A Breakfast Treat

While walking to Café Manila for my morning coffee, I tucked my hand into the front pocket of my jeans and discovered that Dudo had left me a little gift during the night. He must have slipped it in the pocket while my jeans lay folded (I swear they were folded). I think it was intended as a little snack. I ordered one of Fran's freshly made scones to go along with it. The perfect complement. If only there had been lemon curd and clotted cream.

MOUSE REMAINS: TWO BLACK EYES, ONE PINK EAR, AND A BIT OF ELASTIC CORD.
DELECTABLE WITH A SCONE AND MARMALADE.

In Fine Feather

As you might remember, while we were in New York in November I went through the Dowager Duchess's photo albums and digitized more of the memorable photos.

In my parents' wedding photo (which we have framed at home), The Duchess is wearing a [scandalous] dusty rose dress. It wasn't really scandalous; I just like getting a rise out of My-Mother-The-Duchess. Like when I told the story of how she and her friend Harriet picked up a couple of sailors. (Click here for that story.) I can hear her as she reads this, "Mitchell!"

My parents were married October 1947 while my father was  home on leave from the Army (after he "re-upped"). So, there was no big wedding. Otherwise, The Duchess would have had the traditional white gown. The Royal Consort (my father) would have been in a tux.

WITH THE SHOES AND THE FEATHER, MY MOTHER ADDED 9 INCHES TO HER HEIGHT.
(MY FATHER ADDED 3 INCHES TO HIS ... WITH THAT POMPADOUR.)

The always chic Duchess had a "fascinator" custom-made (think the British Royal Wedding, but not the British Royal Cousins) that included a dusty rose feather. (A "fascinator" is called a "tocado" here in Spain.)

CLICK FOR A CLOSER LOOK.

To my delight, the Duchess still had the feather taped inside her wedding album. Its not the rich dusty rose it once was. And it's clearly lost it's "oomph," being flattened inside the book these 66 years. But it's now scanned for posterity. I sure am glad she didn't try to save a slice of wedding cake. Although, if she had, I would have scanned that, too.

Waves Upon a Tropical Shore

Fashion dictates (I believe) that I wear a scarf when the temperature drops below 27C/80F. It's been in the high teens (60sF) during the day. Scarf weather. Gloriously sunny, spend the day outside, scarf weather. But today, San Geraldo's "cyclonic winds" were back... for a little while. And the temperature? Well, it only made it up to 15C/59F! Can you imagine?

CLICK TO SEE HOW WINTERY THE BEACH LOOKED ON MY WALK.

Today's "winter chill" made me think of another of my favorite holiday songs. I'd never seen this original, two-duet version. Too bad it's colorized, but it's still great.




Speaking of colorizing: Our apartment is being painted this week (living room, dining room, and halls). San Geraldo and I bought the paint with big plans to do it ourselves. I wanted to hire someone, but I thought San Geraldo wanted to do the work (and save the money). The buckets of paint sat in the dining room, day after day. I've been dusting them regularly.

TECHNICOLOR... CAPRI PURPLE.

Meticulous in many things, I tend to just slap paint on walls. San Geraldo can take four hours to do one window frame. We learned on Skype that Linda and Tom (sister and brother-in-law in South Dakota) painted half their house in the first two days after we bought our paint. That was more than a week ago. I groaned and told them I would hire someone if it weren't for the fact that San Geraldo wanted to do it himself. San Geraldo said, "I don't necessarily want to do it myself. I thought you wouldn't want to spend the money." Thirty-two years together.

SAHARA GOLD.

I know a painter. I asked him. He starts Tuesday morning. Can't wait to show you the dramatic (I hope) before-and-after photos. But that might have to wait until we recover the sofa and chairs. They're looking kind of tired and we can't get Dudo to understand that they're not scratching posts.

GREEN PISTACHIO.

Santi (our painter) was supposed to start at 8:30 this morning. Something came up; so he's starting tomorrow instead. Since we were already up and dressed, we went to Cafe Manila a couple of hours earlier than usual. It was a bit darker under the awning at 8:15. So dark that San Geraldo thought he was still wearing his sunglasses. You can see below how the very clever San Geraldo determined that he wasn't wearing them.

"AM I STILL WEARING MY SUNGLASSES?"

Tequila!

