I’ve been frustrated in recent weeks with the quality of my photos, from both my Canon compact digital camera and my Sony phone. I had been blaming poor light conditions — too much, too little — but have continued to try. I’ve been improving the results in Photoshop, sharpening focus, reducing what looked like shake, and improving colour. But I prefer to have better quality to start with.
In addition, I’ve begun to collect photos of Dudo and how he creatively positions his tail. He was lying on the bed in the den this morning in the heavenly glow coming through the vertical blinds. I snapped a couple of shots. But the heavenly glow made the photo really unclear.
But I thought, “That shouldn’t produce such a bad photo.” And then it hit me. All my photos had a very “misty” quality. “When was the last time I had cleaned the lens?” I wondered. The answer: Long before the most recent tempesta and vientos ciclónicos (click here).
The camera lenses on both my Canon and my phone had gotten covered in salty sea spray. As Homer Simpson would say, “D’oh!”
And speaking of “d’oh,” the other night, I wasn’t looking where I was going and I walked into the sharp branches of a low-hanging tree. I got a hard knock on the head and some scratches. I even took a selfie when I got home. The quality of the image seemed blurred to me. Maybe it was the knock on the head.
I’m sometimes slow, but I do eventually get there…
Check out Dudo before and after… (Click to enlarge.)
In case yesterday’s video wasn’t enough, here’s another shot of singer/songwriter Pablo Alborán.
I forgot to mention, he’s from Málaga (a hometown boy). And he’s gay. (Not that it matters.)
So, of course there were rumours he and Ricky Martin were dating.
After all, Ricky Martin is gay, too. And they both speak Spanish.
Back To The Beach (Without Pablo)
The beach is in a sorry state and there was more rain on and off Tuesday, so not much clean up was done. The worst of the debris was plowed up and hauled away. The rest will be gone quickly. The City of Fuengirola does a great job maintaining the beach and paseo. Ivo the sand sculptor has his work cut out for him. His collection of Greek Gods and Goddesses lasted several months, but didn’t survive the storm. I suppose that’s expected when you build your life on sand.
(Click the images, including Pablo, to see the masterpieces.)
STILL IN PROGRESS IN JUNE.
(POSEIDON’S CROWN AND NIPPLES DONE BUT
HIS NAME, ΠΟΣΕΙΔΩΝ, NOT YET ADDED.)
TODAY, (ΠΟΣΕΙΔΩΝ’S PECS AND NIPPLES SURVIVED.)
Because it’s the theme from The Poseidon Adventure…
Sunday was quite the day here on the serene Mediterranean. We began the day with rough seas, which continued rougher until the sky exploded with thunder, lightning, heavy rain. And … San Geraldo’s cyclonic winds. A storm is “una tormenta,” which seems especially appropriate for San Geraldo given how tormented he becomes. But he still calls them los ciclónicos (the cyclonics). This was almost deserving of the designation. I went out on the terrace to take some pictures, tried to go around the corner for a different view, and was almost blown off my feet. (So no photos from there.)
We moved (San Geraldo did) plants and brought in (San Geraldo did) some furniture. We also picked up (I did. See? I did do something) a couple of big cacti that got blown over. All three yuccas are finally well-secured and positioned (click here for a bit of their stormy history).
We were supposed to take a walk down the paseo with our friends/neighbors Jean and Ray for an always wonderful dinner at Sandpiper. But it was blowing and storming so hard at the time that we instead went downstairs to Cosmopolita, a restaurant right outside our front door. All the street lights went out for a short time as a result of a lightning strike. San Geraldo, whose great-grandmother was killed in 1909 when their house was struck by lightning, was slightly stressed (to put it mildly).
The surf actually came up onto the paseo in places (over the low wall separating the beach from the street) and even flipped heavy wooden trash holders and walkways on the beach. The walkways end far from the surf-line, usually.
(Click the images for a closer look at how things progressed.)
THE ALWAYS-CHIC JEAN MODELING HER WATERPROOF “STOCKINGS.”
The name of the song is “Llueve,” which means “It Rains.” His name is Pablo Alborán (or as our friend Elena calls him “Mi Pablito” — My Little Pablo). He was next to me on my overnight flight from New York in September. He slept. I respected his obvious desire for privacy and quiet. Elena will never forgive me.
We woke up to a downpour during the wee hours of Monday morning. I found it magnificent. San Geraldo found it foreboding.
Later Monday morning, the sky and sea displayed what I thought were brilliant and dramatic colour and contrast. San Geraldo thought it was “evil and threatening.”
And so the day went. We managed to get ourselves to the gym in the afternoon for an uplifting, pun intended, workout. (San Geraldo will probably ask, “What pun?”)
Tuesday was an uneventful day. My depression comes and goes. But it’s mild and manageable. Moments of miserable thoughts that soon pass. Much longer moments of gratitude for a good life and kind, empathetic people like San Geraldo and all of you.
I hope you don’t mind if in the coming days I share stories of my experience of clinical depression. Although I still obviously have challenges at times, treatment absolutely transformed my life. Maybe it can help you or someone you know either to understand it better or to get through it.
Meanwhile, here are some photos of the terrace view of Monday morning’s magnificent, brilliant, dramatic, foreboding, evil, and threatening Mediterranean Sea and sky.
(Click any image and decide which descriptors you would use.)
A FEW HOURS LATER AS WE HEADED OUT FOR COFFEE.
I SAID, “WOW!” SAN GERALD SAID, “DREARY.”
“Enough, enough of being basely tearful! I’ll show my noble stuff by being gay and cheerful!”