The Magic Toy Store

Walking down 91st Street I sometimes think I will see Meg Ryan reprising her role of shopgirl Kathleen Kelly in the movie "You've Got Mail".  She played the perky, smiling owner of a quaint independent book store located on a side street in NYC.  Customers at her shop received individualized care and it was a quiet place to pass a few hours purveying the shelves for that gem of a book that makes you crave a rainy afternoon. That's the feeling I get what I call The Magic Toy Store.

How could a person not be drawn to a storefront that is painted purple amongst all of its drab brownstone neighbors? The storefront lights twinkle and the window display cases are packed with games and dolls and push poppers, all in the brightest colors imaginable. Inside the shelves are stocked with trucks and sparkly tutus and easy bake ovens and dinosaurs and, well yes, everything a small tot's or tottie's heart might desire.

As grandma to The Wee One this store has provided for many entertaining visits to choose just the right item to add to his toy basket. His Jack in the Box and Easter chick and Halloween bath toy and whirly gig were all purchased after much musing and touching and testing. The clerk at the store is always quick to ask what age of child I am purchasing for and make recommendation based on past purchases. The icing on the cake is an almost mandatory gift wrap of the toy with tissue, ribbon, and if you want, a balloon. Even though The Wee One will no longer be upstairs I have a feeling my need for toy gifts will not abate. And I know where I will be going to get them.

The Magic Toy Store.

Catching Up. Always.

Remnants of a fun vacation

I am the Fits and Starts of all bloggers. I seem to be always catching up. There must be something to be said for the seeming inactivity of my life when I can blog once every thirty days and call it good. So here goes......

Vacation

Right after I did NOT leave my heart in Paris I proceeded to leave what seemed like most of my disposable income all over the rest of Europe. Giverny, London, Belgium, and Germany. Not that I purchased anything exciting. Most of our expenses were lodging and fuel and tours. The sand from the beaches of Normandy was free, the surreal walk down the staircase of Downton Abbey cost a few pounds, and the ride through the Chunnel was exorbitantly expensive because I didn't purchase the tickets at least twenty four hours in advance. (Lesson learned.) I did purchase Starbucks mugs in Germany and Amsterdam and I've found that starting my day with windmills inspires me in a Don Quixote kind of way.

                                Birthday

I am a Leo so this is my birthday month. Cake and ice cream don't hold quite the allure as they once did but I have to say this years cake, well, took the cake.

Cronuts (TM) are all the rage here in NYC. For the uninitiated this concoction, a baked good that combines a croissant and a donut, was developed by a bakery in Soho and is selling like, um, hotcakes. People are waiting in line for HOURS before the bakery opens just to get their shot at the maximum daily limit of two Cronuts (TM) each. Once the goods are gone for the day, usually no later than 10AM and sometimes by 8am, you are out of luck. Not being the morning person that I am it's safe to say I have never tasted a Cronut (TM). However, I did celebrate my birthday with a Dossaint, an equally tasty combination of a donut and croissant. Designed (or should I say constructed?) and named by the family of The Wee One that lives upstairs it served as my birthday cake. Never have I been so happy to turn 0.

                          Moving
Speaking of The Wee One. He and his toy basket that resides in my apartment are moving to Florida on Friday. Beaches as opposed to concrete playgrounds, boats as opposed to the buses he is thrilled to point out on every walk around the city, and car rides instead of stroller/subway/taxi rides are in his near future. It will be a happy place for him with cousins and another set of grandparents nearby. He won't have to share a bathroom with his parents anymore (which they are probably much more thrilled about than he is), he will have three spacious floors of a condominium to explore as opposed to two small rooms in an apartment, and he will get to go up and down stairs instead of elevators.

I am happy for him and his little family, I really am. But I know I am going to miss his visits in the evening after bath time and that fragrance of lavender baby lotion. Grandpa is going to miss lap time in front of the computer for endless loops of Wheels on the Bus. We are both going to miss those daily hugs and kisses.

