La versión español está después de la versión inglés.
SAN GERALDO AND I ARE about to head out for a drive to our favorite garden center. Viveros Guzman is a half hour away in the town of Alhaurín de la Torre. So, I’m short on time, which made me think of these.
Here are some old photos of shorts (and swimsuits) Fuengirola-style, followed by three recent photos (the final two are obviously just different views of the same fashion plate in green). At the top of the page are Fuengirola’s fashion police.
SAN GERALDO Y YO ESTAMOS a punto de salir a conducir a nuestro centro de jardinería favorito. Viveros Guzmán se encuentra a media hora en el pueblo de Alhaurín de la Torre. Entonces, soy corto de tiempo, lo que me hizo pensar en esto.
Aquí hay algunas fotos antiguas de pantalones cortos (y trajes de baño) al estilo de Fuengirola, seguidas de tres fotos recientes (las dos últimas son obviamente vistas diferentes de la misma placa de moda en verde). En la parte superior de la página, la “policía de la moda” de Fuengirola va a patrullar.
From my walk on the beach Wednesday morning. To calm your nerves. De mi paseo por la playa el miércoles por la mañana.Para calmar tus nervios.
San Geraldo’s mother, Alice, had a dear friend named Sharon. Sharon was not a cook. Sharon was so much not a cook that I in comparison am Julia Child.
Sharon had Froot Loops for breakfast every morning. She called it her three servings of fruit.
I knew it was really only three servings of “froot.”
Speaking of fruit servings, downstairs at BarBoru, Chef Robbie likes us to try out everything he bakes. It kind of, almost, defeats the purpose of my long walks. Or maybe it makes my long walks all the more important.
I’ve told Robbie he can’t keep doing this to us. Sometimes he listens. But sometimes his baked goods include fruit and he explains that it’s important to have several servings per day.
Having lived here in Fuengirola for more than 4 years, I recognize many of the people I see on my walks around town. One man always stands out when I’m on the Paseo (the boulevard that runs for miles alongside the beach). I have never yet seen this man without a book in his hands. I’ve always thought it’s great that he’s out walking in the fresh air but I’ve been concerned about his poor posture and lack of natural motion caused by his reading (as if it’s any of my business).
I’ve wondered what books keep him so absorbed. Obviously some kind of beach reading. But the books always look like workbooks or user’s manuals. Way too big for “Fifty Shades of Grey.”
Sunday, I managed to catch a glimpse of the cover of his current book. Let’s call it a murder mystery — because I know reading it would kill me.
When it comes to living with my clinical depression, mornings are usually my most challenging time. I tend to avoid an afternoon siesta because waking up from one is like experiencing morning all over again.
After a few nights of mediocre sleep this week, I couldn’t avoid a siesta Friday afternoon.
Less than an hour later, I was having another “morning.” As I lay in bed with my eyes closed trying to talk myself into again facing the day, San Geraldo came running in from the terrace.
“I’m sorry to wake you,” he rushed, “But you have to see the rainbow.”
Thanks to San Geraldo, I was able to wake up where the clouds were far behind me.