Rusty Mailbox fills my heart with joy and rocks my unpacked boxes
We’re moving and moving and moving. But..
“ …. it’s only been a few weeks,” Nazy claimed, accurately but pointlessly.
“You’re standing in the middle of a giant pile of shoes,” I replied. “I may get lost in the shoe wilderness or the sweater alps on the way to the bathroom.”
“Out of chaos comes order,” Nazy claimed.
“Of course, my dear. That’s how the Big Bang turned into the known Cosmos.” I replied. “And it took several billion years,” I thought. “I don’t want to wait that long.”
“You are not very patient, Dan.”
“I am very patient,” I scowled. “Except when it comes to moving,” I thought.
We’re at the, eh, one of the, awkward stages of moving in. We’ve unpacked and placed a lot of stuff in appropriate (and now filled) cabinets, closets, nooks and crannies.
“The kitchen looks great, Nazy.” I exclaimed.
“Everything is in its place.” She concurred.
“Unfortunately, I just found another four large boxes labelled ‘kitchen’ in the garage. Shall I bring them up?”
Nazy looked at me strangely.
“I am clearing the garage so that Alex can install the gargantuan closets.”
“Great.” Nazy replied, somewhat sarcastically.
“Is it always going to be like this?” I asked.
“Like what?”
“Like clearing one place inevitably messes up someplace else?”
I am happy to report that it is ‘like this’. The garage is mostly cleared… in the sense that the middle area is debris-free. However, in order to accomplish that feat, I had to bring several cartoons of Nazy’s clothes into the Master Bedroom which had previously sported a pristine and impeccable expanse of open space. I also brought several containers of ‘Miscellaneous’ into the hallway.
The new house is spacious and, sporting a view of the Pacific Ocean, well located. But..
“ … that mailbox has to go!” Nazy noted the very first time we saw the house.
“And has reiterated every day since,” I thought.
We ordered a new, heavy-duty mailbox that …
“I will install as soon as I find my tools,” I explained.
“Great,” Nazy replied. “Where’s the phone number for the handyman?” Nazy thought.
While we were buried in ‘stuff’, Mitra drove up from Los Angeles to help. Surveying the maelstrom of detritus, she was moved to make an observation:
“You need a process, Dad.”
“A process?”
“Yes. A process to select which belongings should be discarded.”
“I have been using the scientific method, Mitra: random selection.”
“I think that’s called ‘natural selection’, Dad.”
“Of course,” I replied. “Naturally random,” I thought.
“I have a book that you should read, Dad. It describes the process. You have entirely too much stuff,” Mitra said scanning the ‘living’ room. “Oh! Wow! That’s my ventriloquism dummy,” she enthused.
“Can you give me the short version of the process?”
“Yes! Categorize each of your possessions and put everything of a single category in a pile. Then pick up each item and — get this — you ask yourself, while you’re holding the item, whether it brings joy to your heart. If it doesn’t, you throw it out.”
“Toilet paper, Mitra, doesn’t bring joy to my heart, but I don’t want to throw it out.”
“Dad.”
“On the other hand, the cable bill brings an ache to my heart, so I’d like to throw it…”
“I don’t think you understand the concept Dad.”
“Should I throw out the ventriloquism dummy? Or would you like to hold it first?”
Because it has been difficult to cook in the house during the move. I have been singularly unlucky. The last four times we went to an upscale restaurant, they ‘were out’ of the item that I ordered. Four Times in a Row!
“And,” Nazy interrupts, “At the Bluewater Grill yesterday, you threw the menu at the waiter.”
“Not at the waiter, Nazy.” I replied. “I wouldn’t have missed if I threw it at him,” I thought.
“You weren’t very gracious.”
“How could they run out of rainbow trout at a fish restaurant?”
Four different restaurants have been ‘out’ of my selection (rainbow trout, Mahi Mahi, lasagna and butternut squash ravioli) in the last week. All of them had Nazy’s choices.
In the midst of the turmoil associated with the move, Tom and Melika joined with friends Mike and Sherri for a two year pool and birthday party for their collective children. Nazy and I dressed for the occasion:
“ …. it’s only been a few weeks,” Nazy claimed, accurately but pointlessly.
“You’re standing in the middle of a giant pile of shoes,” I replied. “I may get lost in the shoe wilderness or the sweater alps on the way to the bathroom.”
