Varnished Wine presages Engagement Drama
Today’s update of The Weekly Letter addresses questions about the veracity of the depiction of Amy the Amaryllis. (See last week’s edition.) Moreover, I will resolve the unknowns that resulted from the ending of that last letter...
“Ending, Dan?” Nazy asked. “You didn’t end, you just stopped.”
“Of course. That’s the way The Weekly Letter works.”
“By stopping in the middle?”
“It was the end.”
“But it didn’t end. You left the reader dangling - somewhere in Dijon.”
“You are thinking of subjective and esoteric concepts like narrative construct. I, on the other hand, am being far more objective.”
“Objective?”
“That’s right. When I complete three pages, I stop. When you insisted that I include a photograph of the Amaryllis, there was no more room...”
“Dan..”
“... I even reduced the font size - but to no avail.”
“You publish on the web, Dan. No one can see page boundaries on the web.”
“These are virtual pages. A colleague in Hanover told me that successful writers create three pages every day.”
“You write every week.”
“Same concept.”
In any case: back to the introduction. We will clear last week’s cliffhanger. And, belatedly , but following tradition for The Weekly Letter: I hope that this week finds you healthy, happy and prosperous.
Some readers claimed that the June Amaryllis photo looked a lot like the Christmas Amaryllis photo. It is, of course, the same Amaryllis, but it bloomed again. I thought of having Amy (the Amaryllis) hold a current newspaper - the headline could be used by astute readers to validate the date. And then I realized that the headline would either refer to the €uro crisis in Grεεce or the humanitarian crisis in Syria. These news stories are not new and, in fact, the December and June headlines are remarkably similar. So, I had to settle for a close up date photo. But back in..
“Dijon, Dan!” Nazy exclaimed. “We are in Dijon; we need to sample the local cuisine and the local wine.”
We booked dinner at a recommended restaurant. The food was great. The wine?
“We want a local Burgundy,” Nazy said. “What are those people drinking?”
“Why does Nazy always assume that other people know what to order?” I thought.
“That,” the waiter sneered, “Is a Bordeaux. I will bring you a Burgundy.”
“This wine,” I noted after a sip..
“... sucks,” Nazy interjected.
“... is Burgundy..”
“... in color. But I’m not going to drink it.”
“It’s not that bad” I replied - well aware of the unprecedented situation: Nazy and I have been married for almost 40 years and this was the first time that she found a wine so bad that she refused to drink it. “She wanted me to order the Bordeaux,” I thought - belatedly.
Photo of wine-challenged restaurant at right.
“He should not have ordered the Burgundy,” Nazy thought. “You drink it, Dan. We’re celebrating Father’s Day,” she said.
“At least the meal is great!” I exclaimed, anxious to retrieve the initiative.
“It would be better with a good wine,” Nazy retorted.
“Shall I order the Bordeaux?”
“Too late.”
“Would you like some Dijon mustard, my dear?”
After dinner (which was, in fact, very tasty) we took a long walk through the old city. We saw a beautiful sunset.
The next day we continued our discovery of Dijon. We found a very quant cafe but the staff (sadly) couldn’t be bothered to serve us. [Note: I am sorry for the snide remark that leaves you, the reader, believing that the staff ignored us. In fact, we couldn’t find the staff.]
We continued on our trek, climbing the 316 stairs to the top of the Philippe Le Bon tower. And, near Notre Dame, Nazy found a really old cafe. We asked the proprietor, who was easily found, for details.
“This cafe was constructed in 1483 and has been a cafe since then.” (See photo.)
“Before Christopher Columbus sailed toward America,” Nazy noted.
“Actually, he thought he was sailing toward India,” I replied.
We had time to see Darcy Park which, sad to say, was not named after Mr. Darcy of Pride and Prejudice. The park featured a large fountain (they like algae in Dijon), nice gardens and several statues. (My favorite was the bear.) We had a lunch on Liberation square before driving home.
We were anxious to get home because I expected a call from Tom - Melika’s paramour. He wanted to talk with me, but also wanted to keep it secret from Melika: “She is very smart and if she finds out that I’m calling you, it will spoil the surprise.”
It’s turns out that Melika’s Dad is also ‘very smart’, so I had a lot of time to compose appropriate reactions to someone asking to marry our daughter. It was a very nice conversation: Nazy and I both like Tom. More importantly, Melika’s loves him. (And he loves her.) Later, Melika called to inform us..
“And you found out before me, Dad.” She began.
“Not really. I didn’t know what you’d say.”
“Yes you did.”
“What about the wedding?”
“Tom always wanted his father to marry him.”
“I misunderstood. I thought he wanted you to marry him.”
“Dad! Tom’s father is a judge. He’s married half the people in Santa Barbara.”
“So he’s a polygamist?”
“Can I talk to Mom now?”