According to the lovely linen letter that arrived today, Don Miguel Angel Moratinos, the Secretary of State for Spain, accepts my kind invitation to visit his namesake town. He can´t come for the fiesta in August, but he asks us to phone his office to set up a mutually agreeable date for him to come over for a roast lamb and a nice sit-down chat with the folks from hereabouts.
To which I reply, (with a flash back to my Pittsburgh roots):
Holy Frickin´ Shit. He said YES.
I don´t have china, I don´t even have a full set of plates or silverware. I don´t have a dining table, or chairs, or a kitchen. My dogs are rude. I don´t know how to roast a lamb the way they do here. I have never played hostess before to an international diplomat. (When I meet high-ranking politicians I instinctively begin lobbing impertinent questions at him/her.)
And I don´t have a thing to wear. (I have a nice apron, though.)
Still, I am most pleased. I´ll talk to Estebanito, the alcalde, about dates, and locations, and about keeping this very, very small, and as informal as possible. (He´s already said he wants to show off his family´s big bodega...and we already know that lambs roast wonderfully well in there!)
I have yet another good reason to pound those Spanish verbs, and get this house into some kind of shape! I will consult with everyone I know who´s shmoozed with these types before. He shouldn´t be too hard to handle, seeing as he IS a diplomat. I wonder if they´ll let us have some random pilgs in for the feast, too?
The Foreign Minister is coming over. Holy moley. I may speak Spanish like a dim child, but I must be able to WRITE it convincingly enough!