Lockdown Day 13: You Are My Sunshine / Encierro Día 13: Eres Mi Sol

La versión español está después de la versión inglés.

I SHARED MUSIC by Fran (aka Francisco) yesterday. So, today, it seems only fitting to tell you about the music of Frances. She’s a memory from my childhood, an elderly neighbor who had an apartment with her husband, Eddie, on the same floor as ours.

Since the co-op was brand new when we moved in, everyone knew everyone else very well for a number of years. At times, they were even neighborly. We visited with Frances politely when we saw her, but that was about it. She wasn’t easy to take in big doses.

Frances and Eddie were originally from Poland and had escaped during the holocaust. They were both about 5-feet-tall. They both spoke heavily accented English. Frances had a shrill voice and always spoke at high volume. Eddie had a deep and crusty voice. And a hearing aid, which he regularly turned off (without telling Frances).

Frances, in only her bra and girdle (that covered most of her body), would often sneak into the hall to take the trash to the incinerator chute, when she thought no one was around. She would invariably forget her keys and get locked out. She would then frantically ring the bell, bang on the door, and yell, “Eh-DEE! Oh-pum Op!” (“Eddie, open up!”)

My sister Dale’s bedroom window shared an inside corner with Frances and Eddie’s living room window. We couldn’t see in, but if someone stood at the window, we could see each other (so Dale kept the blinds drawn). When Frances was locked out, Dale and I would peak through the blinds to see Eddie standing at the living room window smiling… and pretending not to hear. He usually let her stand out in the hall for five or ten minutes before going to the door and saying, “Frencis, vat ahr you doeeink oht dere?” (“Francis, what are you doing out there?”)

Then there was the time Frances hired a decorator. As Frances described it, she was “mekking dee apahrtment SO fency.” One afternoon, she rang our bell because she was excited for us to see the new “Muriel.” I thought that was the decorators’s name. We all obediently followed as she ran around the corner. Her decorator had covered one dining room wall in a “mural.” Even the Dowager Duchess didn’t bother to correct her. I remember “Muriel” having a lot of flowers, trees, and Victorian people. And horses with carriages. It was all a bit much. Frances was ecstatic.

But that’s not what made me think today about Frances. Yesterday, the sun was shining. Yesterday, the sky was blue. (Today, it’s gray, raining, and windy again.) I went out and dumped the trash — no bra and girdle; and, no, not naked either. I remembered a song we once heard Frances sing (shriek) through the wall during a New Year’s Eve party she hosted. Between verses, she’d wail, “Everybody sing!” Forever after, Dale and I couldn’t hear the song without laughing, and Dale would shriek in Frances’ accent, “Everybody sing!” I wish I had a recording — of Frances AND us.

Everybody sing! (And click the sunshiney images.)

.

COMPARTÍ MÚSICA DE Fran (también conocido como Francisco) ayer. Entonces, hoy, solo parece apropiado contarte sobre la música de Frances. Es un recuerdo de mi infancia, una vecina anciana que tenía un departamento con su esposo, Eddie, en el mismo piso que el nuestro.

Como la cooperativa era completamente nueva cuando nos mudamos, todos conocieron a todos muy bien durante varios años. A veces, incluso eran amables. Visitamos a Frances cortésmente cuando la vimos, pero eso fue todo. No fue fácil tomar grandes dosis.

Frances y Eddie eran originarios de Polonia y habían escapado durante el holocausto. Ambos tenían unos 5 pies de altura. Ambos hablaban un inglés muy acentuado. Frances tenía una voz aguda y siempre hablaba a gran volumen. Eddie tenía una voz profunda y crujiente. Y un audífono, que apagaba regularmente (sin decirle a Frances).

Frances, solo en su sostén y faja (que cubría la mayor parte de su cuerpo), a menudo se colaba en el pasillo para llevar la basura al conducto del incinerador, cuando creía que no había nadie cerca. Ella invariablemente olvidaría sus llaves y quedaría bloqueada. Luego tocaba el timbre frenéticamente, golpeaba la puerta, y gritaba: “¡Eh-DEE! Abre!”

