"Your photo's pretty weird," said DH when I showed him my first few blog posts. I agreed, but couldn't imagine showing my face given the insecure state wherein I live. I forgot to mention to him that the missing head shows my hair standing on end and is titled "burn-out personified" or some such caption. On my lap I am holding a lost and found item, Artes Latinae curriculum's answer key, lost for a VERY long time, and finally found after assigning a seat-of-the-pants grade to the wee leetle geeyuls who worked so hard to finish the one year program in two years and then some... they actually remember a few latin phrases ten years later.
So, I worked hard trolling the inner workings of iMac's picture files and iPhoto libraries searching for an improved photo, to no avail. I do not like my face. Considered posting the shot of my sooty brows and bangs taken by OS moments after the oven blew up in my face. I could laugh about it then, as now, because I am so used to calamity. The photo, however, seems lost forever deep within the bowels of Apple's mysterious hierarchy of saved files, preserved moments and fond memories... I gave up after becoming weary of a message about my hard disk being full. Our '93 machine is groaning with age, and an entire day is mostly lost.
I think D#2 wants the entire neighborhood to kneel at the cross This Instant! as she belts out hymns and worship tunes with the front door and all the windows wide open. She's been hard at work in a special-needs classroom this first week of school, at a job she was told she would lose if she dared take that missions trip to Ethiopia in June. They were bluffing. So, as she blows off steam, two of the neighborhood rascals (+1 little sparrow girl, B.) have appeared in the front yard, producing [near] thunderous applause. They burst in seconds later, grabbing OS's four stringed guitar and offering a scratchy rendition of some M&M post-rehab song that D2 knew all the words to and just sang along at the top of her lungs --her usual way. After explaining how OS's unrepaired guitar resembles our half painted house, I offered to pay them to finish the job. They liked that idea, but decided to toilet paper OS's room instead, as he is gone to Bishop for the weekend. It is good to see the ruffians after a long summer of missing each other. These are the fellas who would not come to Bible Club all those years ago -sigh.
So, I worked hard trolling the inner workings of iMac's picture files and iPhoto libraries searching for an improved photo, to no avail. I do not like my face. Considered posting the shot of my sooty brows and bangs taken by OS moments after the oven blew up in my face. I could laugh about it then, as now, because I am so used to calamity. The photo, however, seems lost forever deep within the bowels of Apple's mysterious hierarchy of saved files, preserved moments and fond memories... I gave up after becoming weary of a message about my hard disk being full. Our '93 machine is groaning with age, and an entire day is mostly lost.
I think D#2 wants the entire neighborhood to kneel at the cross This Instant! as she belts out hymns and worship tunes with the front door and all the windows wide open. She's been hard at work in a special-needs classroom this first week of school, at a job she was told she would lose if she dared take that missions trip to Ethiopia in June. They were bluffing. So, as she blows off steam, two of the neighborhood rascals (+1 little sparrow girl, B.) have appeared in the front yard, producing [near] thunderous applause. They burst in seconds later, grabbing OS's four stringed guitar and offering a scratchy rendition of some M&M post-rehab song that D2 knew all the words to and just sang along at the top of her lungs --her usual way. After explaining how OS's unrepaired guitar resembles our half painted house, I offered to pay them to finish the job. They liked that idea, but decided to toilet paper OS's room instead, as he is gone to Bishop for the weekend. It is good to see the ruffians after a long summer of missing each other. These are the fellas who would not come to Bible Club all those years ago -sigh.
Is a day considered well spent when plans to organize 2,000 photos, OR create a garden photo book, OR find 40 year old Joe Cocker lyrics [OHHhh...not Cocker. Cooker!], OR learn the definitions of skiffle and Georgian and neoclassical, OR finally watch Thriller on YouTube, OR discover that Mariah Carey videos are slutty and then decide to play an hour long mix of classic Sesame Street vignettes... suddenly morph into an invitation to Jake and Tyler (+1) to toilet paper our son's room?
Life in the 'burbs can be quaint, and on the eve of the ninth anniversary of 9/11, we all need a little levity.
No comments:
Post a Comment