Thimbles tumble into gurgling (high priced) watery chandeliers
December has arrived — and we are ready! (Almost.) The holiday decorations are..
“… in the garage, Dan!” Nazy exclaimed, savoring the fact that our new place has a garage.
“The garage?” I asked. “It’s very dangerous in the garage,” I thought, well aware that while we have moved into the house, there is still a lot of ‘stuff’ that hasn’t been moved out of the (box-strewn) garage.
On the other hand, garage storage closets have been assembled and I have actually opened some boxes that had remained sealed since The Renaissance..
“Since we moved from Zurich, Dan.” Nazy corrected.
“Right.” I replied. “Same thing.” I thought.
I knew that we were missing critically important things: things hidden in boxes, wrapped in paper and stacked in towers. Things gathering dust. And then..
“I feel like Howard Carter when he was opening King Tut’s tomb,” I thought as I deftly unwrapped a treasure that had been hidden longer than King Tut.
“Longer than King Tut?” Nazy chimed.
“And more exciting,” I replied. “I’ve found our thimble collection.”
“The thimbles? You found the thimbles? Dan, I’m just..”
“… speechless with wonder and admiration?”
“ … wishing you had something better to do with your time.”
“Good idea, my dear.” I replied. “What’s better than thimbles?” I thought.
When we moved to Santa Barbara, I noted that the only thing that cost more in California than it did in Switzerland was health care. The American system, by far the most expensive in the world, is also (at very best) mediocre by every objective measure — life expectancy, infant mortality and patient happiness included.
But, when we moved to the new place in Santa Barbara, I had to amend my observation.
“Water, Nazy!” I exclaimed. “The water bill is $350. It’s out of control.”
“We have a drip irrigation system, Dan. It’s efficient.”
“Efficient? If this is efficient then Donald Trump is polite. We should just rip out all the plants, replace showers with sponge baths and be prudent about toilet flushing.”
“That’s where I draw the line, Dan.”
“Or we could get someone to check for leaks,” I thought.
“I’ve called a leak checker from the city,” Nazy replied.
“Great idea,”I replied. “I wonder how much they pay a leak-checker,” I thought.
It turned out that gophers had chewed through the irrigation system in several places. Our ‘drip’ system was cascading through the neighborhood and providing sustenance for all the fauna on the South Coast. Given the gushing water…
“I’m surprised that the house didn’t slide into the ocean,” I muttered.
There was good news: the city rewards people who find and fix leaks. Apparently we’ll get a rebate. It was a thrill that was just like the one in The Music Man: “something akin to the electric thrill I once enjoyed when Gilmore, Liberatti, Pat Conway, the Great Creatore, W.C. Handy and John Philip Sousa all came to town on the very same historic day.”
Now we’re waiting to see the financial impact on the water bill. And, full of vim and vigor, we attacked the garage again. Nazy was exhilarated when she found ..
‘… a lighting fixture from Zurich?” I asked.
Explanation: An ‘unfurnished house’ in Switzerland does not include light figures. When we moved into the Kapfsteig home, the light ‘fixture’ in the hall ceiling had a bunch of wires sticking down. By the way, the Kapsteig house also featured a deranged landlady who wanted us to fix things the previous tenant had broken. Demurring at that request, we bought a light fixture..
“Dan!” Nazy interrupted. “We bought a chandelier and I’ve had it installed in your office.”
Installed? Yes! Fully functional? Not yet. The European design has multiple positive wires and a bulb base size that is .. “… not available in the USA,” Sean, the electrician, explained.
“Surely it is available.” I asserted — while I screwed in the only correctly sized bulb that we’d brought from Switzerland.
“Yes, but it will be expensive.”
“That would have been nice to know before you installed it,” I thought.
“Instead, I’ll just add adapters.” Sean concluded. “And fix the internal wiring so that all six bulbs will work.”
My study is now perfect. I have an aquarium, a reading chair, a reading lamp, my gargantuan Swiss desk, my Weekly Letter paper art, a 100 year old copy of the Declaration of Independence, a 100 year old map of California and my flying pig sculptures. And this is just the beginning. Nazy had the good news..
“After all of this box opening, Dan. I think that you can put the car in the garage.”
I was excited! Enjoying something like the ecstatic jubilation that a Fox ‘News’ analyst, eh, shill, gets when realizing that the listeners don’t care about objective truth or logic. It makes things so much easier.
Nazy was right. We could park the car in the garage: far enough into the garage to close the door. I situated the Volvo between a wall of boxes marked “miscellaneous” and another barrier of boxes labeled: “Christmas Supplies”. Everything would have been perfect if I could have opened the door. Ah well! Work continues.
And, speaking of excitement, Darius, Christiane and (the lovely) Leandra are moving into their new house (the Dr. Martin And Family Estate in Bellingham) this week.
Then, right after the move, they will come to Santa Barbara to celebrate Christmas with the extended family. It will be the first time that male and female grandchildren are in perfect balance. And, since it’s Christmas, Nazy is working on the needlepoint stocking — this one for Arrow. It seems clear that our offspring can create stocking demand faster than Nazy can fulfill it.
