Ay, There’s the Rub / De Eso Se Trata

AS HAMLET SAID, “To sleep, perchance to dream.” The sleep he was referring to was the sleep of death, but this is my own take. I’ve never been the greatest sleeper around. It’s a rare night that allows me three consecutive hours of sound sleep, although I do manage most nights to total up enough hours to get by. Unfortunately, I haven’t had a decent night in a few weeks. I rub my post-surgery eye in my sleep, which wakes me up (and adds to recovery time). My sciatica, which was barely a whimper before my surgery, has reared its ugly head (hip?) since I’ve been unable to do the workouts that seemed to be helping. On the best of nights, the last few hours in the morning have been achey (and wakey).

Even when I do sleep, I’m constantly on the move (that’s why it’s called Moving with Mitchell). I sleep on my side with four pillows — two under my head, one between my knees (to stabilize the hip), and another to hug. One or another ends up on the floor a few times during the night. I wake up at least once every night with my head next to the pillows instead of on them.

I sleep with a top sheet. I get it caught in my arms and twisted around my legs. I swing my arms and knock the lamp off the night table.

And then there’s the constant problem of my over-active brain. “Shut up!” I tell it but it doesn’t listen. I wish I had a switch. As you can imagine, I’m not the best of sleeping partners. Then again, neither is San Geraldo — but that’s another story.

Oh, to be our cats. Yes, they take catnaps and seem to be ever-vigilant. But they can sleep (or lounge) for hours at a time.

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COMO DIJO HAMLET: “Dormir, tal vez soñar”. El sueño al que se refería era el sueño de la muerte, pero lo entiendo. Nunca he tenido el mejor sueño. Es una noche rara que me permite tres horas consecutivas de sueño profundo, aunque lo hago casi todas las noches para acumular suficientes horas para pasar. Desafortunadamente, no he tenido una noche decente en unas pocas semanas. Froto mi ojo después de la cirugía mientras duermo, lo que me despierta (y aumenta el tiempo de recuperación). Mi ciática, que apenas era un gemido antes de mi cirugía, ha levantado su fea cabeza (¿cadera?) ya que no he podido hacer los entrenamientos que parecían estar ayudando. En la mejor de las noches, las últimas horas de la mañana han sido dolorosas (y de mal gusto).

Incluso cuando duermo, estoy constantemente en movimiento (es por eso que se llama Moviéndose con Mitchell). Duermo de lado con cuatro almohadas, dos debajo de la cabeza, una entre las rodillas (para estabilizar la cadera), y otra para abrazar. Uno u otro termina en el suelo varias veces durante la noche. Me despierto al menos una vez cada noche con la cabeza al lado de las almohadas en lugar de sobre ellas.

Duermo con una sábana encimera. Lo atrapo en mis brazos y retorcidos alrededor de mis piernas. Balanceo los brazos y apago la lámpara de la mesita de noche.

Y luego está el problema constante de mi cerebro hiperactivo. “¡Cállate!” lo digo pero no escucha. Desearía tener un interruptor. Como puedes imaginar, no soy la mejor pareja para dormir. Por otra parte, tampoco lo es San Geraldo, pero esa es otra historia.

Oh, ¡para ser nuestros gatos! Sí, toman siestas y parecen estar siempre vigilantes. Pero pueden dormir (o descansar) durante horas a la vez.

Dudo.
Moose.
And the bed, the morning after moving with Mitchell.
Y la cama, la mañana después de moviéndose con Mitchell

Take it Easy / Tómalo con Calma

La versión español está después de la versión inglés.

“YOU’RE WALKING TOO fast! Stop bending. You’re not supposed to lift that. Let ME do that. Slow down!”

San Geraldo will soon run out of patience and it’s not that I haven’t been trying to behave since my cataract surgery yesterday morning. I simply forget.

I know for certain the cats are already disgusted with me. Moose can’t understand why I won’t keep getting down on the floor with him. And Dudo has been bringing me his toys and then doesn’t understand why I will only bend down and throw them one time (but don’t tell San Geraldo I’m even doing that). I’m Dudo’s playmate. He adores San Geraldo but doesn’t seem to like how he plays.

Our friend Pedro (click here) made us paella yesterday so we wouldn’t have to worry about lunch after the surgery. Although he forgot to deliver the separate container of peas to be mixed in (and he’ll probably berate himself for weeks to come), the paella was out of this world. Superb. Is there anything he can’t do? It gave us two meals and San Geraldo cooked up some peas for the second serving.

San Geraldo has been washing the dishes for the past two days. What a guy! We were back at the doctor this morning and all is well. My vision is already better than it’s been in ages. So, now to remember to relax and take it easy.

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“¡ESTÁS CAMINANDO DEMASIADO rápido. Deja de doblarte. Se supone que no debes levantar eso. Dejame hacer eso. ¡Ve más despacio!

San Geraldo pronto se quedará sin paciencia y no es que no haya intentado comportarme desde mi cirugía de cataratas ayer por la mañana. Simplemente me olvido.

Sé con certeza que los gatos ya están disgustados conmigo. Moose no puede entender por qué no voy a seguir acostándome con él. Y Dudo me ha traído sus juguetes y luego no entiende por qué solo me inclinaré y los tiraré una vez (pero no le diga a San Geraldo que estoy haciendo eso). Soy el compañero de juegos de Dudo. Él adora a San Geraldo, pero no parece gustarle cómo juega.

