Zebra socks correct umbrella wallet in California castle
16-11-13 10:21 Humor,California
An alert reader of last week’s edition (Susi) provided evidence that supported my description of the recovered porcelain.
A quick refresh: We found an almost completed piece of Nazy’s signed (‘1986&rsquo
handiwork. I called it a vase (large enough to contain a redwood tree). In contrast, Nazy insisted that it was an ‘umbrella stand’.
Susi asks: “Why do you need an umbrella stand in Santa Barbara?”
An unscientific poll of neighborhood residents confirmed the accuracy of Susi’s observations. (No one was aware of the meaning of the arcane term ‘umbrella’.) I can definitively assure troubled readers that the recovered piece is a vase that is tall enough to serve as a cast for a giraffe with a broken foreleg. More importantly, I was right and Nazy was wrong. (Thanks Susi!)
While we are on the subject of accuracy, I must recount a discussion with my sister Marjorie.
“You have doubts about the accuracy of ‘factual’ material on my blog?” I asked.
“There is no doubt, Dan. You were wrong. In error! Inaccurate. And misrepresentational.”
“Wrong? Mois?”
“You claim that you created the wild socks phenomenon, when you well know that I have more colorful socks than you because I started the trend many years before you even knew the difference between a left and right socks.”
“You mean right and left skcos,” I interrupted.
You are conniving for credit. But I won’t stand for it. And I saw your blog entry with the absurd costumes. Don’t you know that circles don’t go with squares?”
“I was wearing red shoes.”
“And now you think you’re the Pope? Print a retraction, Dan.”
“Consider it done.” I replied. Correctively.
This week our friend Uschi was visiting from Zurich. Nazy and I divided preparatory tasks: while she prepared the house and planned for excursions, I made arrangements to assure appropriate weather. We followed the plans and took advantage of the weather to the Hearst Castle in San Simeon.
Construction there began in 1919 and continued for decades. William Randolph Hearst was not good at sticking with decisions; accordingly, there was a lot of rework. (In fact, because of this, it wasn’t finished until after he died.) The property, somewhat larger than Liechtenstein, featured a private zoo and a home designed ...
“... with a European church motif,” our guide explained.
“Who wants to live in a church?” I thought. Agnostically.
The guide was in full charm mode when a large police officer interrupted him.
“Is there someone named DANIEL MARTIN in this group?”
“Ah, yes,” I raised my hand..
“I need to talk with you NOW.” The policeman said.
“What did you do?” Nazy ‘whispered’.
I walked toward the policeman with thoughts of our car, with failed emergency brakes, rolling into a ravine and striking an endangered species on the way. All of the people in our tour group avoided eye contact as I slumped forward.
“How are you sir?” The policeman asked.
“A little concerned to be truthful,” I replied as I noticed his large badge and giant gun.
“You should be,” he replied.
“This is just ducky,” I thought.
“Do you have your identification sir?” The policeman continued.
I reached for my wallet - which was missing.
“Is this what you’re looking for?” The policeman held up my wallet. “We found it in the tour bus.”
‘Thank you!” I wheezed.
“You weren’t planning on driving without your license, were you sir?”
“Of course not.” I replied. “Thanks again.”
“You need to be more careful,” Nazy informed me as I rejoined the group.
“You are so helpful,” I replied.
We rejoined the ‘grand rooms’ tour. The estate grounds had wild Zebra. The ‘house’ featured enormous rooms, high ceilings, Flemish tapestry, Spanish paintings, Italian sculptures, Persian carpets.”
“But no windows,” Nazy noted. “It’s dark in here. It is so beautiful and sunny outdoors, but inside the rooms are dark..”
“That’s what happens when you use a 500 year old church as your design basis,” I replied.
It was very dark inside. The dining room, for example, had small chancellery windows 24 feet above the floor. There were choir chairs along the walls. (And there was mustard and ketchup on the table.) Then we entered the..
“Mourning room?” I asked. “It’s certainly dreary enough,” I thought.
“It’s the morning room, sir.” The guide replied with ironic deadly accuracy. “The ceiling is from a church in Spain, the delicate paintings are caked in 500 year old soot. Mr. Hearst like it that way, we’re having it cleaned.”
“Why do you install a few windows at the same time?” I thought.
Although the inside was dark the outdoor part of the estate was brightly spectacular. Nazy was particularly enamored by the Neptune Pool. (Which Hearst had built, destroyed, redesigned and rebuilt 3 times; he’s from the Steve Jobs school of management.) There was a separate Roman Pool that was equally beautiful. Photos of Hearst Castle are available here.
