Journal of an Urbane Gorilla

On the move

Just a short post to say that we are moving - to Santa Fe. The Grams is acting like a slave driver and I'm totally burned out. In the meantime, here's the entrance to our new casita. 2 acres, hot tub, and sunset views of the Ortiz and Sandias. I've been promised a banana dacquiri every evening as I watch the setting sun. More to follow . . .

Merry Christmas to all!

A dopo e Moochas Smoochas,

 

Please give what you can to Médecins sans Frontières(Doctors without Borders) and support Kiva.

 

And, of course

 平和  に 働 き

 

(heiwa ni hataraki: work for peace)

 

Let it snow, let it snow, let it snow!

Woke up before dawn this morning - very unusual for moi - and this is what greeted me at window in the lounge. The fountain had been frozen for a few days, but it was full of snow.

The whole landscape was white. I was very glad to be indoors. I was also glad to have the cuppa that Grams brought me a little later.

Grams is hoping to see the Dr. Who Christmas special here in real time, instead of having to wait for it on BBC America in February or something, for heaven's sake!

These last few days of David Tennant (nee, McDonald) as the Dr. are all the buzz here. He will be missed, I suppose.  I'm still waiting for Primeval to come back on, that's my favorite show. Even though Doug Henshaw has left , along with a few others, I still love all the creatures.

When the sun came up, I ventured outside again and took a few more pics. On the right, that's one very frozen ornamental cabbage.

I do like the lady in the ivy. She does look a little cold though.

Right now the wind is howling - I suspect it's gale force. But, we're tucked up warm inside Gwel Y Gorwel. I do hope Bronwyn and the child like their presents. 

This is the sky about 20 minutes ago. At the mo' it's a tad darker.

A dopo e Moochas Smoochas,

Please give what you can to Médecins sans Frontières (Doctors without Borders) and support Kiva.  

And, of course 

平和  に 働 き

(heiwa ni hataraki: work for peace)

 

The Gweeds is back!

Yes, I know, you’ve missed the Gweeds. At least that’s what my email says. Well, it’s been a long strange trip. Grams has taken up most of my time. She took ill last summer, recovered enough to go to Scotland, and then was ill from the fall though winter. She’s now on the road to good health; but I’ve had my hands full taking care of her.

There were times during the past few months when I thought that her request to “take me out back and just shoot me,” sounded reasonable. But, I persevered making her pots and pots of veggie soup. I wiped her brow, read to her, and made her take all her meds. I also held her hand as she got Cat Scans, MRIs and various other doctor-ordered tests.

She always said, “thank you,” and showed her appreciation in many ways. But, imagine my surprise when I came down the other morning, wiping the sleepy bugs out of my eyes, and saw a parcel on the table addressed to me. “What’s this?” I asked. “It’s addressed to you, Gweeds, why don’t you open it?” Grams said. I looked at Big Guy and he nodded that I should do just that.

I very carefully opened the parcel and there it was: a brand new Nikon DSLR with a telephoto lens. I had been wanting one for soooooo long and here it was right in my quivering hands. “Why?” I asked looking at them. Grams spoke first, “There are 4 reasons Gweeds. First, I’ve seen you salivating over the ads for months now. Second, I know that you wanted one for Christmas. Third, you had read up on digital cameras and knew which one you wanted and this is the one, right?” I nodded vigorously. “And fourth?” I asked. “Ah, fourth, well for all of the buckets of veggie soup you made for and for being a wonderful nurse to me while I recovered.”

I fell into her arms and she gave me a hug. This morning, after breakfast, we biked down to the bluffs (well, I was in Grams’ basket as usual) and I got to really give my new camera a workout. That surfer dude is named Cameron Keast and I had a ball.

A dopo e Moochas Smoochas,

Please give what you can to Médecins sans Frontières (Doctors without Borders) and support Kiva.

And, of course

平和 に 働 き

(heiwa ni hataraki: work for peace)

And so it begins

As those of you who have followed our travels over the years will recall, traveling with the Grams is always an adventure (and I don’t mean that in a positive way). If she isn’t vomiting and passing out in the aisle of the airplane, she’s turning day-glow pink from an allergic reaction to meds in Scotland. She trips, she falls, she’s just a bundle of laughs (as in: ha. ha. ha.).

