08 February 2011

odds&ends. but mostly odds.



we got another photo of our littlest today. i wish i could share his grin with y’all, but i shall try to put words to it instead: it’s one part silly-shy and eight parts shining cheeks and just innocent enough that you suspect he’s actually up to something. my, but i’m a fool for that kid.

the mister has been gone to a far away meeting sixteen hours and counting today, and i cannotwait for him to shuffle back through that door so he can see how our smallish boy has grown.

please hurry, mister.

please hurry, court date givers.



a couple of you asked in this here post to spill the goods on my bestest childhood friend, and i almost forgot to answer till just now. actually, i wove in and out of childhood bff’s (so maybe just bf’s?), but my first bestie was next-door-stacey, who—you guessed it—lived smack dab on the other side of the fence.

when we were little, we’d shimmy up the poinciana tree in my front yard and whittle away whole summer mornings. there’s something about perching a good ten feet above the world, veiled in ferny leaflets, that makes it easy to suspend reality. on the ground we were a pair of sensible third graders in pigtails, but up there we were world-class chefs, espionage extraordinaires.

stacey was bright and an introvert and just the right amount of goofy requisite in a good friend. she wore humility close like skin, and boy did she ever love Jesus. (she loves him still. more.) (makes me wish she were once again my next-door-stacey, though i’m doubtful she fancies a move to iceland.)

screen bokeh far away

exhibit a. iceland.

[this here is what i call Screen Bokeh. it's bokeh-y light through the screened window of l's bedroom. watch when i zoom in.]

screen bokeh medium away

screen bokeh up close

screeny and fun, yes? aren't you glad we're friends? :)

today was our 457th snow day in the past two weeks (or 7th, if you’re not feeling the hyperbole). in the morning, i set the littles to work while i got orders shipped out and slipped in a few hours of labor myself. ‘twas a strange and wondrous thing to check in on them every few minutes and find all four earnestly pressing color to page and swimming in imaginings.







[He Who Must Not Be Photographed was up to his wiley camera-dodging ways, so you just get the three pictured above. c'est la vie. c'est my kid.]

and now i must be off to press my nose against the window until the mister arrives.

goodnight, dear friends.

12 comments:

Ostriches Look Funny said...

Well! That's some great art there, and amazing camera magic here's to husbands coming home, and ADOABLE little boys that you want to squeeze and put in your pocket, and what the heck..here's to cookies!

Ostriches Look Funny said...

Adorable. Stupid touch screen

Carolyn said...

Thanks Nic. Your playful words put a little extra sweetness in my morning coffee and cause me to peek around the corners for whatever good surprises (regardless of size or packaging) my Father has for me today.

Flower Patch Farmgirl said...

Sweeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeet! Oh, I wanna see him! What did the Mister think? :)

TheUnSoccerMom said...

how exciting and oh how I pray the court date givers will hurry along... :o)

loving your kids coloring skills... they.are.too.cute!

Farmgirl Paints said...

bokeh...always wondered what that was...purty:)

Jennifer Shults said...

Love the new shots Nic. Now I must ask... are those the wondrous pages of an "anti-coloring" book? I LOVE those things. I wish I could find more of them around here when we are out hunting for activity pages. Here's hoping your hubby got home quickly. :)

kendal said...

you make me smile!

lulu and family said...

wowzers, 7 snow days! and that top picture is quite magical.

lulu and family said...

wowzers, 7 snow days! and that top picture is quite magical.

Farmgirl Paints said...

bokeh...always wondered what that was...purty:)

Carolyn said...

Thanks Nic. Your playful words put a little extra sweetness in my morning coffee and cause me to peek around the corners for whatever good surprises (regardless of size or packaging) my Father has for me today.