I did find something to buy yesterday at Fuengirola's Saturday Market. Heading through the main avenue — after first hearing Pseudo-Peruvian Pan Flutes and then "Native American" Pan Flutes (which included two authentic vinyl teepees as part of the second display) — I heard some really good music. On guitar, Pablo Pierángeli. On keyboard, Lucho Serenelli. They call themselves "Mitá i Mitá." (I don't know what that means exactly; perhaps "Measure by Measure." Maybe you know?) They say they play Blues and Surf Rock. [NOTE: I’ve since learned mitá i mitá means “half and half,” which is how the guys agreed to split anything they earned performing. It’s Andalusian dialect for mitad y mitad.]

MITÁ I MITÁ.  SURF ROCK FUENGIROLA.

Lucho and Pablo do eventually sing on my video (below). The intro got dragged out just a bit. It's worth the wait. (Someone wanted to buy their CD but didn't know what "self-service" meant). After enjoying Mitá i Mitá's music for 15 minutes, I ended up of course buying the CD (no assistance required). At €5, a much better investment, I think, than that nutcracker I told you about yesterday (click to see that).




The Virgin of Tequila
My one experience with tequila? I was 19, at university, and sharing a 5-bedroom house with four other guys. One of the guys had an out-of-town girlfriend, Janie, who came up for the weekend. Janie brought a bottle of tequila. No one else was home, so we (both tequila virgins) decided to see what it was like. Salt, limes, tequila, shot glasses. All set.

MY OLD TEQUILA HOME OFF CAMPUS.
BUILT IN THE 1870s  (AND NOT HISTORICALLY MAINTAINED).

First shots. "I don't feel a thing. What about you?" "Nothing."

Third shots. "Still nothing." "I don't know why everyone makes such a big deal about this stuff."

Fourth shots. Together, "Tequila!"

By the time we finished our fifth shots (or seventh or eleventeenth, I'm not quite sure), everyone else had come home. Another roommate had a girlfriend from Colombia. (She told me the next day that we had a great conversation. She also told me she had no idea I spoke such fluent Spanish. Maybe I should drink more tequila. Nope!)

Finally, empty bottle. "I don't feel very well..." "Me neither."

A week later. Living on rice and still recovering from the worst hangover of my life (and there have been many).

All these years later: I can't stand even the smell of tequila.

But I still like the song. Such profound lyrics. Tequila!

The Nutcracker's Sweet

What's your favorite Christmas song? I couldn't answer that question myself. Too many favorites. One of those is that classic, "The Chipmunk Song (Christmas Don't Be Late)," by David Seville and his brilliantly talented harmonizers, Alvin and The Chipmunks. It drives San Geraldo crazy when I play that song. So, it surprised me yesterday when he forwarded the below YouTube video link to me. It's members of the cast of "Glee" lip-synching to the Chipmunks. Why didn't this make San Geraldo want to pull his hair out, too, I wonder.

Oh, now I get it. It's those snappy, big red suspenders on “David Seville.” I'll have to get myself a pair. (And I do still want a hula hoop.)

Saturday Market
After coffee at Café Manila this morning, San Geraldo and I walked over to Fuengirola's Saturday [Flea] Market. The crowds (and fleas) very quickly got to San Geraldo. He lasted about 15 minutes and went home. I walked the entire fair grounds looking for something to buy. I didn't find anything I couldn't live without. I was, however, tempted...

THIS IS THE SWEET NUTCRACKER IN THE TITLE.

AND WHILE WE'RE ON THE SUBJECT... 24+ INCHES OF [PLASTIC] MANHOOD?

I USUALLY HATE THE GAME, BUT THIS ONE GOT MY ATTENTION.
ANTI-MONOPOLY, THE GAME OF THE 21ST-CENTURY ECONOMY.

THIS DISTURBING BRIDE MADE ME THINK OF MISS HAVISHAM.

A MUSICAL CLIMBING SANTA (PAPA NOEL).

MY FIRST TWO-TAILED MERMAN.  IT TURNS OUT IT'S NOT SO UNUSUAL.

BUT, FINALLY...  I NEED THIS LIKE I NEED A HOLE IN THE HEAD.

We're All Ears

Dudo and Moose are quickly on their way through their package of toy mice. I've never played so much in my life. When I wake up in the morning (usually with the cats' help), Dudo is sitting on my bed with a mouse at his feet or in his mouth, waiting for me to play. When I sit at my desk during the day, he sits on the den bed mewing at me, a mouse within reach.

Although Moose has been enjoying play-time with me and these mice, as well, he still manages to entertain himself throughout the day. Not Dudo. He needs and expects (and, OK, usually gets) my participation. My plan is to play with him until he tires or gets bored, which usually takes a half hour or less. Today, more than eleven hours later, and he's still nagging me to play with him. And guess who's winning. (My lips tell him "no, no" but there's "yes, yes" in my eyes.)

