The routines of beasts

If ever I use the toilet in the night, little Ziva follows me to my bed for a good petting. Last night, I didn’t use the toilet. Ziva showed up anyway, at 5:00 a.m., and so I gave her a thorough petting (I’m being trained for fatherhood, I tell myself).

At 6:00, I was still awake. I went to the living room to watch YouTube. I watched this nice video about the classic Scottish movie, Local Hero.

Ziva and Jasper ran around the living room, wrecking the décor. They often do this in the early hours.

Q: Why is it perilous to go into the jungle between 3:00 and 4:00 in the afternoon?

A: That’s when the elephants are jumping out of the trees.

Q: Why is the crab the flattest of God’s creatures?

A: The crab went into the jungle between 3:00 and 4:00 in the afternoon.

Karin was surprised by my early rising (she usually gets out of bed first). Tonight I’ll be too tired to go to the laundromat, I told her. But no, Karin won’t let me weasel out of going to the laundromat. Our clothes-washing routine is set in stone.

Ana & David have acquired a dog named Russell. Mary and I confer: Where would Russell stay if he were brought to Indiana? The options are meager. Because of our own pets, neither Mary nor I could admit Russell as a guest.

Our fear is that Russell won’t be brought at all. We’ll only get to see our nephew if we go to visit him in Austin (Ana & David are quitting Houston to live in the Texas capital). And then, what would our pets do?

Interpreting a funeral

Antonio Valencia poses here with the medics of Manchester United, thanking them for quickly healing his broken hand. He came back from his layoff earlier than expected. He was the “man of the match” last weekend, versus Arsenal.

On Friday, Karin’s grandma died after a long illness. The funeral was held this afternoon, and I played a large part in it: I interpreted, into English, the speech given by one señora Máxima, whom Karin’s grandparents had known when they were missionaries in the Dominican Republic.

It was a lovely and very long speech. It included:

(1) Stories of how the dead woman liked to bake. (A bake shop, named after her, is now operated in the Dominican Republic by sra. Máxima’s niece.)

(2) Accounts of the dead woman’s unfailing cheer, and of her submissiveness. (“Who is this person who is being talked about?” wondered Brianna. Indeed, my own memories are of a sassier, stronger-willed woman.)

(3) An acrostic of the letters D-U-L-Z-U-R-A which, sadly, was not translatable.

(4) Detailed greetings from quite a few members of the Dominican church.

Afterward, my interpreting was praised by many of the mourners. It was nice to be recognized, but I felt like collapsing onto a sofa. Translating a half-dozen single-spaced, typed pages in front of so many people was like shoveling a mountainload of bricks.

♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦

Martin & Mary have flown to Houston to spend Thanksgiving with Ana & David. While they’re away, Karin & I will look after Bianca.

Back to the salt mines

Ana & David have gone back to Houston, and Edoarda & Stephen have returned from Nicaragua, bearing gifts and lbs.

Today was my first day back at work. I researched the prices of various editions of Plato — one of our teachers hopes to assign Republic to his highschoolers (God bless the International Baccalaureate). Not that I’m envious. Due to the budget, they’ll probably end up reading Jowett. … After I finished working, my church friend Karin drove me home, which spared me some agony since the temperature was close to zero. … On Wednesday it may be too cold to work at all. M&M are praying for the city to be Snowed In.

I ask E&S if the first sentence is too harsh. They reassure me that it isn’t. “It’s the truth.”

Edoarda: “You can just say that we came back hermosos.”

I ask them for permission to quote these things because lately I’ve been worrying that my teasing is too cruel.

Los regalos, pt. 2

I’m writing this with the help of my new best friend — my smartphone, given to me for Christmas by Martin & Mary.

Other booty:

• The English Constitution (Walter Bagehot);
• The Sense of an Ending (Julian Barnes);
• Essays in Quasi-Realism (Simon Blackburn);
• Hard Rain Falling (Don Carpenter);
• Hons and Rebels (Jessica Mitford);
• contact lens solution;
• socks;
• candy;
• money;
• probably, something I’ve forgotten.

So it was a good Christmas.

(I stopped typing with the smartphone long ago. I switched over to my computer.)

Ana & David have been visiting from Houston — and I hope this isn’t insulting or condescending or whatever, but they both seem calmer and more contented, having been married for several months.

Los regalos

December is just beginning, and already we’ve erected our Charlie Brown Christmas tree and put gifts under it. Why are we so “Christmassy” this year?

Because of David. Some weeks ago, he sent us his wishlist. (Life in Houston must be very dull.) Since then, we’ve all been posting wishlists. I’m not sure how effective those lists will turn out to be. For example, I can’t buy what Mary asked for; I mean, not without withholding the Gift of Rent from her.

She, on the other hand, has been buying quite a lot of gifts. Useful gifts. Salutary gifts.

She bought a storybook for her little niece.

She’s going to buy gum surgery for her husband. (These holidays, poor Martin will subsist on liquids.)

To me, she said: “I won’t tell you what I bought you — it isn’t what you asked for, but it’s for your benefit.”

Edoarda & Stephen bought a bookcase for me, which is nice, because now I’ll be able to bring more of my books up from the basement. Stephen gave some old shoelaces to Bianca.