The Cows And Chickens Are Going To The Dickens

San Geraldo is another year older today. Well, we're all another year older today than we were on this day last year, but this one counts for San Geraldo. As for me, every day with San Geraldo counts and should be celebrated.

THE BIRTHDAY BOY WITH HIS SPLURGE (NOT ON THE DIET) SCONE.
(TOGETHER 32+ YEARS AND HE'S ONLY 28.)

I had originally written a typically sarcastic and still loving post in honor of San Geraldo's birthday. It was completed last night and ready to go. But, when we woke up this morning, shortly after I sang "Happy Birthday to..." him, he sang a different song to me. And then we went to Café Manila for a wonderful birthday morning of song and cards and scones and candles. And then we went for a walk. And then we got home and I discovered I had lost my wallet. And then I headed back out walking twice as fast and covering even more ground by finally heading to the police station to report the loss. And when I got home, San Geraldo had been worried about me being hard on myself and told me he would make calls for me. So, I sat down and made a list of the cards in my wallet. And then I got back to this blog post and decided that, today, there's no room for sarcasm.

San Geraldo is kind and generous, and loving, and playful, and patient. He shops. He cooks. He's funny and fascinating. He laughs easily and laughs at himself even more easily. I am so grateful to have (so far) spent 33 of his birthdays with him.

Here's the song San Geraldo sang to me this morning. I was going to share one of the more appropriately bawdy (and better) versions, but then I came across this saccharin-sweet and sappy clip from the "Lawrence Welk Show." What could be more appropriate for the boy from South Dakota? A couple of the highlights of San Geraldo's exciting and exotic childhood: He saw Lawrence Welk live (if Lawrence could ever have been described as "live") at the Corn Palace in Mitchell, South Dakota; and Myron Floren (the show's accordion player) visited San Geraldo's Sunday school. (Click here to learn more about all that.)

To paraphrase Lawrence Welk, "San Geraldo is wunnerful, wunnerful."

I Guess I'm Good For A Laugh

Yesterday, as I washed my face in the bathroom sink, I noticed the door swing in just a tad. I glanced down and saw one of Dudo's mouse toys peaking out from behind the door.

I knew Dudo was nearby waiting for me to play, so I bent down to pick up the mouse. Just as I did so, Dudo decided to come barreling into the bathroom. He jumped up on his hind legs and used his front paws and all his power to push the door open. Forcefully. It slammed me right in the head.

I'VE BEEN HIT BY TOUGHER GUYS THAN DUDO (1962)

I don't have a shiner, but I do have a bump and a little split in my forehead. And I'm pretty sure I caught Dudo laughing. I'll let you be the judge.

Lucha Libre

It was a dreary day here in Fuengirola. Rainy, windy, raw. The high temperature was a chilly 16C/61F. Be kind! With the damp and the wind off the sea, it felt a lot colder. It's now down to a bitter 14C/57F and it's supposed to hit 11C/52F overnight. Remember the damp and the wind... and my thin blood.

NOT A DAY FOR LUNCH ON THE TERRACE.

I had great plans to get indoor things done today — like cleaning and organizing the utility room, cleaning bathrooms, reorganizing the kitchen, sewing buttons on a jacket, stitching a seam on a sweater. Great plans. Instead, I spent most of the day playing with the cats or with Dudo asleep on my lap or with Moose asleep by my side. No cleaning. No organizing. No buttons sewn. No seams stitched. But I did manage to catch some lucha libre (freestyle wrestling).

My favorite wrestlers are a couple of brothers called Los Gatos — otherwise known as Dudo and Moose. Dudo wrestles under the name "The Dude." Moose doesn't need a pseudonym.

 The Dude Working Out On The Bags

THE CAT IS OUT OF THE BAG.

PRACTICING HIS THREATENING GLARE.

AND THE CAT IS "IN THE BAG" ONCE AGAIN.

Los Gatos

MOOSE AND THE STEALTH ATTACK.

A HEADLOCK.

AND THEN A GOOD LICKING.

BUT THE DUDE TOUGHS IT OUT.

AND MOOSE CONCEDES.

A Match Highlight

Mambo Italiano: My New Favorite Drink

San Geraldo and I went for a good, brisk walk Tuesday afternoon. We had some appointments to make in the center of town and thought it would be a good way to kill two birds with one stone (as they say). Or as San Geraldo said, "We can kill 28 birds with one stone." (And this from a bird lover!) Given that the once again "svelter" San Geraldo moves at a brisk clip, I love walking with him.