But who knows? We have a year left on our NYC lease and then I may have to rename this blog Midwest to Midtown to Miami. We shall see.

Leaving Paris With My Heart

Posted from Paris

                                   

(Considering my last post was about toilets you have to figure this post will be better.)

My impressions of Paris are mixed. I want to love it. My heart says this is a beautiful city and I feel I am being courted to fall in love with it. My head wants to know what the attraction is and encourages me to move on.

The iconic landmarks are intact but graffiti is over everything else. The quaint bicycle riders are everywhere but so are the insanely prolific and crazy motorcycle riders. And I do mean CRAZY. They weave in and out of traffic in such close proximity to your vehicle that I am surprised we don't end up with some riders in our car with us. (And this topic makes me sad because I think of a certain Princess that should be holding her first grand son in her arms at this very moment were it not for crazy Parisian  motorcyclists.) The median age where we have been seems to be 20 to 30'ish, unless we are touring. Then it rises to 50 to 60'ish. Cigarette smoking is very prevalent and, maybe it's my imagination, people don't smile a lot. 

And then there's the heat, possibly the reason why there are few smiles. Air conditioning in buildings hundreds of years old? No. Thank goodness our hotel is not one of them. Now if someone, maybe those efficient Germans, can figure out how to air condition the outdoors it will make touring more of a delight. As it was I'm not sure how much about Louis the Thirteenth, Fourteenth, and Fifteenth I remember while touring Versailles today. I tried to move through the palace as quickly as I could so no one could trace the puddles of sweat to me. How in the world did Marie Antoinette stand around in corsets and bloomers on these hot summer days? 

So while I think as a young rebellious person I would have yearned to indulge in a Parisian lifestyle.......oh heck, who am I kidding? I was NEVER a young rebellious person and had I been introduced to Paris in my early years I wouldn't have known what to do with her. 

Tomorrow I leave Paris with my heart intact.

    

There's Flush And Then There's FLUSH!

   

                                       

I am not even remotely tempted to post a picture of my water closet at home, but here? Yes. Not to be impolite but these Germans have the toilet process figured out.

Mr. Y is still getting used to driving a manual gear shift in our rental car. Almost all cars here have manual gears because how are you going to zip around the Autobahn in an automatic? Now I've discovered there are two gears on our toilet, or toilette. There is the "Seriously, why are you bothering to flush?" gear, and SERIOUSLY, you need to flush!" gear. No automatic, sensored hurricane behind you as with airport toilets. At first I thought this was just a nifty feature of our Air Force Base accommodations, military efficiency and all that, but that is not the case. This flushing feature has been at every public restroom I've been in and there have been several. (What about traveling dehydrates a person SO much that they have to drink liters and liters of water every day!?) Pushing the small circle generates a moderate amount of flushing water, pushing the big circle gives you flushing on steroids. It's a great system. 

The other bathroom perk is attendants in most of the public restrooms. You walk into the restroom, hand the attendant a small coin, and you are guaranteed to be "taking care of business" in an immaculate, sterile, and aromatically freshened stall. This is because as soon as you emerge she is right back in there spritzing and fussing and getting ready for the next guest. I can tell you that some of our restrooms at Grand Central could use some of their attention.

So, that's my ode to German technology and courtesy at it's finest. 

Flush on!

Thank Goodness

Posted from Spangdahlem Air Force Base, near Trier, Germany

Thank goodness we have a serviceman in the family. We get to wake up to "Reveille" every morning at our base accommodations and we listen to "Taps" each night. 

Thank goodness European countries require their school children to be proficient in two, and sometimes three, foreign languages. One of them is English. 

Thank goodness for fun family members to travel with. The fact that the BBIL was convinced that Damen (women) in German means Mensroom is a story for another time. 

