Birthday Girl on Call

Yesterday was Sumie's 28th birthday.  Amazing.  I still don't quite know how she got through college, medical school, residency, and fellowship so quickly, but she assures me the age is correct.  And she looks it, too.  I suppose those supposedly "missing" years somehow transferred to me as I'm constantly being told (perhaps by my wife?) that I look good for someone in his late forties (ouch).

Unfortunately, Sumie was on call for her birthday weekend (she'll be on call through Thanksgiving, actually).  We wanted to have some family over for a party, but we'd have to host it at our house so that Sumie could be close to the hospital should she be called in.  This meant some heavy cleaning and prep for me and Mimi, but we were definitely up to the job.

We started our shopping with a few cakes from Schubert's bakery on Clement.  They're amazing.  I got two - one strawberry mousse and one chocolate mousse - as the members of our family have a tendency to refuse cake at first only later to down two or three pieces.  From the bakery we swung by the Salvation Army Home Store to see if they had anything worthwhile.  They did, and Mimi was ecstatic!

I think the box of Lego weighed as much as Mimi, but that didn't stop her from hoarding it.  The girl really loves those little plastic blocks. 

After picking up supplies from Safeway it was time to cook and clean.  Sumie's sister and her family would be arriving around 5 and they'd be bringing Sumie's mother, who had just come out from New York and would be staying with us for a few days.  Mimi was a tremendous help by sitting on the couch and, for the very first time, not screaming as I vacuumed the living room.

Before I knew it, Kae and her family had arrived and it was time to pick up Sumie.  She'd gone in extra early that morning (around 7:00am) and now, at 6:00, she was finally ready to come home.  I drove over to the hospital where Sumie practically leaped into the car.  She likes birthday parties, particularly her own.

There was a ton of food, as usual: Kara-age (Japanese Fried Chicken), Harumaki (spring rolls), Inari (slightly sweet rice in tofu packets), and much, much more.

After loading up our plates in the kitchen, we then sat ourselves around the coffee table which, for all intents and purposes, has turned into our formal dining space. 

Everyone started to eat.  Everyone except for Mimi.  She seemed to have other plans. 

Now I understand why she was so excited to get that box of Lego earlier.  She wanted a new hat.

After dinner and cake it was time to open presents.  Mimi loved the ribbons.

All told, I think Sumie had a fun birthday, even though she'd been on call.  All the hard work and excitement took their toll, though.  By 11:00pm Sumie had passed out on the couch.  I tried to get her to go to bed, but she refused, saying she wanted to enjoy all of her birthday.  That's my wife.  She loves her birthdays.  Even when she's sleeping through them!

Friends, Rivals, Cousins

As I mentioned in my last post, this past weekend was spent with my sister Julie, her husband Sean, and their little boy Alder.  Alder is only a month younger than Mimi, her closest cousin in age.  I was looking forward to watching them play together, but I had no idea just how well they'd hit it off. 

Mimi's a bit rambunctious, so she often gets along well with boys her own age or older kids.  At the Steinhart aquarium I've seen her shout down a 3 year-old, using language only she understands, who had the temerity to comment on an exhibit Mimi was examining.  Apparently she felt quite passionate about her own analysis, even if no one could decipher it, even Mimi. 

Alder, who is not one to back down, was a perfect playmate for Mimi.  By the end of Alder's visit, Mimi was even beginning to share (I'm sad to say that with his departure she has reverted to her old, self-gratifying ways).  Here's a look at how the two kids got on.

After introductions, they hit the Weeble village.  This toy is so loud, distracting, and yet oddly endearing, that they ended up working together without even realizing it.  A good start. 

From there they hit the piano, Mimi providing the bass line and Alder handling the melody.  What an experience to watch the two of them pound away on my father's old piano, the same one Julie and I abused over 30 years ago. 

Of course, one cannot play together all the time.  Mimi realized she needed to be a good hostess.  So, while Papa taught Alder how to play the "Whiffle Board" pinball he'd been restoring,

Mimi showed uncle Sean how to remove the cushions from the couch. 

After dinner, Mimi and Alder both decided to play a good, old-fashioned game of Tron.

This proved a bit too much to handle, so Mimi decided they'd play with her computer instead.  After a brief tutorial from Mimi, the two were typing away. 

