rainbow connection in tidy, watery pajama party sleepover
What can a person do in an environment that encourages ‘shelter in place’? Luckily, we have a nice place to shelter (in) as well as access to our grandchildren, Melika and Tom and the ocean. Nevertheless, we miss lots of ‘out’ places. Looking for new things to do returned us to early parenthood.
“A sleepover?” I queried.
“That’s what I said,” Nazy replied. “The boys would love a sleepover. It will be an adventure.”
“Of course,” I said. “Adventure for who?” I thought.
“When they come, we can..”
“… take them to dinner and a movie?” I interjected.
“We can prepare dinner — they like to help.” Nazy replied. “And we can watch the beginning of The Muppet Movie. Tiger likes ‘The Rainbow Connection’ song.”
“That sounds..”
“And, Dan? The boys are calling it a Pajama Party.”
“Ah. Do I have pajamas?”
“Dan..”
“And I think that the boys would like a special treat for dessert. What about a root beer float?”
“Which boys, Dan?”
“All of the boys, Nazy.”
Later in the week, we had Azelle — just Azelle — at the house for dinner. She didn’t sleep over because …
“We don’t have a maximum security crib,” I told Nazy. “I’m afraid that she’ll grab the stool, climb to the edge on the second floor and launch herself toward the chandelier.”
“She could hurt herself if we’re not really careful,” Nazy agreed.
“You’re right.” I said. “I’m also worried about the chandelier,” I thought, remembering the time I’d plucked her off the dinning room table. She had been carrying a stool.
“Her room at her home has locks on it so she is confined after she climbs out of the crib.”
“Good.” I replied. “She’s probably hiding lock picks and other escape materials all over her room,” I thought, aware that anyone responsible for Azelle will need to keep a constant eye on her. Nazy is doing that with the easel.
While we are having fun with the grandchildren, we’re having challenges with …
“… water, Nazy.” I complained. “Anything with water is a problem. It reminds me of my early cars.”
“What does a car have to do with water?” Nazy asked.
“My Studebaker blew up when the water pump failed,” I replied. “And, when it did, it dented the hood and left engine parts all over the Garden State Parkway,” I thought.
“So?”
“But that’s not the point. For a while, every car I owned had problems starting. Someone had to push me to start the Studebaker. Someone had to push me to start the Austin Healy,…:
“I remember that very well, Dan,” Nazy interrupted.
“Someone had to push the TR-7 to get it to go.”
“The only place I wanted that TR-7 to go was the junkyard,” Nazy retorted.
“True,” I replied, remembering that Nazy had refused to get into the car after it had leaked air conditioning fluid all over her long white and gold dress.
“Water, Dan?” Nazy asked moving the conversation (and this letter) back to the point.
“Now we’re having water problems. My aquarium had a, thankfully, s l o w leak overnight…”
“Slow but messy,” Nazy interrupted.
“Yes. And one of the toilets runs - overnight - if we’re not very careful.”
“That’s your toilet and you should be careful.”
“Yes, dear.” I replied. “I’ve been relying on the frequent earth tremors to shake it.” I thought. “And now we have the outdoor fountain. It is extremely sensitive to maintenance of an exact water level, a level difficult to maintain in warm weather because of evaporation and large animal ingestion.”
“Large animal?”
“Of course,” I replied. “And, if the water level is too high, the flow splashes outside the fountain. Then when the water level gets too low, the flow is redirected to the patio. If the fountain isn’t flowing all the time, debris accumulates and we have to treat the water. I feel really bad about treating the water because I don’t want to hoard valuable materials during a crisis.”
“Hoard? What would you be hoarding?”
“Clorox, my dear. I have a very large bottle of Clorox that could be used to inject as a cure for covid-19 virus into politicians.”
Nazy and I continue to take walks along the beach and through the nearby Douglas Preserve. We wear our masks and gloves while we enjoy the ocean and the flowers and we enjoy the time to chat…
“Did you know that they’ve agreed on an official covid-19 animal mascot?” I asked Nazy.
“Which one?”
“A raccoon,” I replied. “It wears a mask and washes hands constantly.”
The weather has been beautiful, so people want to get outside. Luckily, most do wear masks and maintain distance.
To show how much we want to do something different, Nazy and I decided to attack the garage.
“Nazy and I?” Nazy asked.
“I think that the idea to clean the garage was more ‘Nazy’ than ‘I’,” I replied. “I declared victory when we were able to put the car inside the garage.”
In Bellingham, Darius and Christiane bought a trampoline for (the lovely) Leandra and the (Astounding) Auriane, who is focused on obtaining mastery in the ‘standing up’ category. I also think that anything that helps young children exercise is particularly good in times like these.
“A sleepover?” I queried.