La ventana de la habitación de mi hermana, Dale, compartía una esquina interior con la ventana de la sala de Frances y Eddie. No podíamos ver adentro, pero si alguien se paraba en la ventana, podríamos vernos (así que Dale mantuvo las persianas cerradas). Cuando Frances estaba encerrada, Dale y yo miramos a través de las persianas para ver a Eddie parado en la ventana de la sala sonriendo … y fingiendo no escuchar. Por lo general, la dejaba estar en el pasillo durante cinco o diez minutos antes de ir a la puerta y decir: “¡Frances, ¿qué estás haciendo ahí afuera?”)

Luego llegó el momento en que Frances contrató a un decorador. Como Frances lo describió, ella estaba “haciendo el apartamento TAN elegante”. Una tarde, llamó al timbre porque estaba emocionada de que viéramos la nueva “Muriel”. Pensé que ese era el nombre de decoradora. Todos la seguimos obedientemente mientras ella daba la vuelta a la esquina. Su decoradora había cubierto una pared del comedor en un “mural”. Incluso La Duquesa Viuda no se molestó en corregirla. Recuerdo que “Muriel” de Frances tenía muchas flores, árboles, y gente victoriana. Y caballos con carruajes. Todo fue un poco demasiado. Frances estaba extasiada.

Pero eso no es lo que me hizo pensar hoy en Frances. Ayer, el sol brillaba. Ayer, el cielo era azul. (Hoy vuelve a estar gris, llueve y hace viento.) Salí y tiré la basura, sin sujetador y faja; pero sí, completamente vestida, y recordé una canción que una vez escuchamos a Frances cantar (chillar) a través de la pared durante una fiesta de Nochevieja que organizó. Entre versos, ella se lamentaba, “¡Todos canten!” Para siempre, Dale y yo no podíamos escuchar la canción sin reír, y Dale gritaba con el acento de Frances: “¡Todos canten!” Desearía tener una grabación de Frances y nosotros.

¡Todos canten! (Y haz clic en las imágenes soleadas).

.

But, wait, I think I found Frances! Oh, never mind. This singer is way too good.
Pero, espera, ¡creo que encontré a Frances! Oh no importa. Esta cantante es demasiado bueno.

Mr. Green Jeans

La versión español está después de la versión inglés.

IT’S BEEN POINTED out to me that I haven’t shared photos of our terrace for quite some time. That’s because Mr. Green Jeans (aka San Geraldo) has been sleeping on the job — and he asked for the job — (Moose, pictured above, has no job) and hasn’t taken very good care of the plants this year. Admittedly, he IS writing two books and still has to take time off to make sure I’m well fed, but the poor plants have suffered. So, he recently started cleaning out some of the old and unhappy plants in preparation for the new. We’ve also been rearranging and are moving a couple more plants to the front hall. But, here’s the terrace in flux. The interior is in flux, too. New photos are on their way.

If you’re not familiar with Mr. Green Jeans, he was a regular character on “Captain Kangaroo,” a children’s television show from our childhoods (the show ran from 1955 until 1984).

Click the images to make the plants grow.

.

ME HAN RECORDADO que no he compartido fotos de nuestra terraza durante bastante tiempo. Esto se debe a que el Mr. Green Jeans (Sr. Jeans Verdes), también conocido como San Geraldo, ha estado durmiendo en el trabajo (y pidió el trabajo) — Moose, en la foto de arriba, no tiene trabajo — y no ha cuidado muy bien las plantas este año. Es cierto que está escribiendo dos libros y todavía tiene que tomarse un tiempo libre para asegurarse de que estoy bien alimentado, pero las plantas han sufrido. Entonces, recientemente comenzó a descartar algunas de las plantas viejas e infelices en preparación para las nuevas. También hemos estado reorganizando y trasladando unas plantas al vestíbulo. Pero, aquí está la terraza en flujo. El interior también está en flujo. Nuevas fotos están en camino.

Si no está familiarizado con Mr. Green Jeans, fue un personaje habitual en “Captain Kangaroo” (Capitán Canguro), un programa de televisión para niños de nuestra infancia (el programa se desarrolló desde 1955 hasta 1984).

