The Book Fairy

I crammed my backpack full of reading material for the trip. Our van and popup trailer were so full of stuff that I ended up riding with my left leg propped up on the backpack like a leg rest, except that instead of relaxing my leg, it prompted several cramps that had to be stomped to life or stretched out at the rest stops.

These books were carefully selected for both reading interest and disposability; that is, I purposefully chose books I would enjoy, but that I could easily part with, even if it meant assuring my book-loving soul that I can easily find another just as cheap on Half.com when I got home. Theoretically my leg rest would shrink during the trip and I would gain shelf space upon my return home.

I've tried this in the past and ended up loving the book so much I wanted to keep it. I couldn't part with it; the story had become part of me. But this time I must have chosen perfectly--I enjoyed most of them, yet felt free to part with them all.

The first book I completed was Divine Secrets of the Ya-Ya Sisterhood. I read it on the drive down, so early upon arrival at the campground I stuck a Post-It on the cover that read, "FREE BOOK--I'm finished with it. It's yours! Take it!" I set it on a bench outside the bathhouse where campers could sit while their clothes dried in the dryer. It was gone by the time I exited the showers.

Next up was a goofy book by Hugh Prather that wasn't at all what I thought it would be. I left it with a "free book" sign, and it too disappeared shortly after depositing it on the bench. There were a few others, all equally well received I presume, based on their disappearance.

The final book was an Anne Tyler book, Patchwork Planet, and I had the pleasure of coming upon the finder as she studied it. She was a tall, long-haired, long-faced, serious-looking slender woman waiting for her significant other. I came out of the restroom a few minutes earlier than my kids so I stood waiting and watched her out of the corner of my eye. She was perusing the back, then the inside flaps of the dustcover. While she flipped it around, studying the cover, running her hand over it and re-reading the Post-it note, a guy came out and asked, "What's that?"

"A book!" she exclaimed. She seemed to wonder if there was a catch--was it really a book? Was it really an Anne Tyler book? Was it really free?

"What?" he said.

"It's a book--a free book!" she responded, growing convinced. "It was just sitting there."

"Oh?"

"Yeah," she said. She seemed to have settled on it, stuffed it under her arm, lit a cigarette, and walked off with the guy and the book.

My kids came out of the restroom as the couple strolled in the opposite direction. As we headed back to our campsite, the kids and I chatted momentarily about the mockingbird on a palm branch in the brush along the path. When I was sure I was out of earshot from the couple, I told them about the book and her studying the dustcover and her delight in finding it. I said I felt like the Book Fairy.

"A Book Fairy!" they said, "That's perfect for you, Mom!"

Ask God Anything--ages 11 and under

"If you could ask God anything, what would you ask?" I posed this question to my kids one morning. They tilted their heads this way and that, pondering this opportunity. Some of their responses:

"What is heaven like?"

"Why did you make us?"

"Why do we eat and go to the bathroom?"

"Why did You make germs and sicknesses?"

"Why did He make some people smart and some not so smart?"

"Why are some people shy?"

"Can I know everything possible about horses, including how to ride?"

"How can you make your hair curly, like, for a week?"

We're back from a camping trip to Florida. Our last day we walked out on the state park pier and saw a bride in her wedding dress being photographed on the sand as the sun was setting on the Gulf waters. My son started jumping up and down, shrieking, "Come quick! You're missing it--you're missing it!" In a panicked voice, he started running to us as we leisurely strolled and watched the poses. His voice high and shrill, head dropping with frustration at our unresponsiveness, he insisted, "You're missing it!!"

"We can see it!" I said. "We can see the whole thing."

He sighed heavily and plopped onto the worn wood, legs dangling, staring. We strolled along toward him, and he joined us as we made our way to the end and stood next to the fishermen, staring off at the horizon in the fading light.

On our way back to the car, moseying along the pier, we said, "That was really nice."

"Ya, except we missed the whole marriage."

