Postcard from Princeton



The famous FitzRandolph Gate at Princeton University.
Me, I went to Rutgers, where I loved the look of our
historic Old Queens campus, too.

I've been up since 6:15, fighting the urge to stay snug under the covers in the pouring rain, but am only settling in to work now. It's 10:51 A.M. and I'm at one of 100 very nice, very free multimedia computers in the Princeton Public Library on Witherspoon Street. This week, I have to be in the Somerville area for a lot for appointments. I was going to work at the Somerville Public Library, but had to wait a while for it to open. So I decided to follow the signs to Princeton, because I thought Princeton would be a nice place to work away from home. I was right.

I love being in a chic spot. Liked the drive here, too, past barns and fields and woodpiles, then charming old houses and the esteemed Princeton University gate. And how was I to know that the public libary would be a stone's throw from a sprawling Lindt store, Kate Spade, bluemercury and Palm Place, a newly minted Lilly Pulitzer shop? Plus Jane, this cool vintage/consignment store? Enough of all that. Too tempting. [But if I hadn't popped into Kate Spade on the walk from the parking garage, I wouldn't have known she has a new Twirl lipstick in just one color--a very pretty red. I think I want it.] But no money to squander. Must work.

Princeton speed dial:

• Lilly Pulitzer: http://www.palmplace.net/
• Kate Spade: http://www.katespade.com/
• bluemercury: http://www.bluemercury.com/
• Jane: http://www.janeconsignment.com/
• Public library: http://www.princeton.lib.nj.us/
• Gourmet bakery on the way [young man gave me directions to library]: http://www.mainstreetprinceton.com/

Before I go, my latest Punch list.

Fruity Punch 
Yesterday, our almost-four-year-old pal, Punch, came to visit. We hadn't seen her for a month and four days, a long stretch for us all. We took her for a walk near Lambert Castle, then to Mills Reservation. She met and petted several dogs there, slid a bit on the ice, jumped in puddles, said a fallen tree looked like a dinosaur, and then like a horse that she could ride--which she did. She ran down a path and Figgy had to carry her back.

Back in our neighborhood, she saw Sophie and Ella, two of the neighbor girls she adores. Sophie let her wear her new bike helmet, sit on her bike and ring the bell. Ella let her sit on her bike, too. Punch doesn't have a bike yet, and when she gets one, she'll need training wheels. Not that she thinks so. This little girl is fearless. Some children calmly read Pat the Bunny with a parent, as Figgy always did. But Punch. Punch! She doesn't sit still as long for stories, and when she saw Laura's sleek black bunny, Snickers, yesterday, she kept wanting to scoop him up from Laura's hold and carry him off.

Don't touch the bunny near his teeth, Moey and Laura said. He might bite you. Keep your hands away from his mouth.

But I want to hold the bunny my own self, came the reply, as the little hands flew near his mouth. Laura kindly let her, and poor, patient Snickers practically leaped out of Punch's arms.

It was an eventful visit to Moey's for a small family party to celebrate Laura's 15th birthday. Punch's pants and sneakers were soaked from our short hike, and I didn't have a change of clothing for her, so I put on her PJ bottoms and one of Figgy's old shirts. But for some strange reason, every time we turned around, she was either topless, bottomless, or naked. It got pretty tiring. H. and I--and Laura, Figgy, Moey, even Ted--spent a lot time chasing her around and trying to get her dressed. She pretended she was a cat, or precariously grabbed full cups of red wine and filled plate after plate with cocktail shrimp to serve us. She trailed the real cat, Twinkie, and lay under the glass-topped coffee table. She tried to swipe at the layer cake with red buttercream roses before we even had dinner.

But I'll be forever grateful for happy occasions, for friends and birthdays and red velvet cake and flickering candles that Laura let Punch blow out with her. And for Ted's homemade pasta sauce, and for Moey's parents, who were also there. For H.'s arms to hold Punch high, for his heart to love her and Figgy. For Figgy's wry and sometimes jaded teen eye, but her smiles and laughter, too. For Punch's hugs, and even, on some level, for her mischief.

By the time Punch hit the car seat after seven hours with us, she conked right out. I deposited her back to her mommy by 9 P.M. Have a good today, little Punch. I love you.