This time she pulled the old Laurel and Hardy gag with the glass of water and the watch. She filled a cup with water on the airplane and when I asked her what time it was she turned her hand to check her watch. Picture it: water down the front of her all the way through to the back. “I don’t believe what I’ve just done!” she cried. “Oh, I believe it,” I said shaking my head. Fortunately, she was wearing a black cotton knit. Now, she’s recommending spilling water to keep cool on transatlantic flights. *sigh*

Then, we arrived in Zurich. The airport in Zurich is quite nice, especially if you’re transferring to another flight. They have a little subway type affair that takes you right to the terminal for your connecting flight. Very well laid out. But, our Grams had one of her little low sugar episodes. I walked her over to a machine that had snacks. She was about to get an apple when I suggested that she could get a Tuna sandwich and share half of it with Big Guy. So, tuna it was.

We walked back to where Big Guy was sitting and chatting up a nice lady. Grams started to eat her half of the sandwich. Suddenly, they announced that our plane was boarding. But, as we went through the gate, the lady taking our board passes said that Grams’ computer bag was too big for the little plane and that she would have to check it. This did not thrill Grams, but she set about putting the lock on it. As she turned around, one of the clerks bumped into her and knocked the sandwich to the floor. Grams looked down and then looked at me, and then looked at Big Guy, “that was your half honey,” she said smiling.

Since she was still shaking when we got on board, she searched through the bottom of her purse and found some old Hershey kisses. “These’ll have to do,” she sighed. And proceeded to spend the next 20 minutes unwrapping Hershey kisses. The irony? As we boarded the plane, the pilot had said, “Oh you don’t have to check that, it'll fit!” And as we exited the plane the cabin attendant handed out bars of Swiss chocolate. Double *sigh*

The picture is from Pourtmerion. We went there today. I’ll tell you more about it later. This trompe l’oeil amused me.

A dopo e Moochas Smoochas,

Please give what you can to Médecins sans Frontières (Doctors without Borders) and support Kiva.

And, of course

平和 に 働 き

(hewa ni hataraki: work for peace)

Trim yer jib and get ready to hike out!

Well, it’s that time again: the America’s Cup has started. Actually, it’s the Louis Vuitton Cup round robins that have started. On race days, in our humble abode, we eat, drink, think, sleep, and talk sailing. Well, Big Guy and Grams talk sailing. As you know, I don’t do the sailing thing. Not a big fan of water sports is the Gweeds. I suspect that it’s a genetic pre-disposition. Grams says that’s nonsense, but I’m sure that I do much better on terra firma.

On the first day of the Vuitton round robins, Oracle (USA) and Luna Rossa (Italy) both won both of their races, so they’re both in 1st place. Grams always cheers for an Italian team (she has 3 to choose from this time around). Big Guy just likes a good race. I like the idea that we can look at it on the telly and not get wet.

During America’s Cup years, sailing is added to the excitement of the Tour de France. Then, counting the baseball season and we’re off to a sports-filled summer. It seems that when there’s an America’s Cup, Big Guy and Grams are inspired to sail more often. I’ll wave them off from the shore. Usually, I wait in the car listening to my iPod and reading travel books. Grams has tried every ploy to get me into their boat, but I will not go. It’s a wise Gweeds who knows his limitations.

Of course, the Tour de France inspires Grams (and the rest of the world it seems) to go racing about on her bike. You’ll remember all the spills she took last summer; well this time around it was Big Guy who took the first fall of the season. We were on our way to meet Grams on her way home when Big Guy took at turn into a driveway a little too fast. He got his right knee and chin scuffed. As usual I flew off into a bush.

Grams went into Dr. Mom mode when we got home. Big Guy put his leg up on the counter and I hopped up hoping for some TLC too. She got out the alcohol and a huge bandage. Of course, she gave him the magic kisses. That always works for me. I didn’t have any physical damage, but when I cleared my throat and did my Bambi eyes, she came over and gave me kisses too.

When it comes to baseball, Grams likes it because it’s basically a game of statistics: that’s her game. Big Guy, Henri and I like baseball because we’re guys. So, there’s something for everyone in our pied à terre when it comes to baseball.

In a few weeks Henri will arrive. I’ll be getting busy planning adventures for our fall trip and hiding out from Grams when she goes on her Tours de Terroir, and from all of them when they decide to go sailing. I will be there for every ball game though. I’m in my happy place.

A dopo e Moochas Smoochas,

Please give what you can to Médecins sans Frontières (Doctors without Borders) and support Kiva.