A quick refresh: We found an almost completed piece of Nazy’s signed (‘1986&rsquo
handiwork. I called it a vase (large enough to contain a redwood tree). In contrast, Nazy insisted that it was an ‘umbrella stand’. Susi asks: “Why do you need an umbrella stand in Santa Barbara?”
An unscientific poll of neighborhood residents confirmed the accuracy of Susi’s observations. (No one was aware of the meaning of the arcane term ‘umbrella’.) I can definitively assure troubled readers that the recovered piece is a vase that is tall enough to serve as a cast for a giraffe with a broken foreleg. More importantly, I was right and Nazy was wrong. (Thanks Susi!)
While we are on the subject of accuracy, I must recount a discussion with my sister Marjorie.
“You have doubts about the accuracy of ‘factual’ material on my blog?” I asked.
“There is no doubt, Dan. You were wrong. In error! Inaccurate. And misrepresentational.”
“Wrong? Mois?”
“You claim that you created the wild socks phenomenon, when you well know that I have more colorful socks than you because I started the trend many years before you even knew the difference between a left and right socks.”
“You mean right and left skcos,” I interrupted.
You are conniving for credit. But I won’t stand for it. And I saw your blog entry with the absurd costumes. Don’t you know that circles don’t go with squares?”
“I was wearing red shoes.”
“And now you think you’re the Pope? Print a retraction, Dan.”
“Consider it done.” I replied. Correctively.
This week our friend Uschi was visiting from Zurich. Nazy and I divided preparatory tasks: while she prepared the house and planned for excursions, I made arrangements to assure appropriate weather. We followed the plans and took advantage of the weather to the Hearst Castle in San Simeon.
Construction there began in 1919 and continued for decades. William Randolph Hearst was not good at sticking with decisions; accordingly, there was a lot of rework. (In fact, because of this, it wasn’t finished until after he died.) The property, somewhat larger than Liechtenstein, featured a private zoo and a home designed ...
“... with a European church motif,” our guide explained.
“Who wants to live in a church?” I thought. Agnostically.
The guide was in full charm mode when a large police officer interrupted him.
“Is there someone named DANIEL MARTIN in this group?”
“Ah, yes,” I raised my hand..
“I need to talk with you NOW.” The policeman said.
“What did you do?” Nazy ‘whispered’.
I walked toward the policeman with thoughts of our car, with failed emergency brakes, rolling into a ravine and striking an endangered species on the way. All of the people in our tour group avoided eye contact as I slumped forward.
“How are you sir?” The policeman asked.
“A little concerned to be truthful,” I replied as I noticed his large badge and giant gun.
“You should be,” he replied.
“This is just ducky,” I thought.
“Do you have your identification sir?” The policeman continued.
I reached for my wallet - which was missing.
“Is this what you’re looking for?” The policeman held up my wallet. “We found it in the tour bus.”
‘Thank you!” I wheezed.
“You weren’t planning on driving without your license, were you sir?”
“Of course not.” I replied. “Thanks again.”
“You need to be more careful,” Nazy informed me as I rejoined the group.
“You are so helpful,” I replied.
We rejoined the ‘grand rooms’ tour. The estate grounds had wild Zebra. The ‘house’ featured enormous rooms, high ceilings, Flemish tapestry, Spanish paintings, Italian sculptures, Persian carpets.”
“But no windows,” Nazy noted. “It’s dark in here. It is so beautiful and sunny outdoors, but inside the rooms are dark..”
“That’s what happens when you use a 500 year old church as your design basis,” I replied.
It was very dark inside. The dining room, for example, had small chancellery windows 24 feet above the floor. There were choir chairs along the walls. (And there was mustard and ketchup on the table.) Then we entered the..
“Mourning room?” I asked. “It’s certainly dreary enough,” I thought.
“It’s the morning room, sir.” The guide replied with ironic deadly accuracy. “The ceiling is from a church in Spain, the delicate paintings are caked in 500 year old soot. Mr. Hearst like it that way, we’re having it cleaned.”
“Why do you install a few windows at the same time?” I thought.
Although the inside was dark the outdoor part of the estate was brightly spectacular. Nazy was particularly enamored by the Neptune Pool. (Which Hearst had built, destroyed, redesigned and rebuilt 3 times; he’s from the Steve Jobs school of management.) There was a separate Roman Pool that was equally beautiful. Photos of Hearst Castle are available here.
The Neptune Pool
blog comments powered by Disqus