Father’s Day baby and alcohol-free Persian Bar chalk wins
“She said that ‘the baby is completely happy where it is now’. So..”
“Okay, then. I’m changing my official guess as to the birth date from May 31 to Father’s Day.”
“Father’s Day? I’m not ‘completely happy’ with that prediction.”.
“Lucky for you, I’m retaining the ‘2014’ portion of my prediction.”
As you’ve undoubtedly concluded, the baby has not been born. Melika had no response to a unique attempt to speed things up:
“There was a giant snake in the driveway, Dad. A gopher snake.”
“What?”
“One of construction workers from next door captured the snake and let it go far downhill.”
Interestingly, when we came over later that afternoon to help with the window boxes, another gopher snake showed up in the driveway. This one was..
“... smaller, Dad.” Melika said. “I think it misses its Mom.”
There are, of course, other issues involving the baby. I constructed a singing swing with a rotating mobile. It was not easy. I explained the situation to Nazy:
“They should design these things so that it is impossible to screw parts together unless those parts are positioned correctly.”
“So you want an idiot-proof design?”
“Precisely.”
“I’m sure Fisher-Price thought they had that kind of design.”
“They underestimated the ingenuity of idiots,” I retorted.
“You were the idiot putting it together.”
“And I’m very ingenious.”
Darius is back, safe and sound, in Beirut.
(I am aware that the previous sentence sounds strange.)
He spent 10 days touring Iran where he had a wonderful time. He saw Shiraz, Esfahan, Qom, Persepolis, Shiraz, Yazd and Teheran. It was..
“Great, Dad! The people were so nice and everything was cheap. It was a shopper’s paradise.”
“Don’t tell your Mom.”
“Wonderful handcrafts. If I stayed in Iran for few more weeks, I’d master Persian.”
“I agree,” I replied. “I gave him all of my language genes,” I thought. “I had none left to learn German.”
“It was nice. I met some girls in Esfahan.”
“Where in Esfahan?”
“At the bar in the Abassi Hotel.”
“They had a bar?”
“Yeah - but no alcohol and no smoking.”
“That’s not a bar, Dar.”
“It was a mellow crowd. We actually talked to each other.”
“Unique concept.”
“They asked if I would consider a Persian wife.”
“Well, Dar, it worked for me.”
“I know, so I said ‘Yes!’; they called the tour guide the next day and...”
“... fortunately you were leaving.”
“Right. I also got my teacher evaluations back. Five students said that I was ‘hard to understand because of my Arabic accent’.”
“Arabic Accent? You?”
“Well..”
“Are you going native?”
“No. How are things going with Melika’s baby?”
“Slowly, Darius. Very slowly.”
“Is that normal?”
“Well, the ‘due date’ can’t be interpreted like a deadline. It’s not the same as April 15 (tax day). it doesn’t have the mandatory nature of a Swiss rail departure time. It’s more like an aspiration.
“I see.”
Darius will be spending most of the summer here in Santa Barbara. And, Santa Barbara is a fun place. This week we celebrated the annual I Madonnari festival where space in front of The Mission is given to artists who create really spectacular chalk art on the asphalt. It’s been taking place in Santa Barbara for more than 20 years; the idea originated in Italy in the 16th century. (It is not true the Apple has control of the iMadonnari festival; Nazy reminds me that the ‘i’ is pronounced ‘ee’.)
We watched the art being created over the Memorial Day weekend. The artists began working late on Thursday. Many worked through the weekend. (And some didn’t even finish.) There was a huge crowd. Some of the works are amazingly detailed and stunningly three dimensional. The amount of effort that goes into a piece that can’t last is amazing. The last thing..
“... we want is rain, Nazy,” I noted as we walked back home.
“Isn’t it drizzling?” Nazy replied.
It was, in fact, drizzling. But, this being Santa Barbara, it soon stopped.
Mitra and Stefan drove up on Memorial Day. We celebrated Mitra’s birthday. Stefan, who can do most anything, helped Nazy with the cooking. I was impressed until..
“... and only Stefan helped with the cooking, Dan.” Nazy noted. “Only Stefan.”
“I helped with the cleanup, Nazy.”
“You never help with the cooking, Dan.”
“That’s because I like to eat things that taste good, my dear. I like your Persian Rice, your eggplant, your kebab. I relish your style and panache. Anything I did to ‘help’ would simply diminish the taste of your creations.”
For more photos of the chalk drawings, click here. My effort is recounted below:
