Flamingo and Skunk, Christmas sweaters with fondue and Katy Perry
“You don’t have to repeat yourself, Dan,” Nazy interrupts.
“I’m not repeating myself.”
“You already said it was California, you don’t have to say it was a beautiful day. They know.”
Anyway…. on a typically beautiful day, we decided to take the Pacific Coast Highway instead of the 101. You simply have to get off at ..
“ … Rose Avenue, right?” I asked Nazy.
“Yes!” She replied emphatically. “Or maybe it’s Rice Ave.”
Naturally, I had already exited the highway.
“This is pretty simple,” I thought. “I just drive straight until I hit the ocean and then I turn left.”
As regular readers will guess, I misremembered. In fact you have to turn left well before you reach the ocean. Luckily, it isn’t easy to miss the turn — it’s well-marked. We decided to tempt fate by calling Darius while we were driving. We missed the well-marked turn. We kept going straight — but straight never reached the ocean. Navigation devices weren’t helpful because they all directed us back toward The 101. We turned a 90 minute drive into a 3 hour adventure.
Stefan loaded their luggage into (and onto) the car while I recalled Mitra’s packing approach. The first step for most people is to identify the subset of belongings to bring with you on a trip. In contrast, Mitra views packing as an attempt to compress all of her belongings into a volume small enough to fit on an 18-wheeler. In the end, however, we were off and…
… having learned our lesson, we chose the direct route (The 405 to The 101). As we inched our way through 6 lanes of traffic, it became abundantly clear that a lot of people had gotten lost trying to find Pacific Coast Highway and, accordingly, had opted to use The 405 for the return.
We got back to Santa Barbara just in time for dinner with Melika, Tom, Tiger, Arrow and Azelle. Following fondue, Arrow collected everyone and did an Arrow Talk — all about trains. The night before Christmas was also ‘marked’..
“… in more ways, than one, Nazy,” I noted.
At about 3:00AM, a neighborhood skunk walked under our bedroom window to a neighbor’s Avocado Tree that hangs over the property line. We’re not sure what was planned — climbing the tree or was hoping to find an avocado on the ground. It is clear that the skunk alerted a nearby and massively dimwitted predator .. fox, coyote, bobcat, house cat, dog .. The skunk did its thing and we quickly closed the window.
“What a predictable Christmas 2020 occurrence,” I mumbled as I pulled the pillow over my head.
“Do you think we should open the windows to ventilate the room?” Nazy asked.
We spent the morning of Christmas Day at Melika and Tom’s. we had brunch, opened presents and got ready for the traditional Family Christmas photo — an event that was marked by two unprecedented situations: For the first time ever, Darius was not available for the Family Photo. He did miss Christmas one year, but he arrived a few days later from Lebanon with Christiane and Leandra. So, he made the photo. Equally unusual, not one of the young children objected to being photographed. This year’s theme was ‘Christmas Sweaters. The result:
We missed Darius, Christiane, Leandra and Auriane. They were in Bellingham enjoying a White Christmas.
In addition to Christmas sweaters, there were some themed gifts. Azelle was particularly enamored by a Flamingo toy that …
“… poops after you ‘feed’ it,” Melika explained. “She’s is very interested in the potty.”
It turned out that the boys also liked watching (and listening to) the mechanics of the process. Luckily, Melika has a portable vacuum cleaner that was able to scoop up the Flamingo droppings.
Each member of The Adams Family also got a personalized pillow for the sofa:
We reconvened at our home on Fellowship Road later. While we were making last minute dinner preparations, I received a local call.
“… we have a flower delivery for you.” The caller said.
“For me? From who?” I replied.
“It’s for you. I don’t know who it is from. We can’t get to your address.”
“Which address?” I replied. “The driveway is steep,” I thought.
“901 Austin.”
“That’s not my address.”
“Are you Katy Perry?”
“No.”
“Are you sure?”
“Would you like me to sing for you?” I asked, “I should tell him that I’m a neighbor — maybe Harry,” I thought.
There was no 901 Austin in Santa Barbara…. but there was a 901 Alston. The photo shows the house.
For last week's letter, please click here
Azelle with her present
The Flamingo