angelic thunderstorms deliver rainbow mustache pains
After my surprise birthday weekend, things began moving in the direction of ‘normal’ in the same way that post-pandemic normality has reimagined the past. In fact, misremembering the past is a skill honed to perfection by the Republicans whose memory of the 1950s is, well that’s another story. Here, children, showing cheerful adaptability have easily adjusted to mask wearing — except for the school photo. Azelle wanted to wear wings instead of a mask.
Melika and Tom were away for the weekend. Luckily, Mitra was visiting Santa Barbara and she provided significant help. Mitra took care of most breakfasts and, worked closely with Nazy on dinners. In exchange, Nazy demonstrated the low-key way that she calms Tiger, Arrow and Azelle with quiet, lullaby-like activities that promote gradual relaxation of tensions.
“Mom is the coolest grandmother ever,” Mitra commented. (As least I think that’s what she commented, it was hard to hear anything in the background hubbub of thrilled children.)
“Right!” I replied. “She’s pushing cheering kids around the dining room in a tricycle made of plastic tinker toys,” I thought.
I had been unaware that I’d be in the midst of a rambunctious race when I had scheduled a dental appointment. It was …
“ … not something that I’m anticipating with unbridled glee,” I told Nazy through gritted teeth.
“You do know that you’ll have to open your mouth when you see the dentist. Right? Dan?” Nazy asked — a little too cheerfully.
“Aren’t you cute,” I replied.
“And it could be worse.”
“Really? They’re doing an extraction and will be rooting around on exposed nerves.”
“It could be a colonoscopy.”
“Thanks, dear.” I concluded. “The colonoscopy is booked for next week,” I thought morosely.
In fact, my fears were misplaced. The work on my teeth didn’t really hurt — while it was happening. In an abundance of concern (“He looks concerned, eh, wary, eh, on edge, eh scared,” the dentist thought) local anesthesia was applied liberally: a couple of days later I was still waiting for it to wear off. There was, however, one sticky…
“… situation, Nazy,” I explained. “They wanted to make a mold for a crown. And, to do that, they filled my mouth with some gooey stuff that gradually hardened when I bit down.”
“Yes, I know how it works, Dan.” Nazy consoled. “It feels funny.”
“You don’t understand. As the goo hardened, it bonded with my mustache and when they yanked it out of my mouth, they took parts of my mustache with it. And…”
“You do look a bit jagged on the left side.”
“The novocaine did not work on that part of my face.”
“Aww… you poor baby,” Nazy replied, ever so sympathetic.
Whenever Mitra visits, she comes with exciting ideas. For example, she arranged an outside breakfast on the weekend. The event was marked by extra excitement when a mid-level open door gave Monster, the cat, a chance to demonstrate (in secret) his jumping ability. Later, he was located, with another cat (an unindicted co-conspirator?).
The breakfast, featuring sunshine toast, was delicious and, in fact, we decided to follow up with an outside dinner. As we began to set up…
“If we weren’t in Santa Barbara,” I said, “I’d say those look like rain clouds,”
“That’s absurd,” Mitra thought. “But Stefan mentioned that it’s raining in Los Angles,” she said.
“The weather app says that there is an 80% chance of rain here,” Tiger announced.
“That’s just what I was thinking,” Mitra said — just as the sky lit up. “Ah!” Mitra shouted. “That was lightening!”
We quickly dismantled the outside table and moved the chairs into the garage.
Back in the house, we watched the dark rain clouds gradually engulf the city from the South, while the mountains to the North remained sunny (and under a rainbow.)
Melika and Tom were away for the weekend. Luckily, Mitra was visiting Santa Barbara and she provided significant help. Mitra took care of most breakfasts and, worked closely with Nazy on dinners. In exchange, Nazy demonstrated the low-key way that she calms Tiger, Arrow and Azelle with quiet, lullaby-like activities that promote gradual relaxation of tensions.
“Mom is the coolest grandmother ever,” Mitra commented. (As least I think that’s what she commented, it was hard to hear anything in the background hubbub of thrilled children.)
“Right!” I replied. “She’s pushing cheering kids around the dining room in a tricycle made of plastic tinker toys,” I thought.
I had been unaware that I’d be in the midst of a rambunctious race when I had scheduled a dental appointment. It was …
“ … not something that I’m anticipating with unbridled glee,” I told Nazy through gritted teeth.
“You do know that you’ll have to open your mouth when you see the dentist. Right? Dan?” Nazy asked — a little too cheerfully.
“Aren’t you cute,” I replied.
“And it could be worse.”
“Really? They’re doing an extraction and will be rooting around on exposed nerves.”
“It could be a colonoscopy.”
“Thanks, dear.” I concluded. “The colonoscopy is booked for next week,” I thought morosely.
In fact, my fears were misplaced. The work on my teeth didn’t really hurt — while it was happening. In an abundance of concern (“He looks concerned, eh, wary, eh, on edge, eh scared,” the dentist thought) local anesthesia was applied liberally: a couple of days later I was still waiting for it to wear off. There was, however, one sticky…
“… situation, Nazy,” I explained. “They wanted to make a mold for a crown. And, to do that, they filled my mouth with some gooey stuff that gradually hardened when I bit down.”
“Yes, I know how it works, Dan.” Nazy consoled. “It feels funny.”
“You don’t understand. As the goo hardened, it bonded with my mustache and when they yanked it out of my mouth, they took parts of my mustache with it. And…”
“You do look a bit jagged on the left side.”
“The novocaine did not work on that part of my face.”
“Aww… you poor baby,” Nazy replied, ever so sympathetic.
Whenever Mitra visits, she comes with exciting ideas. For example, she arranged an outside breakfast on the weekend. The event was marked by extra excitement when a mid-level open door gave Monster, the cat, a chance to demonstrate (in secret) his jumping ability. Later, he was located, with another cat (an unindicted co-conspirator?).
The breakfast, featuring sunshine toast, was delicious and, in fact, we decided to follow up with an outside dinner. As we began to set up…
“If we weren’t in Santa Barbara,” I said, “I’d say those look like rain clouds,”
“That’s absurd,” Mitra thought. “But Stefan mentioned that it’s raining in Los Angles,” she said.
“The weather app says that there is an 80% chance of rain here,” Tiger announced.
“That’s just what I was thinking,” Mitra said — just as the sky lit up. “Ah!” Mitra shouted. “That was lightening!”
We quickly dismantled the outside table and moved the chairs into the garage.
Back in the house, we watched the dark rain clouds gradually engulf the city from the South, while the mountains to the North remained sunny (and under a rainbow.)
On the days when it wasn’t raining, the local grandchildren played at home, on the golf course and in the MOXI (children’s museum). They were cheerful, happy and full of boundless amounts of unbridled energy. I’ve noticed that children do not walk anywhere. They run. (Or dance).
The dentist, by the way, has scheduled a teeth cleaning…
“That’s not bad,” Nazy observed.
“A deep clearning,” I replied, modifying my comment. "They're using a pile driver," I thought.
“Ah…”
“… with heavy equipment,” I asserted.
For last week's letter, please click here
Arrow at MOXI
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