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Cripps on this petty pace
Offlinitude suits me.
For those who wondered, the actual poem goes
"Here comes the kangaroo,
Bouncing through the treeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeees!
Up and down and all around,
That's the way to beeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!"
Our four nights camping went well. We were on the Peak District, so we're all beautifully windtanned and Emer looks startlingly blonde against her darker skin. She also came home and started really walking, feet at a time, even when she knows she's doing it. It's still slower than crawling but obviously superior for some purposes.
Linnea spotted one-teen today, in the middle of a phone number.
I'm reading the new Jasper Fforde; I need to note the bookcrossing books I collected recently with no intention of passing them on to anyone; they include a hardback "All Quiet on the Western Front" which is sturdy enough that I was able to cry on it; my paperback - well, paperfront and half the spine - is so fragile that I haven't been able to so much as sniff loudly near it for years.
I have a lot of photos to post, but I need to upload them first. They include: the little house in the garden, in various stages of decor; Emer's birthday; camping with my magnificent daughters; the sky outside my house.
And a few of me in my new, hip, groovy incarnation. I want to do things with henna now; I suspect I ought to get one of my teenage friends to help me, though, since teenage girls have grooming and coolness skills I lack.
And sometime soonish I may catch up on email, but I haven't so much as checked it for a week, so there you go.
I love living la vie de local.
For those who wondered, the actual poem goes
"Here comes the kangaroo,
Bouncing through the treeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeees!
Up and down and all around,
That's the way to beeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!"
Our four nights camping went well. We were on the Peak District, so we're all beautifully windtanned and Emer looks startlingly blonde against her darker skin. She also came home and started really walking, feet at a time, even when she knows she's doing it. It's still slower than crawling but obviously superior for some purposes.
Linnea spotted one-teen today, in the middle of a phone number.
I'm reading the new Jasper Fforde; I need to note the bookcrossing books I collected recently with no intention of passing them on to anyone; they include a hardback "All Quiet on the Western Front" which is sturdy enough that I was able to cry on it; my paperback - well, paperfront and half the spine - is so fragile that I haven't been able to so much as sniff loudly near it for years.
I have a lot of photos to post, but I need to upload them first. They include: the little house in the garden, in various stages of decor; Emer's birthday; camping with my magnificent daughters; the sky outside my house.
And a few of me in my new, hip, groovy incarnation. I want to do things with henna now; I suspect I ought to get one of my teenage friends to help me, though, since teenage girls have grooming and coolness skills I lack.
And sometime soonish I may catch up on email, but I haven't so much as checked it for a week, so there you go.
I love living la vie de local.