We cannot live without books

Bee is long since asleep, so I am off to read (but hopefully not finish) mine.

the amazing cardboard box

We went to Ikea this morning to buy some containers to organize Bee's toys.  Her small play area in our apartment's main room is growing tentacles of toys that extend into the living room and dining room. I have to do something to fight against the clutter.  I need a few square feet of grown-up space.

Anyway, I always love going to Ikea, even though entire villages of people are usually there and Bee goes quite wild with her own child sized shopping cart.  We bought a bunch of stuff, more than we intended to purchase, including a set of star shaped Christmas lights that will look very pretty hanging in the front window at Christmas time.

We came back from our vacation with an entire suitcase filled with new toys and books, wonderful presents given to Bee for her birthday by family and friends.  She loves her new dolls and containers of Play-doh.  She was happy to come home to her play kitchen filled with realistic wooden food.  However, despite the embarrassing multitude of toy options available, at the moment, my little Princess only wants to play one game: "x-ray-der."  

Evidently the x-ray machine at the airport left a mighty impression on Miss Bee.  She now aspires to work for the transportation authority. When I realized that she was using our coffee table as an x-ray machine, I put a cardboard box, empty at both ends, on top for more x-ray realism.  She loves passing her shoes and teddy bear through the box and pretending she's at the airport.

Last night, after Bee had gone to sleep, I folded up the box and stowed it behind a piece of furniture.  First thing this morning, Bee frantically asked as to where the x-ray-der had gone.  I set it up again, and from her excitement you would have thought I had just given her the best present ever. 

So, when we have visitors to our apartment, we will just lie and say that decorating our living room with cardboard is something we saw in Better Homes and Gardens.  It's the latest ec0-innovation.  It's proof of my sweet daughter's vivid imagination.  It's the cheapest damn toy I never bought.

Twilight

I swore I wouldn't read those silly books about chaste vampires.  I mean, how absorbing could they possibly be, right?  After a recommendation from my dear friend Em, however, I decided to buy "just" the first one.  

I'm not usually so easily swayed, but it's because of Emily that I found Robert Jordan's "Wheel of Time" series and read Harry Potter.  I like everything about Emily, but especially her knack for finding me a good book.

Our shared taste in fiction, however, does not extend to Em's enthusiasm for war novels that have a lot of battle scenes and unrequited love, so I have to make sure her recommendations don't include a sad dead soldier in the final chapter.  I will read war stories from time to time but really, why do the soldiers always have to die at the end? Why couldn't they survive the war and go start a restaurant or something?  (Emily, my gift to you, "Three Day Road" by Joseph Boyden. Written on the front cover, "The most haunting story of war and loss since Birdsong.")

What I really love is a book that you want to stay up all night reading, where you pull the text close to your face, hold on to the edges of the book, and read for dear life. Both "Twilight" and "New Moon" made me do just that. I was reading last night until I could no longer prop my eyelids open. I read this evening in Bee's play kitchen while she fed her baby doll Play Doh. I was present, just not mentally!

I have the other two books in the series stacked on my nightstand and I am rationing them out. No more than one book per day. (My personal talents are few and far between but I can read very, very fast, especially when I am motivated to find out what happens next.)  I am going to be so sad when I finish Breaking Dawn.  On Sunday.  Hopefully not Saturday.

"The sun poured in like butterscotch"

I saw rainbows twice while on vacation.  The photo above was taken from the balcony of our stateroom while on our Disney Cruise.  David and I were both excited and apprehensive about our trip.  We need not have been worried, as it was wonderful. The rainbow over the water is just one example of the magic of Disney.  They even control the weather!

The second time I saw a rainbow was on my last day at home.  Our flight was later that evening (little did I know that I would leave on Saturday and not arrive home until Monday morning) and both my Mom and I were feeling despondent at my and David's and Bee's imminent departure. So, we went and did what all good women do in the face of stress: we went shopping.  Bee was having her afternoon nap so we made our escape, just the two of us.  We were driving to the mall when a double rainbow appeared the the sky.  I'm not sure whether it was just a good shopping omen or a fitting end to a perfect vacation.

