I'm jumping on the bandwagon and blogging about the weather. I also don't have much else to say, not publicly anyways.
Today was as beautiful as yesterday was rotten. It rained and rained and rained. Little BB was surprisingly tolerant of being stuck indoors most of the day, perhaps with eager anticipation that the next break presented an opportunity to don her bokbools and bumboos.
We sat by the window drawing on-the-paper-not-on-the-table as I explained that it's raining and we'll go out when it settles. She looked out the window, examined the water dripping down the glass, listened to the sounds and pointing her little sausage finger outside gleefully yelled...
(Pronouncing her W's as V's hence sounding a bit glamorous and Russian.)
Although my childhood was abundant with love and toilet-paper roll craft, it was – for the most part – lacking in 80's brand-name toys. Proud owner of one My Child and one Barbie (no accessories). I don't recall feeling too jibbed at the time, the kids in my street had enough toys for the whole neighborhood to play with including He-Man, She-Ra and their respective much-coveted castles.
And yet. Every time I trawl through a thrift store I do a quick ransack of the toys for a Care Bear (for BB, of course). And today there it was in full ginormous pink glory. Untagged.
Excuse me. Is this for sale?
How much is it?
ARE YOU CEREAL?!?! ONLY 8 BUCKS FOR A SUPER-SIZE CHEER BEAR AND NOSTALGIC FULFILLMENT?!
Um ok thanks. I think I'll take him.
My soft-toy-hating husbands' reply when I sent him the above photo:
It's official. I don't live there anymore. It's just a place I sleep most nights.
Thank you to everyone that took the time to comment on my last post. There were some interesting aspects raised that I hadn't thought of, and perhaps unintentionally some of them made me giggle. Sometimes I'm not totally competent at verbalising the idea knocking around my head (just ask PB) so I hope I managed communicate it accurately. I don't believe photographing my grotty bathroom shows I'm more or less real, as I suspect most people – especially mums – are in a similar predicament. I suppose I just meant that as a blog author although you are free to write and style your images as you please, perhaps it's also good to consider that blogging is becoming another form of media, slowly being infiltrated by marketing companies and ads, which presents an opportunity to be mindful of what influence is had on our readers. Anyway, food for thought. It's good to chat about stuff. Just the other day I tried to wrangle PB into a discussion on why men's trousers have much deeper pockets than women's. (So unfair). Surprisingly, he was not interested in pursuing my train of thought.
Photos taken from BB's first (unplanned) stand-up-paddle yesterday. PB's new toy which he classes as Family Friendly. Shallows for us and 500m offshore big swell for him. Bonkers. But BB was happy as a pig in mud. Standing, balancing, water, dad, and being naked. All the best things in life rolled into one activity. Thank god it was warm outside in the sun.