Elsie's Notes from New England - THEMission edition

I hope you don't mind if I tell another story about John. It's June, isn't it? All About Father. Sounds good. Yesterday as we walked home from church, we came up the horrible hill that I hate and through Plaza Larga, and down the street past a little restaurant that sits in a corner. We pass this restaurant every day, many times a day. Nearly always, there is a young woman outside the restaurant, handing out flyers to passers-by to advertise for the dinner and flamenco show that goes on there nightly. We've been. It's good. The show is a little short, and there are only two dancers, a singer and a guitar player, as compared to some of the flashier shows that might have as many as eight or ten dancers and musicians performing. The setting, however, is much more intimate than in the bigger shows, and the food is wonderful. The price is also excellent -- 28 euros for a full dinner and the show, as opposed to the same price for just a show in the caves of th

Marie reminded me of this story, which I realized I haven't ever posted here. It is one of my favorite stories to tell on my sweet husband. It is from our years in Texas, while he was working on his PhD in Spanish Linguistics. When we arrived in Texas, we had two little boys in tow. When we left five years later, our fourth child was a month old. We lived in married student housing and lived off his graduate teaching assistantship, which came to about $700 a month. Even with adjustment for inflation, it wasn't much. And it certainly wasn't enough. We made do, though, mostly by finding fun things we could do that didn't cost anything at all. Gifts . . . well, gifts came mostly from Santa Claus (who at that time still looked an awful lot like my angel mother), or were handmade or otherwise inexpensive . . . well, no . . . free was more like it. We just did without a lot of stuff. John is a romantic guy. He's all about the sports and the jock stuff and "