The Let-Down / La Decepción

La versión español está después de la versión inglés.

AFTER THE GLORIOUS uplift of San Geraldo’s birthday dinner Monday, I’ve spent a few days feeling let down. That’s the way my brain works. We’re going to Mesón Salvador tonight for their special Valentine’s dinner, which will give me another uplift. I’m not a fan of Valentine’s Day, which I find simply another way to make children and adults feel unloved or left out, but I am a fan of Mesón Salvador’s specialty dinners.

Meanwhile, we continue to try to administer Moose’s antiseptic and antibiotic twice a day. We try. We haven’t done it yet today because he’s gotten too savvy. The little shit. If San Geraldo and I are both in the house and both awake and active, he makes himself scarce. Otherwise, he’s as affectionate as ever. Right now, he’s rubbing his head against my leg (San Geraldo is out shopping). He does sometimes let his guard down, however, and that’s when I grab him. And, unlike Dudo, he hasn’t learned the art of the grudge.

DESPUÉS DEL IMPRESIONANTE levantamiento de la cena de cumpleaños de San Geraldo el lunes, pasé unos días sintiéndome decepcionado. Así es como funciona mi cerebro. Iremos a Mesón Salvador esta noche para su cena especial de San Valentín, que me dará otra elevación. No soy un fanático del Día de San Valentín, que me parece simplemente otra forma de hacer que los niños y adultos se sientan no amados o excluidos, pero soy un fanático de las cenas especiales de Mesón Salvador.

Mientras tanto, seguimos tratando de administrar el antiséptico y el antibiótico a Moose dos veces al día. Intentamos. Aún no lo hemos hecho hoy porque se ha vuelto demasiado inteligente. El mierdito. Si San Geraldo y yo estamos en la casa y ambos estamos despiertos y activos, él se hace escaso. De lo contrario, es tan cariñoso como siempre. Ahora mismo, él está frotando su cabeza contra mi pierna (San Geraldo está de compras). Sin embargo, a veces baja la guardia y eso es cuando lo agarro. Y, a diferencia de Dudo, no ha aprendido el arte del rencor.

Maybe Moose was made nervous by the condition of the veterinarian’s previous patient. (San Geraldo told me he liked the “dinosaur model kit.”)
Tal vez la condición del paciente anterior del veterinario hizo que Moose se preocupara. (San Geraldo me dijo que le gusta el “kit de modelo de dinosaurio”).

Not Enough Fumes / Pocos Humos

La versión español está después de la versión inglés.

During a dip in my “happiness” when we lived in Santa Barbara at the beginning of this century, I had suicidal thoughts. We lived in a pink townhouse. Life should have been rosey.

Usually, when I’m that low, I’m simply “passively suicidal.” I go to bed at night hoping I won’t wake up in the morning. Passive. But this time, I developed a plan. I was going to go downstairs, head out the back door, which led directly into the garage, and get in the car. I would start the engine. Carbon monoxide poisoning.

As I started down the stairs, I remembered that we had a Prius. A hybrid. Few fumes to begin with and, if the car were idle, it would simply switch to electric. I’m sure I wouldn’t have gone through with it anyway, but I’m very grateful for hybrid technology. And, yes, I did see the humor, even at the time.

A couple of years ago, we bought another Prius. It doesn’t really matter though; we don’t have a garage.

Durante un chapuzón en mi “felicidad” cuando vivíamos en Santa Bárbara a principios de este siglo, tuve pensamientos suicidas. Vivíamos en una casa rosa. La vida debería que haber sido “rosa.”

Por lo general, cuando estoy tan bajo, simplemente soy “pasivamente suicida”. Me acostaba por la noche esperando no despertarme por la mañana. Pasivo. Pero esta vez, desarrollé un plan. Iba a bajar las escaleras, salía por la puerta trasera que conducía directamente al garaje, y me subía al coche. Yo arrancaría el motor. Envenenamiento por monóxido de carbono.

