From the diary of Griselda Vargas-Beilschmidt

2

It's snowing today. I like snow a lot, that kind of snow that lasts and you can make a snowman out of it, or igloo, or just snowballs with which you'll then bombard everyone in sight. I love doing that. Everyone in sight does not love that.

The dogs like snow, too. In fact, they like almost any weather, they dislike only storms and fireworks.

Me and Vati once built a HUGE igloo in our garden. You had to crawl through the entrance, but it was worth it. All of us three (or six if you count the dogs) could fit in there, and it was amazing.(Granted, I was four and it was really stuffed with all of us, but amazing nonetheless.) Vati even smiled. I love it when he smiles, because he doesen't do it very often, (especially around others) so it feels really special. Long ago I swore a vow that I'll never break: to try and make Vati and really everyone I care for smile as much as I can. I'm on a mission.

Talking about snow reminds me of my friends from the north. But maybe some other day about them. There's five of them, so it'd take a while. ("Vikings reproduce quite quickly." "They're the rabbits of humans." -another friend named George, and Fred.)

Winter is nice, but my favourite season is spring. Summer's a bit too hot and crowded and school begins in autumn, soo...spring it is. Also my birthday is in April :)(Not the first, sadly :/ )

Though I do enjoy winter, I'm not particularly fond of winter sports beside snowmans, igloos and snowball fights. Skiing's okay, but I'm hopeless at snowboard and ice skating. Althrough Fred tried to teach me the latter, I just. No.

My absolutely favouritest (is that a word?) winter memory is not Christmas, not New Year celebrations, but when Papa tried to snowboard. You'd just have to see it.

Firstly he had trouble with the snowboard and positioning his legs, then he couldn't take it off, so he panicked, hopped (!) down the stairs (NOT KIDDING) and somehow didn't kill himself in the process, and finally, knocked Vati over with such a force that Vati broke his arm and we had to go to the hospital. Keep in mind that Papa had done all of this while shrieking "LUDWIG HELP!" over and over. And that was the first day of the holiday. Yes, that had been one hell of a short holiday. I think Uncle Spain might even have it recorded somewhere. I need to ask him!

And that's just a fraction of our funny/embarrasing family stories. Uncle Romano must have an archive now. He's the kind of person who remembers all the embarrasing stories you thought everyone forgot, but then you mess up one day and he's like "this reminds me of another time when you fucked up". Elephant memory, some may call it. I call it Romano memory. And the worst part is that I don't have any embarrasing stories about him. As I said, I need to ask Spain for some. He probably has TONS, but he's too kind to tell. I'm glad neither of my dads does that. I wonder how does Gabriel deal with it, as he's living with Spain and he's basically their child.

Right. Gabriel. I probably should describe him a little, so you'd make a picture. He's a year older than me. I'm 11. Count it.

He's a bit taller, with a bit darker skin, bright green eyes (almost the same colour as Spain's, but with Romano's "hello bitches" look) and brown hair in a weirdly nice curly hairstyle. He mostly wears shorts, short-sleeved shirts (his favourite is the red and yellow striped one) and beach shoes.

His hobbies include swimming, fishing, cursing, cooking, some more cursing, bartending and cursing a little more. I can only say: Like papa like son. Ay. Also he secretly likes Jennifer Lopez. Don't tell him I told you.

He's not a very social person, but if he trusts you, you better not betray that trust as it would crush him and I'd crush you. When he does like some-one/thing, he's very passionate about it and defending it. He's my closest friend and companion, even though it may not look like it and his every third or fourth word is a curse. I'm trying to beep them out, but then he gets mad (he gets mad easily), we fight, not talk for an hour and then all is forgiven und we do it all over again. But we stand by each other and look for each other. Ain't nothing tearing up the mafia.

Did I mention he's the personification of the Baleares? Islands in the Mediterrean? Yup, that's him.

Ow, now my hand hurts. I think I'll stop here and continue later.