If only I'd remembered earlier, I could have had some French bread, French toast, and French fries to celebrate. Or I could have stopped at the local prison and freed seven prisoners as a gesture of remembrance. Or I could have joined the French Foreign Legion for the day. The French might be persistent giver-uppers but they make great bread and cheese. Vive la France!
July 14--Egyptian 18th Dynasty, Unguent Box in the form of a Double Royal Cartouche, from the tomb of Tutankhamun. Emmaline bent down and squinted at the decorations on the tiny gold box in the display case deep in the Egyptian exhibit at the British Museum. Nearly every day Emmaline found herself climbing the broad shallow steps up to the entrance, unable to resist immersing herself in one exhibit or another. Today her eyes were riveted to the glittering golden grave goods of the boy-king Tut, in particular the unguent box in front of her. She wished she could hold it in her hand, could dip her nose to smell the rich spiciness of the oily cream that had been stored in the tiny container. It was small enough that she could have hidden it in the palm of her hand but it was carved with pictures and inset with tiny pieces of glass and precious stones. Emmaline loved how the cobras on each face wore an ankh like a pendant as they coiled out of the sun-disk of the god Ra. The mirror images of the boy king crouched below wearing a wig and pleated linen robes, holding the royal crook and flail, looked to her as if he were hiding from some onerous royal duty. She smiled at him and resolved to figure out a way to visit Tut at his home in Cairo one day.
I'd love to go to Cairo too one day but it'll have to be a whole lot more politically calm in that part of the world.
--Barbara
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