´my feet feel like waffles´

this is what shawn said today while sloshing through the picasso museum in his drenched shoes. i fully agree, and understand, this statement. maple-syrup-covered, soggy, buttery waffles.

today i invented a new sport: umbrella juggling. while shawn was smart and brought an umbrella, i was my usual self ajnd came totally unprepared. however, i discovered something unusual about barcelona--people just go around throwing away umbrellas.

my first find was in a trash can. black, with half the spoke broken in half. i pulled it out and used the half-circle of cloth to cover myself. then i found another one in the trash, a striped one whose handle was snapped in half. i carried it until the rain blew it apart again. finally, i found my baby--a tan, wooden beast from the nineteen hundreds. the harder the better.

picasso was a madman. he painted better than i do. bummer.

shawn, right now, is lurking over my shoulder, his little beaver patch in full force. now he´s giggling. hee hee hee. he´s combing down his beaver patch with his fingers and saying, ït´s coming along, dude. it´s coming along.¨

yes it is, shawn. yes it is.