On our way home, we passed Café Manila and San Geraldo suggested we stop for a coffee. Once I sat down, I wasn't in the mood for a coffee and, it being a gray, less-than-warm, winter afternoon on the Mediterranean Sea, a beer didn't sound like a good idea either — even though a beer, like our coffee, only costs 1€. Sam asked what we wanted and when I couldn't decide, she suggested a "La Mambo" (or at least that's what I thought she said). I asked what it was and she said, "hot chocolate and brandy." How could that possibly be bad? Café Manila serves it no frills, which is fine with me. They only charge 2.50€ for it.

Well, it wasn't bad. Not bad at all. In fact, it was so good I could have easily had another. But I refrained. San Geraldo took a sip and liked it so much he demonstrated some of his newly acquired Spanish. "Ooh La La!," he exclaimed. (Okay, maybe he needs to study some more.) It's my new favorite drink... of the week.

It turns out the drink is not called La Mambo. It's actually called "Lumumba," named for Patrice Lumumba, the first democratically elected and tragically brief and short-lived prime minister (1960) of the Republic of the Congo. 

The traditional version of the drink is made with cacao and rum (sometimes with the addition of cream, sometimes with amaretto or brandy). It can be served hot or cold (Hot Lumumba or Cold Lumumba). Mine was hot — perfect on a damp and chilly afternoon. My mis-hearing of the name had me singing along with Rosemary Clooney (and dancing with Sophia Loren) on our walk home.

Rosemary and Sophia were only in my head. My singing was aloud. Lucky for you, no video of me...

The Kid Brother's Birthday

Today is The Kid Brother's birthday. (Click for last year's birthday post and more info on The Kid.) Unlike me, Chuck is quite capable in the kitchen. He even owns a wok — in which, I believe, he has been known to cook pork chops.  But, still, he does use the wok.

JUST BEFORE I TRIED TO SHOOT HIM OUT OF THE CANNON.
(AROUND 1962. FORT TICONDEROGA, NY.)

In addition to my brother's developmental issues, he can be obsessive-compulsive. We all have a bit of it, I suppose. I like to align things. Our mother, The Dowager Duchess, folds plastic grocery bags into flat 4-inch squares that look like they've been ironed, and she folds sheets and pillowcases so perfectly that you can't tell which are the fitted sheets until you've unfolded them.

BACK HOME ON LONG ISLAND.

The Kid Brother's OCD leads him to make the fluffiest scrambled eggs imaginable. He beats and whisks the eggs into a froth of perfection.

IN THE LATE '80s, PUT TO WORK IN OUR CONNECTICUT KITCHEN.

In honor of Chuck's birthday, I was going to bake a cake. But then I thought of how it would probably turn out. So I sent a gift by mail instead. Sorry, Charlie! Watch the below tutorial to see why there's no cake. (Chuck loves The Three Stooges.)

Oh, and HAPPY BIRTHDAY, WISEGUY!

Chinese Cooking: Sweet & Sour Slushee

Buffet dining... Walking around with an empty plate and selecting things oneself to create a meal. In my world, that's just one step away — well, not even one step away — from cooking. So imagine my shock when we joined Ann (Slushee) and Darren, and their son Antony, at a restaurant chain called Wok (there are two right here in Fuengirola) and found ourselves at a buffet.

The first bit of confusion was when Slushee asked if we'd like to join them at "Wok" and San Geraldo wondered where they wanted us to "walk" with them. Slushee and Darren are English. They're both fluent in 'our language,' but they have a very non-American way of pronouncing things. Well, once that was clarified, we made a date at Wok, which I didn't know was a buffet restaurant.

SWEET SLUSHEE.

SOUR SLUSHEE
ANTONY GLEEFULLY SHARED THIS PHOTO OF WHAT "MUM IS REALLY LIKE."

We went early. Antony had school (and an exam) the next day (he was born here in Spain and speaks fluent Spanish and English; although, sadly, he speaks that peculiar English-English of his parents). Being early, the restaurant was almost empty, which took the pressure off me considering I was going to have to "cook." Antony gave us the tour and explained how it worked. The appetizer station was easy. I just loaded up my plate with lots of delicious finger food, avoiding the Peking duck so I wouldn't have to assemble the goods (pancake, duck, onion, sauce).

"OH-CRAP-YOU'RE-IN-TROUBLE-NOW" SLUSHEE

Then Antony pointed out the entree stations — one filled with items to be prepared on the grill and another with items to be prepared in the wok. You take a large plate and select all these raw things for the chef to cook for you. I muttered, "You mean I have to cook?" Eleven-year-old Antony explained that I didn't do the cooking; I just did the choosing. I explained to him that choosing was cooking. He just laughed at me. But, after the appetizers, he and Slushee took me back up to help me choose-cook.