Grandma and Grandpa also helped.  Here are the two cousins drawing with Mimi's magnetic sketch pad.  Amazingly, Mimi stood back and let Alder take a few turns.  She barely allows me enough time to pen Miffy the bunny before she snatches it back. 

Mimi even learned how to share her Cheerios, albeit begrudgingly. 

One interesting point of contention between the two was who would get to play with the red ball at Great Grandma's house.  Half the time Mimi would want the red ball, and the other half she'd spurn it and want only the gold ball.  It basically broke down to Mimi wanting whatever ball Alder was carrying.  That's my sweet little angel. 

Eventually Mimi and Alder worked out their differences.  Back inside, they decided to kiss and make up.  Good kids.  This last one is a bit of video of the two. 

It was wonderful for Mimi to spend time with Alder and the rest of the family.  Thanksgiving is just a little over a week away.  I wonder what kind of mischief she'll get into there. 

Portly Man Defies Laws of Physics in BMW Wagon

"You're going to Oakland, right?"

These are the very words spoken to me by my sister's husband, Sean, as I was driving us down I-280 toward the airport.  Sean, Julie, and their son Alder, 1 month Mimi's junior, had come out for a quick visit on Friday.  We'd had a wonderful time - barbecue for dinner on Friday, museums and a "They Might Be Giants" show on Saturday, wrapping up with a visit to Sacramento to see family on Sunday - but were all a bit groggy from a late night following a very packed weekend.  Perhaps this is why none of us realized until we were halfway to SFO that the flight was departing from Oakland.  Ah, the joys of multiple metropolitan airports. 

At first I thought Sean was joking.  And I didn't think it that funny given that we were already running a bit late.  Julie, who had somehow wedged herself into the back seat along with the two babies and their massive car seats, piped up at this point.  "You're joking, right Steve?  You know we're going to Oakland.  That's where we flew in." 

My mother had, kindly, picked Julie and Sean up on Friday - from Oakland.  I had remained at home in blissful ignorance of their entry point to California.  Unfortunately, none of us had thought to confirm what the exit point would be.  By the time we collectively realized our error, we'd been traveling for at least 20 minutes in entirely the wrong direction. 

A few cries of anguish later, I'd turned around and Sean had remapped the route.  It was 10:35am.  The flight, which appeared to be on time, was scheduled to leave at noon.  It was the only flight that day.  In fact, it was the only flight until Friday.  "Allegiant Air" - inexpensive, as long as you make your flight!  The newly mapped route proclaimed more bad news.  It projected 42 minutes from where we were to the airport.  This put us at the terminal 2 minutes after the check-in cutoff. 

The situation looked bleak.  Sean was researching flights on other airlines, Julie was trying to find a sub for her Tuesday classes, and Mimi and Alder both decided that it was time to wail for no apparent reason.  I, however, was mildly optimistic.  I'd been training for such a challenge since I was 16 years old.  And I had the perfect tool: an older, inconspicuous, unassuming, and very quick BMW Wagon. 

I pride myself on being able to drive quickly, but safely, under the radar.  Run silent, run deep.  Decades of burning down long stretches of the California highways, New York thruways, and the New Jersey Turnpike have taught me how to drive inconspicuously at speed.  And with 9 years in the vehicular crucible that is Manhattan, I learned how to read the traffic to find the fastest lanes.  I am by no means an excellent driver, or even a great driver.  But I think I'm competent.  Competent enough to have always gotten my charges to the airport in time for their flights.  And I wasn't about to fail now. 

By the time we hit the Bay Bridge, the tension in the car had dropped.  When downtown Oakland faded into the distance, the babies were babbling contentedly.  And when we finally pulled up to the terminal at Oakland Airport, we knew we'd succeeded.  It was 11:00, on the dot.  The 42 minute projection had been cut to 25.  We're still not sure how it happened - some law of space and time must have been violated, I'm positive.  Still, thanks to that little wagon from Bavaria, we were able to close out a fantastic weekend in style - and with just the right amount of drama.

There'll be more on the visit in the days to come - so many pictures and video to go through - but in the meantime, here a few highlights:

Mimi and Alder loved playing together, particularly at Great Grandma's house.  They even learned how to play, "Sit still, we're taking a family picture!"

Of course, they weren't always perfect.  Mimi decided that Great Grandma's antique tea trolley would make an excellent fort. 

