Summer

The first time I walked into the staff area of the Smithsonian Natural History Museum, I was overcome by a smell.  The distinct smell of must and old.  The smell of my great-grandmother's home.  The smell of summer.  The smell of moth balls.  The museum hasn't used moth balls in years.  But such is the nature of napthalene.  The smell lingers on. 

And so as I walked to class on that first day in the back rooms of the museum, I thought of my great-grandmother.  My Grammy.  The regal woman who never wore pants a day in her life.  The proper woman who sipped a tiny glass of watered sherry every evening after dinner.

I remembered summers at her home on the Cape.  A home sealed with moth balls for most of the year, opened only for a few brief months.  I remembered arriving at the house and being overwhelmed by the smell.  My mother would quarentine me and my brother in a "safe" room until she could go through the closets, sofas and drawers to remove the thousands of candy-like balls that had spent the winter in the house.  Rain or shine, my mother opened every window and door to air out the toxic smell of the napthalene.

I remembered arriving at the house one summer, and asking my mother why it didn't smell.  Don't you have to find all the little white balls before we can play?  I remembered the triumphant smile on my mother's face as she told me that Grammy wasn't going to use moth balls anymore. 

I walked through the back halls of the storied museums on that first day, and wondered at the millions of specimens that had been kept safe from infestation for over one hundred years by the presence of moth balls.  The museum hasn't used moth balls in years, and yet the smell lingers on.  My mother hasn't used moth balls since I was a child.  And yet if I open the drawers of the sideboard in the dining room, I am overcome by the lingering smell of moth balls and summer.

Summer

The first time I walked into the staff area of the Smithsonian Natural History Museum, I was overcome by a smell.  The distinct smell of must and old.  The smell of my great-grandmother's home.  The smell of summer.  The smell of moth balls.  The museum hasn't used moth balls in years.  But such is the nature of napthalene.  The smell lingers on. 

And so as I walked to class on that first day in the back rooms of the museum, I thought of my great-grandmother.  My Grammy.  The regal woman who never wore pants a day in her life.  The proper woman who sipped a tiny glass of watered sherry every evening after dinner.

I remembered summers at her home on the Cape.  A home sealed with moth balls for most of the year, opened only for a few brief months.  I remembered arriving at the house and being overwhelmed by the smell.  My mother would quarentine me and my brother in a "safe" room until she could go through the closets, sofas and drawers to remove the thousands of candy-like balls that had spent the winter in the house.  Rain or shine, my mother opened every window and door to air out the toxic smell of the napthalene.

I remembered arriving at the house one summer, and asking my mother why it didn't smell.  Don't you have to find all the little white balls before we can play?  I remembered the triumphant smile on my mother's face as she told me that Grammy wasn't going to use moth balls anymore. 

I walked through the back halls of the storied museums on that first day, and wondered at the millions of specimens that had been kept safe from infestation for over one hundred years by the presence of moth balls.  The museum hasn't used moth balls in years, and yet the smell lingers on.  My mother hasn't used moth balls since I was a child.  And yet if I open the drawers of the sideboard in the dining room, I am overcome by the lingering smell of moth balls and summer.

My Girly-Girl

Nate is so disappointed.  We have a very, very girly-girl.  He was so hoping for a tomboy.  A little girl who would prefer to get her knees muddy outside while playing football.  A little girl who would prefer hiking and discovering worms and frogs.  What he got was a little girl who adores her dolls, tea sets and purses.  Laura loves her purses.

Laura seriously has a thing for purses.  She has stolen at least four of mine, and she has her eye on my Dooney, the little minx!  Most of what she has stolen thus far are little handbags that my grandmother made for me, so I'm fine with sharing.  But Laura will take anything that could possibly be considered a bag, and tote her toys around.  No basket, tote bag, or shape sorter container is safe. They can all be used at any given time as a fashionable purse. I once saw Laura with five purses and a basket draped over her little arms. I'm not even how she managed it, since she dropped most of them before I could whip out the camera!

The best though?  I came downstairs last night after putting Laura to bed and noticed something funny about her bear.  She seemed to be ready for some shopping!  I am so impressed by Laura's creativity - and dexterity!  Laura is just too cute. 

Seriously, can she stay this cute forever?

My Girly-Girl

Nate is so disappointed.  We have a very, very girly-girl.  He was so hoping for a tomboy.  A little girl who would prefer to get her knees muddy outside while playing football.  A little girl who would prefer hiking and discovering worms and frogs.  What he got was a little girl who adores her dolls, tea sets and purses.  Laura loves her purses.

Laura seriously has a thing for purses.  She has stolen at least four of mine, and she has her eye on my Dooney, the little minx!  Most of what she has stolen thus far are little handbags that my grandmother made for me, so I'm fine with sharing.  But Laura will take anything that could possibly be considered a bag, and tote her toys around.  No basket, tote bag, or shape sorter container is safe. They can all be used at any given time as a fashionable purse. I once saw Laura with five purses and a basket draped over her little arms. I'm not even how she managed it, since she dropped most of them before I could whip out the camera!

The best though?  I came downstairs last night after putting Laura to bed and noticed something funny about her bear.  She seemed to be ready for some shopping!  I am so impressed by Laura's creativity - and dexterity!  Laura is just too cute. 

Seriously, can she stay this cute forever?