Here’s the thing: I haven’t blogged much this summer because I haven’t wanted to.
Yep, here I am, a blogger, admitting that sometimes blogging sucks. Sometimes it’s really fun, though! You know, when you’re inspired or doing lots of things you think others will think are cool or when you have loads of things to say. The truth is, none of these things are happening right now. I’m not inspired, at least not to talk about Spain, and when I do a post about what has been really fun, practically no one responds. (See my last post.) But, as an experiment, I’ve come up with a list of reasons why I choose not to blog sometimes:
My readers won’t find it interesting.
Hey guys! So it turns out I decided to go on vacation and not post at all (!!). Nope, I didn’t schedule any posts, and I care absolutely nothing about it. I’m not the world’s most-dedicated blogger, even if I do occasionally find myself loving it. Where did I go?
I headed out west to visit my brother and his wife, who live in Nevada near Lake Tahoe. An idyllic place to live, wouldn’t you say? Yep, yep, it was pretty idyllic. Except that it was cold and rainy on our last day, but other than that, the West (with a capital W) treated us pretty darn well. Here are some of my photos, all taken on my iPhone.
The beginning of a long, arduous hike up Mount Tallac
The questions are always there, lingering. They are questions you ask yourself. They are questions others ask of you. They are questions that go unanswered.
Are you staying?
When are you going?
Where, indeed, is home?
I miss peanut butter. This is the most common food question for many Americans who come to Spain: Where can I get my hands on some good old American-style peanut butter? Luckily, if you’re in Madrid, the answer is easy. Actually, most towns that have a Carrefour or Mercadona will have peanut butter. (Now whether it’s any good is up to you to decide.)
But there are many other foods we crave. As good as Spanish food is, I know I have a list of things I like to eat when I get home. I crave spice, Ranch dressing, cottage cheese, and mainly anything from Trader Joe’s. (Someone please bring a bottle of their Champagne Pear salad dressing, stat. Oh—and some trail mix.)
So how have all these cravings made me a better cook? Easy—necessity is the mother of invention. Or so they say.
What can the American expat make in Spain instead of traipsing from Taste of America to Al Campo to El Corte Inglés?