Kid Clobbers Clowns

I spent the day with the Kid Brother today. We walked; we talked seriously; we chatted; we did Abbott & Costello, The Honeymooners, Superman, and Get Smart routines.

We ate Nathan´s hot dogs and fries. We drank root beer sodas. He played skeeball and we both played arcade games. We shopped. We had a great time together. But the highlight for us both, I think, was when he knocked out a bunch of clowns.

(Click for the bigger picture.)

AT THE 100-YEAR-OLD ORIGINAL NATHAN'S .
THE KID BROTHER IS AN ORIGINAL, TOO, JUST NOT AS OLD.

THE COLOR-COORDINATED KID BROTHER IN FRONT OF ONE OF THIS YEAR'S CONEY ART WALLS.
(LOTS MORE OF THESE GREAT WORKS TO COME...)

CLOBBERING THE HIGH-POINT CLOWNS FIRST.

SELFIE SIBLINGS POST-CLOWNS.

Los Ciclonicos And The Cyclones

As you might have noticed, San Geraldo regularly complains about what he calls the cyclonic winds (los ciclonicos) that regularly whip up throughout the year, but primarily in winter, in our area of the Mediterranean (Alboran Sea).

The Dowager Duchess lived in a similarly cyclonically susceptible area on the Atlantic Ocean where it approaches New York Harbor.

IN NEED OF SOME SKIN RESURFACING?

The "cyclonic winds" in Brooklyn are also less common in summer, but we had one of those days last week. If you were unfortunate enough to be on the beach, you would have received free microdermabrasion. I was on the boardwalk.

BROOKLYN'S MINOR-LEAGUE BALL TEAM.
LOCATED IN CONEY ISLAND AND APPROPRIATELY NAMED "THE CYCLONES."

CONEY ISLAND'S OLDEST REMAINING ROLLER COASTER.
IT OPENED IN 1927 THE DAY AFTER THE DOWAGER DUCHESS WAS BORN...

... AND IT´S CALLED THE CYCLONE! THE DUCHESS NEVER WENT FOR A RIDE.

57 Bras, 104 Panties, And A Few Hand-Knits

Can you hear My Mother The Dowager Duchess saying "MITCHELL!!!" after reading the title of this post?

I've gone through all the closets and drawers (both kinds of drawers, in this case). I knew my mother liked to shop, but I had no idea how much.

(Click the images and see the collections grow.)

SOCKS... THE FINAL PILE WAS TWICE THIS SIZE.

My mother wouldn't care that I've told you about the hand-knits. She´d be proud. And she´d be even more proud they've all been donated to JASA, a wonderful social services agency without which she would not have been able to live independently this past year. Dozens of beautiful items The Duchess made and wore over the years — including a crocheted and silk-lined purse. I'll share some individual photos one of these days.

I THOUGHT I WAS DONE STACKING THE HAND-KNITS.

THEN I WAS SURE I WAS DONE, SO I BOXED IT ALL UP.

BUT, WAIT, THERE´S MORE!!!

My mother would NOT be pleased I've told you about the 57 bras and 104 pairs of panties (at least I didn't include photos).

Nothing but gratitude and smiles remembering a life lived fully, independently and uniquely...

In really, REALLY nice underwear.


P.S.: Sorry to not be keeping up on your comments and blogs. I will get back to you all once I've dug myself out from under all the clothes, shoes and several hundred pairs of earrings. This may take a while. — m

Off The Wall And A Full Moon

We said our farewells to My Mother The Dowager Duchess Wednesday morning. The Kid Brother was exceptional. The day went smoothly. Several raindrops hit the windshield of the limo as we headed to the cemetery. It never really rained on us and there was no storm, but those three raindrops meant I had to fork over $4 (click here if you missed that story). I was happy to do so.

So, now San Geraldo and I are making phone calls, scheduling appointments, doing paperwork, cleaning house... We appear to have everything under control.

We had planned a trip here at the end of the month, which was to continue to the Midwest and Northwest for other family visits. We have decided to stick to that plan.

San Geraldo and The Kid Brother went today to the casino at Aqueduct Racetrack. The Kid Brother had a very successful day. San Geraldo did not. And I had the pleasure of spending a few hours with my cousin Evie who drove in from New Jersey. We visited our Aunt Sylvie, who will be 94 this year but, sadly, lives in a deep fog of dementia. We then headed out for lunch. So much to be grateful for.

