Butterfly migration delays plumbing tasks while Vancouver haircut genes dominate
“Do you think we can safely make the journey to Home Depot?” I asked.
“Are you worried about traffic?” Nazy replied. “Or are you looking for an excuse because you don’t want to repair the plumbing?” Nazy thought.
“Nazy dear!” I exclaimed patiently. “It is Monarch Butterfly migration season. These magnificent beasts …”
“Beasts?”
“These Monarch Butterflies, magnificent insects in the order Lepidoptera,” I corrected, “are thundering into Goleta, California from the Rocky Mountains.”
“Thundering? What’s that have to do with Home Depot?”
“Home Depot, my dear, is in Goleta. Do we want to risk getting caught behind a migrating herd..”
“I think it’s called a flock of butterflies.”
“It is, in fact, called a ‘kaleidoscope of butterflies’” I corrected. “The point is, we could be stuck for hours as the butterflies cross the 101 highway.”
“What?”
“California is environmentally conscious. Do you want to risk getting a citation for butterfly malfeasance?”
“I want you to fix the filter under the kitchen sink.” Nazy, not easily shifted off topic, insisted.
Unable to dodge the plumbing challenge, I assured Nazy that the butterfly migration wouldn’t prevent us from getting a Christmas Tree. The Christmas Tree lot is south of the migration flow.
Note: For those who feel that the butterfly migration is an inadequate marker of winter arrival, migrating whales, less subtle, show up in February. And they don’t cross the 101 Highway.
There was also a major event on the grand(est)son front this week.
“Come and help!” Nazy called from upstairs. “I need to trim Tiger’s hair.”“Melika asked you to trim his hair?” I replied as I started up the stairs. Ominously, there was no response. In the bathroom, a smiling boy was brushing hair out of his face. Nazy had a pair of scissors.
“Can you hold him still?” Nazy asked.
“Do you have any duct tape?” I asked reasonably.
“His hair is in his face, Dan. I want to trim it a little.”
I grabbed the grand(est)son in a bearhug that I was able to maintain just long enough.
“I wish I had enough hair to have it fall into my eyes,” I said when surgery was done.
“I wonder what Melika is going to say.” Nazy replied.
“I thought Melika asked us to do this.”
“Not exactly,” Nazy replied. “Can you remind her of the relevant event in Vancouver?” Nazy thought.
Flashback
Vancouver, Canada
The baby sitter was ‘watching’ the children while Nazy and I were having dinner with friends. In this case, ’watching’ meant that the babysitter was watching (most of) the kids watching Sesame Street. Melika’s long hair was hanging over her eyes and blocking her vision. So she took matters (and scissors) into her own hands (and hair). See before and after pictures below
End Flashback
“So Melika,” I said. “We learned a lesson in Vancouver. If you don’t take pre-emptive action when a child’s hair is hanging in his or her eyes, there is a risk that the child will handle the situation all by..”
“Dad!” Melika interrupted.
“And in this case, Melika,” I continued, “there is the additional challenge of predisposition as a result of inherited genes. And your child’s mental capacity is so advanced and ahead of his motor skills that he might not be able to wield the scissors safely. Safety considerations dictated our decision. We had no choice.”
“I hope she does’t mention something about the baby sitter watching the scissors so that there is no need to make a choice,” I thought.
“Well, he is my baby,” Melika noted. “But you should have asked.”
“In a high risk situation, Melika, you just react,” I replied. “I thought Nazy asked,” I thought.
In any case, the baby looks very cute. And, now he says his name since, with unobstructed vision, he can recognize himself in the mirror.
Note: Monster, seeing the writing on the wall, has hidden the garden shears. He doesn’t like being groomed or trimmed.
This week I had planned the culmination of my (first) sailing class: a solo excursion into the Pacific. There was, however, no wind because..
“Butterfly migration season requires low winds,” I explained to Joel. “It’s one of the environmental rules of California. We should have known that scheduling a sailing excursion at this time was folly.”
The drive back from the harbour was tricky because State Street, the main artery, remains closed for construction.
“When will they ever finish?” Joel asked me.
“They won’t finish,” I explained. “They hired a Swiss construction firm: the same group that was working on the road between the airport and the center of Zurich for the entire 12 years we lived there.
And, finally, we found an insect of some type in the family residence. Nazy captured it. Using a two wheeler, I carried it across the street and dropped it into a deep ravine. We’re not sure what it is or (hopefully) ‘was’. Reader input is welcome. (It looks a little like a wingless wasp to me, but Nazy believes that it is a giant queen ant.)
For last week's letter, click here
Tiger and Dan Swimming