And, of course

平和 に 働 き

(hewa ni hataraki: work for peace)

Butterfly kisses

Usually in the summertime, the Natural History Museum in Santa Tourista mounts a butterfly exhibit. Henri and I go there to check out all the fluttering creatures. Henri likes to have the butterflies surround him. He stands statue-like and waits for them to land. I like to snap pics of them as they do their butterfly thing. These 2 seem to be giving ‘butterfly kisses,’ but they’re probably just fighting for the same nectar spot.

This summer there wasn’t enough money to mount the exhibit. The museum had a half-hearted effort, but no masses of magical little wings surrounding us with happy thoughts.

Now, we’ll have wait for the Monarchs to return in December. No, we will not go biking in the field to see them. We don’t want a repeat of Grams’ crash in the ditch. We’ll walk out there.

I came upon Grams’ at her writing desk the other day. “I wish the summer could last forever,” I said and leaned against her leg. She ruffled my hair. “So do I, Gweeds. So do I,” she sighed. Then, she gave me this poem that she had written.

As we slept
The earth changed its axis
I hadn’t noticed
And then autumn’s icy breath
Frosted the window
And made my back shiver

It didn’t happen overnight
But it seemed as if it had
I suppose it had been coming for weeks
But, to me it seemed as if it had crept silently
In the night, through the open window
I pulled up the duvet,
The summer blanket no longer adequate

I was relieved to think that it was merely autumn's return
And not the ghosts coming back
They haven’t come to taunt me for such a long time
I know when they’re here
They blow frigid air on my neck
I tell them to go
But they linger just to let me know that I’m not free yet

“La palabras son baratas, Pendejo”
That’s what I woke up thinking
Those words had come from another lifetime,
“Sorry I didn’t stick around.”
It was a throw away line
And had the same effect of saying,
“Sorry,”
On the playground of our youth

Somewhere a taller voice says,
“Now shake hands and say you’re sorry”
Sweaty palms meet
The perfunctory shake is exchanged
But it doesn’t change anything
Words are so utterly cheap

So, autumn crept into our bedroom this morning
We held on to each other
To seal the warmth between our bodies
But the cold air swirled around us

How long will it be autumn?
How long will before the afternoon sun no longer warms my cheek?
I don’t want winter to come
I can live in the cool of autumn for a long time.
Still I wonder
Will summer come again?

A dopo e Moochas Smoochas,

Please give what you can to Médecins sans Frontières (Doctors without Borders).

And, of course

平和 に 働 き

(hewa ni hataraki: work for peace)

So Much for Tearful Farewells

Autumn has arrived in Santa Tourista. Last Thursday Henri left and Grams and Big Guy and I have been a bit down ever since. Henri makes summers so much fun.

This year he took sailing lessons again, went on the annual Legoland pilgrimage, did the Fiesta again, became an accomplished Boogie Boarder, designed a new city (Philosophy City), spent hours searching Google Earth, ate tons of French Toast, chewed a ton of Altoid’s Sour Cherry gum, rode for miles on his bike, and dug lots and lots of holes at the beach.

He invented “pet-tums,” which is what he does when he pets Crankshaft, the cat. We won’t discuss “slime farts.” It has something to do with hedgehogs and it’s probably best if we don’t go there. He learned how to belch while saying, “Merry Christmas” (thank you so much, Grams). He’s also worked up an impressive array of “Seinfeld” impersonations.

We didn’t watch ‘toonies’ this year. I think that Grams really missed, “Ed, Edd, and Eddy,” but Henri is just too mature for that now. No, he watches a show called “Dirty Jobs,” on the Discovery channel. Of course he still watches the Weather channel. He followed every storm; giving us up to date reports every 15 minutes.

He read quite a few books this summer, “An Inconvenient Truth,” “The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn,” “To Kill A Mockingbird,” “The Hobbit,” another one by Charles Dickens and some more that I can’t remember. He also learned how to keep a journal.

But, most of all, Henri learned about baseball. He had become interested in baseball before he left Hoboken; but with Big Guy, he learned the fine points of the game. Grams taught him what the stats mean (she is the statisical whiz, after all). He got a baseball bat and learned how to pitch. He practiced for hours pitching the ball against the garage door. This is why we have about 5 balls on the garage roof now.

Now he’s back in Hoboken and we’re left adrift in our summer memories. So, we went for our usual bike ride this AM. Big Guy said, “no Beetlebomb today”: that's what we call Henri when he rides his bike. This afternoon, Big Guy barbequed and Grams grilled veg and made bread sticks; but there was no Henri to share it with.

