Go put on your tuxedo Alex, it's time to eat a cheese blintz.

Well, well, well. Back to the land of high stadiums and low parking lots. (Cath- we did hit up the Mensa parking lot and I am sure you can guess how that went.)

I have taken up baking. I think that Pifo brings out the baker in me, most likely because Uncle Matt gives me a lot of positive reinforcement. I have mastered pies, blintzes, a newly invented variation chocolate fudge brownies, and today I wll move on to eclairs.

Speaking of baking ingredients, the chickens have all gone mad and they are eating their own eggs. I believe Ashley is behind this turn of events.... it has her name written all over it. The little fighting chicken decided to take over a flower pot to raise her chicks in, but Argo found the nest before they could hatch. Pinche Argo. She may be a hell of a dog, but her policy towards chickens could use some work.

We went to a ceremony at Alex's school on Saturday. They are forced to swear fealty to the Ecuadorian flag every year, while they march in place and sing songs about how they hate Peru and whatnot. It all looked a bit fascist to me, but the mere fact that the Italian kid marched in place much better than Alex will make great material for Cath's screenplay.

So, I started taking notes.

We went to the BBQ at Ximena's grandmother's mansion afterwards, where I was able to jot down many more juicy tidbits for Cath's future movie. For example, all of the kids kept throwing eachother into the pool, and the Italian kid had a terry cloth robe just waiting for him as soon as he climbed out. Say no more.

I was able to try out my new water bottle holder that day. Naturally, it has a llama on it, and it turned out to be just the perfect thing for sneaking some vino tinto into the party. (I have learned from past experiences that Ecuadorian's only drink one half a cup of beer every 45 minutes, and that will just put this Gringa to sleep.) Alison's brother discovered the WBH (water bottle holder) secret while the parents were all playing futbol, and so I had to hush him up with a story about how one time I broke a girls leg during a high school soccer match. I think that did the trick.

Speaking of almost passing out, Alex broke his finger in the pool. Don't ask me how, becuase I am not quite sure. But, he came in the house and yelled, "Margo, can you get me some alcohol!?" I thought he wanted a beer, which I thought was a rather strange thing to request in front of your teacher and principal, but it turned out he just wanted to disinfect the finger that was gushing blood everywhere. The little Ecuadorian girls took good care of him though, so apparently his fake sideburns do serve a purpose. (Although the Italian kid has much bigger fake sideburns. Classic.)

Last night, Alex and I went on a mission around Pifo to look for another copy of Grand Theft Auto for his PS2 (his mom hides them and then he has to buy another copy.... this happens about every other day) and it turns out he has a bigger gambling problem than Cath. Long story.... it involves Dance Dance Revolution and an underground marble ring.

The white poodles are out of control and are growing in numbers. I lost my dog whistle, so I must bring protection with me at all times. Since I don't have my harpoon gun with me (it is difficult to take across international borders), I bring either an Uncle, a cousin, or a small obsidian daggar that Alex fashioned for me, which has already been destroyed in battle at least once. When will this war agaist the white poodle and his minions ever end?

It is time to master the French art of eclairs now, call me Julia Childs if you wish.