Today On Show: The Rat Pack

Tuesday night, San Geraldo and I were in Málaga for a farewell dinner (until next time) with our nephew Matt and his wife Lindy. They fell in love with Málaga several years ago and we've been the lucky recipients of nearly annual visits.

To say that I adore, admire, love, and respect Matt and Lindy would be understating my feelings for them.

We took in Málaga's Christmas lights before enjoying another amazing dinner. While I sort through my 145 photos (whittled down from the original 221), I thought I'd share this shot of a club we passed. It really has nothing to do with anything except it had us all laughing.

SAY WHAT???

AFTER READING THE SIGN BY THE DOOR, MATT THOUGHT IT WOULD HAVE BEEN BETTER
HAD THE MARQUIS READ: TODAY ON SHOW, THE PACK RAT

Back To The Continental Baths

We took the train (an 11-minute ride), in the pouring rain, into Benalmádena Sunday to meet friends Kristina and Matti for lunch. On our ride out of our neighborhood, as we passed the Roman ruins (click here) park down below, I noticed that the Roman Baths were filled with water. How exciting! It looked like they were back in business! And by my way of thinking, we live on "the continent," so these must be the "Continental Baths." (If you've never heard of the other Continental Baths, click here.)

Our usual morning coffee stop, El Jazzy Bar, is located right on the edge of the ruins park and, since El Jazzy is closed Mondays, I decided to check out "The Baths" Tuesday morning only to discover that they were no longer abubble. One pool had some water, but my favorite round pool had drained.

Then I noticed that the Roman fish salting factory also appeared to be back in business. Well, maybe not back in business. But there's lots of water. It's a start.

THE ONLY POOL STILL HOLDING WATER.

MA FAVORITE POOL. FILLED SUNDAY. EMPTY TUESDAY.

WAITING FOR THE FISH TO BE DELIVERED?

Bette Midler at the Continental Baths, New York City, 1971. (That's Barry Manilow on the piano.)
They'd come to the Fuengirola Baths if only the baths would hold water!

Sorry, We're Closed

This is the time of year when many restaurants around town take a break. It's the slowest season, so a good time to close for a month. This year, Meson Salvador, our home away from home, is doing a major renovation and will have been closed about 7 weeks by the time they reopen next week. Abrevaero was closed for a month and returned last week. (We've already been there four times.)

FIDEUA PASTA GAMBAS.
(A SEAFOOD DISH FROM THE COAST OF VALENCIA)

Our adored friend Jessica is moving on to her new career in events planning and won't return to Sandpiper when they reopen after Christmas. It won't be the same without her (exemplified by the fact that most customers call the place "Jessica's").

CHULETON A LA PARILLA (RIB STEAK ON A HOT STONE PLATE).
THAT'S ME DOING THE COOKING!!!

We've been complaining — a lot — that "everything" is closed. As you can imagine, we suffered terribly having only Santorini (Greek), Primavera (Italian and Spanish), Bing (Asian Fusion), and a handful (or three handfuls) of other places to go.

I CAN'T REMEMBER WHAT IT'S CALLED.
I ONLY HAD IT FOR DESSERT THREE TIMES LAST WEEK.

Just click the images to see how great has been our suffering. (If I remember what it is, I've told you below the photo. If I don't remember, don't ask; that would be cooking.)

LIMONCELLO FOR DIGESTION. (I SHARED.)

OUR FRIEND PEDRO MUST HAVE BEEN WORRIED ABOUT US.
HE COOKED A CARE PACKAGE OF COCIDO (STEW).

PUMPKIN MUFFIN (CARE PACKAGE) BY PEDRO.
WE ATE HIS PUMPKIN PIE BEFORE I COULD GET TO MY CAMERA.
PEDRO REALLY CAN COOK!

All Over Your Blues

We've been really busy lately. Out and about several times a day — in the constantly pouring rain.

San Geraldo hates the rain. San Geraldo hates the clouds. He hates the damp chill. His usually varied and interesting vocabulary has been reduced to the use of one adjective. "Frickin'" he mutters.

"I'm sick of this frickin' rain. I'm sick of these frickin' clouds. This frickin' weather sucks!!!"

Beginning Monday, it's supposed to be partly cloudy (or maybe it's partly sunny) for at least a few days before the "frickin'" rain returns.

I'm very happy about that. I'm frickin' sick of listening to San Geraldo complain. (And, OK, I'm getting frickin' sick of this weather, too).

(Click the images and find some frickin' hope on the horizon.)

SATURDAY AFTERNOON. MUDDY WATERS.

SUNDAY MORNING ON THE TERRACE.
SAN GERALDO FILLED A POT WITH A VARIETY OF AMARYLLIS.
THIS IS THE FIRST TO BLOOM.

THIS MORNING ON THE WAY TO COFFEE. A BRIEF BREAK IN THE RAIN.
(AND A MESS TO BE CLEANED UP ALONG THE SHORE.)

AND THEN THINGS SUDDENLY CHANGED.

THE REMAINS OF A DOUBLE RAINBOW THAT WELCOMED US HOME
AFTER A LATE LUNCH (IN THE POURING RAIN) WITH FRIENDS KRISTINA AND MATTI
(WHO PAINTED RAINBOWS ALL OVER OUR BLUES).

"I've been waitin' my time just to talk to you..."

