In which The Mister is a rock star and I am a failed Mexican/American cook

Over the past few months, The Mister and I found a way to help others, practice our Spanish, make new friends, make our part of the world a little friendlier, and use up some free time - all in one fell swoop.  We started volunteering.

Our location of choice is a cool organization here in Málaga that transitions new refugees into living a normal Spanish life.  To declare refugee status under the existing international conventions, someone's life has to be in imminent danger in their home country, so people who are granted refugee status are usually scared, confused and just a teensy bit stressed.  We started heading down there to pitch in some various organizational efforts, and just recently The Mister and I started an intensive English language class a couple times a week.

I haven't blogged about it much at all because, of course, there are some pretty serious privacy and safety concerns, and there isn't much I can say (or show, pictures-wise) in such a public forum. But it's been without a doubt one of the most rewarding parts of our time here in Spain.  Who doesn't like cuddling sweet babies, watching adults bravely sit down for reading and writing lessons, and making all sorts of new international friends?

Anyway, this past weekend, the center celebrated La Fiesta de la Primavera - otherwise known as a spring festival, for those of you who took French in high school.  We were each supposed to bring something representative of our culture.  The Mister played the guitar and sang a short concert of American hits like Hotel California, and I made 7-layer dip (an American friend here argued that this is actually Mexican, and I said, show me a Mexican who even knows what this is and I will grant you the point, and she said, touché.)

I thought you might like to know that a.) Nobody wanted to touch the dip and I still had 80% of the pan full at the end (they don't know what they're missing), and b.) The Mister is, was, and forever will be a rock star.  Dude killed it, as they'd say in industry parlance.  Who am I kidding? I don't know any industry parlance.  But anyway, if you see The Mister around, give him a pat on the back.  He represented well.