“That’s what I said,” Nazy replied. “The boys would love a sleepover. It will be an adventure.”
“Of course,” I said. “Adventure for who?” I thought.
“When they come, we can..”
“… take them to dinner and a movie?” I interjected.
“We can prepare dinner — they like to help.” Nazy replied. “And we can watch the beginning of The Muppet Movie. Tiger likes ‘The Rainbow Connection’ song.”
“That sounds..”
“And, Dan? The boys are calling it a Pajama Party.”
“Ah. Do I have pajamas?”
“Dan..”
“And I think that the boys would like a special treat for dessert. What about a root beer float?”
“Which boys, Dan?”
“All of the boys, Nazy.”
Later in the week, we had Azelle — just Azelle — at the house for dinner. She didn’t sleep over because …
“We don’t have a maximum security crib,” I told Nazy. “I’m afraid that she’ll grab the stool, climb to the edge on the second floor and launch herself toward the chandelier.”
“She could hurt herself if we’re not really careful,” Nazy agreed.
“You’re right.” I said. “I’m also worried about the chandelier,” I thought, remembering the time I’d plucked her off the dinning room table. She had been carrying a stool.
“Her room at her home has locks on it so she is confined after she climbs out of the crib.”
“Good.” I replied. “She’s probably hiding lock picks and other escape materials all over her room,” I thought, aware that anyone responsible for Azelle will need to keep a constant eye on her. Nazy is doing that with the easel.
While we are having fun with the grandchildren, we’re having challenges with …
“… water, Nazy.” I complained. “Anything with water is a problem. It reminds me of my early cars.”
“What does a car have to do with water?” Nazy asked.
“My Studebaker blew up when the water pump failed,” I replied. “And, when it did, it dented the hood and left engine parts all over the Garden State Parkway,” I thought.
“So?”
“But that’s not the point. For a while, every car I owned had problems starting. Someone had to push me to start the Studebaker. Someone had to push me to start the Austin Healy,…:
“I remember that very well, Dan,” Nazy interrupted.
“Someone had to push the TR-7 to get it to go.”
“The only place I wanted that TR-7 to go was the junkyard,” Nazy retorted.
“True,” I replied, remembering that Nazy had refused to get into the car after it had leaked air conditioning fluid all over her long white and gold dress.
“Water, Dan?” Nazy asked moving the conversation (and this letter) back to the point.
“Now we’re having water problems. My aquarium had a, thankfully, s l o w leak overnight…”
“Slow but messy,” Nazy interrupted.
“Yes. And one of the toilets runs - overnight - if we’re not very careful.”
“That’s your toilet and you should be careful.”
“Yes, dear.” I replied. “I’ve been relying on the frequent earth tremors to shake it.” I thought. “And now we have the outdoor fountain. It is extremely sensitive to maintenance of an exact water level, a level difficult to maintain in warm weather because of evaporation and large animal ingestion.”
“Large animal?”
“Of course,” I replied. “And, if the water level is too high, the flow splashes outside the fountain. Then when the water level gets too low, the flow is redirected to the patio. If the fountain isn’t flowing all the time, debris accumulates and we have to treat the water. I feel really bad about treating the water because I don’t want to hoard valuable materials during a crisis.”
“Hoard? What would you be hoarding?”
“Clorox, my dear. I have a very large bottle of Clorox that could be used to inject as a cure for covid-19 virus into politicians.”
Nazy and I continue to take walks along the beach and through the nearby Douglas Preserve. We wear our masks and gloves while we enjoy the ocean and the flowers and we enjoy the time to chat…
“Did you know that they’ve agreed on an official covid-19 animal mascot?” I asked Nazy.
“Which one?”
“A raccoon,” I replied. “It wears a mask and washes hands constantly.”
The weather has been beautiful, so people want to get outside. Luckily, most do wear masks and maintain distance.
To show how much we want to do something different, Nazy and I decided to attack the garage.
“Nazy and I?” Nazy asked.
“I think that the idea to clean the garage was more ‘Nazy’ than ‘I’,” I replied. “I declared victory when we were able to put the car inside the garage.”
We, eh, Nazy cleaned, swept, arranged and adjusted the garage. I vacuumed the car and mumbled encouragement. Not content with success, Nazy suggested that we carry the cleaning materials to the patios. We, eh, Nazy pruned, swept, de-cobwebbed, repotted and adjusted. It was so successful that we had dinner outside that evening and we were able to enjoy a wonderful view of Venus and a new-ish moon.
In Bellingham, Darius and Christiane bought a trampoline for (the lovely) Leandra and the (Astounding) Auriane, who is focused on obtaining mastery in the ‘standing up’ category. I also think that anything that helps young children exercise is particularly good in times like these.
For last week's letter, please click here
Dan on the walk
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