I never thought I would have to say:

"Bee, please do not lick your sandals." 

Abundance

Our local farmer's market shopping list from this morning.  Almost everything is from farms in the countryside, within 100 miles:

Vegetables

Hot peppers

Red peppers

Parsley root

Celeriac

Carrots

Red peppers

Potatoes

Onions

Mushrooms*

Butternut squash

Squash

Tomatoes

Basil 

Parsley

Horseradish root (no idea what I will do with this, but I have never seen it sold fresh so I bought one)

Fruit

Blueberries (probably the last week for them)

Apples* (brought in from Italy)

Peaches (the very, very last from in-country)

Grapes (the harvest is in full swing)

Kiwi* (from somewhere far, far away)

*not local

I've posted our meal list on a sidebar, so you can see what we plan to cook.  All the root vegetables are for vegetable stock because I want to make my first fall soup this week.  (Never mind that it's still over 80 degrees outside.)

Buying local

David's cousin sent me a bunch of pictures from their visit to the Wilds of Eastern Europe. Included were two pictures of me doing some local shopping.

I love roadside stands. I love to see what people out in the countryside are selling and making. On our way back into the city, we stopped at this roadside stand to buy the local honey. The woman had numerous flavors, and offered samples and explanations,  "This honey is collected by bees with the first spring flowers." I tasted it, and it was the lightest, sweetest honey. It tasted like sunshine. There was one group of jars with honey that was much darker than the other. The seller explained, "This honey was harvested in a stand of fir trees." It had a very rich taste, with undertones of pine sap.  The flavor still haunts me. I wish I had bought it, but at the time I thought it would be too strong for David and Bee.  The honey I chose was mint honey.  It is a dark honey, with the scent and taste of mint. For most of my life, honey was something that came in a plastic bear shaped bottle and tasted like nothing special.

In the foreground of the picture you can see stacks of local cheese. I bought one while in countryside this weekend and it is also delicious.  The bottles on the lowest shelf of the stand are fruit syrup.  We bought a bottle of raspberry syrup and you can add it to coffee or pour it over ice cream.  

The second picture is much more banal, me getting ripped off by a little old lady selling flowers. I am a sucker for little old ladies selling things. I hate to haggle, and I'm not very good at it, so they are always happy to have me as a customer!  

Etsy bitsy time waster

I found out about Etsy.com just recently and boy it is the ultimate Internet time sucker. I could spend all day there just browsing.  

Etsy is like a giant online craft store, with people selling all manner of handmade items--including very cute children's clothing, accessories, and costumes.  

I just bought Abby a birthday crown and a reversible jumper. Most people are happy to do custom orders and it's interesting to correspond with the different sellers about what you are specifically looking for.  

Singing the bedtime blues

I really wanted to write about my new banana yellow dress that garnered me compliments today and had me bouncing around the office. 

Unfortunately, I can't write about my dress because my little banshee in the next bedroom has just finished screaming at me for the past 30 minutes.  I am emotionally exhausted.

I know why she is so angry.  This weekend when we were on our vacation we stayed in a hotel that didn't have cribs. It did, however, have a giant king sized bed that Bee slept in with us.  She is a big fan of sleeping next to her Mommy.   

Despite all my other attachment-parenting tendencies, we really never practiced co-sleeping. When Bee was a baby, we were staying with my parents and sleeping in a double bed that had no room for a fragile infant.  Additionally, I liked the privacy of having Bee sleeping in another room.  It was nice to have some privacy, a few hours of relief from parenting. 

Despite my best intentions, there were plenty of nights that I fell asleep while nursing her and she managed to spend most of the night in our bed.  It was a really tough habit to break.  By 18 months, we finally convinced Bee to sleep in her bed, alone: All. Night. Long.  (Those are three magical words that, for a time, I never thought I would say again.) 

I can't say that I dislike sleeping with my little Bean curled up against me, with her soft dreaming face and fat little arms.  There is something animalistic about sleeping with your child, fulfilling a primeval need for warmth and comfort.  

However, Bee has returned home to the hard cold realities of the single life in her crib.  I am lucky to have such a vocal and persistent child, one who is very clear about what she wants and does not want.  It's just the way she expresses these wants (screaming "Mommy" and heart-rending sobbing) that leaves a bit to be desired.   

We have been comforting her and trying to be positive these past few nights at home. I am exhausted.  Unfortunately, I think it'll take a few more nights for her to get back into her sleeping routine.  

First day of school

All day long I have been expecting something, not sure what, but it's the first day of school, and even though I am grown up, part of me still yearns for an organized backpack and blank notebooks.  

Growing up, shopping for school supplies was a yearly ritual.  In elementary school it was for a new pencil box, pink erasers, composition notebooks, and number #2 pencils. (Who bought the #1s and #3s? Do they really even exist?)  

Every elementary school classroom was equipped with a pencil sharpener that sprayed woody shavings everywhere. Each year, on the first day, all the students would take their brand new, yet unchewed yellow pencils and grind them to perfect points.  Over time, their nibs would get soft from writing and be snapped off in frustration. As the weeks of school went by, filled with cupcakes, gluey art classes and Halloween parades, those pencils would grow shorter and shorter, until you could hide them in a clenched fist.

In middle school, I graduated to mechanical pencils which made a decisive "click click" when you pressed the eraser for more lead.  They were black plastic with neon pocket clips.  The extra lead came in a clear plastic case that was deliciously small and efficient.  Eventually, I switched to writing in pen, preferring a bold blue Bic, pressing so hard on my paper you could feel the letters come through on the back side like braille.

I first started collecting pens in high school. I liked garish ones with sparkles, plumes, and lights. At university the obsession continued and I managed to buy every color of Jelly Roll on the market.  I remember trying to re-read my class notes but couldn't because the runny pink ink and my cursive writing changed words into something that looked like a lie detector test. I still have these pens in my desk, lying in wait for some spectacular rainbow-colored project--some day-when I have time- perhaps in retirement I will make sparkly cards for my grandchildren. . .

Computers, and their progression into modernity, hold no such nostalgia for me. My family had an Apple and then another and then something else. I had a Dell in college and then a overheated Compaq laptop.  I have no love for them. I do not long for their antiquated screens and myriad viruses.

Despite my waxing poetic, as a child I was never ready to go back to school. The preparations for the first day were exciting, but I dreaded the end of summer vacation.  Looking back now, I only wish that my life could be so simple. 

Back in the city:

I am clinging to the last hours of my long weekend/mini vacation like a child unwilling to let go of a favorite toy.  There is nothing so terrible waiting for me in the office tomorrow.  It's just that it was so wonderful to go away on a short trip with David and Bee.  

We drove into the heart of the country and stayed in an ancient fortified town, founded by Germans.  Our hotel was right in the heart of the old city. We ate pizza and had too much gelato and basked in the early morning sunshine and watched Bee chase pigeons.  It was so much better spending time as a family than working in the office. 

I know this for sure-- I work so I can live. I will never live so I can work.