“… in the garage, Dan!” Nazy exclaimed, savoring the fact that our new place has a garage.
“The garage?” I asked. “It’s very dangerous in the garage,” I thought, well aware that while we have moved into the house, there is still a lot of ‘stuff’ that hasn’t been moved out of the (box-strewn) garage.
On the other hand, garage storage closets have been assembled and I have actually opened some boxes that had remained sealed since The Renaissance..
“Since we moved from Zurich, Dan.” Nazy corrected.
“Right.” I replied. “Same thing.” I thought.
I knew that we were missing critically important things: things hidden in boxes, wrapped in paper and stacked in towers. Things gathering dust. And then..
“I feel like Howard Carter when he was opening King Tut’s tomb,” I thought as I deftly unwrapped a treasure that had been hidden longer than King Tut.
“Longer than King Tut?” Nazy chimed.
“And more exciting,” I replied. “I’ve found our thimble collection.”
“The thimbles? You found the thimbles? Dan, I’m just..”
“… speechless with wonder and admiration?”
“ … wishing you had something better to do with your time.”
“Good idea, my dear.” I replied. “What’s better than thimbles?” I thought.
When we moved to Santa Barbara, I noted that the only thing that cost more in California than it did in Switzerland was health care. The American system, by far the most expensive in the world, is also (at very best) mediocre by every objective measure — life expectancy, infant mortality and patient happiness included.
But, when we moved to the new place in Santa Barbara, I had to amend my observation.
“Water, Nazy!” I exclaimed. “The water bill is $350. It’s out of control.”
“We have a drip irrigation system, Dan. It’s efficient.”
“Efficient? If this is efficient then Donald Trump is polite. We should just rip out all the plants, replace showers with sponge baths and be prudent about toilet flushing.”
“That’s where I draw the line, Dan.”
“Or we could get someone to check for leaks,” I thought.
“I’ve called a leak checker from the city,” Nazy replied.
“Great idea,”I replied. “I wonder how much they pay a leak-checker,” I thought.
It turned out that gophers had chewed through the irrigation system in several places. Our ‘drip’ system was cascading through the neighborhood and providing sustenance for all the fauna on the South Coast. Given the gushing water…
“I’m surprised that the house didn’t slide into the ocean,” I muttered.
There was good news: the city rewards people who find and fix leaks. Apparently we’ll get a rebate. It was a thrill that was just like the one in The Music Man: “something akin to the electric thrill I once enjoyed when Gilmore, Liberatti, Pat Conway, the Great Creatore, W.C. Handy and John Philip Sousa all came to town on the very same historic day.”
Now we’re waiting to see the financial impact on the water bill. And, full of vim and vigor, we attacked the garage again. Nazy was exhilarated when she found ..
‘… a lighting fixture from Zurich?” I asked.
Explanation: An ‘unfurnished house’ in Switzerland does not include light figures. When we moved into the Kapfsteig home, the light ‘fixture’ in the hall ceiling had a bunch of wires sticking down. By the way, the Kapsteig house also featured a deranged landlady who wanted us to fix things the previous tenant had broken. Demurring at that request, we bought a light fixture..
“Dan!” Nazy interrupted. “We bought a chandelier and I’ve had it installed in your office.”
Installed? Yes! Fully functional? Not yet. The European design has multiple positive wires and a bulb base size that is .. “… not available in the USA,” Sean, the electrician, explained.
“Surely it is available.” I asserted — while I screwed in the only correctly sized bulb that we’d brought from Switzerland.
“Yes, but it will be expensive.”
“That would have been nice to know before you installed it,” I thought.
“Instead, I’ll just add adapters.” Sean concluded. “And fix the internal wiring so that all six bulbs will work.”
My study is now perfect. I have an aquarium, a reading chair, a reading lamp, my gargantuan Swiss desk, my Weekly Letter paper art, a 100 year old copy of the Declaration of Independence, a 100 year old map of California and my flying pig sculptures. And this is just the beginning. Nazy had the good news..
“After all of this box opening, Dan. I think that you can put the car in the garage.”
I was excited! Enjoying something like the ecstatic jubilation that a Fox ‘News’ analyst, eh, shill, gets when realizing that the listeners don’t care about objective truth or logic. It makes things so much easier.
Nazy was right. We could park the car in the garage: far enough into the garage to close the door. I situated the Volvo between a wall of boxes marked “miscellaneous” and another barrier of boxes labeled: “Christmas Supplies”. Everything would have been perfect if I could have opened the door. Ah well! Work continues.
And, speaking of excitement, Darius, Christiane and (the lovely) Leandra are moving into their new house (the Dr. Martin And Family Estate in Bellingham) this week.
Then, right after the move, they will come to Santa Barbara to celebrate Christmas with the extended family. It will be the first time that male and female grandchildren are in perfect balance. And, since it’s Christmas, Nazy is working on the needlepoint stocking — this one for Arrow. It seems clear that our offspring can create stocking demand faster than Nazy can fulfill it.
For last week's letter, please click here
The Martin Family Christmas… 25 years apart
blog comments powered by Disqus