Before Evie´s arrival, I went for a walk on the Boardwalk in the 95+ degree heat (35C) and high humidity. The weather here has been brutal. Still, the walk was a joy. And I did my parents´ traditional kick-off (click here for an earlier kick-off) at the end of Brighton Beach and the beginning of Manhattan Beach. The Boardwalk has been redone and it´s no longer the same wall, but it still counts and it still felt great.

Life goes on. Gratitude grows.

I SPOTTED THIS ON THE BOARDWALK AND COULDN´T RESIST.
I COULD IMMEDIATELY HEAR THE DOWAGER DUCHESS SAYING, "MITCHELL!!!"

In Lieu Of Flowers

I will be responding to each and every message once this week is over and can never thank you all enough for your kindness. San Geraldo and I are, and the Dowager Duchess would be (and, who knows, maybe she is) overwhelmed.

This morning we say our formal good-byes to my mother, Marion Block.

All has gone smoothly this week. San Geraldo has earned his title "San" ten-fold. I´m thinking of awarding him a double halo.

The Kid Brother has been great. He´s been watching the weather forecast and is convinced there´s going to be a storm this morning.

When I told him it wouldn´t storm this morning (just so he´d relax and actually show up; how the hell would I know if it will storm or not?), he said, ¨How much ya wanna bet?¨

I said, "A billion dollars!"

He said, "You jerk! I´ll betcha four dollahs!"

The bet is on. I was kind of hoping it would storm. Then he´d be sure to be outside waiting for San Geraldo just to collect his money.

San Geraldo is picking him up at 7 this morning and bringing him back here. We three will then head off in the limo (The Kid Brother really wanted a white one) for our day of grateful remembrance.

For those who have been asking, in lieu of flowers, donations can be made to:

AHRC New York City
A family governed organization committed to finding ways for people with intellectual and other developmental disabilities to build full lives as defined by each person and supported by dedicated families, staff and community partners.

www.ahrcnycfoundation.org
or write or call:
AHRC New York City Foundation, Inc.
83 Maiden Lane, New York, NY 10038
212-780-2690

Saying Good-Bye To The Dowager Duchess

FROM OUR VISIT IN APRIL.

After a long, active life filled with many hardships and many blessings, my mother passed away Friday at the age of 89.

She had been telling me a lot lately, "I'm just not myself anymore." She managed to get out once a week with a small group of wonderful friends for a painting class and dinner; it was the highlight of her week. But she found it very exhausting and usually spent the entire next day recovering.

Another day each week, she hosted a Mah Jongg game at home with other friends. She also loved that but, again, found it very exhausting.

Other than that, her life had become limited to walks down to the local market or some nearby shops, usually in the company of an aide. It was a better life than many experience, but it wasn't the life she wanted, and we worried she would soon have to give up more of her independence and mobility.

Her very kind next-door neighbor checked on her Friday night when he got home from work after he saw her NY Times still outside her door. My thanks — and my heart — go out to him.

Jerry and I are getting ready to head to New York. I expect that the funeral will be held Tuesday, but that remains to be arranged.

I haven't yet spoken with the Kid Brother, but I will. And he will be fine, especially because we three will be fine together.

I plan to continue to tell stories (many embarrassing) about the Dowager Duchess. She loved the attention. On her behalf, I thank you all for that.

A Sloth In Spanish

Yes, it's still summer here on the Costa Del Sol. I was sloth-like Monday and Tuesday afternoon, so decided to go for a long walk Wednesday. But I forgot to wear my new cap.

So, I walked along the beach for about 15 minutes before turning into town where I could shelter at times in the shade of the buildings. The shade led me to Bioparc Fuengirola (the zoo), so I headed inside figuring I would continue to find shade under the lush vegetation. Of course, I found so much more. And most of the animals were finding ways to relax and cool off as well.

(Please, click the pics. You'll be glad you did.)

I'VE NEVER SEEN ONE OF THE "HOOFED" ANIMALS GET INTO THE WATER.

THE KOMODO DRAGON WAS A SLOTH.

SPEAKING OF SLOTHS, THAT'S PEREZOSO IN SPANISH.
I'M SO IMPRESSED WITH MY EXPANDING VOCABULARY!
AND THE IDIOT TRUMP THINKS HE HAS "A LOT OF WORDS."

PARADISE IN THE HEART OF FUENGIROLA.