There were many amazing moments on the trip - the concert, finding a chicken and waffles restaurant, etc. - but the sky on the way home from Sacramento was perhaps the most breathtaking. 

The pinnacle of the weekend, at least for me, was watching Mimi and Alder become fast friends and playmates.  Playmates who can even share.  Here they are on opposite sides of Mimi's playhouse. The two kids just seemed to click.  It was pretty cool to see. 

 

Games of Horseshoes and Vegetable Mutilation

An admission.  I just ran away from my daughter.

Mimi had decided to help me gather the photos for today's post by wiggling between my arms and then pounding the track pad repeatedly with both fists and screaming "Mimi!  Mimi!".  So, I ran away to the other side of the living room.  It seems to be working.  I'm here in my chair, blocked from Mimi's view by a bookcase.  I guess "out of sight, out of mind" works with children under 2.

Mimi, despite her computer abuse, is slowly learning how to play constructively, both by herself and with others. 

Naturally, her play often reflects the activities of her mother and father.  Cooking is a major one.  We generally try to cook dinner at home at least 4 or 5 times a week.  Sumie and I can both cook well on our own, but we work best when we combine forces.  Sumie is a skilled, and speedy, prep chef.  She'll prepare all the ingredients and then hand the job over to me for the actual cooking.  Mimi, who constantly looks up to her mother, loves to take part in the prep work. 

This, unfortunately, makes for a rather messy kitchen.  There's nothing like picking up 15,746 microscopic pieces of mutilated lettuce before sitting down to dinner. 

I prefer Mimi copying us on the phone.  Almost any object will do: a Wii remote, a block, a fork.  Today it's a digital thermometer. 

Mimi also loves to mimic us when we read.  If I'm in my chair with a book or a computer it's only a few minutes before Mimi pulls out a book of her own.  Unfortunately, Mimi's unquenchable thirst for destruction extends to the hobby of reading as well.  Here she is with a dismembered sheep's head.  Old McDonald will think again before inviting Mimi to his farm for a song. 

But life with Mimi isn't just about messiness and violence.  More and more she's learning how to play constructively and creatively.  I noticed this during a game of horseshoes yesterday. 

Mimi carefully observed her father make a few futile tosses.  My aim was, as always, terrible, but Mimi seemed to get the idea, despite my inaccuracy.  Once she got the gist of the game, we started taking turns.  Here's Mimi cleaning up after my first attempt. 

Now, here's Mimi showing me just how it's done. 

Granted, I suppose you can't really call what she was doing "throwing."  More like "judicious placement of plastic horseshoes around a plastic peg to remind Papa just how blazingly uncoordinated he is." 

Mimi seemed quite pleased with the results. 

I'm looking forward to sharing more games with Mimi.  I wonder when that first round of hide-and-seek will take place, or our first game of catch or passing the soccer ball back and forth.  She's getting close, I think.  Still a ways to go, but I can see the wheels turning. 

Lego. Creative Destruction.

Lego.  Is there a better toy? 

I was obsessed with it as a kid: from those initial Duplo bricks - great for making towers and race cars to throw across the room - to the "Technic" sets with their gears and motors.  On any given day, from age 2 to 12, there was a good chance you'd find me lying on the bedroom or living room floor building away.

As with any exceptional toy, Lego both challenges the mind and harms the body.  For every child who has learned to follow picture directions by playing with Lego, there is another who took a trip to the ER with a "blocked" stomach.  For every budding engineer or architect who got her first taste of independent design when the directions were inevitably been lost, there is another child who was rushed to the dentist after trying to separate two stubborn pieces with his teeth.  And for every youngster who spent an afternoon with his Lego spread across the living room floor, there are 2,647 instances of pained cursing after having stepped on a misplaced block.  This last aspect is, perhaps, the only real downside to Lego.  Children who play with it often, especially in shared spaces, are exposed to an almost unimaginable degree of muttered swearing. 

Over the weekend we bought Mimi her first set of Duplo, and she loves it.  Unfortunately, so do I.  Even with these larger blocks, I can feel the builder in me coming out.  While Mimi's happy to stick the odd block onto another, pretend one is a teacup, or make "vroom, vroom" noises pushing around a shabbily built Duplo car, I get a bit more into it. 

