~ Ole Migue! ~

Okay, this is nuts.  I admit it.  Nuts!  I just finished working a nine hour day, dashed home to make dinner, washed pots and pans, wiped homemade spaghetti sauce off my stove and lips and rushed to put on my make-up.  Going out?  Actually, no.

It is almost nine o’clock at night and I have a date…more or less.  Actually more less than more.  It all started thirty-one years ago.  Sounds like a long time ago, but for me, it was just like yesterday.

My parents and I took a road trip up the coast of California without a deadline, stopping whenever the mood struck.  Eventually we made it up to San Francisco.  As we walked around I found a Spanish restaurant with a sign in the window stating that the chef was from Segovia, Spain.  Well, how cool was that?  I lived in Segovia, Spain one summer, taking classes, learning Flamenco piano and getting locked in castles.  Anyway, I was so excited to see that someone from Segovia was in California that I burst into the restaurant, my parents following behind and asked to speak with the chef.

He came out of the kitchen and I introduced myself and my parents to him in Castellaño and had a long and wonderful conversation with him telling him all about my short time studying in his hometown.

Little did I know, there was literally a tall, dark and handsome Spaniard eavesdropping in the adjacent room.  By now you all know I have a thing for Mediterranean men and this one was movie-star gorgeous.

By the grace of God, we were seated next to him and within seconds he began speaking with me in Spanish.  I learned that this was his first visit to the United States and after a few more days, he was heading back to Spain. He didn’t speak a word of English and didn’t know anyone in the States.

My dad was a cross between John Wayne and Charles Bronson.  He looked like John Wayne, but had a Charlie Bronson personality-very protective of loved ones.  Anyway, Dad took a liking to Miguel and didn’t want him roaming around the city by himself.  My John Wayne-Charlie Bronsonesque dad was a total marshmallow inside, but very few people knew that. He invited Miguel to join us for sightseeing and meals, taking him under his wing for three days.

Eventually, it was time for us to continue the road trip up the coast to Mendecino where we would eventually visit my aunt, uncle and cousins who lived in a commune.  More on communal living later: High heel girl meets California hippies.

Although Miguel flew back to Spain, we remained friends all these thirty-one years.  In the beginning, we wrote letters which took almost nine days to receive.  Now with the internet, writing is simple and we get instant gratification immediately, receiving an email within seconds.

So, when Miguel wrote to me recently, suggesting that we video chat, I was so excited…until I realized that I, the technologically challenged-but determined-girl-, had no clue as to how to do it.  Being a problem solver by nature, I came up with a solution.  Ask a 12 year old.  Since I was teaching all day, I had students of all ages to ask.  They knew how to Skype, but no one could advise me about a Google video chat.  Go figure!  Being persistent, I pushed this button, clicked that and by George I did it!  Sometimes I even amaze myself!

So, at almost nine o’clock, I raced to the bathroom, fluffed up my hair and put on make-up…still not knowing with the time difference if we’d connect.  But, I couldn’t take a chance.  He hadn’t seen me in 31 years…I’m older, but didn’t want to scare the heck out of my Spaniard!

And you know, the thing with the video chat is the person can see you.  And your house.  So, it appears that I am going to be slathered with cosmetics from the time I wake up and vacuuming and dusting all day and all night like it’s my mission. I may have Howard Hughes beat with this compulsive behavior. 

I think talking on the phone was so much easier.  Who needs this pressure?  Make-up at all hours of the night, cleaning like I’m a whirling dervish.  I miss the days of phone calls, instant messaging and texting in my P.J.’s, no cosmetics, and fistfuls of chocolate in my hands which no one would know I was eating.

I look at my watch: eleven o’clock pm , and realize that we may not video chat tonight.  Too bad about the make-up.  I just hate putting it on as much as I hate taking it off.  Oh, well.  Such are the dilemmas of a girlie-girl. 

Guess what I’ll be doing tomorrow night?  Bring on the vacuum. Smear on the cosmetics.  I’ve got a video chat in my future!   ~ ¡Ole Migue! ~