Skip to main content

Days 23-29



I’m eating Doritos right at this very minute because last week, my Austrian friend took me shopping. We went to a place called The Snack Shop that sells all kinds of American junk food. I succumbed, but I hadn’t broken into them until today, probably because there’s so much amazing regular food that who needs junk food?

So, yes, I ate Doritos today, but I also listened to parts of Mozart’s The Magic Flute. That must cancel out the Doritos, right? Better yet, I got a library card! Which has absolutely nothing to do with either Doritos or Mozart, but it makes me happy.

Anyway, since the last time I wrote, I have attended a Back to School Night and met all the teachers and got all the forms and signed all the paperwork.


I took the gingerbread boy to Prague last weekend solo because the Gingerbread Man was presenting at a conference in New York. I navigated Prague—there, around, and back. Are you impressed? I am. Especially because my data didn’t work while we were there. And this is me we’re talking about.

Lost Girl.

We didn’t see any of the things one would normally see in Prague because we’ll be back again with the Gingerbread Man, but we did hit up a gingerbread museum (well, duh! Of course we did) and an old book store.



We ate some street food (fresh potato chips, sweet cylinders of dough), met a VCFA friend of mine for lunch (Love that Ellen Yeomans!) and learned that the Czechs do some amazing things with sauerkraut.


We walked across the Charles Bridge, had a Thai massage which alternately felt like I was getting beaten up and like the best massage ever, and found ourselves in the middle of a marathon. We took a walking tour with the Night Watchman, had ice cream in those amazing dough cone-things, attended mass at the cathedral (much to the amazement of the keepers of the door: “You want to go to mass? In Czech? Sit for an hour?”), walked down the narrowest street in the world, and slept in an amazing room that was as fairytale as they come.




I went to the Naschmarkt on Monday, simply to keep the Gingerbread Man from falling asleep. A four day trip to the States does not make for a happy circadian rhythm. We somehow ended up purchasing about $25 of green olives. I’m still kind of scratching my head about how that went down. Perhaps I can chalk it up to jet lag?




I’m making plans now for our first big trip to Italy in October. I also checked out information for a trip to the Netherlands in April. This weekend? Tacofest at Mexikoplatz, and a big flea market. Hopefully, we won’t come away from it with a ridiculous number of olive pitters.

Tschuss!


Comments

Popular posts from this blog

Hot Chocolate with Whipped Cream

Each morning, you stand by the window watching your boys until they're on the bus or picked up. You watch them leave your circle of safety and hope for the best. You can't know what that day will bring. Nothing, maybe. Or maybe a bomb threat. Maybe a math test. Maybe a lockdown drill. Or maybe a real lockdown. But on this day, there is something different. A rally. A walk-out. A demonstration. Your oldest son asked if you'd call to have him dismissed and bring him downtown to attend the demonstration. You want your voice to be heard, and even more, you want your son's voice to be heard, so you call the school, you pick him up, you drive downtown. You don't know what to expect, but the reality makes you weepy. A crowd of teenagers, many carrying hand-drawn signs stand gathered in front of the church, chanting. Adults congregate around the edges. A band plays, keeping time for the chants. Horns honk as their drivers show support. One man in a truck wags his fi...

The Clothesline

Once upon a time, back when there were only three of you, you packed up all your stuff, loaded it in a truck, and drove (westward ho!), landing yourselves in Michigan. It was time for a Life Adventure. The Gingerbread Man had finished an MBA, and together, you decided more graduate school was in your future. So you sold your house, ending up five-seven-nine hours away from your respective families. Faced with your situation, most women would get a job with a paycheck, but you are not most women. You had a job, a full-time job and then some: the gingerbread boy. He just didn't come with a paycheck. You know some would be quick to criticize that choice, calling you selfish or stupid or a drain on society. But you weren't. Instead of making money, you made do. You knew the difference between want and need . You owned your car. You owned a house. There was no cell phone, no cable. You had dial-up internet, but no consumer debt. You had a Kitchen Aid. You knew how to make brea...

The Greening

Sadness spreads like a sower scattering seeds. The seeds find fertile ground in her and land there, burrowing into her skin, into the deep down places where they sprout, nurtured unwittingly by blood and bone. Shoots spread forth growing both inward and outward, and she wonders if she will ever be able to root them all out. It is like pulling at a dandelion only to have stem detach from root and downy fluff fly off, enabling dozens more dandelions to take root. There is no cause for the sadness; it just is, like cold in winter, like leaves in fall, like rain in April. It sits there, within her, growing bigger each day, a pregnancy gone horribly wrong, and she feels the shame of it. But a breeze blows by, bringing different seeds, renegade seeds, hopeful seeds. They sprout in the midst of all the sadness; they choke it out. When she looks out the window today, she realizes that the world around her is greening. She decides that she will too. She will choose joy.