Mimi enjoys playing with the projects I build for her, though she's a bit impatient when it comes to the build itself.  She doesn't quite have the concept of something being "done" yet.  This makes sense as her approach to play consists almost entirely of destroying whatever she is given. 
The plane below was my fourth attempt at the type.  With each one I tried to make it both more realistic and more resistant to toddler tampering.  A vain pursuit, I knew, but a fun challenge nonetheless. 

Finishing the build to the sound of impatient cries, I delivered the plane to Mimi for inspection.  She was sitting, rather imperiously, in her toy box. 

It seemed that the plane had passed muster.  Mimi was intrigued and the plane seemed to be holding together.  This idyllic play state lasted a full twelve seconds. 

By the time I had sat back down on the couch, the tail was at the bottom of the toy box, the wings strewn across the floor, and the cockpit tossed all the way into the kitchen.  So much for my attempt at toddler-proof design. 

Honestly, I don't mind this destruction.  I'm happy for it, actually.  It just means I get to build more.  Hmm, I wonder by what age kids enjoy watching their father build 1/10 scale radio controlled 4x4s?  3 years old sounds about right to me...

San Franciscans' Weekend Strategy: Escape the City!

It's a very odd practice for us, having come from Manhattan.

In NYC, we would "weekend" in the city.  Granted, we didn't have the money for a place in the Hamptons, but I don't think that's why we so often decided not to leave the island.  First off, I never wanted to give up my parking spot.  On most Fridays I would've fought for at least an hour to find one, so there was no way I was leaving just to go through that again.  Another reason was the accessibility of the city.  We could get anywhere via cab, subway, or shoes.  And the wealth of options for entertainment was, quite simply, more than we could ever ask for.  Sometimes we'd simply stay in just because there were too many options from which to choose.

In San Francisco, however, there seems to be a pervasive culture of "escaping the city" on the weekends.  Perhaps I'm wrong in this - having lived here only two months, and in the Richmond District at that - but I've definitely gotten the impression that most San Franciscans use their weekends not to explore the city, but the achingly beautiful natural wonders that surround it.

I've been trying to figure out why this is.  Part of it, I think, has to do with how transportation in the city works.  A combination of MUNI buses and BART can get you places, but not very conveniently and not with much stuff.  A car, however, can get you anywhere.  And unlike Manhattan, parking is relatively convenient and inexpensive.  More difficult than most cities, but still quite manageable.  With SF still being geared toward the car, despite the almost militaristic bicycle lobby, most residents still own at least one.  And this, I think, leads many SF residents to explore beyond the boundaries of home.  That and a lot of fog!

It's a very different way of living, I have to admit, but Sumie and I are getting used to it.  This weekend started for us on Friday, when we drove the 5 blocks (this would never have happened in Manhattan) to go to "Ju-Ku," a Japanese izakaya in the Richmond District.

Mimi, for once, was actually relatively well behaved.  Maybe she knew just how much her father wanted to enjoy his kushiage (Japanese fried food on sticks).  Dinner was very good, and featured the best Japanese fried chicken (karaage) that I've had in years.  Better than my own.  I left the restaurant very satisfied and a little envious.

On Saturday we headed up to Mill Valley, a small town off 101 in Marin County, to visit a great toy store we'd learned about and to explore Marin a bit more.  We really loved it up there.  It's strange.  In NYC, 10 to 15 miles out of Manhattan felt like an eternity, but here it feels absurdly close.  I can't help but think that we'll probably end up outside of San Francisco proper in a few years.  Well, we'll see.  Perhaps I'll look back on this entry in a year or two and be amazed at how ignorant and naive I'd been.

From Mill Valley we drove up to what must have been California's busiest In-n-Out Burger.  It was well worth the wait, though.  Those burgers never get old.  I can taste them now, actually.

After lunch we headed down, and then back up, into the the Marin Headlands.  What a perfect day for it.  Completely clear and a sunny 70 degrees.  This was, I think, around the time NYC was going through a snowstorm.  I guess some things are better on the west coast.  The view of San Francisco and the Golden Gate from the headlands was breathtaking.  Naturally, I had forgotten my good camera, so these pics come via iPhone.  They don't really do the sight justice.  

I've loved the Marin Headlands since I was a kid.  One of the primary reasons are the numerous military installations, particularly cannon batteries, that dot the area.  We visited the "Wallace Battery," constructed in 1942 out of fear of a possible Japanese attack on the West Coast.  The cannon are gone, but the fortifications remain.