THE ORANGUTAN (ORANGUTÁN IN SPANISH) IMAGES
ARE NOT GREAT BUT AREN'T YOU IN LOVE NOW, TOO?

WELL-SCHOOLED: LIKE THE "HOOFED" ANIMAL,
THE FISH DECIDED TO COOL OFF IN THE WATER, AS WELL.

Red Hotness

It's been hot here. And steamy. And the air hasn't been all that pleasant. There were sand storms in Northern Africa in recent days that made their way across the sea to Andalucía. The red dust was said to reach as far as Sevilla (a couple of hours north of us). It definitely reached here.

(Click the images to see what the wind blew in.)

RED DUST BLOWING IN FROM THE SOUTH AT SUNSET SUNDAY.

BEFORE SUNSET: JUST LOOK AT THE HEAT RISING FROM THE SAND!

Takin' It To The Street

The City of Fuengirola has lots of things going on this summer, artesan markets, free movies on the beach, flamenco at the castle, special exhibits and expositions. Some we enjoy. Some we avoid.

Something new this year is a display of seven "monumental" steel sculptures by artist Juan Méjica. They are scattered along the Paseo through a good stretch of town. The collection, and other works, have traveled around Spain. One piece is directly across the street from us. It makes for a nice change. 

(Click the images to monumentalize.)

It's Da Plane!

While having coffee on the beach Thursday morning, we heard the sputter of an odd-sounding motor and looked up to view a big fat sea plane. It wasn't the plane from the TV series "Fantasy Island" ("Da plane! Da plane!")... At least I don't think it was. And, thankfully, no one was dropped off on our beach. But it did land (it did water?) before quickly taking off again. It appeared to come awfully close to some jet skis and sailboats, but my viewing must simply have been deceiving.

I was able to snap my first picture from our table before the plane headed back into the sky. It circled and returned, splashing down a few more times and giving me the opportunity to run down to shore for more shots. (Click for a closer look.)

AND OFF AGAIN INTO THE WILD BLUE YONDER.

Sweater Weather

The other day, as I walked on the Paseo in the hot summer sun, a woman and a little boy (maybe 2 years old) crossed to my side of the street as they headed for the beach. In Spanish, the mother said to the little boy, "Look. There's Grandpa!" The little boy beamed and ran toward a shirtless man who was just about to step onto the sand. The boy stopped abruptly.

"Mamá," he shrieked. "Grandpa has a sweater!"

The Cat In The Hat

I used to hate wearing hats. Since arriving in Spain, however, I discovered that if I wear a decent hat when it rains, I don't have to carry an umbrella.

That hat became known as my Frank Sihatra Not (as friend Darrin said when his tongue slipped, meaning to say "Frank Sinatra hat" — click here for that story).

I've had a shiny head for many years and the sun has never bothered me. This year, however, I've noticed I'm not as tough (meaning "young") as I used to be when it comes to the sun's heat. I've been hit with heat exhaustion a couple of times and I don't want to end up with heatstroke.

It's time to give in to the hat. (My father hated hats even more than I do and he gave in to the hat when he was in his 40s.)

SLIM AND SPORTY.

I popped into a local market this morning while out for a walk and I found a lightweight, casual cap (as opposed to the two summer-weight Frank Sihatra Nots I have in the house).

I like everything about the cap except for the fact that it's got a little tag that says "SPORTS." There were other hats without the tag but they were heavy canvas. I shared my thoughts with the shop owner. He told me I was "delgado" and "un deportista" (slim and an athlete) and "Eh-sports" (his pronunciation) was appropriate in my case. I bought it. Hook line and sinker.

So, back to the title of this post: I am the Cat and this is my hat.

Flipping Out

A common sight on our beaches is kids performing aerial feats using a stability ball buried in the sand or a Bosu ball (a half ball) wedged in firmly.

On my walk past the castle and back the other day, I watched one exceptionally talented teen and one of his friends. The athlete pictured always landed on his feet. His friend? Sometimes.

(Click the image. You'll flip!)

THE FRIEND.  "JORGE, ARE YOU OK?" HE ASKED HIM IN SPANISH. HE GOT NO RESPONSE.
"JORGE, ARE YOU OK?" STILL NO RESPONSE.
"JORGE, IF YOU'RE OK, GET OUT OF THE WAY. IF NOT, CALL YOUR MOTHER!"

JORGE GOT OUT OF THE WAY.