Book Fairs in the Year 2009....Same ol' same ol'...

Last night our library completed it's week long fundraiser: The Book Fair. Unloading boxes and boxes of brand spankin' new books was delightful. The Book Company sends it's own shelving units resembling ginormous steel briefcases on wheels. The steel cases unlock on the sides, and open up, already pre-filled with brand new books. Of course, if you open the sides too fast, the unit is liable to crash forward and crush an unsuspecting child in the vicinity. Nevertheless, this is apparently the way it IS done and HAS been done forever. So I've just been very conscious of the precious little cherubs innocently browsing the shelves. Anyhooooo....

The Bug had her eye on one particular book, above all other books: The Guinness Book of World Records 2009. She counted out allowance money from her piggy bank, put piles of quarters on the cashier table and brought home The Prize. My first inclination was to guide her toward a different book. And then, I remembered....the tattered, red paperback book that I STILL have in a box in the attic: The Guinness Book of World Records. The only book I ordered from the Book Company when I was in elementary school (way back in the Dark Ages).

Now, back in the olden days the Guinness Book had all kinds of creepy pictures. The photograph that stands out in my memory is the one of the lady with the World's Longest Fingernails. They curled in spirals from her fingers down to her feet and back up again. GROSS. The new Guinness Book is in color and doesn't have any gross pictures, which is nice. It's full of facts like "The World's Biggest Fireworks Display" and other non-gruesome items.

This morning, the Bug followed me around the house and read OUT LOUD, page by page, from the Guinness Book. She was a little me, and I had to grin remembering the olden days...and my own little tattered red paperback treasure...

Stars, Shadow Creatures and Patio Pancakes

So we HAD to run some errands this evening, I figured it would be nice to have groceries in the house. Anyhooooo....by the time we arrived home, it was dark. The kids were mesmerized by the stars. The Pea ran inside and grabbed some quilts, the Bug dug out a flashlight. We met on the patio and snuggled up on the hammock. The Bug on my right, the Pea on my left. It was warm and toasty under the quilt. We stared at the stars and the Pea pointed out all of the "consternations" she could identify. Every now and then a blinking plane floated by and the Pea asked whether I figured the plane really hopped from star to star? "Mommy, God created ALL of those stars. They are in 'the heavens' just like my Bible verse in Genesis says!"
The squirmy Bug beside me jumped off the hammock, which in turn flung the Pea and me toward the patio rocks. We almost became patio pancakes! But I leveled the hammock before we went splat. The two of us were a bit catywampus under the quilt, but finally the hammock rocked to a rest. At this point, I noticed the Bug had propped the flashlight between the wrought iron of the patio chair. The light pointed toward the brick of the house, illuminating the perfect nighttime stage for Shadow Creatures. She experimented with a myriad of shadows. At one point, the Pea shouted, "Oh look! It's an eagle! Oh, no...I mean a car! Oh, wait...what is that?" Giggles, giggles, giggles. I snuggled closer and gazed upward at a million stars.
Just when I thought the moment couldn't get any better...the patio door opened. My husband was home, safe and sound after a long work day in another city. He grabbed up the Bug in one arm, and the Pea in the other, and carried them in the house. We tucked them in bed, under toasty quilts, to dream of the heavens and the earth and the 'star hopping' planes...

Cliffs STEEPED in Memories...

