Who Cut The Cheese?

I've been spending time with dear old friends from Washington, D.C., Jim and Cindy, who now live in Northern California. They're visiting Sevilla with their two charming, clever, and amazing kids, Celie and Will (11 and 8).

INSIDE THE CATHEDRAL.

Yesterday, I joined the family as they toured the Cathedral and climbed the Giralda (bell tower), strolled the Barrio Santa Cruz, and checked out lots of other places along the way. We had lunch, coffee and hot chocolate, ice cream, and then we all had a perfect dinner at Dos de Mayo followed by more coffee, hot chocolate, and cakes at Emperador Trajano. During our ice cream break in the afternoon, everyone was wondering what San Geraldo was doing and I said he probably had just finished his siesta and would now be having his afternoon snack of cheese, crackers, and apples. I said he always serves up that snack in the afternoon, and that I consider it cooking because he slices the apples.

VIEWS OF SEVILLA AS WE CLIMBED THE GIRALDA.

FACING OFF. THE HORSE EVENTUALLY WON. SHE SHOOK HER HEAD, SNORTED, AND THEY JUMPED.

IN YEARS TO COME: "WILL, WHAT DO YOU REMEMBER ABOUT SEVILLA?"
ANSWER: "I WALKED RIGHT UP TO A HORSE. AND I CHASED A PIGEON."

OVER THE RAINBOW WITH CELIE AND WILL.

Will asked, "Is cutting the cheese also cooking?"

I began to answer semi-seriously that to me at least it was when I noticed that Celie was in a fit of hysterical laughter.

Oh, "cutting the cheese," as in passing gas, breaking wind, tooting, farting, or any number of terms. Did I mention they were charming?

"IS CUTTING THE CHEESE COOKING?"