Post Office tables and gargantuan desk wins twister party in LA
It has been an exciting week. It began with a ‘we tried to deliver’ note from the US Postal Service. Bemused, I drove to the Milpas Post Office…
“Why is our post office on Milpas Street, Dan?” Nazy asked. “The office on State Street and the one on Canon Predido are much closer to our house.”
“The Post Office is a quasi-governmental agency, Nazy.”
“So?”
“So: there is no place (or need) for common sense.”
At the post office, I handed my receipt to the clerk.
“So you're the one,” she replied (and blanched.) “Meet me at the blue door.”
I went to the door and saw a giant package covered in..
“… Lebanese postage stamps, Nazy.” I explained on the drive home. “It’s a bit battered, too.”
Some background: When Nazy and I were visiting Darius, Christiane and Leandra in Lebanon, I saw a beautiful handcrafted desk.
“That desk,” I thought, “could be shipped (at little extra cost) in Darius’ transport to Bellingham, Washington.”
It turns out that I have not been lucky with desks. At 16 Third Street in Atlanta, while a Georgia Tech student, I used cinder blocks and a door. My pens and pencils kept falling through the hole that had been drilled into the door for the door knob. When I graduated, I bought a large, heavy, massive…”
“Ugly,” Nazy interjects.
“… steel desk. That Nazy hated. We carted that desk from Atlanta to Memphis, Vancouver, Houston, Hanover and finally The Hague… where Nazy gave it to our housekeeper when we left. Back in New Hampshire, I got a ‘temporary’ desk at a yard sale— disposed of when we moved to Switzerland. In Switzerland, I found a good antique desk which we brought to California. It was too big to fit through the door of the home here. It was almost too big to fit through the door of the apartment in Zurich. (It was almost too big to fit in the container._ Here I have a table with short drawers. A cool Lebanese desk would make a statement. The statement, however was
“… too expensive,” I told Nazy. I had made the mistake of showing too much interest and, as a result, was unable to bargain properly. It also turned out that adding it to Darius’ shipment would greatly increase the overall fee. The desk idea collapsed. Instead, and as a fallback, Nazy and I bought a hand-made table with a hidden backgammon set. But, it turned out to be cheaper for Darius to buy new furniture in the USA rather than shipping stuff from Lebanon. So, he mailed the table to us in California. (It was just under the maximum permitted weight.) Hence the zillion stamps. Now that it’s here, we have to figure out how to put it back together. I stopped thinking about the desk when I realized that we would have had to put that together too.
For the first time since Melika went to college, all members of The Martin Family are living in the same time zone. In fact, for all but 3 of the last 25 years, at least one member of the family has been in an alternative time zone. At times, the sun didn’t set on The Martin Family. One December, I was on a business trip to Australia, Melika was in California, Mitra in NYC, Darius in China on his way to Iceland and Nazy in Zurich.
This weekend, we were not only in the same time zone, we were all in the very same city (of Angels). Darius, flew down to get his driver’s license because it was much easier to renew his California license than get a new one in Washington State. (At the time, he didn’t have an address.)
“But, Dan!” Nazy interjects. “He didn't have an address in California either.”
“A minor detail that he circumvented by using ours, my dear.”
Melika, Nazy, Tiger, Arrow and I drove to Mitra’s home in the Mar Vista neighborhood. The traffic was not bad (by LA standards). Tiger and Arrow were charming. Tiger did chalk art on the sidewalk in front of Mitra’s home. Arrow ran around (and around (and around (and around)))).
Mitra and Stefan had a new dining room table — a handcrafted, beautiful piece that Stefan had build many years ago. The table, like all of Stefan’s woodwork, is devoid of screws or nails. Everything fits together.
“Well,” I thought as I admired the craftsmanship, “Stefan won’t be any help with the Lebanese table. It came with a large batch of screws.”
If you look carefully at the photo, you’ll notice a round, Baskin-Robbins birthday cake on the table. (Tiger, who offered to share the cake with me, is examining it closely.) Nazy and the offspring had arranged a birthday celebration …
“For me?” I replied, clearly surprised since it wasn’t my birthday.
It was, I believe, an offshoot of the Twister Game that came out in the 1960’s. The idea is to spell words by touching the letters on the mat. Tiger, although the smallest competitor, was very, very flexible.
I could mention that the dotard currently occupying the White House, is for free speech when it’s spoken by a neo-Nazi in a KKK march, but against it when it’s demonstrated silently (and peacefully) by a professional football player. I could mention the speed with which he calls out ISIS terrorists compared to the reticence he shows when the attackers aren’t Moslem. I won’t, however, it’s my birthday.
“Why is our post office on Milpas Street, Dan?” Nazy asked. “The office on State Street and the one on Canon Predido are much closer to our house.”
