Never a dull moment
7/7 '17
15+ years ago while in Toledo Spain, I bought a sword from a tourist shop. It's supposedly a replica of El Cid's sword. Of course, the nice Spaniard running the shop wouldn't lie to an American tourist just to make a sale, would he?
It wasn’t sharpened when I got it – they let me carry it on the plane home for goodness sakes – after they wrapped it for me. It was pre 9/11, but still. And I never had a reason to sharpen it.
It hung in the foyer of my New Orleans house for some years, and when I moved to San Francisco, it lived on the mantel of my bedroom. "To better prevent misunderstandings", I’d quip, when anyone commented on it.
For some reason, last night I decided I needed to find the sword. I went searching this house for it. And after 20 minutes poking through dusty corners of my basement, I found it. Only the slightest bit of rust has settled on the blade.
My 6-year-old was immediately smitten. A sword! How cool. Since it has no edge, I told her she could play with it, but only outside. Last thing I needed is her swinging it around and breaking the TV or a window. As we’re making our way to the front yard, she somehow managed to cut the back of her foot with it.
Yeah, with a dull tourist sword my kid nicks her heel. Freak-out commences.
It’s going to be fun telling the Ex. “umm, so, that cut on her heel? The kid was playing with my sword, and cut herself ...”
Sigh.
Three houses ago, I lived on a block that was paradise for kids, dogs and borderline alcoholics. It was pretty great, mostly.
One day we, the neighborhood adults, were sitting around having a few beers and my neighbor Steve was teasing my neighbor Michelle: "oh, your kids are welcome to run around in my house. I'll give them knives of course."
She just smiled and said, "my kids are montessori kindergarten graduates. They know how to use them."