Muddy Waters

It's been raining. That's an understatement. We were well below normal rainfall until this week. I don't know where we are now, except under water. It's beautiful (I say). It's awful (San Geraldo says). However, I will admit it limits what we can do — except on our newly enclosed terrace!

(Click the images for a flash flood.)

ONE OF VERY FEW PEOPLE ON THE STREET (AS SEEN FROM ABOVE).

FROM THE DRY AND CYCLONIC-WIND–FREE TERRACE.

STANDING IN FRONT OF OUR BUILDING AT 11:00.

DEBATING HOW FAR TO WALK FOR COFFEE.

BAR BARBORU, BELOW OUR BUILDING, SEEMS LIKE A GOOD IDEA.

AROUND THE CORNER EARLY THIS MORNING
(ROBBIE, THE CHEF AT BARBORU, SHARED THE PHOTO WITH ME.)

THE USUALLY DRY CHANNEL NEARBY.
MUDDY WATERS FLOWING DOWN FROM THE MOUNTAINS...

...AND CARVING A WIDER CHANNEL INTO THE MEDITERRANEAN SEA.

BACK ON THE TERRACE.

STILL DRY AND CYCLONIC-WIND–FREE!

Appropriate music for the day...

Dowager Duchess's Dog

My Mother The Dowager Duchess was not an animal lover. Not by any stretch of the imagination. When she was a little girl, her mother got a cat to fend off any rat/mouse problem in their tenement apartment. My mother told me that one day, when she was around 9 years old, the cat jumped onto her lap and she sat and petted it for a while.

I said, "Wow. I can't imagine you doing that."

She said. "It was disgusting. I finally felt so sick that I pushed the thing off."

My mother couldn't understand how we allowed our California cats, Dobie and Maynard, to sit on the furniture. They weren't allowed on tables or counters, but my mother found it just as bad that they were allowed on sofas and chairs.

Once, when my mother was visiting us in Santa Barbara, our long-haired, gentle, friendly cat, Dobie, walked by her chair. She reached down and stroked him absently before lifting her hand away in disgust.

I said, "How can you be like that? He feels like a fur coat! You love fur coats."

"Well," she said, "Fur coats don't breathe!"

DD's Dog
The Dowager Duchess did have her own "pet dog" for more than 25 years.

She had created him from yarn, felt, buttons, and cardboard. She gave him a red leather collar with a gold buckle. Even he had to sit on the floor.

So, while we were cleaning out the apartment, I allowed the old boy to sit wherever he wanted.

MY MOTHER LOVED THIS COAT SO MUCH SHE KEPT IT FOR 68 YEARS.
(BUT I NEVER ONCE SAW IT ON THE SOFA).

Yes, We Have No Bananas

While the sun was still constantly shining — before these last few days of mostly cloudy, sometimes thunder and lightning, and a mix of light and heavy rain — I was on a walk on the beach when I spotted a sad-looking cluster of plants in a cement planter outside a chiringuito (beach café).

The tallest plant caught my attention because hanging from it was what I'm pretty sure is the flower that will produce a cluster of bananas.

It's easy to get the real banana plant confused with the "giant white bird of paradise" or "wild banana" whose flowers look like the typical orange bird of paradise (except that they're giant and white... which is probably where it got its name, don't you think?).

Unlike the real banana plant, however, the giant white bird of paradise doesn't bear edible fruit. So, once there's fruit (i.e., bananas), I can easily tell it's a real banana plant. I'm clever like that.

Anyway, as I mentioned earlier, I'm pretty sure that what I saw was a real banana plant. I'll wait for the bananas and will let you know for certain — unless, of course, someone out there looks at my photos and can tell without waiting for bananas (or no bananas, as the case may be).

(Don't forget to click the image for a bigger banana ... or no banana.)

Time for a another song from Louis Prima...

The Finger

Our dear friend Tynan was teasing San Geraldo while we had coffee the other morning. He does that regularly. Mostly because it's so easy to do.

Finally, San Geraldo began to threaten, "You know, Mr. T [he likes to call him Mr. T], you're on a frozen lake, and the ice is thick, and you're going further and further, and you're getting to open water, and you're about to drop in..."

"Jerry," I interrupted, "You really could just say, 'You're skating on thin ice.' "

"Oh."

MEANWHILE, MOOSE WATCHES THE DRAIN
(FOR TINY BIRDS THAT WILL NEVER, I HOPE, SQUEEZE THEIR WAY THROUGH).

The Finger
A few minutes later, San Geraldo surprised us with his knowledge of a contemporary, popular singer. Tynan, as I've mentioned before, is from Chesterfield in the English Midlands. Most people would agree that Tynan's accent is sometimes difficult to understand (well, most people have said a lot worse).

Tynan said, "You've got the finger on the pulse of youth, you."

A confused San Geraldo repeated what he heard, "You're fingering the pulse of me???"


After all that, I joined Moose and Dudo at the drain.

MUCH LATER... DUDO STILL AT IT.

Dog Pee?

There's a restaurant nearby that has great food and service. It's less than a 10-minute walk and the atmosphere is great.

The men's room is well-maintained (that matters to some people), but I find the inside of the toilet lid to be very peculiar — and a bit confusing.

WAS I SUPPOSED TO AIM FOR THE DOG'S MOUTH?
(THE COLOR OF THAT TONGUE MAKES ME THINK SO.)