Haz clic en las imágenes para hacer crecer las plantas.

.

And speaking of cactus:
Mesón Salvador’s annual Halloween dinner is Thursday. Given San Geraldo’s drawings of our terrace plants (click here), I think this should be his costume.

Y hablando de cactus:
La cena anual de Halloween de Mesón Salvador es el jueves. Teniendo en cuenta los dibujos de San Geraldo de nuestras plantas de terraza (haz clic aquí), creo que este debería ser su disfraz.

You’ve Got A Spot To Fill

You might remember that we had a glass curtain installed to enclose our entire terrace. As a result, winter has been transformed. No more cyclonic winds. And no more decimated plants. San Geraldo planted a collection of Amaryllis bulbs in a long pot outside the living room doors so that we could enjoy the blooms while inside or out on the terrace. They’ve been blooming since the third week in November and show no sign of stopping. We’ve read all the special instructions for caring for amaryllis bulbs between blooms, but won’t take the trouble. The chiringuito (beach bar) across the street, has three large stone planters filled with Amaryllis that bloom dramatically every spring and are left to the ravages of the weather the rest of the year. They’re thriving. Maybe ours will, too.

(Click the images to “Amaryllisize.”)

YESTERDAY.

“… at least a preview of Easter…”

All Over Your Blues

We’ve been really busy lately. Out and about several times a day — in the constantly pouring rain.

San Geraldo hates the rain. San Geraldo hates the clouds. He hates the damp chill. His usually varied and interesting vocabulary has been reduced to the use of one adjective. “Frickin'” he mutters.

“I’m sick of this frickin’ rain. I’m sick of these frickin’ clouds. This frickin’ weather sucks!!!”

Beginning Monday, it’s supposed to be partly cloudy (or maybe it’s partly sunny) for at least a few days before the “frickin'” rain returns.

I’m very happy about that. I’m frickin’ sick of listening to San Geraldo complain. (And, OK, I’m getting frickin’ sick of this weather, too).

(Click the images and find some frickin’ hope on the horizon.)

SATURDAY AFTERNOON. MUDDY WATERS.
SUNDAY MORNING ON THE TERRACE.
SAN GERALDO FILLED A POT WITH A VARIETY OF AMARYLLIS.
THIS IS THE FIRST TO BLOOM.
THIS MORNING ON THE WAY TO COFFEE. A BRIEF BREAK IN THE RAIN.
(AND A MESS TO BE CLEANED UP ALONG THE SHORE.)
AND THEN THINGS SUDDENLY CHANGED.
THE REMAINS OF A DOUBLE RAINBOW THAT WELCOMED US HOME
AFTER A LATE LUNCH (IN THE POURING RAIN) WITH FRIENDS KRISTINA AND MATTI
(WHO PAINTED RAINBOWS ALL OVER OUR BLUES).

“I’ve been waitin’ my time just to talk to you…”

Muddy Waters

It’s been raining. That’s an understatement. We were well below normal rainfall until this week. I don’t know where we are now, except under water. It’s beautiful (I say). It’s awful (San Geraldo says). However, I will admit it limits what we can do — except on our newly enclosed terrace!

(Click the images for a flash flood.)

ONE OF VERY FEW PEOPLE ON THE STREET (AS SEEN FROM ABOVE).
FROM THE DRY AND CYCLONIC-WIND–FREE TERRACE.
STANDING IN FRONT OF OUR BUILDING AT 11:00.
DEBATING HOW FAR TO WALK FOR COFFEE.
BAR BARBORU, BELOW OUR BUILDING, SEEMS LIKE A GOOD IDEA.
AROUND THE CORNER EARLY THIS MORNING
(ROBBIE, THE CHEF AT BARBORU, SHARED THE PHOTO WITH ME.)
THE USUALLY DRY CHANNEL NEARBY.
MUDDY WATERS FLOWING DOWN FROM THE MOUNTAINS…
…AND CARVING A WIDER CHANNEL INTO THE MEDITERRANEAN SEA.
BACK ON THE TERRACE.
STILL DRY AND CYCLONIC-WIND–FREE!

Appropriate music for the day…