“Out of chaos comes order,” Nazy claimed.
“Of course, my dear. That’s how the Big Bang turned into the known Cosmos.” I replied. “And it took several billion years,” I thought. “I don’t want to wait that long.”
“You are not very patient, Dan.”
“I am very patient,” I scowled. “Except when it comes to moving,” I thought.
We’re at the, eh, one of the, awkward stages of moving in. We’ve unpacked and placed a lot of stuff in appropriate (and now filled) cabinets, closets, nooks and crannies.
“The kitchen looks great, Nazy.” I exclaimed.
“Everything is in its place.” She concurred.
“Unfortunately, I just found another four large boxes labelled ‘kitchen’ in the garage. Shall I bring them up?”
Nazy looked at me strangely.
“I am clearing the garage so that Alex can install the gargantuan closets.”
“Great.” Nazy replied, somewhat sarcastically.
“Is it always going to be like this?” I asked.
“Like what?”
“Like clearing one place inevitably messes up someplace else?”
I am happy to report that it is ‘like this’. The garage is mostly cleared… in the sense that the middle area is debris-free. However, in order to accomplish that feat, I had to bring several cartoons of Nazy’s clothes into the Master Bedroom which had previously sported a pristine and impeccable expanse of open space. I also brought several containers of ‘Miscellaneous’ into the hallway.
The new house is spacious and, sporting a view of the Pacific Ocean, well located. But..
“ … that mailbox has to go!” Nazy noted the very first time we saw the house.
“And has reiterated every day since,” I thought.
We ordered a new, heavy-duty mailbox that …
“I will install as soon as I find my tools,” I explained.
“Great,” Nazy replied. “Where’s the phone number for the handyman?” Nazy thought.
While we were buried in ‘stuff’, Mitra drove up from Los Angeles to help. Surveying the maelstrom of detritus, she was moved to make an observation:
“You need a process, Dad.”
“A process?”
“Yes. A process to select which belongings should be discarded.”
“I have been using the scientific method, Mitra: random selection.”
“I think that’s called ‘natural selection’, Dad.”
“Of course,” I replied. “Naturally random,” I thought.
“I have a book that you should read, Dad. It describes the process. You have entirely too much stuff,” Mitra said scanning the ‘living’ room. “Oh! Wow! That’s my ventriloquism dummy,” she enthused.
“Can you give me the short version of the process?”
“Yes! Categorize each of your possessions and put everything of a single category in a pile. Then pick up each item and — get this — you ask yourself, while you’re holding the item, whether it brings joy to your heart. If it doesn’t, you throw it out.”
“Toilet paper, Mitra, doesn’t bring joy to my heart, but I don’t want to throw it out.”
“Dad.”
“On the other hand, the cable bill brings an ache to my heart, so I’d like to throw it…”
“I don’t think you understand the concept Dad.”
“Should I throw out the ventriloquism dummy? Or would you like to hold it first?”
Because it has been difficult to cook in the house during the move. I have been singularly unlucky. The last four times we went to an upscale restaurant, they ‘were out’ of the item that I ordered. Four Times in a Row!
“And,” Nazy interrupts, “At the Bluewater Grill yesterday, you threw the menu at the waiter.”
“Not at the waiter, Nazy.” I replied. “I wouldn’t have missed if I threw it at him,” I thought.
“You weren’t very gracious.”
“How could they run out of rainbow trout at a fish restaurant?”
Four different restaurants have been ‘out’ of my selection (rainbow trout, Mahi Mahi, lasagna and butternut squash ravioli) in the last week. All of them had Nazy’s choices.
In the midst of the turmoil associated with the move, Tom and Melika joined with friends Mike and Sherri for a two year pool and birthday party for their collective children. Nazy and I dressed for the occasion:
“You’re going to wear that?” Nazy queried.
“Yeah! I forgot I had this shirt until it showed up after the move.”
“What is that shirt?”
“I got it at a West End Show entitled: “We will rock you! It was based on Queen’s songs.”
“The shirt looks..”
“ … great! Right?” I concluded.
The party was a lot of fun. Arrow liked his cake, Arrow (and Tiger) liked the swimming pool and everyone had a good time.
Melika, Arrow and Tom
August 2018
Finally, Melika is expecting. A casual perusal of her shape indicates that the Adams family will become larger. Soon.
For last week's letter, please click here
Melika
Early August, Late Pregnancy
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