• The New York Times “The Stories That Bind Us” by Bruce Feiler—YES, YES, YES. I have always loved family stories. Several years ago my mom was sorting through family photos. To help with the labeling process, she dug up all her old wall calendars. I was enthralled with them. For the most part, they were filled with minutia—doctor’s appointments and T-ball games—but I loved reading what my parents did with my sister, brother and I on a Tuesday in March when we were all young and they were my age. I never grow tired of my grandparents’ stories and their parents’ stories. Stories about my dad’s mom at Miami University during a time when many women didn’t go to college. Stories about my mom’s mom roller skating and falling in love with my grandpa in Millersburg, Ohio. Stories about both my grandmothers making meals for lunches that I would consider elaborate Sunday dinners. Stories about my parents, and how they got engaged on the way to a Reds game and how they found out they were pregnant with me by calling the doctor from a pay phone outside a donut shop and how they traveled to Europe when I was in my mom’s belly. I love them. I love them all. And I wish I knew more of them.
• A Georgian diamond floral tiara. Just because.
• We had this for lunch today. It was good.
• A really cool make-your-own-from-your-kid’s-artwork duvet.
• A story about Gabriele Galimberti’s project “Toy Stories” here. My brother sent me the link. It reminded me of this article about James Mollison’s book, Where Children Sleep.
• DIY party blowers.
• Painted Bird Shoes. I’ve long loved them. My in-laws gave me my first pair this Christmas. I was so eager upon opening them that I was, yes, wearing crocheted shoes in snow.
• 2,000 Suspended Dandelions by Regine Ramseier.
• Check out this cute (and free!) Map of the Moon printable poster.
• Love this moment between Billy Joel and a fan.
“Most of the dandelions had changed from suns into moons.” —Vladimir Nabokov
I remember the stuffed animals and dolls I slept with, when I was little. I remember making caves for them with my blanket and legs. I remember feeling guilty about who slept next to me, who did not, and who fell to the floor in the middle of the night. My grandma once told me a story about my aunt taking her new shoes to bed with her. One of my favorite scenes in the movie “A Christmas Story” is when both brothers go to bed with their Christmas treasures. Since Sophie was a baby she has gone to bed not only with stuffed animals, but with the bedtime stories she chooses for the night. The boys have begun insisting on sleeping with their favorite car of the day. And James must have the quilt Nini made for him when he was in the NICU. And Owen must have his favorite book, “Goodnight Moon.” There is a comfort in sleeping with something, someone, you love.
The day after Sophie turned 4 she saw a play—”Rapunzel”—at the Taft Theater in Cincinnati with her Grandma and Paw Paw (a birthday gift from her parents). She loved it. She still talks about the actors who ran off the stage, with the same enthusiasm and awe as I retold the story of the children running out from underneath Mother Gigogne’s skirt in “The Nutcracker,”—a play I saw with my mom and grandma when I was about Sophie’s age. I still have the souvenir playbook from the ballet—I put it out every Christmas. At the end of “Rapunzel,” Grandma bought Sophie a tiara.
She loves it.
‘There is a latent fairy in all women, but look how carefully we have to secrete her in order to be taken seriously. And fairies come in all shapes, colors, sizes and types, they don’t have to be fluffy. They can be demanding and furious if hey like. They do, however, have to wear a tiara. That much is compulsory.” —Dawn French