hello.hello.hola.

This funny thing happened to us as we were searching for just the right home:

We would hop on a bus or a metro (or both) - - leaving Barry and Karla's neighborhood. We would then wander around other parts of the city until we could not longer walk, and we would come back again to Barry and Karla's place - - sighing and wishing we could find a neighborhood like theirs - - where there is a lady who sells flowers on one corner, and another lady who sells fresh squeezed orange juice on the other corner, and there is a nice long street just a block down, filled with every sort of lively, mexican delight you can immagine: bread stores and indoor markets and outdoor markets and a churro shop and a paleta shop and taco stand after taco stand . . .

And then one evening after a long day of unsuccessful househunting, as Joshua and I draped our weary bodies across Karla's couch, Barry said "you know . . . there is a house a few spots down from us that just went up for rent"

We went to take a look; and it seemed just right;

it even had  1.) big windows 2.) no carpet, and 3.) a terrace  - - which were the three things that I had asked God to please give us in our home if it seemed good to Him.

(coincidence? um, I don't think so)