Cuando empecé a bajar las escaleras, recordé que teníamos un Prius. Un híbrido. Para empezar, pocos vapores y, si el coche estuviera inactivo, simplemente cambiaría a eléctrico. Estoy seguro de que no lo habría superado de todos modos, pero estoy muy agradecido por la tecnología híbrida. Y, sí, vi el humor, incluso en ese momento.

Hace un par de años, compramos otro Prius. Aunque en realidad no importa; no tenemos garaje

For the Birds / Para los Pájaros

I think I’m suffering the post-holiday blues. Given my life with clinical depression, I suffered the pre-holiday blues and the mid-holiday blues, as well. But, these past couple of days have been a bit worse than the rest.

Dudo and Moose don’t care. As long as there are birds to watch (and a drain hole to monitor). I wish I could be more like them.

Come to think of it, never mind. Although they both know how to chill, they can be even more anxiety prone than I. The sound of the door bell sends them scurrying into the closet. Nothing could make me scurry into the closet. Nothing.

Creo que estoy sufriendo la melancolia después de las fiestas. Dada mi vida con depresión clínica, también sufrí la melancolia previos a las fiestas y durante las fiestas. Pero, estos últimos días han sido un poco peores que el resto.

A Dudo y Moose no les importa. Mientras haya pájaros para observar (y un agujero de drenaje para monitorear). Desearía poder ser más como ellos.

Ahora que lo pienso, no importa. Aunque los dos saben cómo relajarse, pueden ser incluso más propensos a la ansiedad que yo. El sonido del timbre de la puerta los hace correr hacia el armario. Nada podría hacerme salir corriendo hacia el armario. Nada.

Dudo (bottom) and Moose and, the three photos below, just Dudo. / Dudo (abajo) y Moose y, las tres fotos de abajo, solamente Dudo.
I waved to Dudo from the street. He perked up and met me at the door; because I didn’t ring the bell. / Saludé a Dudo desde la calle. Se animó y me recibió en la puerta; porque no toqué el timbre.
Moose chills. / Moose se relaja.

Share Something Beautiful

We watched the inauguration of the 45th president of the United States of America. I’ve nothing to add.

I’m grateful to have friends who text me at 10:00 at night simply to share something beautiful. That’s what Elena did last week. She didn’t know I was having a little battle with my depression at that particular moment.

“Have you seen the moon?!?”
Her text just about screamed.

I went out on the terrace and I gave thanks to Elena. Have YOU seen the moon?

A Trail Of Memories

I had my regular psychiatrist appointment yesterday. It’s not much more than a “med check” to ensure all is well. All is not well with one of my two meds, which I’ve been on for most of the 4-1/2 years we’ve been in Spain. I’ve noticed I’m experiencing some side-effects in recent months. Really very minor, but enough for us to make a change. So, I’m phasing off this one and will probably try something new soon.

(Click any image to make the trails — all bird prints — more clear.)

My visit was a revelation (I’d say Epiphany, but that was Wednesday). I can now easily speak with my psychiatrist, in Spanish, on any subject.

A WALK ON THE BEACH.

During our brief conversation, as I answered a question, it dawned on me that despite all the bumps in the road it turns out my life is the kind of life I fantasized about as a child. My sister Dale had the same kinds of childhood fantasies and, although her life was filled with bumps and only lasted 29 years, I think a lot of her fantasies came true, as well.

We both imagined lives different from most of our friends and family (not better, just different). We both imagined foreign lands, foreign loves. Dale traveled the world, married young, and lived in England with her foreign prince.

I met San Geraldo from South Dakota (even more foreign to a New Yorker than someone from England). We moved often, constantly re-imagining our lives. And now we’ve made a foreign land our home — and no longer foreign. And we’re still constantly re-imagining our lives.

The psychiatrist  asked me if I felt that Dale was traveling with me through life. Without hesitation, I said, “Absolutely.”

I was never a fan of author Louis L’Amour, but I like this:

“No memory is ever alone;
 it’s at the end of a trail of memories,
a dozen trails that each have their own associations.”


Where are you going?