Autumn’s icy breath has frosted our early morning windows. The afternoon sun just isn’t as warm anymore. We’ll get back to normal. But the 9 months between Henri’s times here just isn’t the same. We’ll be waiting for his phone calls to tell us about the weather, or his new school, or nothing in particular. Miss ya’ Little Big Guy.
A dopo e Moochas Smoochas,

Please give what you can to Médecins sans Frontières (Doctors without Borders).

And, of course

平和 に 働 き

(hewa ni hataraki: work for peace)

Esto no es una bicicleta

I know that I’ve gone on and on about Grams and her insistence on bike riding. I mean we’re talking about a woman whose got monocular vision (ol’ one-eye I call her), she’s got arthritis in every joint in her body (including her spine), and she’s just about the clumsiest person on the face of the earth. Rides with her has landed me in ditches and close to being road kill.

When Grams leaves for work in he morning we alert the Highway Patrol. It’s only fair. If they can’t find a way to ban her from the roadways; we can at least protect the rest of the populace.

That said, Henri found out something interesting the other day. He went on-line to Google earth and tracked Grams’ everyday route to and from work. Now, she had been thinking that she was going about 4 miles. 4 Miles pleased her. She was satisfied. Then Henri figured out that she’s been pedalling her heart out to the tune of 5 miles a day.

Now, there’s no stopping her. She is so proud of herself. “5 Miles!” she is fond of crowing. Of course, pride goeth before the fall. Well, today, she did it again. She was listening to her CD player whilst riding her trusty little red cycle and the player malfunctioned. Not wanting to stop (first error), she decided to turn off the player and remove her ear buds. She tossed the buds into her bag (or so she thought). The buds, however, fell free and somehow got entangled in the spokes of her wheels.

Now she had been warned of this very possibility by Big Guy, but she hadn’t paid any attention (as usual). I won’t go into the gory details, but I will tell you that the ear buds were saved by a passing gardener. The Grams? She’s fine. I’m just feel sorry for her shins. Maybe we should follow her on her daily route with a megaphone warning the innocents who may encounter her.

Thinking back on it, I think I’ll go hide that CD player. Wish me luck.

A dopo e Moochas Smoochas,

Please give what you can to Médecins sans Frontières (Doctors without Borders).

And, of course

平和 に 働 き

(hewa ni hataraki: work for peace)

No, but, yeh, but, no, what happened was . . .*

Grams and I love a TV show called, “Little Britain.” We watch it and laugh our socks off. If you’ve never seen it, then it’s hard to explain it. The two fellows who star in it, David Walliams and Matt Lucas, are genius’. It’s basically sketches, but oh so much more.

The character of Vicky Pollard, is played by Matt Lucas. Vicky is the perfect teenage slag. She is every parent’s nightmare. She’s every teacher’s nightmare. Oh, she’s everyone’s nightmare.

Grams does an impression of one of David Walliams’ chararacters, Emily Howard, “But I’m a lady!” But I can get her with my Vicky Pollard impression any day, “No but yeh but no what happened was . . .” or “Shaddup cos I never done nuthin' nor nuthin'” We crack eachother up.

Big Guy tolerates our ‘Little Britain’ obsession, but he rolls his eyes when we start in with our impressions. Harumph! He’s just jealous ‘cause we’re so good at it. I’m working up my Marjorie Dawes. She’s the Fat Fighters team leader, “Picture yourself naked... not nice is it?” Or “Remember, dust is actually very low in fat, so you can eat as much dust as you like!” Oooh, she’s another one you love to hate.

Well, we have 7 days left before we leave. I’ve got to get cracking on my part. Grams and Big Guy had their check ups with the Doc today (A-OK). The cleaners delivered the woolen clothes. I can hear apple strudel calling me from Vienna. The Doc even told us about a place to get the best strudel in Vienna.

I’ve got to go, Grams wants to waltz around the living room.

A dopo e Moochas Smoochas,

Please give what you can to Médecins sans Frontières (Doctors without Borders).

And, of course

平和 に 働 き

(hewa ni hataraki: work for peace)



* In the words of Vicky Pollard, “No but yeh but no what happened was, was you know the Redmond sisters, they found a verruca sock in the girls bogs and put it in Carrie's bag and she completely had an eppy and turned up to Carmel Sharma's party with a compass and stabbed Carmel Sharma.”
“Shaddup cos I never done nuthin' nor nuthin' and anyone says I did is well gonna get beatens.”