But really, of all the days that we were home, the very best day of vacation was the first full day. Waking up in my house, in my childhood bedroom, sitting at the kitchen table, jet-lagged at 5 am, drinking hot tea, eating scrambled eggs that my Mom cooked, my father wandering in with a cup of coffee in hand, Bee playing on the kitchen floor, David reading the paper, the sun rising, and the love of my family "stuck to all my senses."

Take and eat

I was planning on going to the gym during my lunch hour today but decided I needed some fresh air instead.  I set off towards my favorite bakery, which is about 15 minutes away from my office.

Outside, the sun was shining, and while the air wasn't exactly fresh, it was invigorating to be out and about with the lunchtime rush.  I was wearing my favorite emerald coat, looking like a peacock in a flock of ravens. Black seems to be the operative color for winter wear. 

I was about a block away, deciding on my lunch, when I saw a beggar leaning up against the wall. His clothes were tattered, and he was leaning on crutches, waiting silently for someone to give him their spare change.  

As I walked toward him, a middle aged lady came in the opposite direction.  Without slowing her steps she handed him her lunch, from the bakery where I was headed.  Without acknowledging her presence or stepping away from the wall the man took the bread and immediately began to eat, hungrily.  I thought to myself, cynically, "Well, at least he won't want mine." 

Immediately, I filled with shame.  Is this how I love my neighbor as myself?.  Jesus walked among the poorest of the poor, not with selfish, flouncing girls like me. How could those thoughts have passed my mind? 

I worry that I have become cynical.  Where I live, begging is a pseudo-profession. People approach me on the street everyday and ask for money.  I always say no. I don't give alms.  Beggars have their turf and individual ailments to draw attention to themselves.  The young man with the grotesquely swollen leg sits halfway up the steps leading out of the metro. Directly across the sidewalk, the friendly looking elderly lady stands wearing an eye patch. Further down the street, an old wild haired man sitting on a bucket stares at the pavement. Outside my grocery store, there is usually a Roma woman cradling a lethargic child. Comparatively, I am so privileged. I should empty out my wallet, give my green coat away.

When we lived in Guatemala, we used to give the street children cereal out of our car windows.  It's different here. I see the same people every day. Should I give them a handout every day? Make their acquaintance? Bake them cookies? Offer my prayers?  

The beggar today shocked me with his hunger and brought me face to face with my own indifference.  His careworn face was that of Jesus. Blessed are the poor in spirit; for theirs is the kingdom of heaven.

Mommy Time

When David has to work late I try to do something special with Bee so she doesn't focus on missing her father. Tonight, after dinner we skipped Bee's nightly bath and played beauty salon. Afterward, we had a "princess and teddy bear" story time.

The magic formula:

One Limoges plate fit for a princess.

Two butter cookies.

Two teddy bears.

Two new storybooks, "Corduroy" and "Bear Snores On."

Never mind that my comforter is now covered in crumbs, that her royal highness wasn't content with just two stories, and that she didn't want to go to bed afterward.  The drama of being two years old is continuous, but the happy little moments spent snuggled together reading a good book are the ones that matter.

Home again

I have a sink full of dishes, a bedroom full of six overflowing suitcases to unpack, a jet-lagged toddler singing crazily to her stuffed animals in her crib, a bad head cold, a brand new computer to hook into my wireless network and absolutely nothing to complain about.

I had a wonderful vacation and have so much to write about here. 

I will have to tackle it a little bit at a time, because in just three weeks we celebrated Bee's birthday, visited a multitude of relatives, took endless shopping trips to Target and Tysons Corner Mall, drove to Charlottesville for the day, spent a night without Bee (the first) in Washington VA, met Cinderella at Disney World, and found paradise on a Disney cruise. Our return trip back to Eastern Europe could form the plot of an Indiana Jones movie.  There is so much to savor and bemoan in the retelling.  

Right now though, I have a daughter who needs my immediate attention.  More tomorrow.

Right now though, I am off to put my nest in order and then off to bed.