The sky was a brilliant blue and the sun was shining this morning. So San Geraldo suggested we drive the 15 minutes up the hill to Mijas Pueblo. Then we headed out for coffee and we were reminded how much our recently glass-curtained terrace protects us from.
The wind was gusting and we were nearly blown off our feet. Still, what's a little breeze when you've got the Mediterranean sun?
So, San Geraldo and Judy did crossword puzzles, we had coffee, and we were off to Mijas Pueblo. (Click for bigger pics.)
SAN GERALDO'S PUZZLE LOOKS LIKE
OUR KITCHEN AFTER HE COOKS.
I DON'T KNOW WHY. A REPLICA OF BIG BEN IN MIJAS PUEBLO. NOTICE THE VIVID BLUE SKY — AND THE BLOWING PALMS.
AFTER AN INDOOR LUNCH AT BAR MARTINA,
STILL BLOWING AND THE SKIES ARE NO LONGER BLUE.
PABLO PICASSO ON A CHAIR NEAR THE RESTAURANT BEFORE LUNCH.
SAN GERALDO ON A BENCH NEAR A SHOP AFTER LUNCH.
MUCH COLDER AND THE SKY THREATENS. TIME TO HEAD HOME.
BACK ON OUR TERRACE
HAPPY AMARYLLIS UNAWARE OF THE WIND.
The answer, my friend, is still blowing in the wind...
Less then 8 months before I met San Geraldo, he and his roommate hosted a tree-trimming party. All guests were required to bring a Christmas ornament. When San Geraldo and his roommate went their separate ways, they split up the ornaments.
There was one I wished San Geraldo had left behind. The ornament was known as S&M Santa. I made a point of hiding him on the tree every year. (If our tree had had a dungeon, that's where he would have been.)
Recently, I was reminded of S&M Santa when reading a blogpost by Cheapchick. She had, I thought, the same Santa (click here), without the addition of steel and leather. Cheapchick referred to hers as Ugly Santa.
I recollected that we had finally gotten rid of S&M Santa when we downsized six years ago before our move to Spain. But, yesterday, when I unpacked the rest of our Christmas ornaments, I found him at the bottom of the box. Then I remembered telling San Geraldo, "Well, he's survived 29 years. No reason to get rid of him now."
It turns out Cheapchick's Ugly Santa was a beauty queen compared to ours. So, here he is, even less attractive than I remembered him (but a lot tamer).
(Click the images; unfortunately, he'll get bigger.)
San Geraldo printed out two copies of today's New York Times crossword puzzle, one for himself and one for Judyshannonstreetwhat. They worked on them simultaneously over morning coffee.
He and Judy are similar in their approach to crossword-puzzle solving. If it's the correct number of letters, fill it in. If a DOWN word doesn't work with an already filled in ACROSS WORD, simply scribble out that first word and write another with the same number of letters.
One of today's clues was "Los Caprichos artist." That's the title of a set of works of art by Goya. Judy announced, "GENE!"
San Geraldo asked, "Why GENE?"
Judy said, "Because we already have the G. And it fits!" They both filled it in.
"What about the clue 'I'm stumped. What do we do?' " she asks.
"It could be 'ANY IDEAS?' " San Geraldo responds.
As they both begin to fill that one in, Judy moans, "Well, there goes 'SNIT'!!!" And they both start scratching out a bunch of letters.
"What do you have for 'One who's extremely green'?" she asks.
"ELPHABAN," says Jerry.
"What's that???" asks Judy.
"Elphaba is the green witch from the Broadway show "Wicked," explains Jerry.
"I've never seen it," she says.
"It's a good show," I offer, "But, that doesn't make any sense."
"But, it fits!!!" They're both ecstatic.
Their sloppy puzzles made me a little nuts and I finally had to look away.
Some of today's more peculiar solutions. From Wrong to Right:
ELPHABAN became ECOFREAK
SNIT became SPAT
IBEAM became PLEAT
LEADS became LENDS
SHABALA became SHALALA
TRENTON became TEANECK
Oh, and of course, I made them change GENE to GOYA.
That "bamboo" that has been washing up on our beaches with every recent rainstorm is not bamboo after all (click here). San Geraldo was right to question "where all that bamboo is coming from." He finally suggested it was "fake Pampas Grass." I got what he meant: Something that looks so much like Pampas Grass that it is often mistaken for it.