TRYING TO DECIDE WHAT TO PUT ON THE GRILL. OH, THE PRESSURE.

STEP ONE COMPLETED.  MY PART OF THE COOKING ... EXHAUSTING.

Antony breezed through and created his own little feast. Slushee did the same while telling me what she liked best. I chose skewers of prawns, another of salmon, and then some corgettes (English-English for zucchini) because Slushee told me the chef did an amazing job with the corgettes (she was right). When I went back up (with Slushee) to select my items for my wok-prepared plate, I had to also choose the sauce I wanted it all "wok'd" in. Given the company, I chose "sweet-and-sour."

ANTONY HOVERING ... PATIENTLY.

THE CHEF (AND APPRENTICE) AT THE GRILL.

I DID A BEAUTIFUL JOB... IF I DO SAY SO MYSELF.

MY SECOND PLATE, FOR THE WOK THIS TIME.
NOT VERY AESTHETIC, BUT I HAD HAD IT WITH ALL THE COOKING BY THEN. 

THE APPRENTICE SETS FIRE TO MY SELECTION.

ANTONY AND CHEF-DAD DARREN.

BACK TO SWEET SLUSHEE ... AND THE CHERUBIC (HA!) SON.

So, I cooked last night. (I did so!!!) And it was delicious. (I had no idea I had such a gift for it.) Truthfully, San Geraldo and I would definitely go back to Wok. The selection was huge and the food was delicious. And we'd be especially happy to go anywhere if it meant another night out with Sweet & Sour Slushee and "the boys."

SAN GERALDO AND SLUSHEE.
(HE STUCK TO HIS DIET... I MADE TWO TRIPS TO THE DESSERT STATION... SESAME BALLS!!!)

Your Spanish Friend

A few weeks ago, I told you about my long weekend in Madrid staying with Guadalupe (click here for the last of several posts on that trip).

Guadalupe and a few of her friends can communicate fairly well in English. Other of her friends are fluent — and probably have a much better academic knowledge of English grammar than I do... than do I... than I... In addition, some are also fluent in French, German, and Italian. One friend is even fluent in Hebrew. All I could remember how to say in Hebrew was, "What's this?," "I go to Hebrew school," and "Koopy is a good monkey." Phonetically, that's "Koopy cove tove," if it ever comes up in conversation.

Putting Koopy aside... The core group of five professional women started a business together called "Your Spanish Friend." They host people in their homes and offer a few days or more of immersion in Spanish conversation while sharing the city of Madrid from an insider's view.

This all sounds like an advertisement and I don't mean it to be that. I just thought I'd let you know about it in case you're interested. Although Guadalupe and I had recently become friendly, we weren't close friends and really didn't know each other very well. I agreed to go up for a visit and was kind of nervous about staying in someone else's home (not my favorite way to travel) and spending so much time in such close proximity to a fairly new acquaintance. I also love to travel independently, so didn't know how I felt about being taken around Madrid by someone else.

The entire visit was a revelation. First, the homes are large and elegant. I had my own beautiful room and private bath. I know people with apartments smaller than that. So, staying in Guadalupe's house was like staying in an elegant B&B — with the added benefit of feeling part of a family (and being able to eat whenever I wanted). We spent the entire weekend speaking only Spanish. At times, my Spanish was comical, but I can't believe how much I improved, and how relaxed I was the entire time.

YOUR SPANISH FRIEND(s).

You may remember the photo I shared of Guadalupe and her friends. They are all gracious, fascinating, classy, relaxed, warm, kind, funny, knowledgable. I could go on an on. I fell in love. I told San Geraldo even he (yes, even he) would have had a great time.

This is not a shameless plug since it's not about me. Check them out at www.YourSpanishFriend.com and on Facebook at www.facebook.com/YourSpanishFriend. (You may recognize some of the photos. I sent all of mine to Guadalupe.)

AND JUST THINK, AFTER YOUR TIME IN MADRID,
YOU CAN VISIT THE COSTA DEL SOL AND WAKE UP TO THIS.

CLICK THE IMAGES TO FILL THE SCREEN WITH SUNRISE (AND FRIENDS).

Koopy
During your next trip to Spain I know you'll be asked about Koopy the monkey (he comes up all the time, as you can imagine): When asked, all you need to say is:"Koopy es un buen mono," because Koopy is a good monkey.