Nuestro amigo Pedro (haz clic aquí) nos hizo una paella ayer para que no tuviéramos que preocuparnos por el almuerzo después de la cirugía. Aunque se olvidó de entregar el recipiente separado de guisantes para mezclar (y probablemente se regañará en las próximas semanas), la paella estaba magnífico. ¿Hay algo que él no pueda hacer? Nos dio dos comidas y San Geraldo cocinó unos guisantes para la segunda porción.

San Geraldo ha estado lavando los platos. ¡Qué hombre! Volvimos al médico esta mañana y todo está bien. Mi visión ya es mejor de lo que ha sido en años. Así que, ahora, recuerda relajarte y tomarte las cosas con calma.

Delicious even without the peas.
Delicioso incluso sin los guisantes.
Top photo is from yesterday afternoon. Here’s how things look today.
La foto de arriba es de ayer por la tarde. Así es como se ven las cosas hoy.
Dudo staring me down. “I’ve got a pink mouse for you.”
Dudo me mira fijamente. “Tengo un ratón rosa para ti.”
Oh, maybe San Geraldo will pay attention to us.
Oh, tal vez San Geraldo nos preste atención.

Mitchell, Garbage! / Mitchell, Basura!

When I was growing up (from the age of 10 when we moved into the apartment), after dinner My Mother The Dowager Duchess would clean up the kitchen and then call out, “Mitchell, garbage!” And I had to take the small bag of trash into the hallway and drop it down the incinerator chute. 

Once I went away to school, garbage became The Kid Brother’s responsibility. (At long last, The Duchess was willing to give him some responsibility.) Every night, she called out “Chucky, garbage!” and he proudly did his duty. On my first holiday visit home, we finished dinner and The Duchess called, “Chucky, garbage!” to which he replied pointing at me, “Hey, that’s HIS name!”

For the two weeks of my recovery from eye surgery (it’s perfect now!!!), I wasn’t supposed to do any lifting. San Geraldo very carefully monitored my activities. He even took out the garbage and recycling.

Twice.

And that is why I call him San Geraldo and not Jerry Garbage.

Dudo, garbage! / ¡Dudo, basura!

Cuando crecía (desde la edad de 10 años cuando nos mudamos al apartamento), después de la cena, Mi Madre La Duquesa Viuda, limpiaba la cocina y luego gritaba: “¡Mitchell, basura!”. Y tuve que llevar la pequeña bolsa de basura al pasillo y dejarla caer por el conducto del incinerador.

Cuando me fui a la universidad, la basura se convirtió en la responsabilidad de El Hermanito. (Por fin, La Duquesa estaba dispuesta a darle algo de responsabilidad). Cada noche, ella gritaba “¡Chucky, basura!” e hizo con orgullo su deber. En mi primera visita de vacaciones a casa, terminamos de cenar y la duquesa gritó: “¡Chucky, basura!” a lo que él respondió, señalando a mí, “¡Oye, ese es SU nombre!”

Durante las dos semanas de mi recuperación de la cirugía ocular (¡¡¡es perfecto ahora!!!), no debía hacer ningún levantamiento. BSan Geraldo vigilaba muy cuidadosamente mis actividades. Incluso sacó la basura y el reciclaje.

Dos veces.

Y es por eso que lo llamo San Geraldo y no Jerry Basura.

Dudo!
Oh, never mind! / ¡Oh, no importa!

Cooking Cat Poop and Retinas

I saw the ophthalmologist again Tuesday afternoon. My retina needed more laser repair. As before, it was done immediately. I’ve now started counting two weeks all over again.

Two weeks of no exercise. Two weeks of not turning my head too quickly. Two weeks of staying close to home and not being too animated.

Two more weeks of fricking strolling. Oh, I’m sorry. The doctor didn’t say that. For some reason he omitted the word “fricking.”

So, poor me. I guess I’ll just have to spend the next two weeks sipping cafe con leche at a local park, spending lazy afternoons lounging on the beach outside our door. Maybe some truffles when I get home each day to ease my suffering.

San Geraldo has been wonderful. “Slow down, Mitchell.” “That’s not a stroll, Mitchell.” “You shouldn’t be doing that, Mitchell.”

I haven’t even been taking down the trash. Every morning, as is his routine, San Geraldo scoops out the cats’ litter box, drops the poop in a sandwich bag, and places the bag in our open-air laundry room (whose door into the kitchen, we tend to leave open during the day). I then toss that bag in with the trash and take it down.

Since I’m not supposed do things like haul bags of trash or lift heavy dumpster lids, if I forget to take down that little bag of poop, it bakes all day in the sunny laundry room… along with several bags of trash.

Tuesday morning, I came home after coffee and the house smelled like overcooked cat poop (which is even worse than uncooked cat poop). I’ve learned that two days above 37C (97F) is not the proper temperature for keeping poop fresh. So, I broke the rules and took out the trash (and the baked goods).

San Geraldo has given me permission to nag him. And he’s promised he won’t talk back.

Except For The Hernia

All is well here. Or, as my friend Seine Judeet might say, all is well“except for the hernia.”

(Click any image to make little things grow.)

WHY I COULDN’T STAY IN BED THE OTHER MORNING.
GETTING READY TO HEAD BACK INTO PORT.
THE DARKEST HOUR IS ALWAYS JUST BEFORE THE DAWN.

“You got to speak your mind if you dare…”