So I Googled: "What looks like pampas grass and bamboo, but is not." Well, San Geraldo was right (imagine that).
NOT BAMBOO, NOR PAMPAS GRASS.
The scientific name is Arundo donax(click here if you'd like to learn about it — for next week's exam), but a couple of its common names are Giant Cane or Spanish Cane. It's native to the Mediterranean. Until yesterday evening we had a 'Giant Giant Cane' mountain across the street. Crews worked for more than 12 hours to pile it all up and then load and haul away several truckloads. There were mounds of the cane all along the beaches of Fuengirola. A huge job.
BLUE SKIES AND SUNSHINE BEFORE THE CLOUDS RETURNED.
San Geraldo's maternal grandparents were both Norwegian, his grandmother from Bergen in the south and his grandfather from way above the Arctic Circle. His grandmother, Gudrun, focused on becoming "American" and couldn't understand why her grandson, who to this day refers to her as "Gramma" Nelson, was so interested in her past in Norway.
WITH "GRAMMA" NELSON, 1949.
I never met Gramma Nelson. She died just before I met her grandson, around the same time my sister, Dale, died. But over the years I've heard many loving and funny stories about her.
No matter how hard she tried to become solidly American, Gramma Nelson never lost her Norwegian accent. Of especial difficulty for her was the "J" sound. Her grandson Jerry was always called "Yerry."
ANOTHER OF OUR CHRISTMAS ORNAMENTS, YERRY'S BABY RATTLE.
Wednesday afternoon, while we waited for Judyshannonstreetwhat (click here if you haven't met her) to arrive at Málaga Airport, we had overpriced Starbuck's cafe mochas and overpriced stale Starbuck's pastries. At least the staff was nice. When he ordered our drinks, San Geraldo gave the name "Jerry." When we received our drinks, we knew Gramma Nelson was right there with us.
From another Nelson... Gee, ain't it funny how time just slips away?
The first batch (of five) Jamaican Black Cakes are out of the oven. They get soaked in rum until, a) we think they've had enough or, b) we run out of rum.
We cut into the first cake because we had to test the batch and make sure it's good enough to give to anyone else. My perfectly cut parchment paper bases did the trick. The cake is excellent.
I like the fact that "Rum" is "Ron" in Spanish. I'm just having some cake with Ron (even though my friend Ron lives in Nova Scotia).
Yesterday's blog post inspired me to get the other box of holiday decorations out of the closet so I can display them all.
I haven't done it yet, but at least I'm inspired.
Meanwhile, I thought I'd show you some more of the handmade ornaments I've already set out.
(Click the images... because they get bigger.)
LEFT: SOAKING UP THE RUM. RIGHT: ALMOST IN NEED OF MORE RUM.
ENOUGH RUM.
One set of ornaments was created by dear old friends in Connecticut. They have two daughters and we all used to love to play Pictionary Junior together. As a going-away gift when we moved to San Diego, California, in 1993, Don and Bev, and Laura and Sarah each created an ornament from one of the Pictionary cards. We will forever cherish the gift and all the memories.
NORWEGIAN JULENISSEN PURCHASED IN BERGEN, 1998.
A NISSE IS UNDER 4 FEET TALL AND IS THE [SHORT-TEMPERED] GUARDIAN
OF THE HOME AND FARMSTEAD.
I'm still in the kitchen. Or maybe I should admit San Geraldo is still in the kitchen while I'm relegated to my office to cut parchment paper into circles for the bottoms of baking pans. Ten pans. Two circles per pan. That's twenty circles! (No need for intelligence briefings for me. "I'm, like, a smart person.") (Click any image and get in the spirit.)
JAMAICAN BLACK CAKE, DAY THREE, STAGE ONE.
THE GROUND-UP FRUIT (AND BOOZE) MIXTURE.
Every year, San Geraldo asks me if I want to cut the paper circles for the baking pans. Every year I have been conveniently busy doing something else. He always tries to make his request sound like he wants me to feel a part of the baking process. But I know the truth. He hates cutting these frickin' circles. This year I wasn't prepared to say "no" when he asked. Ten minutes of my life gone, just like that! (OK, you've heard it here; I'll do it from now on.)
