unreflective rush hour freeway rains Christmas stocking shopping miscues
“… Friday afternoon? They’re arriving on Friday 4:30PM, the 23rd of December?” I asked.
“You know that Dan,” Nazy replied.
“At rush hour? In Los Angeles?”
“Dan..”
“I’m looking forward to this drive,” I replied. “I’m not looking forward to this drive,” I thought.
“We can bring Tiger with us.” Nazy continued.
“What a great idea!” I replied. “Are you out of your mind?” I thought.
Tiger, I have to say, was great. However, several other things conspired to make the trip a bit of a challenge. It rained.
Reader interrupt: “It rained? In Southern California? During a drought? In a La Niña (no rainy season) year?”
It rained. Heavily. The traffic was ‘stop and go’ until we got close to the airport where the ‘go’ part stopped and the traffic became ‘stop and stop’. We moved about half a car length every 4 minutes at the Sepulveda Boulevard turnoff where we spent about half an hour directly under the landing path to LAX. Most airplanes passed about 50 feet overhead during their final approach. However, one Boeing 777 was a bit low: it looked like it cleared the traffic light by about 10 feet and the fence around the airport by about 5 feet. It was really low. (I am not making this up.)
And, to add a bit of spice, there was major construction on New Century Boulevard, the road from the airport to the freeway. Finally, it was dark and rainy when we left the airport. The 405, a vehicle-filled ravine wider than the Great Rift Valley in Africa, was bulldozed into existence before reflective paint or street lights were invented. Thus…
“… it’s impossible to see the lane markers!” I mumbled as I wrestled with the steering wheel of Melika’s gargantuan SUV.
“I think you’re in your lane, Dad.” Darius replied from the passenger seat.
“Be careful, Dan!” Nazy shouted from the far back of the car. Her voice was distorted by the Doppler Effect. I also noticed a slight delay in her warning. (Transmission time was limited by the speed of sound; her voice had to travel a significant distance from the back of the SUV.)
“You know, Dad,” Darius continued, “I think this car is wider than a normal lane on the 405.”
Eventually, w e turned onto the 101 — just as wide, just as wet and just as bereft of visible lane markers.
“Dan!” Nazy interrupts. “You’re making it sound bad. There was no traffic.”
“That’s only because the problems on New Century Blvd. were so severe that rush hour was over by the time we hit the freeway.”
In preparation for the events, I took Tiger shopping. Aware that he is at the “It’s fun to run away” age, I had a frank discussion with him.
“… and you have to promise that you ‘won’t run away’, Tiger. That’s a rule.”
“Okay, Dan.” He replied.
Then, when we got into the store, he dropped down to his hands and knees and started crawling.
“What are you doing?” I asked. “I’m crawling away,” Tiger replied.
Later, on the drive home, I reminded him that Christiane was pregnant. I asked, again, if he remembered being in Mommy’s tummy.
“Yes. And that was a fine tummy.” He replied.
Tiger was helpful on the shopping, but Nazy was unimpressed with the results.
“I sent you on a simple mission,” she explained — somewhat condescendingly.
“You asked for Ziploc bags. Gallon Size.” I replied — handing her my selection: Ziploc bags. Gallon size.
“How did you choose this box?” She asked. Threateningly.
“Economics, my dear.” I replied with (misplaced) confidence. “As you requested (‘damanded&rsquo
I shunned the bargain brand. For the ones you wanted, there was a box of 19 bags for $2.89 or a box of 38 bags for $3.29. The latter was an obviously better deal.”“The 38 bag box doesn’t fit into our drawer. I asked you to do a simple thing and..”
I thought about mentioning the main reason I was in the grocery store in the first place: Nazy, who had begun making sugar cookies, realized that she was missing one ingredient — sugar. I was there to pick it up when she added the Ziplocs to her order.
All the stockings
Nazy and I returned to our Christmas roots this week. She worked late hours to finish a Christmas stocking for young Tiger. These needlepoint projects always deliver spectacular results, but they always take a huge amount of time. Nazy, determined to finish this year, was up late every night putting the finishing touches in place. And every night..
“…. shouldn’t you assemble Tiger’s tricycle, Dan?” She’d ask just as I was heading to bed.
“There in no need to start so early,” I replied. Repetitively.
I began assembly late Christmas Eve. You can, therefore, imagine my chagrin as I imparted the…
“ …. bad news, Nazy. We are missing one bolt.”
“You lost it!”
“I didn’t lose it! It was not in the box, my dear.”
“And, if you had started early, there would have been time to get a spare bolt.”
“Do you think he’ll like it without the seat?” I asked, well aware that it didn’t matter whether he’d like it. (It only mattered whether she’d like it — and that seemed doubtful at best.)
Arrow likes the M&M snow globe
Luckily, he got so many presents, he didn’t really notice the tricycle miscue. (But I have put Schwinn on my ‘naughty’ list for next year.)
More on family visits and outings next week.
For next week's letter, click here
Two photos follow
Mitra and Arrow
Darius and Christiane