I'm practical

“Why do you always make ‘the Darius character’ look bad, Dad?”

“Why do you ask, Darius?” I replied.

“People will think that the only thing I can do is lose things.”

“Well - you did leave your shoes in Iceland..”

“Dad…”

“And you mobile phone and the pillow and..”

“Please make Melika the star of this episode.”

“Sounds fair to me,” I replied. “I’ve just finished a telephone conversations which may provide material,” I thought. Melika had volunteered information:

“Darius is helping me with economic advice, Dad.”

“Really? How is it going?”

“It is very complicated, Dad…”

“You’re a lawyer, Melika. You revel in complication.”

“I know, Dad. But, as a first step, I like to simplify things.”

“I see.”

“I think Darius is saying that the general idea is to try to arrange it so that, eh, I spend less each month than I earn.”

“What a unique idea.”

“Unique and implausible, Dad.”

“I agree that it would be a life-style altering approach for you, Melika.”

“That what I told him, Dad: I was like, ‘Get real, Dar.’ I'm not sure that he appreciated it. I mean, I am practical, Dad, but…”

“Practical, Melika? You got a dog.”

Melika

Perspiring heavily, I was in New York City with Nazy’s Christmas shopping list. “I’m looking at dresses,” I said. “European size 40. I believe that I’ve found one that meets your criteria.”

“What color is it, Dan?” Nazy asked.

“You’re asking me about the color of a dress?” I (color-blindly) thought as I snapped a photo with my iPhone. “I’m sending you a picture,” I replied.

The pressure was on. I had flown to New York to help my banking customer deal with the detritus permeating their books after the global financial tsunami – and that was the easy part of my mission. My wife had assigned a much more stressful task. She wanted me to purchase a Christmas gift for Melika. I had tried to wheedle my way out of the task.

“Melika was 4 years old the last time she liked anything that I selected,”

“Dan…”

“Houston. 1985. We bought a backpack that looked like a teddy bear…”

“Yes,” Nazy interrupted. “Brown Bear. She really liked that.”

“And she hasn’t liked anything since then.”

“You’re exaggerating, Dan.” Nazy replied.

“She has returned or exchanged everything that I’ve ever chosen since then.”

“Dan..”

“Ca$h has been the only popular gift,” I continued. “And even that is exchanged..”

“Exchanged?”

“Spent! Quickly.”

The days passed. Luckily, Melika, utilizing negotiation skills honed at Law School, had convinced “The Firm” to allow her to take a vacation. Unfortunately:

“She’s bringing the dog?” I asked.

“Dolce is a member of the family, Dan.” Nazy intoned.

“Who’s family?” I asked.

“And this year,” Nazy replied, ignoring my question. “This year it will be much easier because the dog is house trained.”

“How delightful.”

Melika, in the middle of her first lawyerly year, had to bill 5 hours every day she was in Switzerland. Exhibiting well-honed multitasking skills, she checked legal documents while simultaneously watching westerns on the movie channel. (She liked John Wayne in Red River.) As jet lag took hold, she even managed to bill time while she was asleep.

The dog, excited by the chance to visit Switzerland, was almost house trained. It bounded and bounced whenever anyone approached the front door.

“That dog…” I observed.

“… has a name, Dan.” Nazy interrupted. “Dolce..”

“… doesn’t walk, he prances.”

In the end, Melika actually liked the dress that I purchased in New York. [That's my story and I'm sticking to it.]

The photo, by the way, was taken when Melika was 4 years old - making her very first long-distance telephone call. AT&T subsequently named a switching station after Melika.