A few days ago the family ventured to the Virginia/West Virginia border. It was Fall Break, and the Husband decided it was time The Bug and The Pea discovered where he grew up. "When I was a kid....When I was a kid..." he'd say. They try to take it all in - to figure out what it was like.
We drive by the "old" house. "When I was a kid, Father and I would take cement and repair this stone wall....When I was a kid, we'd climb as high as we could to the top of this tree!" he gets a faraway look in his eye as he remembers.
"Look, girls! See that middle window? THAT was my room! No, not there, the MIDDLE window. No, we can't go inside. Someone else lives there now."
We drive up the road a ways. "Look up there girls, that's where I went to elementary school!"
"There?" they squint. "It's so small..."
"Well, it USED to be bigger. Or maybe it just seemed bigger. Hmmm. Looks like it's a business college now."
We drive further down the road. "Girls, that's where I went to high school. Well...most of high school. Before I moved to Kentucky. You know, I was on their very first Cross Country Team!"
This means nothing to the Bug and the Pea, but they smile obligingly.
"Honey," I say, "They don't know what Cross Country means..."
"Oh, running. Girls, I used to run in long races. After school we'd practice running, the other guys and me. We'd start right here..." He points out the window.
We drive up the road through a neighborhood.
"Girls, when we got to here...to this point...we'd STILL be running!"
The road turns to gravel as we head up the mountain.
"What was I doing NOW?" he asks.
"STILL RUNNING!" they reply in unison.
The car hugs the side of the mountain and the gravel rattles in the tire wells. I grab the handle on the car door, I can't bear to see how close we are to the edge of the cliff.
"What was I doing NOW girls? At this point on the mountain?" he asks.
"STILL RUNNING!" they chant.
The road winds around the mountain and I grip the handle tighter. We continue to drive and I begin to wonder if the road EVER ends, and if it does--how are we ever going to turn the car around without tumbling over the edge?
The Husband sees I'm ready for this literal trip down memory lane to end on flat terrain.
"Almost there..." he promises, and I loosen my grip.
"Your team must have been amazing - ALL of you ran up this mountain after school every day?" I conjecture. He grins. The path is a 5k...all uphill. I can see he's forgotten what a feat it actually was.
"Of course, I was skinny as a rail back then," he grins.
We finally reach the mountain top. It's barely big enough for our compact car to turn around. The Husband, The Bug and The Pea get out to investigate the peak. "Look at that view! You can see everything from up here!" I take their word for it, heights are not my gig. I silently pray the kids aren't scurrying toward the edge. I'm frozen and can't bear to look. A moment later, they pile back into the car.
"Once we touched that rock, we'd turn around and run back to the school. When we reached the school, Cross Country practice was over!" remembers the Husband.
"WE want to run down the hill!" the girls plead.
"NO!" I panic. The Husband grins. We cruise back down the mountain...in the car.
A little bit of history re-lived, a precious journey shared with two daughters.
"Now what?" asks the youngest...

Feelin' a Bit Poetical in the Blustery Wind...

The wind tide rushes toward crinkly leaves,
Leaves clinging to spindly branches.
The breeze catches my bare toes,
Tag You're It!
Off over the picket fence,
Begging me to follow.
The tide races back,
Slate storm clouds creep overhead.
Milkweed swooshes past,
Floating autumn snowflake.
Tiny glimpse of cornflower blue sky.
Red leaf para sailing from the highest bough,
Toward the newly whitewashed wrought iron chair.
The drums' rhythm meanders through the courtyard.
Trumpets herald the school fight song,
Storm clouds still tease.
The wind tide rocks the trees,
Not only the yellow and red, but the green one.
Green one with the slender curly leaves,
Leaning against the attic's shuttered pane.
Ivy vines hug tight the wood,
They mock the swaying monkey grass.
Grass as tall as me.
A single chirp of warning.
Rain is near.

At The Copa...Copa - Cabana...

So Big Blue, my eight year old Taurus, was side-swiped this week. As Big Blue heads to "the shop," the collection of CDs transfers to our borrowed car. (Thank you shout out to my mother-in-law for the loaner...) Absentmindedly, I grabbed a CD from the stack, put it in the car's CD player and hit the road. The music was a collection of John Denver hits.
I will tell you right now, I feel it is a sign of superior parenting that both the Bug and the Pea can belt out, "Thank God I'm a Country Boy" and "Country Road, Take Me Home..." while simultaneously playing 'air fiddle' and 'air banjo' in the backseat. Now don't get me wrong, they can also sing HSM I, II & III hits as well as Jonas Brothers and Hannah Montana songs.
Growing up, my brother and I were mercilessly plagued with the likes of Barry Manilow hits on road trips. To this day, we can harmonize with the best of 'em: "Her name was Lo-la...She was a show-girl...with yellow feathers in her hair..." We teased my mother every time she put on the album or cassette. We'd roll our eyes. We'd give each other the knowing, "Here we go AGAIN," look. But before we knew it, we were tapping our feet and humming along, and then bursting out in full song, "At the COPA...COPA CABANA..." Ah. Good times.
I ran an errand by myself today, and the John Denver CD was playing in the car. Now that I'm older, I pay more attention to the lyrics. His songs are fun and lovely. "You Fill Up My Senses..." brings tears to my eyes. "Hey, it's good to be back home again..." makes me lonesome for my folks. But from this point forward, when I hear the Country Boy words about "Cakes on the griddle..." I can't help but think about the Pea, in the back seat, explaining to a carpooling friend, "Not Birthday Cakes, silly...it's PANCAKES!"