I love Elijah Wood. And I don’t like Johnny Depp (physically; he’s an ok actor)

I am very disturbed about this image below that I have found on the internet when researching images to prove this post  (and it seems like I’m not the only person who has seen the resemblance!)

Not happy

… when the sun comes out for more than 2 days in a rown and, despite the 10 degrees max, people have smiles in their faces and talk about nothing else and YOU are the first one to shout: Spring is almost here!

… when the sun shines through the office window, and suddenly you feel yourself leaving your desk and standing by the window “taking in” the sunshine.

… when suddenly, after 32 years of life, you realise that maybe you will start needing a pair of sunglasses, as your eyes are not used to this level of brightness anymore.

… when talking about the weather is not another “conversation topic” but an important part of your day.

God bless Great Britain

I don’t consider myself older in any aspect than 10 years ago. Okay, maybe I do. Now that I think about it, 10 years ago I was crazier, I had never imagined I would settle down, and, why not, my skin was firmer back then. So yes, I do consider myself older nowadays.

Funnily enough, 10 years ago I used to think of someone in their thirties as really old. Maybe because back then, all the people I knew in their thirties already has settled down, had a mortgage, full time jobs, had married and kids were on their way. That was the conception I had of being old. And that is the description of who I am today. But people change their mind and perceptions tend to change as well as time goes by, and I no longer would consider someone in their 30s as old. To be completely honest, the best part of life has just started!

Okay, many people think that the best decade is your 20s. Mmmm.. It could be so. Depending on who you are and how life treated you, during this period of your life you probably experienced lots of freedom (leaving mum and dad’s house to go live on your own, probably at university), you probably had lots of crazy relationships and fell in and out of love a thousand times. You probably felt as nobody could touch you and you were better than anyone else. Lots of friends, lots of bars, lots of beers, lots of music, lots of concerts, lots of journeys, lots of late nights, lots of not being resposible enough, lots of “I don’t care”s, and lots of “I’ll do it tomorrow”s.

And then, one day, maturity knocks on your door. It may come in the shape of your ideal job, the one that you enjoy and care about. The one that gives you the money to do what you want, but the kind of money that you feel that you’ve “earned” and you’re more careful about spending it. Maturity may also come in the form of a lover. The one person who makes you realise that perfect doesn’t exist and understands even the most ridiculous aspects of yourself. Your better half. Your soulmate. The person you would follow to the end of the planet. It may also come in different and unexpected forms and shapes. Music, books, films. Little things that you would have simply not understood 10 years ago.

And one day, you wake up and realise that you’ve grown and matured. But you don’t care in the slightest, don’t care about the downsides of age because you know that you’re happy and everything is just right for you the way it is.

I’m stealing this Mark Twain’s quote from somewhere else, because I love it!:
       Age is an issue of mind over matter. If you don´t mind, it doesn´t matter

On a lighter and less philosophical note, Jon took me for dinner to Benihana in London for dinner to celebrate my birthday. I must say that I loved it, although it wasn’t as good as the Tepanyaki that we had in the cruise in Hawaii. It makes me want to go to Japan more and more, but I know that it won’t happen any time soon

Interesting and sadly rather true…

Today we mourn the passing of a beloved old friend, Common Sense, who has been with us for many years. No one knows for sure how old he was, since his birth records were long ago lost in bureaucratic red tape.

He will be remembered as having cultivated such valuable lessons as:

- Knowing when to come in out of the rain;
- Why the early bird gets the worm;
- Life isn’t always fair;
- and maybe it was my fault.

Common Sense lived by simple, sound financial policies (don’t spend more than you can earn) and reliable strategies (adults, not children, are in charge).

His health began to deteriorate rapidly when well-intentioned but overbearing regulations were set in place. Reports of a 6-year-old boy charged with sexual harassment for kissing a classmate; teens suspended from school for using mouthwash after lunch; and a teacher fired for reprimanding an unruly student, only worsened his condition.

Common Sense lost ground when parents attacked teachers for doing the job that they themselves had failed to do in disciplining their unruly children. It declined even further when schools were required to get parental consent to administer sun lotion or an aspirin to a student; but could not inform parents when a student became pregnant and wanted to have an abortion.

Common Sense lost the will to live as the churches became businesses; and criminals received better treatment than their victims. Common Sense took a beating when you couldn’t defend yourself from a burglar in your own home and the burglar could sue you for assault.

Common Sense finally gave up the will to live, after a woman failed to realize that a steaming cup of coffee was hot. She spilled a little in her lap, and was promptly awarded a huge settlement. Common Sense was preceded in death, by his parents, Truth and Trust, by his wife, Discretion, by his daughter, Responsibility, and by his son, Reason.

He is survived by his 4 stepbrothers; I Know My Rights, I Want It Now, Someone Else Is To Blame, and I’m A Victim

I must admit that I never gave much thought to the legalities of getting married. Somehow I thought that both governments would talk to each other and arrange all the paperwork on my behalf. Silly me, I know.

However, the beaurocratic side of things has been much less painful than it could have been. I mean, I did get married in England, under English law. All I had to do was to let the Spanish consulate know after all had happened. I married en June 09 and didn’t send all the paperwork until January 10. Yes, I took my time.

 I had to send the original and a copy of the marriage certificate, the originals and copies of both Jon’s and mine birth certificates, some Spanish consulate form, filled in with the same details repeated again, and copies of our passports. Nothing had to be translated. Ah, and a self addressed and stamped envelope big enough for them to send me the Family Book. The only time that I had to contact the Spanish Consulate about anything was when I wasn’t sure about the size of the envelope. Not having seen a Family Book in years, I had no idea of its size and whether it would fit in the envelope I had, or not. I was very lucky to get my phone call answered the first and only time I called, as I’ve heard of many a case where constant telephone calls to the Consulate never get answered. Hopefully, I won’t have to contact them ever again.

Now, about the Family Book.
Some people think that having an actual paper-book, hand written with a ball pen, is soooo last century and very backwards. Especially in the second decade of the 21st century, when everything is computarised. However, I think it’s very cute. The fact that I have that book here with me, I can touch it, I can feel it.. It’s got a special thing about it. Yes, it can get lost. Yes, it can get damaged (my mum’s always had a huge coffee stain on it). And yes, it’s a pain in the arse having to do all your beaurocratic paperwork face-to-face because someone has to write in the damn book. But I feel a tiny bit more special for having it, much better than just being another entry in a huge computer database.
This long tradition of the Family Book is, however, going to end soon, as it was recently approved in Spain that the paper version of the Family Book will disappear towards a computarised system. In a way, I think it’s a shame. On the other hand, it’s evolution, baby.