“The Post Office is a quasi-governmental agency, Nazy.”
“So?”
“So: there is no place (or need) for common sense.”
At the post office, I handed my receipt to the clerk.
“So you're the one,” she replied (and blanched.) “Meet me at the blue door.”
I went to the door and saw a giant package covered in..
“… Lebanese postage stamps, Nazy.” I explained on the drive home. “It’s a bit battered, too.”
Some background: When Nazy and I were visiting Darius, Christiane and Leandra in Lebanon, I saw a beautiful handcrafted desk.
“That desk,” I thought, “could be shipped (at little extra cost) in Darius’ transport to Bellingham, Washington.”
It turns out that I have not been lucky with desks. At 16 Third Street in Atlanta, while a Georgia Tech student, I used cinder blocks and a door. My pens and pencils kept falling through the hole that had been drilled into the door for the door knob. When I graduated, I bought a large, heavy, massive…”
“Ugly,” Nazy interjects.
“… steel desk. That Nazy hated. We carted that desk from Atlanta to Memphis, Vancouver, Houston, Hanover and finally The Hague… where Nazy gave it to our housekeeper when we left. Back in New Hampshire, I got a ‘temporary’ desk at a yard sale— disposed of when we moved to Switzerland. In Switzerland, I found a good antique desk which we brought to California. It was too big to fit through the door of the home here. It was almost too big to fit through the door of the apartment in Zurich. (It was almost too big to fit in the container._ Here I have a table with short drawers. A cool Lebanese desk would make a statement. The statement, however was
“… too expensive,” I told Nazy. I had made the mistake of showing too much interest and, as a result, was unable to bargain properly. It also turned out that adding it to Darius’ shipment would greatly increase the overall fee. The desk idea collapsed. Instead, and as a fallback, Nazy and I bought a hand-made table with a hidden backgammon set. But, it turned out to be cheaper for Darius to buy new furniture in the USA rather than shipping stuff from Lebanon. So, he mailed the table to us in California. (It was just under the maximum permitted weight.) Hence the zillion stamps. Now that it’s here, we have to figure out how to put it back together. I stopped thinking about the desk when I realized that we would have had to put that together too.
For the first time since Melika went to college, all members of The Martin Family are living in the same time zone. In fact, for all but 3 of the last 25 years, at least one member of the family has been in an alternative time zone. At times, the sun didn’t set on The Martin Family. One December, I was on a business trip to Australia, Melika was in California, Mitra in NYC, Darius in China on his way to Iceland and Nazy in Zurich.
This weekend, we were not only in the same time zone, we were all in the very same city (of Angels). Darius, flew down to get his driver’s license because it was much easier to renew his California license than get a new one in Washington State. (At the time, he didn’t have an address.)
“But, Dan!” Nazy interjects. “He didn't have an address in California either.”
“A minor detail that he circumvented by using ours, my dear.”
Melika, Nazy, Tiger, Arrow and I drove to Mitra’s home in the Mar Vista neighborhood. The traffic was not bad (by LA standards). Tiger and Arrow were charming. Tiger did chalk art on the sidewalk in front of Mitra’s home. Arrow ran around (and around (and around (and around)))).
Mitra and Stefan had a new dining room table — a handcrafted, beautiful piece that Stefan had build many years ago. The table, like all of Stefan’s woodwork, is devoid of screws or nails. Everything fits together.
“Well,” I thought as I admired the craftsmanship, “Stefan won’t be any help with the Lebanese table. It came with a large batch of screws.”
If you look carefully at the photo, you’ll notice a round, Baskin-Robbins birthday cake on the table. (Tiger, who offered to share the cake with me, is examining it closely.) Nazy and the offspring had arranged a birthday celebration …
“For me?” I replied, clearly surprised since it wasn’t my birthday.
“Why were you singing so robustly when we started singing ‘Happy Birthday’, Dad? Who’s birthday did you think it was?”
“I didn’t know. Mitra started the music box and I thought we were singing to encourage Tiger.”
The birthday cake punctuated a beautiful family dinner. After dinner, Tiger discovered a mat with..
“… letters on it, Dan. What does it do?”
It was, I believe, an offshoot of the Twister Game that came out in the 1960’s. The idea is to spell words by touching the letters on the mat. Tiger, although the smallest competitor, was very, very flexible.
I could mention that the dotard currently occupying the White House, is for free speech when it’s spoken by a neo-Nazi in a KKK march, but against it when it’s demonstrated silently (and peacefully) by a professional football player. I could mention the speed with which he calls out ISIS terrorists compared to the reticence he shows when the attackers aren’t Moslem. I won’t, however, it’s my birthday.
For last week's letter, please click here
The entire Family
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