Import Store

Since the boys and I are reading The Cricket in Times Square, by George Selden, we decided we should have a pet cricket. So last Saturday, we all went to Chinatown looking for one.

First, we had dim sum breakfast. We were - literally - the only people in this very large, opulently decorated restaurant. I use the word "opulent" advisedly. Some people would say it's garish, but they're probably not Chinese.

Breakfast cost us $15. I convinced R to eat a chicken foot by telling him he would get tons of mileage out of it at meeting the next day. He ate one, and got tons of mileage the next day.

After eating, we walked all over Chinatown to find a cricket cage and a cricket, but there were none. In fact, none of the funky Chinese gift shops were open! So, we crossed into Old Town and found an import store called The Monkey and the Rat. Every item in stock was 50% off.

We bought four items, for a whopping total of $24.50. This was the most successful morning I've had in a while, at least in the shopping and dining department.


This dragon is made of rope.

Coke-can airplane.

Silk!

Book Confession

When I'm looking at a beautiful room in a magazine like Better Homes or Sunset or House Beautiful, I turn the magazine sideways and squint to read the book titles on the homeowner's shelves.

I hope someone else does this besides me.

It's fascinating, though, because sometimes on the shelf of some stranger in Atlanta is I book I've read and liked. I learn a little about them, too - like which art they prefer or where they like to travel. For some reason, it seems that fancy-home people read a lot of Penguin books (the publisher, not the bird).

NEWS FLASH! My house is never getting in a magazine, so no-one can snoop on my bookshelves without being here. Of course you're all welcome to visit, but today I'll save you the bother and submit a pictorial list of some of my favorites. As you can see, I don't read much fiction any more. To paraphrase my brother-in-law, I now find real life much more interesting.

Here are my books to read daily:



The next two photos are books I've kept around for years:




These, I read recently:

Some good titles not pictured are:
My Life in France by Julia Child (thank you, Beth T, for the loan)

The First American: The Life and Times of Benjamin Franklin by H.W. Brands

Same Kind of Different as Me by Ron Hall & Denver Moore
Eats, Shoots and Leaves by Lynne Truss

Eats, Shoots and Leaves is a scream. In fact, it may be the subject of a future post.

TTFN, as Tigger says.

What Sort of Helicopter are You?

Last Sunday the local newspaper ran a big article about the trends of the last decade like Facebook, Twitter, Netflix, Wii, staycations, etc. One item in particular amused us, though: helicopter parents.

The article defined helicopter parents as people who hover over their children and appear obsessed about the safety and achievement level of their offspring. I've seen parents like this, and so have you.

(Am I one? Sometimes. I hover at the county fair, because all the lights and smells and colors overstimulate me and I keep losing visual track of my kids. I visited a website about helicopters, and it said, "A helicopter is an assembly of forty thousand separate pieces, flying loosely in formation." That's about how I feel at the county fair.)

The Spouse and I discussed the matter, and we decided you can be a helicopter parent if you're the right kind. We think we're police-helicopter parents: "WE HAVE YOU SURROUNDED. COME OUT WITH YOUR HANDS UP!"

Of course, there are nice helicopters like Harold: "Baahd wethah due, mind how you go."

We could forego aircraft altogether, though, and just tell our kids to buckle up and hang on.

Occasionally, during stressful moments of parenting, I'm tempted to roar off all by myself. (I actually do plenty of the roaring, but why do I never end up by myself?)



Whatever type of conveyance we represent as a parents, the Spouse and I have decided we can't do without Galatians 6:9. "And let us not be weary in well doing; for in due season we shall reap, if we faint not."