Thank goodness for "Inga" our GPS. She is directing us around the Germany without too much "Recalculating". Today she told us of a real time 'stagnation' on the highway and provided a beautiful detour. She's a keeper.

Thank goodness for good ol' Pizza Hut Express when you get back to the base late and everything else is closed down.

Thank goodness German people have a good sense of humor. The buildings are so close to the streets and the streets so narrow that it's hard to tell the them from sidewalks. And I do believe we drove down a sidewalk to find a breakfast place to eat this morning. (Inga?) As we emerged we had several tables of locals smiling and shaking their heads. 

Thank goodness we have speed limits in the USA. Driving on the Autobahn with cars zipping by at over 100 MPH is a wee bit nerveracking.

Thank goodness cigarette vending machines are a thing of the past back home. They are quite commonplace here.

Thank goodness a fondness for flowers is universal. Here I feel like I've died and gone to "Flower Heaven". Window boxes are growing on me (no pun intended).

Thank goodness taking vacation pictures and sharing them quickly has taken the place of sitting in someone's darkened living room for a slide show on "How I Spent My Summer Vacation".

                               

                                       Looking out at vineyards on the Moselle River

Ready To Meet The Queen

I am prepared to meet The Queen. Granted, she may be busy cooing at her new great grandbaby by the time I get there but nevertheless, I'm ready to be presented. I don't have a ball gown or 6 inch stilettos, and my hair needs to be jazzed up BUT my manicure and pedicure are sparkly and fresh.

One of the nice things about living in the city is the plethora of nail salons. These aren't 5th Avenue salons but when I can perk up all twenty digits at a shop in the neighborhood for less than $25 I think I can at least go that distance to look presentable. 

I'm headed to the airport in less than an hour. My iPad has turned out to be a less than optimum way to post but I'll give it my best shot while out of the country. The last thing I need is a thousand dollar data bill waiting when I get home. 

In the meantime I will be figuring out how to curtsy with my best foot forward.

DEJA VU

The conversation was beginning to sound all too familiar.

Me: Are you taking your hair dryer?
K: Well, I thought I would

K: Should we be checking into calling plans for our phones?
Me: Definitely, but we will be using WiFi in most places.

K: You know pickpocketing is rampant over there?
Me: So I've heard, especially around The Louvre. But what are you going to do? Not go?

Seems like yesterday I was having similar trip planning conversations with my Alaskan friend, now it's my sister.

For whatever reason, and believe me I would like to go back and examine the process, Mr.Y. and I planned back to back trips this summer. The European trip we leave for on Saturday will include my younger sister, K, and my Best (and only) Brother In Law or BBIL. It was to have taken place last year as a celebration for a couple of our party turning 50. Those two will be 51 by the time the trip is over and a third one of our party has turned 50 in the meantime. Woo hoo for the Century Birthdays! (I am carefully avoiding the premature celebration of entering my next decade next year. No reason to muddy the waters with too much celebrating.)

Me: Did you print off all your hotel confirmations?
K: Yep, done.

K:  We are going to want to sleep on this flight because we arrive in Luxembourg at 10:00am and we won't want to go to bed and waste a day.
Me: Well, considering I will have had a ten hour time zone swing in the last week I figure it's a sure bet I won't have a problem with that. Then again........
K: I'm bringing something to help me sleep.
Me: Probably a good idea.

We each had a specific request when planning this trip:
Germany (Mr. Y: I want to take my Air Force son stationed there on a tour of the places I haunted when stationed there. )
France (Me: Can we hit Monet's Garden?)
Normandy, France (BBIL - If I could go to any one place I'd like it to be the Beaches of Normandy.)
England (K: I just want to see castles. Any chance we can go to Downton Abby?)

So, the planning is done, the hotel reservations are made, the car is reserved, and the clothes are starting to be pulled out of the closet in preparation for packing. Again.

K: What's the temperature over there?
Me: Hopefully anything cooler than here.

Yes, this all seems very familiar.