mea cookie, culpa campaign and fraught snow in sparkling party
Last week’s letter spawned a concerned and sensitive response from Mitra:
“Is it really true, Dad?” She asked. “You’ve never had a Christmas without sugar cookies?”
“Yes!” I replied emphatically.
“Even when you were just one year old?”
“I cannot confirm any cookie issues prior to my third birthday,” I petulantly replied. Squirming. “However, it is hard to believe that my mother would fail to bake cookies for her baby boy,” I thought.
“What about during our Family Christmas in Costa Rica?” Mitra said. Slyly.
“What about it?”
“We were all in Costa Rica, Dad. There was no kitchen in the hotels. We couldn’t have …”
“We brought the cookies in the carry-on luggage.”
“Dad! Remember we couldn’t even find wine for Christmas Dinner?”
My mind reeled. At Christmas Dinner, we had settled for ‘sparkling wine’ created by mixing almost ripe grapes (vintage 7:23 AM) with Ginger Ale. Was it possible that I’d agreed to a Christmas vacation that did not include…
“… sugar cookies!” Mitra shouted energetically. “There were no sugar cookies. Last week’s issue of The Weekly Letter contained an assertion that was factually incorrect.”
“Factually incorrect? You mean a ‘lie’? Now I can run for President.” I Trumpeted.
“You should issue a formal retraction in the January 3rd issue of The Weekly Letter.” Mitra chanted.
“Retract? Never! Haven’t you learned anything from the campaign? There were sugar cookies in Costa Rica. I saw them on TV. And Costa Ricans were cheering as I gobbled them down. Anybody who thinks differently is an anchor immigrant with a terrorist background whose home should be carpet bombed in order to make America Great Again.”
“Dad.”
“And I can say this because I am the most truthful and smartest person I know.”
“I’ll make sure that I vote.” Mitra replied.
“And, eh, by the way: Mea Culpa. There is a small chance that I misspoke in last week’s letter.”
“There was a lie-flat bed. I’ll never be satisfied with economy class again. My traveling life is ruined.”
“It’s the risk that a global citizen takes, Dar.”
On arrival, Darius joined Mitra and Stefan in San Diego for a Tango Festival. He will be coming to Santa Barbara afterward. He says he’ll drive directly here on Sunday — but last year ‘directly’ entailed a stop in Mexico.
Nazy and I joined Tom and Melika (and about 150 friends) at a raucous and fun New Year’s Party hosted by Marc and Adreana. Our photo appears at right. Nazy and I also snapped a selfie with a sparkler which was permitted only because of the nearby swimming pool. (It is a year of drought.)
Earlier, Tiger, the Grand(est)son, and I celebrated by feeding the ducks. (One over-hungry duck, unable to wait for the bread toss, always ‘kisses’ Tiger’s hand.) And..
“You should take him to the Natural History Museum,” Mitra suggested.
“History Museum?” I thought. “Great idea.” I said.
It turned out to be a grand idea for the grand(est)son. Tiger especially enjoyed the rocks that changed color under ultraviolet light. And the maintenance man let him ‘drive’ the gardening truck. He liked walking through the life-size blue whale skeleton. (Although it’s not clear that he pulled grasped the concept of a blue whale.)
And, just before Christmas, the city arranged a ‘snow fall’. It looked like snow, but it didn’t melt and tasted like soap, The baby was impressed. (I wasn’t fooled.)
“Is it really true, Dad?” She asked. “You’ve never had a Christmas without sugar cookies?”
“Yes!” I replied emphatically.
“Even when you were just one year old?”
“I cannot confirm any cookie issues prior to my third birthday,” I petulantly replied. Squirming. “However, it is hard to believe that my mother would fail to bake cookies for her baby boy,” I thought.
“What about during our Family Christmas in Costa Rica?” Mitra said. Slyly.
“What about it?”
“We were all in Costa Rica, Dad. There was no kitchen in the hotels. We couldn’t have …”
“We brought the cookies in the carry-on luggage.”
“Dad! Remember we couldn’t even find wine for Christmas Dinner?”
My mind reeled. At Christmas Dinner, we had settled for ‘sparkling wine’ created by mixing almost ripe grapes (vintage 7:23 AM) with Ginger Ale. Was it possible that I’d agreed to a Christmas vacation that did not include…
“… sugar cookies!” Mitra shouted energetically. “There were no sugar cookies. Last week’s issue of The Weekly Letter contained an assertion that was factually incorrect.”
“Factually incorrect? You mean a ‘lie’? Now I can run for President.” I Trumpeted.
“You should issue a formal retraction in the January 3rd issue of The Weekly Letter.” Mitra chanted.
“Retract? Never! Haven’t you learned anything from the campaign? There were sugar cookies in Costa Rica. I saw them on TV. And Costa Ricans were cheering as I gobbled them down. Anybody who thinks differently is an anchor immigrant with a terrorist background whose home should be carpet bombed in order to make America Great Again.”
“Dad.”
“And I can say this because I am the most truthful and smartest person I know.”
“I’ll make sure that I vote.” Mitra replied.
“And, eh, by the way: Mea Culpa. There is a small chance that I misspoke in last week’s letter.”
Christmas in Costa Rica
Hard to believe a smiling family without cookies 
Having delayed our Christmas celebration in order to include Darius, I am happy to report that he has safely arrived in the USA. His trip was..
“… fraught, Dad. My flight from Beirut to Dubai was late and I missed my connection to LAX,”
“That’s not ‘fraught’, Dar. That’s normal. It happens to me all the time.”
“I had to wait an extra fours and then they routed me through Seattle.”
“That’s good, Dar. They would have routed me through Mogadishu.”
“For the Dubai to Seattle leg, they rebooked me in Business Class.”
“That’s … What? Business Class? They always rebook me in Last Class.”
“There was a lie-flat bed. I’ll never be satisfied with economy class again. My traveling life is ruined.”
“It’s the risk that a global citizen takes, Dar.”
On arrival, Darius joined Mitra and Stefan in San Diego for a Tango Festival. He will be coming to Santa Barbara afterward. He says he’ll drive directly here on Sunday — but last year ‘directly’ entailed a stop in Mexico.
Nazy and I joined Tom and Melika (and about 150 friends) at a raucous and fun New Year’s Party hosted by Marc and Adreana. Our photo appears at right. Nazy and I also snapped a selfie with a sparkler which was permitted only because of the nearby swimming pool. (It is a year of drought.)
Earlier, Tiger, the Grand(est)son, and I celebrated by feeding the ducks. (One over-hungry duck, unable to wait for the bread toss, always ‘kisses’ Tiger’s hand.) And..
“You should take him to the Natural History Museum,” Mitra suggested.
“History Museum?” I thought. “Great idea.” I said.
It turned out to be a grand idea for the grand(est)son. Tiger especially enjoyed the rocks that changed color under ultraviolet light. And the maintenance man let him ‘drive’ the gardening truck. He liked walking through the life-size blue whale skeleton. (Although it’s not clear that he pulled grasped the concept of a blue whale.)
And, just before Christmas, the city arranged a ‘snow fall’. It looked like snow, but it didn’t melt and tasted like soap, The baby was impressed. (I wasn’t fooled.)
Melika and Tiger (and cars)
Tiger at the Museum
For last week's letter, click arth Cookie lures Luke Rainbow to Leia Solo Photo loss">here
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