SAN GERALDO NOW SAYS THEY DON'T HAVE TO BE PERFECT. TOO LATE! OF COURSE, THEY'RE PERFECT.
Meanwhile, although we do not have a Christmas tree (we wouldn't want the cats to have too much fun), I've emptied one of our two Christmas boxes and have strewn (well, carefully placed) decorations around the house. I'm now considering taking out the other box.
SANTAS GIVEN TO US OVER THE YEARS BY OUR NEPHEWS (I.E., THEIR MOTHER).
BUT, WE BOUGHT OURSELVES THE TWO FATTER ONES.
ONE OF MANY ORNAMENTS HAND-MADE BY SAN GERALDO. (SUSPENDED FROM HIS CROWN OF GENUINE GOLD-COLORED ALUMINUM AND GENUINE FAUX RUBIES AND EMERALDS).
BOBBLE-BODY SANTA FROM BERGEN, NORWAY.
JULENISSEN HAND-MADE FOR US BY COUSIN ELLEN IN BERGEN.
ANOTHER JULE NISSE FROM COUSINS INGER AND JAN OLAF.
Sweet memories and maybe I'm just a bit more in the holiday spirit.
While San Geraldo idly stirs his dried fruit and booze mixture for a couple of days (see yesterday's post), I've been very busy in the kitchen.
I've outdone myself by creating a brilliant and unusual breakfast (pictured below; click the image to view the recipe's multiple steps in better detail).
I KNOW!!! GASTRONOMIC GENIUS, RIGHT?
The cats watched me at work, very briefly, and decided to go outside to try and catch something fresh. The jerks!
BUT NO OFFENSE TAKEN REALLY. IT'S MOOSE AND DUDO'S DAILY ROUTINE. (IF MONK PARAKEET AND SWALLOW ARE TOO MUCH TO HOPE FOR, PERHAPS AT LEAST SPARROW?)
It's alright if you act like a turd, because I like...
The weekend was supposed to be filled with sunshine. Maybe this is what "filled with sunshine" looks like in England or Wales. But the Costa del Sol is the Coast of the Sun, and this weekend did not live up to the name. We had perhaps a half hour of undisguised sunshine today. But it's once again a mix of clouds and sun. And that might be alright somewhere else, but we feel the chill. Besides, the high today has only been around 17C (63F). (I know, I know: I'm playing the world's smallest violin.)
Dudo doesn't like the cold (yes, it's all relative) and insists we turn on a space heater just for him. The minute he hears the click of the switch, he's there with his face in the works. His position progresses as he and the space heater warm up. (Click the images to turn up the heat.)
After coffee this morning, I saw a little poodle who apparently doesn't much like the cold either. He was very chic. I wouldn't mind having that outfit; I think my tail might look quite good in it.
Leave it to San Geraldo to find the best way to overcome these cold, wintery days. He's preparing his annual batch of Jamaican Black Cake (click here for last year's post and the recipe). Even if all the alcohol doesn't warm us up, it will at least make us think we're warm.
I have finally found a chocolate truffle that's the perfect size for the limits of my appetite. Amazingly, the chocolate is made by Lindt and, as you can see from the photo, one fits perfectly in the palm of my hand.
(Go ahead, size queens, click the images.)
While we're on the subject of size and quality, Meson Salvador re-opened after an 8-week renovation project that left nothing of the original restaurant except the amazing staff and food.
Elena's birthday was in November but we decided to extend the celebration, so we had another birthday dinner at Meson Salvador Thursday night. Our waiter, David, gave Elena the royal treatment. She ordered ribs and he made sure they were super-sized.
After dinner, Elena asked for a teensy bit of cinnamon ice cream for dessert. David got carried away but provided a size-appropriate spoon.
Did you know that cinnamon is considered (by some) to be an aphrodisiac? Elena happened to mention that. It was news to the rest of us. We all dipped our spoons in her ice cream.
Look what showed up on the beach after all the rain.
(Click to hippopotamize.)
But, worse, look at the squatter that showed up in town! I first met him in 2013 (click here).
The "squatter" is in a shop window in Fuengirola and is really a "caganer." He hails (or at least the tradition does) from Catalonia and can be found more commonly around Andorra, Valencia, Northern Catalonia, and Southern France. "El Caganer" means "the crapper" or "the shitter." He's posed more discreetly than he was in 2013.