MOOSE TRYING TO GET MY ATTENTION AT SUNRISE WITH MOUSE #2.
AND I THOUGHT IT HAD BEEN DUDO!

It started at 8 a.m. and at 7:30 p.m. he's still following me around the house dragging an artificial mouse carcass along with him. I played with him for two solid hours this afternoon and finally decided I needed a siesta. He followed me into the bedroom, the remnants of Mouse #2 in his mouth.

THIS IS WHAT UNTOUCHED MOUSE #3 LOOKS LIKE.

The original mice are simply hard plastic "bodies" wrapped with duotone elastic cord, with felt eyes, ears, and nose attached. But after a few minutes with Dudo and Moose they no longer bear any resemblance to mice. Mouse #2 is now just some elastic cord ... with ears.

DUDO REALLY NEEDS TO LEARN TO ENTERTAIN HIMSELF.

They both like to chew the crunchy plastic for a bit until they get the cord completely undone. The sound of crunching plastic is a bit disturbing. But, I'm grateful it's not actual bone (click here to learn what fellow-blogger Knatolee listens to).

MOOSE, TRYING TO CHEW OFF THE EARS. SO MUCH MORE SELF-SUFFICIENT.

MOOSE, FLOSSING?

DUDO: "PLAY WITH ME!!!!"

"I'M WAI---TING..."

"STILL HEEEEEE-ERE..."

SAN GERALDO. ALL EARS (WELL, ANTLERS) WEDNESDAY NIGHT.

And, in case you're wondering, Dudo is about to drive me crazy!!! I have definitely got to get out of the house. But, I'll admit, I love every [other] minute of it.

Get Out My Seat!

I made two new friends last night! I had a great time visiting with seven wonderful people (including San Geraldo) at the holiday dinner. I didn't have much to do with the other hundred-plus, but the restaurant, the music, the energy, and the company were a pleasure. Of course, we were at the best table — Ann (aka Slushee) and her husband Darren (the chef at Sandpiper); Fran and Chris (who run Cafe Manila); and Fay and Fred, another warm, kind, interesting, and charming couple who came to Fuengirola from England years ago.

FAY, GETTING INTO THE SPIRIT.

TURNING SOME GREEN TINSEL INTO AN ELF'S BEARD.

SAN GERALDO: "DID YOU KNOW MITCHELL HAS A BLOG?"

MITCHELL: "I'LL POST THESE PICTURES TOMORROW."

The tables were festooned with Christmas decorations and treats — including Christmas "crackers" so popular in the UK. Our Christmas crackers were all duds. Not one at our table popped. In addition, there was a giant confetti tube, which you were supposed to twist to explode. No one could get it to work. By the time Fran got her hands on it, there was clearly no hope. Finally, Darin simply ripped it open and poured the confetti all over the table.

SAN GERALDO WITH THE CHRISTMAS CONFETTI TUBE.
(FRED AND FAY LEANING AWAY FROM THE EXPECTED EXPLOSION.)

DARREN GIVES IT A GO.

SLUSHEE HAS A WHACK AT IT.

AND IT GOES COMPLETELY LIMP FOR FRAN.
(WOULDN'T YOU JUST LOVE TO KNOW WHAT CHRIS IS THINKING?)

I might have gotten lucky last night if I had chosen. Well, on second thought, few people would have called it "lucky." There was an open bar and there were a number of people who took advantage of that. Thankfully, no one at our table got carried away.

ANOTHER DRINK FOR TIPSY.

But at one point, fairly early in the evening, a woman came walking back from the dance floor... No, wait, she came careening back from the dance floor. When she reached our table, she stopped, slapped me (hard) on the shoulder and demanded, "Get out my seat!"

Her eyes were a bit bleary. "What ya doin' in my seat?!?" she demanded.

Before I could respond, another woman came from behind and said as she dragged her away, "Sorry 'bout my friend. She's lookin' for 'er 'usband."

I laughed and asked, "Is she looking for her husband or a husband?"

Later on, "Tipsy" was again on the dance floor and had us all very concerned. The dance floor was at the top of three steps and she was twirling awfully close to the edge. Amazingly, she didn't go over (although she nearly twirled herself into oblivion several times).

BACK ON THE DANCE FLOOR WITH NOT HER HUSBAND.
(HIS HAND GOT A BIT MORE "FAMILIAR" AT TIMES.)

