"My" Hospital

No, this lovely church is not "my" hospital. That picture is further down. 

I always put the best picture first, because blog readers include a thumbnail that hopefully makes you want to read the blog. 

This neighborhood, Moncloa, made me happy.  It seems like normal life in the city. 

The buildings have some variety. People were going about their business. I got done several errands. I felt really at home. 

Here's the picture of the hospital. You can see why I did not put it first. My Spanish professor derides the "architecture of the dictatorship."  Never mind that 50s architecture around the world was the same, dictatorship or democracy. 

I had to stand in line at information to find elevator number three. I looked on all the walls, but not at the doors themselves. 

Meanwhile at home, Troy shot one arrow into the back of another. 

We all trying out nasal irrigation. 

Winston spent two hours washing the car. 

And we all enjoy the nice mornings and evenings on the doorstep with the puppy. My Spanish professor does not enjoy mornings, because she lives in a flat and does not have a garden or a doorstep or a puppy.