Thanksgiving Milk Popsicle & banana Mush miff Neighbor
“Dan!” Nazy interrupts. “Thanksgiving always occurs on a Thursday.”
“And, my dear, that is why I was, as usual, right when I said it occurred on a Thursday this year. Did you know, however, that Thanksgiving takes place a whole month early in Canada?”
“Why?”
“The harvest comes early?” I suggested.
Feasting with family is a Thanksgiving tradition that we followed. Mitra and Stefan drove up from Los Angeles. Tom, Melika and young Tiger joined us here for a spectacular and event-filled holiday brunch. It was a particularly good time..
“What about Darius?” Someone asked.
Darius attempted to join the festivities electronically, but Skype was turned off. Nazy’s iPhone was in a purse the size of Liechtenstein under debris with the mass of The Matterhorn. Sonic vibrations generated by telephone ringtones were unable to penetrate the muffling effect of the purse and it’s contents. (Not to mention the fact that it would have taken a long time to excavate the phone from the purse had we heard it in the first place.) My ancient iPhone won’t charge easily (the process requires duct tape) and even when it is charged, the ringer doesn’t ring. Thus, Nazy and I decided that Darius’ four missed calls and six text messages counted as virtual attendance.
We later found out that Darius will be performing in an upcoming choral concert that features Lithuanian folk music. Or maybe it was Latvian classical music. I know it had something to do with the Baltics. (Or maybe it was with the Balkans.) He has a wardrobe challenge associated with the performance.
“I need to wear a suit, Dad,” he said, “But Christiane threw out all of my suits. She said the suits ..”
“I know, Darius. Melika said the same thing about all of your clothes. In fact, when she saw the picture of you with Christiane, her first comment was: ‘He has a new wardrobe. Finally!’”
But back to Thanksgiving Brunch. It was a special brunch because it featured the first solid food tasted by young Tiger. And: “He wasn’t impressed,” Melika announced. “Where is my milk?” Tom asserted, reading his son’s mind.“He was just thinking it over,” I replied. “I’m not sure I’d be thrilled with banana mash gruel mixed with rice flakes,” I thought.
He has the same reaction I did when my Mom gave me cooked spinach.” I said.
“You could talk at that point, Dan.” Nazy interjected.
“I know,“I never should have told her that the spinach tasted like grass soaked in gasoline.”
“Now he’s trying to munch on the back of your chair, Dad.” Melika said.
“And he likes the way that tastes,” I replied. “Did anyone actually taste the banana gruel?” I thought.
Thanksgiving:
Melika, Tiger, Dan, Mitra, Stefan, Tom
As we approach the end of our second year in California, Nazy was reflecting about our new neighbor - named Tom.
“He’s a jerk!” Nazy exclaimed. “We never had a neighbor like that in Zurich.”
Flashback Zurich - moving to Kapfsteig
With a car full of belongings, we drove to the new apartment and parked at an open space near the front door. I was unloading a box (1 of 38) containing Nazy’s shoes when:
“You can’t park there!” Mrs. Stickelberger shouted. “That’s for loading and unloading.”
“Danke, Frau,” I replied amiably. “What does it look like I’m doing?” I thought unsociably.
A few weeks later we found a note on our door. We had let the clothes dryer run after 9:00PM and the noise had upset Frau Roter. Frau Roter, the Roter Rooter magnate, lived 4th floor penthouse. The dryer was in the basement behind the blast doors of the governmentally mandated bomb shelter.
A few weeks after that, we found another note from Frau Roter. She was having work done on her terrace and the crane being used was parked in ‘my’ driveway where it blocked access to my garage parking place. I assumed, stupidly, that she was going to apologize. Instead she reaffirmed Mrs. Stickelberger’s early message: “You can’t park in the loading and unloading zone.”
I could also mention the little old lady (with binoculars) who lived across the street. She set a timer whenever someone parked in a 60 minute zone. She called parking police if the car was stilled parked at minute 61. I even could mention the neighbor who called the trash police after seeing someone discard grass clippings in a forest.
End Flashback
“His name is Tom!” Nazy continued - still thinking about our California neighbor.
“That’s very inconsiderate. We have too many Tom’s already. Melika’s husband is named Tom. Her baby is name Tom. Her boss is named Tom. Her cat is named Tom. There is no room in our life for another Tom. Luckily, our neighbor is not in our life.”
“He told me to buy a garbage can on the day we moved.”
“Well..”
“A garbage can just like his garbage can so it would match. He wanted to use our parking place for his third car. He complained about the boxes. He wanted to know when we were going to get rid of them.”
“It was a mess.”
“Then he rang the door bell and told me to turn off the porch light at night. He said it interfered with his sleep cycle. He has a Jaguar that he parks just to make it difficult for me to back out. It is a loud Jaguar, Dan. There is something wrong with the engine.”
“No, Nazy. He tunes it to make that sound.”
“That’s on purpose?”
“Yes.”
“I told you that he was a jerk. And he’s from Detroit.”
“Well that explains it.”
Note: In addition to the mashed banana gruel, we gave young Tiger a popsicle of frozen Mom’s milk He liked that a lot!
And, finally, Nazy and I will both be getting new mobile phones this week. Creating a fully documented archive of our first grandson’s development has taken a toll on the memory capacity of the mobile phones. We have a decision in front of us. Nazy wants and iPhone 6 and I’m leaning toward a Lumina 1020.
And, finally, friends in the Eastern Part of the USA have sent a bundle of (early) snowy pictures. I just wanted to share our weather pains here in Santa Barbara.
Last week’s letter - click here
