My Personal Kryptonite (Or, How I Tempt Fate on Thursday Mornings)

Behold, the Oxford Antiques Fair at Gloucester Green:

The bookstalls . . . .

 . . . otherwise known as 'my personal kryptonite.'

The books call to me, and my will to resist just zaps away.  It might be the musty paper, the cloth and leather bindings, the frayed bits of bound ribbon bookmark. Or maybe it's the antiquated illustrations and the scrawled, inked inscriptions.

Whatever the cause, I'm powerless before it.

Yeah, I really should stay away. But I don't. Something (super?) within me stubbornly insists on testing my own strength.

So, I'll continue to tempt fate (and, more than likely, lose) on Thursday mornings. I'm OK with that, even though I know I'll have to ship the books home when I move across the Atlantic, in just a few short months.

Gather ye rosebuds while ye may. That's what I say. (OK, maybe someone else said it first, but whoever it was, they had a point).

Here are a few of my favorite finds:

City Pop

I never knew I was a city girl until I moved to Chicago -- Hyde Park, South Side, to be exact. 2002.

I loved the bite, the flavor of the city; it was a sort of watch-your-back deep-dish pepperoni-pizza-pie existence. I remember lying snug in bed, the window just behind my head open, the cool air and the sounds of the city drifting in as I drifted out.

Chicago will always be home to our family; our oldest girl took her first steps on ancient vinyl tile up on the ninth floor. On a clear day, we could watch sailboats on Lake Michigan, and hear trains speed by on the way to the Loop. We ran errands on foot, freezing our buns off in the winter, and soaking in the sunshine of spring. Chicago was ours.

My heart ached when it was time to move on; three years sped by. But before we left the city, I found a book at the Chicago Public Library that perfectly captured the vibrance, the rhythm, the cacophony of city life.

The book: "Listen to the City" by Rachel Isadora. City sounds, scenes, and pop art to boot. A perfect read for city kids (and those who wish they were).