Working through the last of Prague

There is more being doodled:

There are boxes being packed and refrigerators emptied. Dinners are lentil-heavy and lunches feature a lot of almond butter and brown rice cakes in the name of empyting the pantry. But this fiber is good (anyone need dried beans? come on by) because a recent goodbye-pub-crawl featured two kinds of outrageously stinky cheese, fried eggs on deep-fried toast, pickled camembert, steak tartare, and beef tongue. I really hope our cholesterol levels can hold on until our flight. 

I can't believe it!

If you visit me, here is what might happen: You will be jet-lagged and dehydrated. You will just want to rest and email and stare out the window at your new surroundings. But I will trap you in my living room and do a show and tell of all the odds and ends of fabric I've been saving. There will be a mountain at your feet: "This here is a tablecloth with a burn mark in it..." "This smelly thing we got at a market in a village somewhere, and we've never been able to get the stink out..." "This fragment that's disintegrating was a table runner that I really liked..." "You can't wash this due to the indigo, but man I love it..." I will heap piles at your feet. And then I will tell you, "And I'd like you to make me functional, washable, pocketed-skirts out of all of this nonsense. So instead of buying souvenirs, please fill your luggage with my garbage and mail it back to me later as something I can wear to work."

And if you are my kind and forgiving and gracious and wickedly talented sister, you will DO IT. 

She did it! I can't believe she didn't throw the pile back in my face. I can't believe she went to any effort at all. That amazing sister of mine made a wonder out of a piece of batik junk I bargained for in some back alley in Asia. And man, it's awesome. 

Last weeks thought salad

It's list city around here. (Which makes me pause and think on Loretta Lynn's "Fist City." It is thankfully, NOT Fist City) It's goodbye parties and last beergardens and why-is-it-three-degrees-in-May. Things are both ridiculously organized and tragically dicombobulated. Gus is a mess. We're all waking before alarms because we're too tired to keep sleeping. Do you know that waking? It only happens when things are on the edge. 

But, despite messy toddlers and loose ends and a fine balance of too-social and too-serious, we are getting things done. There is a lot of tossing and sorting and throwing away. As we do that, we're mindful of what to save. And it comes down to the people. And such people there are. I've made quick tributes this week to a gaggle of folks that really deserve a lot of hugging and that we truly hope will plan vacations in Southeast Asia:

There are so many good people here. I think on them as I clean lampshades and pack breakables and woo Gus from his tantrums. As messy as we are right now, we're leaving Prague so much richer in spirit---and it's all because of the folks that were quick to love us. 

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And with one foot in Prague and one foot in Singapore, I also play a little continental Twister and land a hand on the US. There are commissions to deliver during our short time there, and this one is for a sweet baby M: