happy valentine's day

I got the heart, Jeremy the X, and Quincy had to have the O for oc-to-pus.

fancy party with a tramp

It's not often we get invited to a fancy dress cocktail party. It was on an enormous flat (very rare in these parts) hilltop lawn and it was blowing a gale. The bouncy castle very nearly blew away, but it didn't matter.

Quincy couldn't get to the party fast enough, and we literally dragged him home six hours later kicking and screaming.

He spent the better part of those six hours like this...

At one point he said, "Quincy must take a break. I wish I could just take one little break in my bed." And then return to the party with fresh legs I suppose.

By the end, he resembled a drunken sailor while I played the part of overprotective mum. I gasped for air no fewer than a dozen times and gave thanks for my abnormally long arms on at least three occasions.

Good fun.

an overdose of dog: a photostory

What have the resident beagles been up to this summer?

Catching up on some light reading,

and playing boardgames.

Dealing with a two-and-a-half-year-old human

and his occasional rough love.

But at the same time,

revelling in the companionship of said two-and-a-half-year-old.

Receiving some parental affection of the more predictable variety.

Lurking, stalking,

and ready to pounce at mealtimes.

Taking walks with the fam.

Lying in the sun

and then finding places to cool off,

but preferrably not in the pool.

Running on the beach

and getting wet + dirty.

Getting into trouble

and going to time out. Should the punishment be based on the human or canine clock?

And waiting.

Lots and

lots of waiting.

So, yep, they're around. They're always around.

my new partner in crime

I just set Quincy up with his own space in my craft room. He was thrilled, saying "Now it's Mama and Quincy's office."

My go to guy when I need a corner rounded is just inches away. And he is in sticker and punch heaven.

Hopefully this will translate to more creative time for me...

all's well that ends well

I like to call this series, "the plan that backfired."

The tears were shortlived and no grudges were held. The laughter continued as if nothing had happened.

We could all take a lesson from two-year-olds every now and then.

the pool: one year later

This has been the worst summer in the ten years I have lived here. By far. We get the odd gorgeous summer day, but I can't recall more than two of them in a row and apart from this past Saturday, every single weekend day has been rainy.

Well, just as the poor school kids are heading back to class, we're getting some stretches of proper summer weather. Today we parted with $2.50 and hit the local pool for the first time this year. We spent most of our three hours there with just one other person who was swimming laps. The perfectly calm waters were just what Quincy needed to get used to the new depths. Initially he clung to me for dear life, but by the end I could hardly drag him out of there.

His courage came when a few older kids arrived. He watched them intently as he mimicked some of the things they were doing. That made him realize he could stand with the water reaching just below his chin and then there was no stopping him.

Well, until he went down the big slide, against my better judgement. After the tears stopped, he declared, "That was NOT okay. Water got all over you and in your mouth. Quincy choked." I don't think he'll be doing that again in a hurry!

As I was looking at the photos from today, I was reminded of last year. He's taller, more cognitive, and occasionally more contrary, of course, but otherwise, not a whole lot has changed.

He still loves that seal and interacts with it as if it's real.

He still gets absorbed in his surroundings and stares until he takes in every detail.

And he still has that same contagious smile that warms my heart.

I should definitely be in bed, but...

I'm working on my first non-digital scrapbook layout since July 2008. Yes, that's right. First one in a year and a half.

That's a long time.

What have I missed? The tactile nature of traditional scrapbooking. The sorting through supplies. The ease of inking. But more than anything it's the handwritten journaling that I've missed.