Sugar In Your Pants

I know I'm not alone in my juvenile humor but I apologize in advance to My-Mother-The-Dowager-Duchess. I've been saving up and just finally couldn't help myself.

San Geraldo, since he started dieting, has switched from pouring sugar in his coffee to using those little packets of sugar substitute. Sugar is available in large dispensers on every table at Café Manila. Sugar substitute is doled out in individual packets on request. Typical of the often-clueless San Geraldo, the first time he asked Tynan for the fake sugar, he said, "Tynan, do you have any sugar in your pants?"

FAKE SUGAR... FROM HIS PANTS.

After giving San Geraldo the fake sugar he wanted, Tynan pulled something old and worn from his pants. His wallet. Inside was an even older and more worn empty sugar packet. He's been carrying it around for years I think, just because he found it funny (which is one of the reasons he's my friend). It's an actual brand of coffee called "India Mysore Nuggets."

MYSORE NUGGETS ... TRAVELED ALL THE WAY FROM SOUTHWEST INDIA.

This morning, Slushee noticed that we were fiddling with our table to get it to stop wobbling. She handed me a cardboard drinks coaster and said, "Here. Stick that under your short leg." She and I both blushed. I reflexively replied, "None of my legs are short." (And then I blushed more).

HELP FOR YOUR SHORT LEG.

San Geraldo asked for a fake sugar and Slushee reached into the pocket of her apron. I told her about how San Geraldo had asked Tynan if he had any sugar in his pants. Slushee said, "Well, mine is sweeter." She then said, "This conversation is now at an end."

REAL SUGAR AT ANOTHER CAFÉ.

BOTTLED WATER FOR THE "LOS ANGELES (L.A.) WORKING WOMAN"?

SAN GERALDO THINKS THIS SOUNDS LIKE IT SHOULD BE TREATED WITH ANTIBIOTICS.

Obviously, I won't grow up...

Kitchen Inspiration From The Spanish Epicure

This morning's view was a bit different. Hardly a cloud in the sky, except for one perfectly placed as the sun rose. When I first glanced outside, I couldn't even figure out what it was. (So, I put on my glasses.)

After such an inspiring sunrise, something came over me. Not only did I cook oatmeal (in the microwave) — and blend in Greek yogurt, muesli, and almonds — but I did not open a can of peaches. I took a pear (a fresh, whole pear right out of the fruit basket). I took a small sharp knife from the block of kitchen knives. I cut the pear into bite-size pieces. I added those pieces — of freshly cut fresh pear — to my breakfast bowl. I did so without drawing blood (I tend to be a bit careless with sharp objects). Unfortunately, you'll have to take my word for this breakfast. I was so exhausted after all that cooking that I didn't have the energy to get my camera. I'm thinking of hiring a sous-chef to do my prep work.

San Geraldo usually has cottage cheese and berries for breakfast. I, on the other hand, have become quite the gourmet. Julia Child (The French Chef) used to say, "Bon Appetit." I (The Spanish Epicure) say "Buen Provecho."

Welcome to my kitchen; I even wash the dishes.

Too Much Excitement

It rained on and off Tuesday night. The wind at times blew. Wednesday morning, I cooked myself a gourmet breakfast of oatmeal (instant in the microwave, of course), Greek yogurt, peaches, and raisins. The peaches were halves from a can. I actually cut them — with a knife — into smaller pieces (like eighths). Sometimes I simply amaze myself. I'm thinking of hosting a cooking show.

MY GOURMET BREAKFAST.
I COOKED THIS ENTIRELY MYSELF... WITHOUT A RECIPE.

After our breakfasts, we headed over to Cafe Manila for coffee. Then San Geraldo went to Spanish class. I did laundry, trimmed the yuccas and cleaned up the plants on the terrace, and puttered on the computer. San Geraldo made salads for lunch. Later, I watched the sunset. Right now, San Geraldo is preparing another one of his delicious dinners after which I'll wash the dishes. Uff! What a day. I don't know how I manage. I should sleep well tonight. (Click any image to increase the excitement... if you think you can handle it.)

10:00 THIS MORNING, AS WE WALKED TO CAFE MANILA FOR COFFEE.

11:30 A.M.  THE SUNSHINE IS BACK.

LUNCH:  SAN GERALDO'S DAILY SALAD MOUNTAIN.

7:00 P.M.:  RAINING IN THE EAST.

CALM OFF THE COAST. A VERY CHILLY (EVERYTHING'S RELATIVE) 11C/52F.
NO WIND... AT THE MOMENT.