Nose Whistle

So my 20 years old tells me that she's aware of my Wife & Four Daughters Blog and had a story for me. While watching television with her 8 years old sister, Dhara, she noticed Dhara attempting to blow a whistle with her nose. The whistle was tucked neatly into one nostril as she pinched the other and gently blew several times into the whistle. I say gently, as she was apparently aware that a hard blow would generate more than a whistle sound. After a few attempts, she pulls the whistle out of her nostril and disappointingly shrugs to her older sister.

This got me thinking about nose whistles. Can't be the first attempt! And I'm sure some third world, we don't care 'bout no snot community must surely have perfected the art of nose whistling. A quick tour of Wikipedia proved me right. Throughout Africa, China, Oceanea and India, nose whistles or nose flutes, if ya got aires y'all, abound. And they appear to come in two distinct varieties. There's the traditional looking three-holed straight flute popular in Polynesia and a more elaborate looking nose whistle from unknown-to-me origins. The Hawaiian version, the 'ohe hano ihu, can actually be heard at this site http://www.rangapae.com/Breathe%20in%20page.htm. The latter is designed to blow a sound into the mouth, and hopefully only that, and comes in an array of beautiful hardwoods and today, in a myriad of colorful plastics. Yes readers, you too can serenade your loved one with an authentic nose whistle. Or if your daddy's got money, a nose flute. I may actually make a commission off the sale of a few of these. 

  

White Dads

and the Daughters Who Love Them
I'm a white guy. My wife Daya is very dark skinned and produced two lovely dark skinned daughters 'cause God has a sense of humor and issues with me so He thought wouldn't it be funny if George got stopped at every freaking airport he went to 'cause really bored Homeland Security guys see us and think, "Hey what's this white guy doing slipping through security with those two Indian looking kids? Let's tackle him!" But there are other more interesting and kinda fun two toned issues. Sunburn. They don't get it much and the two youngest are totally freaked out by the way Dad turns red and then peels. Our typical trip to the community pool has, since they noticed dad's terrifying reaction to sun, starts off with the girls prepping for the pool and checking with dad to make sure he's put on his sunblock. While at the pool, they routinely pop out of the water, dry their faces and make a quick check of dad's face for redness. I'm usually asked to turn this way and that for a more thorough examination then they're back in the water. If there's the slightest sign of redness, I'm instructed to put on more sunblock and move into the shade.

It's nice to be loved.

Socks and Sandals

Remember those nerdy old guys in the neighborhood when you were growing up who wore weird shorts and black dress socks with their sandals? ........ Well it's freaking comfortable man! I can explain. I live in New England now, 'cause there was this hurricane and I was Hitler in my past life, and mornings are really cold here even in June and the floor never warms up no matter how warm it gets outside. So I've got socks on all day. And then I have to go outside occasionally for something like taking out the garbage and stuff. So one day, rather than go through the hassle of socks off and back on again, I just slipped into some sandals and jogged on out to the curb with a bag. It was like "Oh WOW!" This is so comfy man!" And then I got to thinking about the old guys from the old neighborhood. They weren't so much nerds as just didn't give a damned. And "Hey", I thought to myself, "I don't give a damned either! I'm gonna wear socks with sandals man!" And I did until my oldest daughter came up for a visit and the whole family wanted to take a walk to the local park. I was the last one out, shorts, the cool cotton jogging kind, 'cause I'm a rebel who doesn't give a damned and not a nerd man, and white socks, not the dark dress ones, 'cause I'm a rebel who doesn't give a damned and not a nerd man! You'd thought I was stomping on puppies the way my four daughters reacted. They refused to move until I removed the socks. But "cause I'm a rebel who doesn't give a damned man" appeals didn't work. I was physically prevented from leaving until I removed the socks. I still feel I'm a rebel who doesn't give a damned man. But I was outnumbered and crushed by superior forces, kinda like most rebels who don't give a damned go down.

4 years Olds Make Great Paid Informants

My wife, Daya, is a Physical therapist who operated out of our home in a New Orleans suburb for a few years. Visiting hours were scheduled for the interval when I was at the Indonique Tea & Chai Cafe in the city and Mina, aged 4, was at daycare. Things went swimmingly until one day when Mina was home with a cold. When I arrived home, she met me at the door and told me, before I could get out a 'good afternoon' or 'hiya Mina', that "a strange man was at the house to see mom and he took off his shirt!" She appeared concerned almost angry. I reassured her it was a patient and OK, then gave her a dollar telling her she was a good girl for telling me and there was a dollar in it for her every time she told me about a shirtless man in the house. By the end of the month, according to a suddenly money-conscious Mina, Daya was sleeping with every man in town.

Bra Shopping with Rumplestilskin

So I'm out bra shopping with my wife, which isn't nearly as exciting as it sounds. Pretty much means baby sitting two younger daughters while an overweight angry store clerk shuffles off to a dressing room with the wife reappearing, neither terribly happy, after a month or two to get another size bra. So anyway, I'm on this plastic sofa outside the fitting room as Dhara, aged 8, is describing to Mina, aged 12, how someone in some story she heard in school wakes up older each day. After a few days, this fictitious character is, "as old as dad!", Dhara exclaims. I continue reading from my iPhone, minding my own business but still aware of what is being said. It's sort of like being in two places at once, a skill developed during years of parenting. The trick is to catch important phrases in a conversation then zero in with peak efficiency when appropriate, like the CIA listening to thousands of conversations that they're not suppose to and picking up the occasional hot phrase at which point they focus and record the whole thing, like they're not suppose to. So, like I said, I'm reading and skimming the conversation when I catch the catch phrase from Mina, "Look Dhara, that makes no sense", a sure sign of Dhara suggesting something dangerous or expensive to fix. I zeroed in, Mina continued, "You can't go from you to that" motioning from her to me, "in a few days!" "But he was asleep a long time", Dhara protested. "Dhara, you can't get those wrinkles, that bald and tired in a few days", Mina insisted. Dhara thought a minute as she examined THAT, as in me, and conceded, "Maybe he was asleep for 71 years". Mina glanced at me and also conceded, "Yeah maybe you could get that in 71 years".