As the below photo from the 1920s shows, my father’s mother had some style. She probably wouldn’t have fit in here in Fuengirola, although her Russian would have come in handy on the Costa del Sol. She was born in Slutzk!
My grandmother died when I was 3 years old. But I remember she had a covered cut-glass dish filled with hard candies with soft raspberry centers. The dish sat on a kidney shaped tea table in the living room and she used the candies to coax me out of my shyness. It always worked.
Como muestra la foto de abajo de la década de 1920, la madre de mi padre tenía algo de estilo. Probablemente no lo habría encajado aquí en Fuengirola, aunque su ruso hubiera sido útil en la Costa del Sol.
Mi abuela murió cuando yo tenía 3 años. Pero recuerdo que ella tenía un plato cubierto de vidrio tallado lleno de caramelos duros con centros de frambuesas suaves. El plato se sentó en una mesa de té con forma de riñón en la sala de estar y ella usó los dulces para sacarme de mi timidez. Siempre funcionó.
Another collection of man buns (and other hair-dos), which I love, by the way.
CLICK THE IMAGE FOR FULLER, MORE LUSTROUS HAIR.
Speaking of man buns
While I was on a great walk Wednesday, a bicyclist passed me by. Well, many bicyclists passed me by, but this one screamed for attention. He was wearing padded, white Lycra cycling shorts.
I didn’t find his rear-end at all attractive, but I found it especially less so shining pinkly through his old and worn-out shorts. The image was further enhanced by the broad streak of sweat (I hope it was sweat???) running down the crack of his ass. I was unable to whip out my camera quickly enough to get a photo. So… you’re welcome!