Nature has definitely been creeping back, but that makes the sites all the more fun to explore.  Mimi enjoyed "foofing" seeds from a puff-plant (wish I knew the name of it as, given that I don't, I'm going to be shunned by my botanically pretentious sister).

Getting out of the city really was a welcome change.  And I've a feeling that if I lived outside SF, coming in for a dinner or a trip to the museum would feel just as exciting.  Looking forward to learning more about where our family be on the bay in the years to come.

12 Days On, 2 Days Off

We're quite happy it's Friday around here.  The weekend has been well-earned.

As part of her new position, Sumie takes call for a full week at a time.  The shift begins on a Friday morning, passes through the weekend, and finally comes to a close the morning of the following Friday. Thankfully, this week her call shift has been relatively light - no 2am emergency pages - but it has made for some very long days, and an even longer week.  A 12-day week, in fact.

Sumie did an amazing job over this last call.  No matter how tired she might have been, or how early she had woken up that day, once she got home she was all Mimi's.  I can't begin to share just how proud I am of her for being there for Mimi so thoroughly and consistently.  Mimi's thankful, too.  She may not be able to say so yet, but given that she yells out "Mama!" with unbridled eagerness whenever she hears the garage door, I think it's pretty apparent.

Naturally, when Sumie's on call it means that I, to a certain degree, am on "Papa-call."  Weekends are like weekdays - just me and Mimi - and I can't go out evenings as Sumie may be called in.  The first time I took Papa-call, several weeks ago, I went a bit haywire.  I've always liked having time to myself and, as I've discovered, toddlers are not very good at giving parents their "space."  As the week progressed, I felt more and more tied down.  Though I was technically free to do whatever I wanted, my actions had to meet with Mimi's approval.  As such, freedom only came at nap time.

Because the last one was a little rough, I was anxious about going through this week's call with Mimi.  I'm very thankful to report that things have improved.  The week really has, for reasons I can't fully explain, been a joy.  Though Mimi and I have had our disagreements (7 or 8 regarding the reading of books have occurred while writing this blog post.  Mimi won every time.) we're learning how to live with each other in relative harmony.  She's starting to get that when Papa's in his chair, Papa's working.  And I'm starting to get that even when I'm in my chair, sometimes there are things, like a quick book read, that supercede whatever I'm working on.

One major difference between the last Papa-call and this one has been how Mimi and I interact.  Only a few weeks ago, the relationship felt much more like care-giver and client.  But now, it's more like we're playmates.

I'm still in charge - at least theoretically - and she still drives me nuts on a regular basis, but there's a much greater sense of play, and even teamwork, in all that we do.  It's almost as if our small, daily actions - reading, flashcards, drawing, eating, napping, shopping, etc. - are helping us to form a greater dialog.  In other words, there feels to be some actual two-way communication now!

I didn't expect the change, but it is a very welcome and very heartwarming one.  I guess both Mimi and I have grown up a bit this last week.

Granted, one of us still likes to crawl under the coffee table, but I think we'll let that one slide.

I Love You, But Please...Stop Helping Me!

Last night we hosted a small dinner for two of Sumie's friends from medical school.  One of the girls brought along her two 6 month old puppies, which completely made Mimi's day. 

They were a bit more energetic than her old friend Harrychan was, so she'd get a bit scared at times, but on the whole, she really enjoyed it.  I'd have to say that, behavior wise, she was on par with the dogs.  And given that they're 3.5 in dog years already, that's not too bad a showing for Mimi.  

Mimi didn't fall asleep last night until almost 10.  I was rather surprised by this.  Granted, the dogs definitely brought out some baby adrenaline, but Mimi had been going full blast all day.  Not one to sit idly by, Mimi insisted on helping me clean house and prepare dinner.  This meant that every task I attempted took 17 times longer than normal.  Below is a quick look at how Mimi "helps" us around the house.

The day's help often begins in the bathroom.  Mimi swipes the shower squeegee from me and thoughtfully cleans the outside of the glass shower doors, which are, naturally, perfectly dry and streak free.  She'll get through 2 or 3 swipes, each accompanied by an almost guttural "wheeeee!", before she moves on to wiping down the cabinets, hallway walls, and television.  The squeegee eventually ends up in the living room, most often under the piano bench, but only after Mimi has taken another bite out of one of the poor squeegee's corners. 

