Peacock, My Ass

When I was first out of university and looking for a job (with my degree in Art with minors in Psychology and English), my mother’s friend, Leah Meis (name changed to protect the unkind) insisted I meet her son-in-law to see if he had a job for me. He interviewed me in Leah’s bedroom (and, no, I didn’t put out) and offered me a job in the mailroom of his factory-of-some-sort in New Jersey. I didn’t like him much (nor did I like the offer); I thanked him and turned him down.

The next day, Leah arrived at my parents’ apartment and demanded I take the mailroom job. I told her I was looking for something a bit more challenging and interesting.

Leah said, “Get the feathers out of your ass, Mitchell! You’re not a peacock!”

Once I was gainfully employed, I walked into Saks Fifth Avenue and bought myself a very expensive, hand-painted, silk necktie. One spectacular peacock feather on a scarlet background.

(After another 15 years, Leah Meis retired to New Jersey and my mother, having finally decided she’d endured enough nastiness, refused to visit her.)



Dudo’s Peacock Feather
On the subject of peacocks, when our niece Lindy’s parents were visiting last month, her mother, Debbie, brought a bag of toys for the cats — two of each item. Included were a pair of peacock feathers from their own farm peacocks. Dudo and Moose were (and are) ecstatic.

My Ass
In preparation for our move to Spain more than 5 years ago, I finally retired that very old peacock feather necktie. I’ve at times considered having a peacock fan tattooed across my entire back (emerging from the crack of my ass).

(Click the images for a closer look… at Dudo, not my ass.)

DUDO AND HIS PEACOCK FEATHER.
SOMETHING FLEW BY.
WAS THAT AN ENTIRE PEACOCK???

The Finger

Our dear friend Tynan was teasing San Geraldo while we had coffee the other morning. He does that regularly. Mostly because it’s so easy to do.

Finally, San Geraldo began to threaten, “You know, Mr. T [he likes to call him Mr. T], you’re on a frozen lake, and the ice is thick, and you’re going further and further, and you’re getting to open water, and you’re about to drop in…”

“Jerry,” I interrupted, “You really could just say, ‘You’re skating on thin ice.’ “

“Oh.”

MEANWHILE, MOOSE WATCHES THE DRAIN
(FOR TINY BIRDS THAT WILL NEVER, I HOPE, SQUEEZE THEIR WAY THROUGH).

The Finger
A few minutes later, San Geraldo surprised us with his knowledge of a contemporary, popular singer. Tynan, as I’ve mentioned before, is from Chesterfield in the English Midlands. Most people would agree that Tynan’s accent is sometimes difficult to understand (well, most people have said a lot worse).

Tynan said, “You’ve got the finger on the pulse of youth, you.”

A confused San Geraldo repeated what he heard, “You’re fingering the pulse of me???”




After all that, I joined Moose and Dudo at the drain.


MUCH LATER… DUDO STILL AT IT.

Dusting For Prints

The terrace is coming together — slowly. But that hasn’t kept the cats from lounging in the sun and exploring their newly safe and always available space.

The monk parakeets have been spending an awful lot of time in the palm tree right out front. Dudo and Moose have, therefore, been spending an awful lot of time at the drain hole hoping for an errant bird.

San Geraldo vacuumed the terrace but not before the boys tracked dirt and dust all over the house (although they both deny it).

(Click the images and see if you can identify the prints.)

MOOSE INSPECTS THE MESS AND
THE CAT-EATING VACUUM CLEANER.
THE PIANO BENCH.
DUDO: “I DIDN’T DO IT!”
MOOSE: “WELL, DON’T LOOK AT ME!”
DUDO WAITS WHILE MOOSE WATCHES THE TREE.
AND DUDO TAKES HIS TURN.
“DO YOU BELIEVE THOSE CLOWNS?!? AS IF!!!”

Vacation Plans

We’re planning a September whirlwind tour across the United States, beginning and ending with the Dowager Duchess. Not lots of time in any one place, but some very special family visits that are long overdue. It’s still more than two months away and the days are already filled.

San Geraldo always acts as our travel agent and he does a phenomenal job finding flights, getting good seats, scheduling connections, getting in touch… He finally booked all the separate flights that will take us from Málaga to the Northeastern US to the Plains States to the Pacific Northwest and back again.

Even though the boys won’t be joining us, Moose has assisted every step of the way. He’ll be in big trouble when Dudo finds out.

FINALLY DONE AND HAVING A SIESTA
AFTER ALL HIS STRENUOUS … SIESTAS.