Jamie Wakefield

All of my life I have been very proud of my eyesight. I could see better, longer, catch slight movement off the side of the road other people missed, and read in less light than anyone I knew. And then I hit forty. At 42 I started carrying reading glasses with me for reading labels when shopping, for reading menus, and for lying in bed reading. I started at 1.25 magnification. At 43 I bumped that up to 1.5. At 44 I started wearing 2.0 glasses all the time. My vision was getting worse both near and far. I needed them to eat because my food was becoming blurry on the plate and I couldn’t see the TV clearly enough. At 45 I bumped them up another notch to 2.25 and also got contacts for my wedding so I wouldn’t be wearing glasses in all the photos. The ophthalmologist told me my natural eyesight was so bad I was not legal to drive in Vermont. (it’s legal if I drive with contacts or glasses on.) When we returned to Madrid I saw an eye doctor who informed me that my eyesight would continue to

I think I got the quote right. Bonus points for those who can identify it. Our adventures in Madrid are coming to a close and a new adventure will begin in Vermont starting mid-August. Yes, we are leaving Madrid and moving back to our house in Vermont. Why you may ask? Well, a number of things. Wendy loves family and most of that's in Vermont or New York. She loves being part of a singing group and she can't find that here in Madrid, at least, not the format she enjoys. Our nephews and nieces are all growing up and we're missing it. Wendy came over here to relive a dream she's had since she was fifteen and now she's done it. Part of that dream was the thought she would marry a Spanish man and join a Spanish family. 1. She married me. 2. Spanish men aren't that great. 3. The women she knows who are living that dream, have enlightened her to some of the pitfalls. It's expensive living in two places at once. Heating the house in Middlebury while nobody is livin

I burn books. It’s not really my fault. Most paper these days is made fire-resistant. But I still need a little paper to start my chimney that starts my barbeque in Spain. It all started with the used book store. We buy too many books. Some belong on the bookshelf, some belong in the rubbish pile. Rather than dump them into the trash, we decided to donate them to the local used book store. The guy there is fantastic. Really nice guy and we want him to succeed. So, we give him our books and he gives us some credit. Almost out of sympathy, I chose a few books to take home, but in reality, if it’s not in electronic form, I have (almost) no use for it. There were a couple Star Trek books, an Angel (the vampire from Buffy) book and something else. They’ve all been sitting next to the bed since I got them six months ago. Today we are hosting a calcotoda. This requires the grilling of a very specific Spanish onion. And I need to start the barbeque. Magazines suck for starting fires and news

I like you. I do. You're a good guy with well rounded skills that has actually beaten some of the best in the world. If the past has taught us anything, you should never bet against Forrest Griffin. But, I'm sorry, Rich Franklin is going to knock you out tonight. Rich might struggle against wrestlers or guys who have massively superior striking but you have neither of those. You have good striking but how many people have you knocked out? One? Two? I'm too lazy to look it up. Rich Franklin punches you like the target is behind your head. His punches continue to drive forward after he has connected with your face. His punches are like a piston that doesn't care that it has already connected, they are seeking a spot six inches past your face. Your face is just in the way. Franklin by KO in the second. At the latest. And honestly, that makes me sad because I really like Forrest and he needs a win. But Franklin is just too much for him and styles make fights. Griffin's

After a crappy night’s sleep I walked the hundred meters to Manta Diving. I was a little nervous. My first lesson would be with Rachelle, a cute, short blond as the instructor and two tall German guys who are students like me. We’re going to be doing some exercises in a pool a hundred yards away at a nice motel. Rachelle shows me how to hook up my air tank to my vest, check to see if it’s properly hooked up by slowly releasing air, check my straps, inflate the vest, test both regulators (the thing that goes in your mouth), check your pressure gauge to make sure you have enough air and then undo it all then do it all again five times. When I finish, and we put on our gear and are ready to head out the door, one of the other instructors comes over and tells me my straps and weights aren’t tight enough and cinches me good and tight. I feel like Houdini wrapped in chains now. We walk up to the pool and I don’t feel so good. How are these no-muscle, skinny guys and this little girl carrying