Spanish lessons

I was late to my first Spanish lesson yesterday and this morning was the make up with my wonderful French/Spanish/friend teacher.

With Rick and I so in love with Andorra and plans to go on writing retreats there, it makes sense that I should be minimally functional in the language. He's still working on his French, although he did really well with our Francophone friends at our first Muslim February Thanksgiving feast on Sunday. (Note: the turkey crisis was solved--see earlier blogs including suggestions on how to sew it together from my imaginative roommate.)

Thus today I braved the wind. What is fascinating, I'm learning Spanish more from French than from English. Not sure if that is good or bad.