily quiet town with not much going on.  We were already talking about how nice it would be to be back home...not a good sign.  Innsbruck hosted two Winter Olympics in the later 90's and it's home to some great skiing if you're in the area.

Italy and Switzerland (Nov 30-Dec 1)

My mom's cousin lives in Lugano, Switzerland and I wanted to make a point of seeing her either on the way to or back from Berlin.  The latter worked out and Mary hosted us to a wonderful cheese fondue dinner and a chance to catch up with them.  We stayed in a seedy hotel on the other side of the border with Italy, starting to get excited about our skiing plans.  The orange fruit is a perfect persimmon...oh god it was good.

Andorra (Dec 1-4)

I thought we did a good job getting out of our funk for skiing.  We drove nearly 12 hours from Switzerland to Andorra in one day in order to more fully enjoy skiing.  After some confusion as to when the lifts opened and hanging out in the hotel an entire day, we were able to do two good sessions on the mostly closed Valnord mountain.  We stayed in a small town named Ansalonga outside of Ordino.  Pretty cool that we got to spend some time in Andorra, a country few people know exists on the border between Spain and France.

The last day of our road trip, Dec 4, turned out to be as long as any we had in the last month.  After skiing for 4 hours, we drove another 8 to get to Madrid, stopping along the way to stock up on groceries in Zaragoza (our place was devoid of food), and getting in at around midnight.

We're finally back to calm and nearly have all of our clothes washed.

All in all, an amazing experience filled with so many stories and memories we'll cherish for our entire lives.

"Baby, remember when we took the dogs on a month-long road trip through Europe?"