A foggy mind comes, perhaps, from the densely foggy weather outside. Perhaps you'll not appreciate the rich color of our morning breakfasts, but on these misty gray days, I surely do.
In my free morning hours, I go to the post office to mail in my passport with an application for a new one. That means for sure I will not be going anywhere, even if the airlines were to be giving me free airline tickets in the weeks ahead.
It is a nostalgic moment because the old passport had ten years of travel stamped into it and there is this slightly archaic thought that every stamp represents a grand adventure. I say archaic because I am convinced that passports will soon become obsolete and even now, stamps do not match the countries you'll have visited. One stamp upon entering the EU is all you'll get in your European travels (well, I suppose if you also go to the UK you'll now get two) and when you return to the U.S., the immigration officer wont bother stamping your book announcing your return unless you ask her or him to do it.
Then I go to pick up Snowdrop.
Passing the lesser lake, I look out at the ice fisher people (I've never seen a woman out there, but of course, I could have missed one or two in my informal gazing). The fog and the coldness from the (one hopes) iced over lake makes this such an odd place to hang out for hours on end! You have to give people credit for loving every conceivable form of adventure -- distant travel, sitting still on a cold lake -- we really are an unusual species.
Snowdrop and I have been reading a book about a little boy, Alfie, who loves to stomp his feet in puddles and I don't know if this is behind the little one's recent love of puddles or if it's just a developmental thing where all two year olds love puddles, but Snowdrop has grown really fond of splashing her way to wherever she's going. I'm a bit apprehensive, not only because her rubbers are at home, but also because there is still a thin layer of ice underneath that puddle formation and I can just see her landing on her rear end in that muddy, icy water, but I try not to appear to be the kind of grandma who minds, so I hide behind my camera and watch her do her thing.
On the way in, she picks up the pinwheel that once clung to the side of the snowman. She wants to take it inside, but it's muddy and a bit wet. I tell her there are others in the house. Okay, she'll take this and play with it along with the others!
And play she does!
After she tires of running back and forth, I give her something I had purchased in Poland -- two little magnets of girls dressed in traditional costumes. Not that anyone but a Pole would notice, but one (top) is from the highland region and the other (bottom) is from the Warsaw region so I think I covered my travel route by including both.
She is delighted by them! (Honestly, I'd seek out a Polish outfit for her -- I know she would love it -- but she grows like a torpedo and opportunities for showing off a glittery vest and a colorful skirt and apron are rare indeed if your days are filled with school, then afternoons spent at gaga's house.)
After her nap, I bring out another Polish gift -- this one from her great aunt (my sister). She is just at the age when this is just fascinating for her! (Too, the Polish model is delicate in sound -- lovely to the ear.)
Ed is home now and she wants him to try. They play together.
Then she goes back to playing alone.
Together again!
Music! May it fill her days!
If I have trouble with remembering the day of the week, I have no trouble whatsoever remembering that it is January 19th -- my youngest daughter's birthday. Let me post a picture of her from when she was close to three times Snowdrop's age. Scroll up to Snowdrop photos... You can't doubt that they are related!
Happy birthday my sweet sweet child! I wish I could bake your favorite cake for you... Snowdrop would help, I know she would!
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