Kind of a Drag (Queen) / Una Especia de Drag (Queen)

La versión español está después de la versión inglés.

IN 2008, WHILE we were living in Las Vegas, we went with San Geraldo’s sister Linda, her husband Tom, and two cousins who were visiting from Norway to see Cirque du Soleil’s new production of “Love” (the Beatles). One of the songs performed was “Lady Madonna” and the character was costumed to appear about 6 months pregnant. After the show, when we were waiting at valet for our car, San Geraldo commented that the pregnant woman could really move.

I said, “Jerry, she’s not really pregnant. It’s a fake belly made of silicone.”

“It is not!” he insisted.

“Jerry, what are they going to do, hire a new six-months-pregnant dancer every month?”

And then Linda (remember, she IS his sister), the voice of reason (?), spoke up. “No, she really is pregnant. I have her picture in the program!”

You’ll understand why I thought of this when you read the story under the last photo in this series from Torremolinos Gay Pride 2019.

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EN 2008, MIENTRAS vivíamos en Las Vegas, fuimos con Linda, una hermana de San Geraldo; su marido, Tom; y dos primas que estaban visitando desde Noruega para ver la nueva producción de “Love” (los Beatles) del Cirque du Soleil. Una de las canciones interpretadas fue “Lady Madonna” y el personaje estaba disfrazado para aparecer con aproximadamente 6 meses de embarazo. Después del espectáculo, cuando estábamos esperando nuestro coche, San Geraldo comentó que la mujer embarazada realmente podía moverse.

Le dije: “Jerry, ella no está realmente embarazada. Es un vientre falso hecho de silicona”.

“¡No lo es!” insistió.

“Jerry, ¿qué van a hacer, contratar a una bailarina embarazada de seis meses … cada mes?”

Y entonces Linda (recuerda, ella ES su hermana) — la voz de la razón (?) — habló. “No, ella realmente está embarazada. ¡Tengo la foto en el programa!”

Comprenderás por qué pensé en esto cuando leíste la historia en la última foto de esta serie de Torremolinos Gay Pride 2019.

“Jerry,” I told him, “those were not REAL BREASTS.” “But she was wearing PASTIES!” he argued.
“Jerry,” le dije, “esos no eran PECHOS REALES”. “¡Pero ella estába usando PEZONERAS!” argumentó él.

VD is for Everybody / VD es Para Todos

La versión español está después de la versión inglés.

LAST NIGHT’S VALENTINE’S dinner at Mesón Salvador was beyond compare. Chef David outdid himself and the entire staff once again seemed to have as good a time as their guests. The theme was the romance of Venice and the team dressed as gondoliers. They even grew mustaches for the occasion (which were already shaved off this morning). Waiter Jaime is fluent in Italian (as well as Spanish and English), so he added another level of authenticity… and charm.

LA CENA DE San Valentín de anoche en Mesón Salvador fue incomparable. El chef David se superó a sí mismo y, una vez más, todo el personal parecía tener tan buen momento como sus invitados. El tema fue el romance de Venecia y el equipo vestido como gondoleros. Incluso cultivaron bigotes para la ocasión (que ya se habían afeitado esta mañana). El camarero Jaime habla con fluidez el italiano (además del español y el inglés), por lo que agregó otro nivel de autenticidad … y encanto.

Photo courtesty of Mesón Salvador. / Foto cortesía de Mesón Salvador.
Salad of Passion:
BUFFALO MOZZARELLA, MANGO, STRAWBERRIES, ARUGULA, RED PESTO VINAIGRETTE.
Bombons of Lust:
FOIE CROQUETTES WITH PEAR AND MÁLAGA WINE SAUCE.
The Trip is a Pleasure:
ROSADA MACERATED IN SOY WITH QUINOA RISOTTO.
For An Unforgettable Night:
PIG CHEEKS IN PASTRY WITH CABRALES CHEESE.
The Sweetness of Love:
PANNA COTTA FILLED WITH CHOCOLATE, WITH WILD BERRIES.

El video es un anuncio de servicio público estadounidense de 1969. El nombre de la canción es “VD es para todos” que significa “Le Enfermedad Venérea es Para Todos” y “VD” es taquigrafía para el día de san valentín (Valentine’s Day).

A Couple Of Feet

So, the 36th anniversary of the death of Big Sister Dale has passed. San Geraldo honored her by buying a box of “galletas de rellena de naranja” (soft biscuits filled with orange jam and covered in chocolate). Dale introduced me to these in 1970. She usually bought Pim’s brand, but this Spanish version brought back the sweet memories just the same.

WE FINISHED THEM OFF IN ONE SITTING… JUST AS DALE WOULD HAVE DONE.
1954: LOOK AT MY EYES! MY REACTION TO THOSE CUSTOM FABRICS, PERHAPS?
OR MAYBE JUST MY SHOCK AT MISPLACING MY FEET.

Speaking of misplaced feet: Once Dale hit her teens, she began to train me in some basic social skills. For about a week before any party — wedding, bar mitzvah, school event — she’d drag me into her room every night, turn on her record player, and [try to] teach me to dance. The results weren’t exceptional but the lessons were a joy.

Dale taught me dancing in a hurry…

The Love Boat

SUMMER ’73: LIKE A FINE WINE,
I HOPE. BETTER WITH AGE.

In a recent conversation with an acquaintance, I was disappointed to learn how he really thinks. He said ignorant things about a particular group of fellow human beings. I told him politely that I didn’t agree. I then told him why.

He did an about-face and said that people should be allowed to live their lives as they want but he then began disparaging another group. I again politely voiced my disagreement and the subject was changed. After a while, I left feeling annoyed, resentful, and angry.

I won’t share the details. You have your own “Nasties” in your life and don’t need to be hurt by mine.

Some people are brilliant at sniping and venting comically on their blogs. It helps them get it out of their systems. It doesn’t work that way for me. I just get more angry, aggravated, and depressed.

So all I really want to tell you is no matter what difficulties or times of sadness I share with you, the stories will always be accompanied by love, humor, gratitude, and respect. I simply hope your visits here make your days a bit better. Welcome [back] to The Love Blog.

An open smile on a friendly shore…

In The Heart Of Things

The day my sister Dale died in 1981, I was surprised to find myself momentarily alone in her living room. I picked up a book of poetry. As I placed the book in my lap, it flipped open and the first words I read were:

We who are left, how shall we look again
Happily on the sun, or feel the rain,
Without remembering how they who went
Ungrudgingly, and spent
Their all for us, loved, too, the sun and rain?

A bird among the rain-wet lilac sings—
But we, how shall we turn to little things
And listen to the birds and winds and streams
Made holy by their dreams,
Nor feel the heart-break in the heart of things?

New to me at the time, it was a poem written at the end of World War I by William Lyon Phelps. It gave me gooseflesh and has remained with me ever since.

Wishing those others who are left, in so many places around the world, the chance to someday not feel the hearbreak in the heart of things.

I have no rain-wet lilacs. But I have heard birds singing among San Geraldo’s sun-drenched hibiscuses. So, I’ll share those and finish with a smile from a sweetly dreaming Dudo (he of the toothy grin).