The Good Sport / El Tío Grande

La versión español está después de la versión inglés.

I TEND TO be a good sport. When I win at cards, for example, I rarely gloat. When I don’t win, I hardly pout at all, although my language can be a bit colorful. And, after the fact, I might silently berate myself for ALWAYS being a big loser — even though I win more often than another person soon to be mentioned. But, other than that, I’m a really good sport.

San Geraldo gloats. Kathleen gloats and even gleefully announces, “That’s all she wrote!” (an American expression). And then there’s Pedro. When he wins at cards (which isn’t often), he stands on his head. At least he’s entertaining.

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TIENDO A SER un tío grande. Cuando gano en las cartas, por ejemplo, rara vez me regocijo. Cuando no gano, apenas hago pucheros, aunque mi lenguaje puede ser un poco colorido. Y, después del hecho, podría reprenderme en silencio por SIEMPRE ser un gran perdedor — aunque gano con más frecuencia que otra persona que pronto será mencionada. Pero, aparte de eso, soy un muy buen deporte.

San Geraldo se regodea. Kathleen se regodea e incluso anuncia alegremente: “¡Eso es todo lo que ella escribió!” (una frase estadounidense que significa “no hay nada más que decir”). Y luego está Pedro. Cuando gana en las cartas (que no es frecuente), se para en la cabeza. Al menos es entretenido.

And Pedro bakes, too. My last hurrah last week. One had dark chocolate and berries. The other had white chocolate and bananas.
Y Pedro hornea, también. Mi último hurra la semana pasada. Uno tenía chocolate negro y bayas. El otro tenía chocolate blanco y plátanos.

Long Johns / Calzoncillos Largos

La versión español está después de la versión inglés.

I’VE BEEN DEALING recently with some advocacy issues for The Kid Brother that have caused me to lose sleep. It will all be worked out and he’s sleeping like a baby, which is all that matters.

Meanwhile, the temps here had dropped a bit. We’ve had some days with highs just barely reaching (60F) and nights as low as 8C (46F) I know. I know. I won’t get any sympathy. But, the top photo is of San Geraldo on a cold night last week. It did cause him to finally get out his long underwear. Unfortunately, he did so Friday when the temperatures had risen.

We went to Primavera for dinner and talked with handsome and stylish Fran about how surprised we were by the springlike weather. San Geraldo showed Fran his white socks and black long johns.

Fran said he was surprised, too. He exposed his ankle to display identical black long johns. How cool is San Geraldo?

RECIENTEMENTE HE ESTADO lidiando con algunos problemas de apoyo de El Hermanito que me han hecho perder el sueño. Todo se resolverá y él estará durmiendo como un bebé, que es todo lo que importa..

Mientras tanto, las temperaturas aquí habían bajado un poco. Hemos tenido algunos días con máximos apenas alcanzando 16C (60F) y noches tan bajas como 8C (46F). Lo sé. Lo sé. No obtendré ninguna simpatía. Pero, la foto superior es de San Geraldo en una noche fría la semana pasada. Eso hizo que finalmente sacara su larga ropa interior. Lamentablemente, lo hizo el viernes cuando las temperaturas habían subido.

Fuimos a Primavera para cenar y conversamos con Fran, guapo y elegante, sobre lo sorprendidos que estábamos por el clima primaveral. San Geraldo le mostró a Fran sus calcetines blancos y sus calzonzillos largos negro.

Fran dijo que él también estaba sorprendido. Expuso su tobillo para mostrar su ropas interiores idénticas. ¿¡¿Qué guay es San Geraldo?!?

Dropping a Sock and Working on an Attitude

These last few days have been emotionally challenging — for no apparent reason except that sometimes the world just becomes too much for me. I can be very unkind to myself. This morning, as I was taking in some laundry — five pairs of socks and some underwear — from the clothesline outside the kitchen window, I tried to grab too much in my hands at once and one sock slipped through my fingers down to the courtyard below. The only access to the courtyard is through the apartment on the first floor and I hate to bother them since I know the other two neighbors are constantly losing clothing and clothespins that way (I’ve lost two clothespins). It must get really annoying. So, upon losing the sock, I lost “it” — fiercely gritting my teeth, biting my lower lip hard, and cursing myself out loud for my carelessness and stupidity. I didn’t lose one of Jerry’s socks (as if he would even care). I lost one of my own.

What I’m saying is I had a melt-down this morning. Over a sock. What I lost was an individual, casual, black GoldToe sock. I have perhaps two dozen (well now perhaps 23) casual, black, GoldToe socks remaining. Surely, it’s the end of the world.