Jeepers Creepers

La versión español está después de la versión inglés.

JEEPERS CREEPERS, WHERE’D you get those peepers? Or in this case, where’d you get those Peeps? While we were in Las Vegas in February, I decided to find something traditionally American for Easter to bring back to Spain for some of our friends. And what could be more traditionally American for Easter than Peeps? Those marshmallow (pure sugar) baby chicks and bunny rabbits covered in a slightly crusty coating (of sugar) and dotted with little chocolate (sugary) eyes. And, best of all, they’re non-fat and gluten-free!

I ALSO BROUGHT BACK A couple of special items for my 3-year-old pal Luke — a plastic wind-up Easter bunny that walks and poops jelly beans, and a container of Fluffy Marshmallow Chick Slime, which contains three little chicks. The container says it’s scented. I don’t know if it smells like marshmallows or chickens.

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JEEPERS CREEPERS, ¿DE dónde obtuviste esos peepers [ojitos]? (Esa es una canción vieja y famosa de los Estados Unidos). O en este caso, ¿De dónde sacaste esos Peeps? Mientras estábamos en Las Vegas en febrero, decidí buscar algo tradicionalmente estadounidense para Semana Santa que traería a España para algunos de nuestros amigos. ¿Y qué podría ser más tradicionalmente estadounidense para Semana Santa que Peeps? Esos pollitos de malvavisco (azúcar pura) y conejitos cubiertos con una capa ligeramente crujiente (de azúcar) y salpicados de ojitos de chocolate (azúcarado). Y, lo mejor de todo, ¡son sin grasa y sin gluten!

NOTA: “Peep” es el sonido que hace un pollito.

TAMBIÉN TRAJE UN PAR DE artículos especiales para mi compadre Luke (él tiene 3 años): Un “Easter Bunny” [Conejito de Semana Santa] de plástico que camina y rellena gomitas (en inglés, el Easter Bunny es un conejo que trae Huevos de Pascua); y un envase de “Fluffy Marshmallow Chick Slime” [“Malvavisco Esponjoso Baba de Pollitos”], que contiene tres pollitos (plasticos). El envase dice que está perfumado. No sé si huele a malvaviscos (nubes) o gallinas.

Sweet Nectar / Néctar Dulce

La versión español está después de la versión inglés.

Although I’m not completely convinced, I’ve been told as a result of my latest blood work (at the public health center) that my Diabetes needs serious management. I’ve been on meds for about three years and was told I didn’t need to do anything else. This time, however, the new doctor didn’t like my results and doubled my dosage while putting me on two other meds for supposedly Diabetes-related issues. She made me see the Diabetes counselor immediately, who gave me a lecture on diet and exercise. When I told her about my activity level, she continued the lecture on diet.

Now I know I’m always sharing pictures of the sweets I enjoy (sorry I haven’t shared the actual sweets), but I go for long stretches with no sweets. Plus, I eat a healthy breakfast and lunch every day, and usually a healthy dinner (not a lot of fried food and, rarely, potatoes). I even have to cut out my two or three small beers per week). The specialist told me I wasn’t like most of her patients. An important factor, however, is that both my grandmothers were Diabetic when they were still fairly young.

I’ve been told by another doctor that it’s possible my “numbers” were high simply due to dehydration. However, I drink a minimum of 1.5 liters of water a day, and usually more than twice that. I’ll go back to my private doctor just to check in. She has my history.

I have a lot to learn. So here I sit — eating my usual roasted almonds with a change to sugar-free chocolate (which is surprisingly good). I can no longer drink sweet nectar. In surfer lingo, that means a “pretty woman”. In MY lingo it means “sweet nectar.” Here are some Spanish surfers, over the last three days, who don’t use the phrase. Our poor friends (yesterday’s blog post) have been cruising on these waves.

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Aunque no estoy completamente convencido, como resultado de mi último análisis de sangre (en el centro de salud pública), me dijeron que mi diabetes necesita un tratamiento serio. He estado tomando medicamentos durante unos tres años y me dijeron que no tenía que hacer nada más. Esta vez, sin embargo, al nuevo médico no le gustaron mis resultados y duplicó mi dosis mientras me recetaba otros dos medicamentos por supuestos problemas relacionados con la diabetes. Ella me hizo ver al consejero de Diabetes de inmediato, quien me dio una conferencia sobre dieta y ejercicio. Cuando le conté sobre mi nivel de actividad, ella continuó la conferencia sobre dieta.

