“Uh-oh. The phone. I got it.”
“Excuse me, sir…sir?”
“It’s for you.”
“I’m sorry. He can’t come to the phone right now.”
Funny Face
Now I know that these old photo machines are still around here and there—K-Mart, arcades, and even as rentals for teen parties—but back in my day they served a difference purpose other than just goofy entertainment.
Do you youngsters realize that before the fabulous digital camera age–you know, where you point and shoot and then just delete the ugly stuff–these little booths were really the only places that the common folk could get a picture taken and take it home right now. No waiting for a week or so to have them developed and hoping for the best. Of course they came in that funky strip but it was wonderfully fast so you just learned to take the good with the…
not so good.
Obviously.
Lucky for all y’all April was one cute baby…
or this would have been a very uncomfortable post…
for…
one of us.
Here Comes The Sun…
“And I say, it’s all right…”
Ahhh yes~
What is that pretty thing shining on Beckham’s hair?
Could it be…
sunshine?
These early days, it only comes out for moments at a time–but still, it’s long enough to wake up a few sleepy heads.
Almost too bright for baby Chompy, but after all the indoor days of winter–even a peek-a-boo Mr. Sun was too lovely to pass up.
Something wonderful about breathing in all that crisp, cool air and knowing that each day, it’s only going to get better.
Oh, we’ve been patient, but in my heart, I’m ready to trade chilly snow for soft, gentle rain…
and Spring.
How about you?
Packing Up…
When Dane was getting ready to leave–for Lithuania…
he was quite determined to take all his precious belongings with him.
Strangely enough, no matter how he rearranged things–these particular gems just wouldn’t fit in the suitcase.
He comes home in a couple of months—at last, at last!
Isn’t he in for a surprise when he sees…
just how grown-up the little gooney-birds have become? Not to mention the sweet pea that he’s never even met!
I’m chanting…
June 10th…June 10th…June 10th…
Basket Case Baby
When I was a kid, I used to fantasize about finding a baby in a basket, on the door step.
Not an old beat up basket like this one–holding baby April–but a pretty little wicker one. Of course the baby would have a note attached to it reading, “Please look after my baby,” or something mysterious like that. In my child mind, the baby would, of course, be mine to have and name and play with forever–like a doll.
Back then, it was a magical, romantic thought–finding a baby on the porch that for some weird reason you could just keep. But nowadays, to imagine such a thing is just downright creepy. I mean, really–where were the “Child Protective Services” back then?
I know, I know…they didn’t exist.
At any rate, there must be some kind of compact, feel good, choo-choo train kind of relationship that many moms have with babies in baskets. Not just to sleep–but you know, where you plop them in this funny little place and tow them around the carpet for awhile.
And for the baby it’s instant Disneyland.
Oooh-oooh! The doorbell just rang…
I’ll go see–maybe it’s a stray baby or something.
I mean, you never know.