He thought they were getting married at that instant on the beach and we were squandering the opportunity to witness it. "I've never been to a marriage before," he said wistfully. She did look beautiful lounging on the sand in her shiny white dress, hair in an up-do, princess-like. I would have liked a beach wedding. I actually voiced that thought, and my eldest--a knowing tweener--made a face and said, "Yes, but you're already married. You don't need a wedding, so..." she trailed off. I grinned, and my husband said, "If I knew what I know about you now and the intensity of your love of the ocean, I'd probably have flown someplace with you and let you have that beach wedding." Ah, well...it's too late now. Fifteen years too late.

Popup Apologies & Thomas Jefferson

My mom reports that the website I sent you to was one of the most annoying she's ever visited, not only with multiple layers of popups, but popups that can't be closed. I guess my popup blocker is doing its job, because I didn't experience that when I visited it.

I do apologize for any inconvenience this has caused you.

On another note, I opened up the Writers' Almanac today and read about Thomas Jefferson. There were a few details that stood out to me personally. According to The Writers' Almanac, today is the day Jefferson was appointed American ambassador to France (following Ben Franklin) in 1785. On his trans-Atlantic boat ride, Jefferson read _Don Quixote_, the book I am currently finishing up. It appears, however, that unlike me, Jefferson was reading it in Spanish using a Spanish dictionary (I'm reading a translation). He learned French from books, which has been my primary means of learning the language as well. Thus he had some difficulty communicating when he arrived in France (as do I). By the time he got to Paris, they say he had fallen in love with the city. I can't explain this phenomenon, but I generally avoid cities and enjoy very little about them; yet, I have thoroughly enjoyed Paris during multiple visits and given a little more time there, I might even fall in love with it.

One of the things he loved best about Paris was the book shopping. Here again, my personal connection to this statement is obvious to anyone who knows me. I love the quote they pulled: "I suffer from the malady of bibliomania." My husband would accuse me of the same. Unfortunately, our visits to Paris have been short, so I haven't had time to peruse the bookstores. It's probably just as well. Otherwise I would likely face weight limits at the airport check-in. We have settled for lighter reading picked up on the fly during our whirlwind visits: copies of Asterix and TinTin have stowed away amongst our socks and jeans.

My neighbor and I co-subscribe to a magazine called The Week that summarizes stories from many news sources. A fun little bit about Matthew McConaughey caught my eye in an issue from February 10, but I can't seem to find the version from The Week. A quick Internet search located the probable original source. The original version (see link below) is written casually--so casually, in fact, that there's one four-letter word (modified with an "ing") in it, but not one so horrifying that you will be stunned. Just be warned if you do go to this site. Also, I clicked on the link several times and none of the ads was offensive, but again, I'm not 100 percent sure. It looks to be okay; nevertheless, click at your own risk. The article, if you're remotely interested, quotes McConaughey on his down-to-earth choices on a second home. Just read the first page. You'll get the coolest quotes. I loved it.

http://men.style.com/details/features/full?id=content_4121&pageNum=2

A few days ago we drove up to the house and noticed a box on the front porch.

"That's weird," I said, "I'm not expecting anything."

"I'll get it!" one of the kids announced, squeezing out the door before it was completely open, then bounding to the porch. We watched her squint at the label, then gently shake the box as she walked back to the van. "It's maracas!" she confidently announced.

Lost-maracas girl gasped, unclicked her seatbelt and attempted to hurl herself over the seats in a rush toward the box. Instead it was handed to her, and she opened it in the car. I watched her reaction, almost as delighted as she was. Indeed, she received maracas, beautiful wooden maracas with a hand-painted island scene in black, with a band green above and red below the artwork. They were laquered, glossy, classy, real instruments. Once inside, she spent the rest of the afternoon listening to the radio, shaking and experimenting, then running to where I was in order to illustrate the pattern she discerned.

"That song is more like this," she'd announce, then demonstrate shake-shake-pause, shake-shake-pause, or shaaaaaaaake, shake-shake. Each time she was nearly breathless with wonder, living in an extended state of delighted discovery.

They sit in a place of honor, out of reach of the stick-chewing dog and the careless little brother, ready for any moment inspiration may hit and some percussive shaking is in order.

Thank you, Grandma!