After that, it's time to get dressed.  Mimi runs to the dresser and immediately picks out an outfit.  Unfortunately, these outfits usually consist of a sweatshirt and 7 pairs of pants, so I always have to make a few substitutions.  Out of sight, of course. 

 Picking up after Mimi during the day isn't much of a challenge, but cleaning up the house, with Mimi still in it, is well nigh impossible.  Let's say I want to put away Mimi's toy chest.  That's code, at least to Mimi, for her to jump inside it. 

The only way to get her out is via distraction.  Thankfully, she's a sucker for Star Wars, much like her father.

Mimi loves books, which makes me very happy, but she doesn't quite understand the concept of putting them away.  She prefers them strewn across the floor.  So, whenever I start shelving books, Mimi takes this as her cue to take out as many as possible.  In fact, in the middle of that last sentence, I had to get up and remove from Mimi's violent hands my copy of "Open" by Andre Agassi.  In four seconds she had pulled the book off the shelf and ripped the dedications page.  Nice work, Mimi. 

I have always loved books, but living with a toddler has shown me that there's one thing I hate about them: dust jackets.  They make having a library with a child a living hell.  And whoever came up with the insidiously fiendish idea of putting these on children's books should, quite simply, be tortured with a very pointy fork.   

Putting away toys is another challenge.  For some reason, whenever I put a toy into Mimi's toy basket she interprets this as me wanting her to immediately take that same toy back out and throw it across the room.  I don't really enjoy this game, but Mimi certainly does.  Here we are attempting to put away her stacking rings.  Note the 1978 Remote Control R2D2 in the background.  It's one of her favorite toys.

As I was putting away a few of her books the other day, Mimi decided to lift this same R2D2 over her head and then drop him squarely on her big toe.  It's amazing just how quickly cleaning up books can shift to cleaning up blood when you have a toddler.  And yet, I'm a bit happy Mimi hurt her foot.  We now have something new in common.  I lost a nail after inadvertently smashing my big toe with a "Return of the Jedi" arcade cabinet.  Father and daughter, each with a digit damaged by the work of George Lucas. 

As I bring this entry to a close the house is, amazingly, still quite clean.  It feels good.  And, if I'm lucky, it will remain this way for another 20 or even 30 minutes.

Compromising Hairstyles

Mimi was born with a mop top.  At one week she boasted more hair than her follically-challenged father.  At least in the back.  

Sumie and I considered trimming the mop from time to time, but we couldn't bring ourselves to submit to it.  The longer it grew, the curlier, and cuter, it got.  And so, the months flew by and the hair continued its rapid advance downward.

At 17 months, though, push had come to shove.  Something had to be done.  The situation was so dire that Mimi couldn't even play the piano without her hair blocking the keyboard!

Knowing that there's not a hairstylist alive for whom Mimi would sit still, I took the job into my own hands.  What drove me to it?  Well, this morning I caught a glimpse of my own hair in the mirror.  

 Genes aren't kind and I knew that if I didn't do something, Mimi could soon be suffering from the same plight as her father.


A bang trim was in order.  I set up her highchair and tied her favorite sleeping blanket, which needed to be washed anyway, around her neck, old-timey barber style.

I then wet down her hair with No-More-Tangles.  This made for some straight, manageable, but greasy hair.  A few forward strokes from the brush and my canvas was ready.  Except for one thing.  It was moving all over the place.

The actual cutting was, by far, the most difficult part.  I really didn't want for Sumie to come home to find her daughter wearing an eye-patch, though I guess it would've made the selection of her Halloween costume a no brainer.  After several attempts at cutting her bangs like one would at a salon, and being repaid with fierce head shaking, I took up a new strategy.  Starting on Mimi's right, I gathered a few strands of hair, perhaps 20% of her bangs, and then snipped.  I repeated the process across her forehead until I reached the other side.  Amazingly, it came out fairly even!  Not sure how that happened, but I'll take it. 

Mimi was unsure of the new look at first,

but I think that she was reasonably satisfied.  After all, the price was right! 

Somehow I don't think we'll be able to wait another 17 months before we take a pair of shears to Mimi's locks.  Maybe next time we'll actually brave a salon.  I just hope we can find one that offers general anesthesia.