Tipsy got drunker, sloppier, and more ridiculous as the night wore on. And she wasn't done with me either. On another trip back to her table, she again stopped at ours, slapped me on the arm and demanded, "Where's my 'usband?!?"  I said, "He's at the next table, where you're supposed to be." ('Poor guy,' I thought to myself.) She leered at me and stumbled on.

'USBAND AND WIFE.  HOLD ONTO YOUR ANTLERS!

A few minutes later, Tipsy was back on the dance floor with "'er 'usband." I no longer felt sorry for him. They were a matched set.

MEANWHILE, BACK AT OUR SEDATE TABLE.

Fuengirola Rolls Up The Sidewalks

It's beginning to look a lot like Christmas around here. It's a chilly 17C/63F right now and after a cloudy, gray morning, the "winter" sun is shining once again. It was even raining a bit when we woke up this morning. Deciduous trees continue to lose their leaves (although their leafless season is brief). For the Costa del Sol, at least, it's wintery. Christmas decorations are going up all over town. And the beaches have taken on their winter look, as well. I've never lived anyplace where they, literally (and I do mean literally), roll up the sidewalks (called "pavement" in the UK — although I've never understood that since the "pavement" abuts the road, which is also paved).

SOME OF THE BEACH "SIDEWALKS" BEING ROLLED UP FOR WINTER.
(CLICK TO ENLARGE.)

I need to go around town to see all the lights, trees, and decorations. There's a Christmas tree on nearby Plaza San Rafael and, the other night when we went to Meson Salvador for dinner, we were surprised by three leafless trees covered in ice crystals. Three metal trees, that is, covered in lights.

PLAZA SAN RAFAEL AND THE CHRISTMAS TREE.

PLAZA SAN RAFAEL'S CHRISTMAS TREE FROM THE BACK END OF OUR TERRACE.

LAST NIGHT ON THE PLAZA.

ICE-LADEN TREE (MESON SALVADOR IN BACKGROUND).

Tonight we're going to a Christmas dinner with 120 of our closets friends. (I know five of them.) It's black-tie optional and casual-acceptable. We're going casual. San Geraldo has some new sweaters but, having now lost more than 20 kilos (44+ pounds), he hasn't figured out what he'll do for pants. Could be an interesting look.

THE "FALLING YUCCA" PLACED SAFELY AWAY FROM THE WIND.
(NOTICE THE BAGS OF STONES TO ENSURE IT STAYS UPRIGHT.) 

20-KILO BAG OF STONES. THIS IS HOW MUCH WEIGHT SAN GERALDO HAS LOST.

The Three Weissmans

We were shopping at AKI in Fuengirola the other day (our version of Home Depot, which — if you don't know — is a USA chain of home-improvement and construction superstores). As I browsed the Christmas aisles, I came across a very popular outdoor decoration that I wrote about during our first Christmas in Sevilla (click here).

In the USA, Santa can often be seen climbing a rope ladder hung from a window. Not the "real" Santa, obviously. Everyone knows he and his reindeer land on the roof. (Although, our 6-year-old great-niece, Eloise, wants to know how they all land on the roof without waking everybody up and — while she's on the subject — how Santa and the reindeer fly in the first place. "It doesn't make any sense!")

CLIMBING THE SHELVES OF CHRISTMAS DECORATIONS.

But, back to my point. Instead of rope-ladder-climbing Santas, Spain more often has rope-ladder-climbing Wise Men. AKI had great rope-ladder climbing Wise Men and I was tempted to buy them, especially since they sell out early in the season. But, the price was €16.50 and I could imagine, in our cyclonic winds, seeing them ripped viciously from our terrace and swept into the sea.

When I was very little (and kind of dense), I first heard people talking about the Three Wise Men and I didn't quite understand. I wondered who the Weissmans were and why they were so important.

2011:  SAFER IN SEVILLA FOR FIVE WEISSMANS (AND SANTA).

Older, No Wiser (Weisser?)
When I was in junior high school, after my first year of Spanish language lessons where I learned about "albondigas" (meatballs) — click here for that — I no longer thought about the Weissmans. But I could never remember the names of the Three Wise Men.

In my mind, they were Shadrock, Meeshock, and Albondigas (although I always knew Albondigas couldn't be right). I later realized those were the names (well, sort of) of the three men in the bible famous for being saved— by divine intervention — from being burned alive. Except their names were really Shadrach, Meshach, and Abednego.

And, as long as I'm confessing: We used to drive by a billboard on Long Island. It read: "Jesus Saves." I thought it was an advertisement for a bank.

And, yes, I'm an atheist.

ALBONDIGAS (BALTAZAR) IN SEVILLA 2012.