This photo was taken in Scotland on a moody (read: normal, except for 2 weeks in July) sky day. A beautiful half-bridge rainbow framing a turbulent River Clyde. I miss seeing that everyday. I miss the fresh, salty air. This photograph was captured by my husband the day before my Gran died: A reminder that even when life’s moments are their darkest, there is still something good that comes from it.
This. Is what happens when you accidentally leave two doors open: Your bedroom door and your adjoining bathroom door, leaving them to the mercy of a small terrier puppy, still the intruder two months on. It also helps if you possess the leg reflexes of a greyhound and have the speed of a champion racehorse. Both of which, I do not.
This dog can run about 4 times the average speed of a human (we won’t talk about how I had to stop traffic about a block from my house — and by traffic I mean I first had to run in front of a big rig — for 30 minutes to catch the bloody thing because my 4-year-old accidentally let him out). And, he has hydraulics in his hind legs, to boot.
I think the addition of the sock was genius. The dexterity that took to grab it from the hamper on the way in is just incredible.
I don’t think anything can measure up to the hope a mother has for her child.
Metal everywhere! This shot was taken in the Dulles airport during our layover when we were headed to Heathrow in March of this year. Cameron was fascinated by the place — it also didn’t hurt we packed the laptop in our carry-on and a few DVDs too to keep them occupied. We just used the outlet right behind the ‘ticket verification and cheesy smile and nod’ desk.
I single-handedly managed to ruin a perfectly nice photograph of the sisters and sisters-in-law (and in my case, in-law^2) by gawping. I apparently forgot the cardinal rule for any individual in a wedding party: Wherever there are cameras, have a perma-smile. The keen eye will also notice I obviously didn’t know what to do with my arms.
A lovely sea of red.
What was I doing with my mouth anyway?
My four sisters-in-law are very far left, to the right of my brother-in-law looking left, and the next two rights in the front.
My new sister-in-law of two days.
5 May 2001
I wasn’t kidding about the flatbed scanner death. Prime example: here is a photo of a photo. My ‘something blue’ were my toe nails. And the kilt idea? Totally his. Of course, I backed him up 100% — how could I not? For those interested, he wore Black Watch.
Happy birthday to my wonderful husband. The man who…
1. Convinced me I had been hiding behind my glasses for twenty-two years and to finally ditch them. He saw me for who I was and convinced me that my self-esteem was battered and bruised. I trusted him and took the leap. People I was friends with who only knew me with glasses, don’t recognise me at all without. I took them off for our wedding photos.
2. Washes pots and pans because he knows I hate to do it. I was turned against them as a 16-year-old faced with congealed gravy with skin, and had to delve into it sans gloves to clean the thing. I also knew I couldn’t have at it with the brush or the scrubby. In my own defense, I’ll wash them if I absolutely have to.
3. Heats my cold toes up even though they could double as a cold compress. They get cold even if I keep shoes on.
4. Signed up for a channel package which included BBC America seven years ago to make me feel more at home.
5. Surprised me the first Christmas we were married with a stocking full of British goods, including Irn Bru, a Double Decker, British sausages (they were technically in the fridge), Ambrosia Custard and a few other lovelies.
6. Puts me above all else and has foregone Scout Roundtable meetings and other things to take care of me if I’ve had a bad day.
7. Puts the lid down, and then flushes. Classic microbiologist trait.
8. Loves me implicitly.
I don’t think I could quite sum it up as I did 3 years ago. Here’s the link, go see for yourself.
I often encounter people who tell me my son looks just like my husband. I really couldn’t disagree more. Ever since I first laid eyes on the little guy, I knew he looked like me, and he continues to — even as his face changes. I’ve always thought he and his older cousin could pass for brothers. They are 3.5 years apart. They didn’t meet until March of this year:
My son is on the right.
As a reference, here is my husband with Ian the day after he was born. He’d just told a joke.
Cameron, other the other hand, looks like him.
(Where did that blonde hair come from?)
Thanks to the young age of the country, the lack of state-consistent public transport systems and the landslide majority of amenities and life essentials (including neighbourhood shops) which are not within walking distance: I have become lazy.
I was going to broach the subject taking the word at its (other) Scottish literal: sad = pathetic, but I had nothing to back it up with, which in itself is sad because I really like to hone my self-depreciating humour.
This photo is no stranger to my site. Small children have irrational fears of things they can’t and don’t understand. This one? Until recently was deathly afraid of the car wash.
I was sad when I got to Scotland and they’d changed the chocolate! “No artificial colours, flavours, preservatives”. It was still good, but missing something.
And, I’m sad because the theme wasn’t another adjective, thinking.
(He’s going to stookie me one day for this…)