Bottle of Wine (Fruit of the Vine)

When San Geraldo and I lived in Washington, D.C., we had a huge apartment in an elegant old rent-controlled building in Georgetown. We were in our late 20s (me) and early 30s (him). The person who worked the desk in the lobby was a gay man named William. He was an “older man.” (At least 45.)

William liked me. Any time I saw him, I would say, “Hi. How are you today, William?,”to which he would always respond with a devilish smile and a rich Southern drawl, “So-so a minute ago. But, better now.”

I’m working on “better now” myself. Clinical Depression sucks and it seems I will never accept that I can’t completely control it. But I love my psychiatrist. I saw him this morning. We’re adjusting med doses and will see how that goes.

SEEN OUTSIDE A CAFE IN FUENGIROLA THIS MORNING.
US MAIL BOX, ORANGE JUICE SIGN IN ENGLISH… OBVIOUSLY NOT FROM AROUND HERE.
(CLICK ANY IMAGE TO ENLARGE.)

On the way home, we stopped off at the fruit market and saw Ana and Laura Crespillo, and team member, Miguel. Miguel isn’t a relation but he’s clearly a member of the family.

MIGUEL AND ANA.
HOW COULD I DO ANYTHING BUT SMILE?

Laura immediately poured me a glass of “Malaga Wine” She poured one for San Geraldo (knowing he barely drinks and doesn’t like sweet wine). He tasted it, made a face, was given grapes to get rid of the taste… and I had a second glass of wine (as Laura intended). Then there were whole almonds dipped in dark Belgian chocolate. And plump dried figs. And enormous dates. Being around these wonderful people sure perked me up… although I was stuffed and kind of tipsy for the walk home.

MALAGA WINE/VINO DULCE/SWEET WINE/SWEET SHERRY.
CALL IT WHAT YOU LIKE, JUST CALL ME WHEN YOU POP ONE OPEN.

When I’m depressed, I crave chocolate. While I drank my — and San Geraldo’s — wine, Laura set aside two bars of freshly made chocolate, but she had to run off before we were checked out by Miguel and the chocolate didn’t make it into the bag. So, when San Geraldo went grocery shopping this evening, I asked him to pick up a bar of chocolate for me.

San Geraldo never does what I ask him to do. I made a simple request for one bar of milk chocolate. Did he meet my simple request? Of course not!

He arrived home, and made me close my eyes because he had a surprise for me. A box of dark chocolate truffles (my favorite).  

“Close them again. I have another surprise.” A box of Ferrero Rocher (my very favorite). 

“Close them again. There’s more.” A milk chocolate bar filled with orange cream (my absolute favorite).

“One more time.” A bar of milk chocolate filled with caramel (my all-time favorite).

THIS SHOULD LAST ME THE HALF HOUR UNTIL DINNER.

So-so a minute ago. But better now.

Author: Moving with Mitchell

From Brooklyn, New York; to North Massapequa; back to Brooklyn; Brockport, New York; back to Brooklyn... To Boston, Massachusetts, where I met Jerry... To Marina del Rey, California; Washington, DC; New Haven and Guilford, Connecticut; San Diego, San Francisco, Palm Springs, and Santa Barbara, California; Las Vegas, Nevada; Irvine, California; Sevilla, Spain. And Fuengirola, Málaga..

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