List of Praha Loveliness

After listening to a Freakonomics podcast on the Economics of Parenting, I'm feeling a little better. Apparently my ineptitude will not derange the little guy as long as I'm warm and loving and happy for having him. Gus and I both breathe sighs of relief and take heart that we abandoned cleaning for a spontaneous zoo day. Whew.

Other joys were discovered. I revisited the quirky Holesovice market and found it far more navigable and charming without a squealing four-month old strapped to my sweaty body. Gus ran between the zillion stalls of oddities and Neighbor B and I bought the biggest and cheapest bunches of basil you have ever seen. In addition, when I need a copy purse, Gus sized guitar, Hungarian potato pancake, or I heart Prague sweatshirt--I'll know where to return.

For now, I'm content with the basil pesto filling my freezer.

On a buying-local high, the next morning we met Tracy and her patient-with-Gus daughter S at yet another fabulous Praha farmers' market (Jihiro z Podebrad). While S lovingly wrangled wily G around the square (the latter flinging his Vietnamese noodles--thank goodness for the abundance of dogs), Tracy and I bought local butter (from the actual cow owners)*, Moravian cheese, homemade pasta, Bohemia grown raspberries, and cold pints of microbrew. I appreciate a town where one can push her stroller with a plastic cup in hand and receive nary a raised eyebrow.

And today--today little G and I took on our neighborhood market at an hour most folks found appropriate for sleeping. We grabbed some produce, more pasta, the last of the local strawberries, and two packages of fruit dumplings (svestkove knedliky). Steamed Czech dumplings covered in melted butter are one of the greatest things about living here. They are also lunch in this house.

This farmers' market bender is peppered with a visit to an uber-friendly and shockingly reasonable Czech glass bead shop where the shopkeepers--gasp--took Gus from me and gave him a homemade chocolate chip cookie and a bucket of beads to sift, and yet again, fling. When I left, we were all crunching beads underfoot and yet everyone was laughing and smiling and telling me how wonderful that was. I don't understand it, but I support it and will absolutely return.

And, perhaps most joy-producing for me, there is a triptych completed and awaiting its new owner. We hope it adds cheer to her daughter's room.

    

*Butter note: I am told by smart Tracy (does everyone know this?) that fresh butter changes color throughout the year based on what a cow is eating. Fresh grass vs. hay will alter the color. This makes me want to buy even more butter while the grass is green.