And we're off. . . .

. . .it's a short weekend in Maryland. (Damn that whole Kindergarten, got to send your kid to school thing; I miss the days we could leave on Friday and come home on Monday or Tuesday.)

If all the dominoes fall into place, we'll be at my mother's by 5:00 pm, I'll get the kids settled in and then be off to see Lindsey to get the grey out. Tomorrow we go to the National Lutheran Home's Fall Festival; the spring and fall shindigs have been regular events on our social calendar for years now. A long, long time ago, when the Home was at 18th and Douglas Streets, NE in DC, these events were a kid's dream. My mother would parole me from school on the afternoon of the Spring Festival, there would be huge, white tents on the lawn, the tables of crafts (Barbie clothes!) would just boggle the mind. The Fall Festival was usually in the evening and we went as a family with my grandparents. When I got old enough (7th/8th grades) I got to put on an apron along side my Grandma and serve dinners. I thought I was all that and a bag of chips.

Some of the links to the past remain, there is still a "Stamp Table" where collectors can buy stamps. My Grandma volunteered for years in the Stamp Room. She brought home bags of the corners of envelopes with the stamps on them, she soaked them off and put the stamps between sheets of newspapers and then placed the newspapers under the dining room table to dry. This was also how I started stamp collecting. The costume jewelry table, which used to be manned by ladies from St. Peter's, my former church in DC.

Instead of the thrill of hand-sewn and hand-crocheted Barbie clothes, it's going to my mother's friend's home. She quilts, and quilts are the Barbies for adults (or at least the adult me.) She made Thea's bed quilt, our 100 Good Wishes Quilt and multiple nap quilts that are around the house.

Anyway, enough of the memory lane meanderings and pre-quilt viewing droolings, I've got to pack.

Sunday there is a parade in LaPlata for Veterans' Day - Oma has said there will be Clydesdale horses at the parade. Micah will either a) be thrilled beyond his wildest horse dreams and want to ride or b) shriek in fear at the size of those beasts. I'm hoping for fear, much of our rides to and from the babysitter's involve conversations about riding horses:

M: Ride HORSEY, Mommy?
L: Not today, sweetie.
M: Ride cow, Mommy? (We pass a farm with cows.)
L: No, you don't RIDE cows, I don't think that the cows would like that.
M: No ride cow, RIDE HORSIE (giggle). RIDE HORSE NOW? Puppy dog RIDE HORSEY?
L: Your puppy dog is too little to ride a horse, he would need to ride in your backpack.
M: Micah RIDE HORSEY with BACKPACK?

The variations on this theme are seemingly endless, at least to Micah. Our other constant conversational thread is "RIDE CHOO CHOO, Mommy?" which goes something like this:

M: Micah go Oma's, ride choo choo?
L: Choo Choo is sleeping. (It's closed for the season, but try to get that concept into the two-year old mind.)
M: Ride Choo Choo LAY-TER.
L: Right. (Much later, like Spring 2009).
M: Micah ride Choo Choo with Daddy?

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Did you notice that I've put a photo in the Profile section? It was made by an artist who is on etsy.com. She took pictures of the kids and turned them into little dolls, complete with their favorite stuff animals. The mommy figure bears no ressemblane to me, except for maybe the wide bottom and stupefied expression. Have a good weekend.