I Practically Work As A U.N. Translator.

I had my first honest-to-gosh Spanish conversation the other night. (My first, that is, since 11th grade. And that one was mainly about the seasons and whether or not Gil had been to the greengrocer.)

Our neighbor from two houses down (for those keeping track, not the 300lb autistic boy and not the irate Filipino) walked by the other evening with her 3 year-old. A little girl named Suzy.

Her Suzy waved at us from the street. My Suzy almost unhinged her shoulder in a full-body attempt at a wave. Nora momentarily stopped shrieking about the green car (and the red car and the silver car) and asked if we could go outside to say hi. So we did.

Her name was Mirna, which I promptly mispronounced. She referred to me, inexplicably, as Ellie. She confessed that she knew very little English. I jumped at the chance to display my own ignorance with her language.

I'm a little embarrassed at how long it took for us both to properly convey that- yes- we both had daughters named Suzy. Hers was Suzenna. Mine was Susannah. Ha hah!

Mirna informed me that Suzenna meant a type of flower. (She may have even said which. But that wasn't covered in the chapter with Gil, so I failed to understand her.) I responded that I thought that was lovely/preciosa- her daughter was named after a flower/flor? Que bueno.


It was only this morning that I realized what an absolute idiot I can be. The Mexican name "Suzenna" definitely means "flower". But you know what else? "Susannah" means "lily," something I knew when we chose it. Flower. Yes. They're the same flippin' name.

But back to the conversation. Mirna was impressed when I informed her that Suzy was cinco meses and that all three of my family members were born in Octubre, but less so when I told her that Susannah was born on the 29th. I didn't say the expected vientinueve, oh no. Dos y nueva, I told her. Instead of "29," I told her "TWO and NEW."

I'm pretty sure I also mentioned the biblioteca, what I was going to do on Tuesday, and various parts of the body.

I didn't say it was the most life-changing conversation.

And even though it was over too soon (we had to distract our children away from slamming each other's arms in the chainlink fence), it felt good to know that at least one person on this block didn't see me as a standoffish jerk.

Just a borderline illiterate one.

Suzy from the block.

I Wonder Where She Gets It.

I'm sorry, did someone say "decorations?"

We finally took down our tree and Christmas decorations this past weekend. I agree, it is on the later end of the whole Removal Of Holiday Stuff spectrum, but- as Peej pointed out- it was the Epiphany this weekend, the actual end of the Christmas season.

Which is totally why we kept them up this long.

Totally.

Also, last week, a pillar of the community helped him/herself to a few of our gate lights and at least one red bow. Fa la la la la.

So we wrapped and bundled and dragged...and will be living with pine needle remnants until next August. (They should build homes outta the stuff- there is no more stubborn material in the universe.)

And there's nothing like taking down festive decorations to remind you just how inept and unaware you truly are. Like when you believe you're finished with the packing up and then happen to spy a giant red, glittery reindeer right at eye level. (Does that count as Christmas stuff? Yes, Keely decided, I think it does.)

Even though Nora had said goodbye to the tree right before her nap, she still burst into the living room like the Family Guy monkey and pointed accusingly at where the tree had previously resided. And Was. Not. Happy. I finally convinced her that Santa needed our old tree at the North Pole. She grudgingly admitted that this was probably the case.

So what does one do with a newly (kinda) cleaned living room, devoid of all the hulking holiday accouterments? Why, we put up the royal play tent in all of its primary-colored goodness. And, at the time of this posting, it is chock full of items that normally reside in every single other room, excepting this one. (Books, baby cups, stuffed animals, copies of The Economist, and at least one cat. We've got a miniature Hoarders situation going on.)

It's a nice thing to see right by the front door.

Sure, Nora and Zuzu each have their own rooms and a playroom large enough to house Camelot itself...but nope. This proves that a) one can never be too classy, and b) P.J. and I are both eight year-olds if we see nothing amiss in keeping a nylon tent in the front living room.

Come play sometime- you can't miss us. We've got giant snowman gel clings on the front window...

...and a trail of pine needles down the block.