Ahora sé que siempre estoy compartiendo fotos de los dulces que disfruto (lo siento, no he compartido los dulces reales), pero hago largos períodos sin dulces. Además, tomo un desayuno y almuerzo saludable todos los días, y generalmente una cena saludable (no mucha comida frita y, rara vez, papas). Incluso tengo que cortar mis dos o tres cervezas pequeñas por semana. El especialista me dijo que no era como la mayoría de sus pacientes. Sin embargo, un factor importante es que mis dos abuelas eran diabéticas cuando aún eran bastante jóvenes.

Otro médico me dijo que es posible que mis “números” fueran altos simplemente debido a la deshidratación. Sin embargo, bebo un mínimo de 1,5 litros de agua al día, y generalmente más del doble que eso. Volveré a mi doctora privada para confirmar. Ella tiene mi historia.

Tengo mucho de aprender. Así que aquí me siento, comiendo mis almendras tostadas habituales con un cambio a chocolate sin azúcar (que es sorprendentemente bueno). Ya no puedo beber el néctar dulce. En la jerga surfista, “néctar dulce” significa una “comida” o una “mujer bonita.” En MI jerga, “néctar dulce” significa “néctar dulce”. Así que aquí hay algunos surfistas españoles, durante los ultimos días, que no usan la frase. Nuestros pobres amigos (de la entrada de ayer) han estado navegando en estas olas.

Chocolate-Smothered Waffle: Better Going Down

San Geraldo and I went last night to Feria Málaga (Málaga Fair). Last year I enjoyed the daytime festivities in the center of the old city (click here to see last year’s blog post). This year, we decided to check out the nighttime festivities that take place outside the city center and just a bit closer to where we live.

Unlike the casetas at Feria Sevilla (click here to see those pictures), the casetas at Málaga are free and open to the public. We didn’t see the horses and carriages famous in Sevilla. And the traditional feria costumes, although in abundance, were less so than in Sevilla. But there was still plenty to see and experience and I found it less overwhelming than Sevilla’s fair. The fairgrounds are beautiful and sprawling and much more pleasant to explore. The lights were enchanting. The rides were fun to watch. Given how things progressed, it’s good I opted out of going on any.

As usual, click any image to see it big time.

The Lights

THE ENTRANCE.

The food all looked really delicious. I take that back. Some of the food looked really delicious. However, there were a number of “edibles” that looked radioactive. San Geraldo and I succumbed to enticing gofres (waffles) smothered in chocolate. It was so good going down. About a half hour later, however, the waffle and chocolate decided to repeat itself. And, let me just say, it wasn’t quite so delicious on the reflux. And there were no antacids in sight. But, I soldiered on. What’s a little heartburn?

At 11 p.m., we caught the next to last train for home. It was crowded with fair-goers, so we stood most of the way. I felt fine. But we sat for the last three stops and the waffle and chocolate decided to make another return visit (I probably shouldn’t have bent at the waist).

The Food

MINE. MINE. MINE. MINE. MINE.
IGNORANCE IS BLISS.

One stop before home, I stood up, looked at San Geraldo and said, “I feel sick.” (Apologies to my third-grade teacher; I know I’m supposed to say “ill,” not “sick.” But her name was Mrs. Doody, so…) 

But back to the train. The doors opened and I signaled to San Geraldo that when I said sick, I meant I-need-to-get-off-the-train sick. He jumped off behind me at a, thankfully, dark and empty station. I quickly headed to the railing and wretched into the bushes. Now, don’t get all squeamish on me (although I would in your shoes). Nothing serious happened. Just a case of powerful reflux. And then all was well.

Truthfully, I did it all just to get San Geraldo to take a walk with me. That station is about 1.5 km (1 mile) from home.

The People

FREEZE FRAME:  THEY ONLY MOVED TO SHAKE HANDS
WHEN THEY WERE GIVEN A TIP (WHICH WAS OFTEN).

AND SPEAKING OF DELICIOUS…
WITH HIS PLEASANT (AND PROUD) GRANDPARENTS.