Lovelihood

Official fireworks don't start up until well after the kids' bedtime and require a trek and/or battle to find non-existent parking. Instead, The Mr. took a little drive out of city limits and came back with some sparklers to jam into the ground and light up for The Boy, who was understandably less than impressed. Next year, perhaps, we'll suck it up and keep the kids up late and head to an appropriate vantage for the patriotic display.

One bite-sized s'more cupcake, to be elaborated upon later.

Made a special trip to the kitchen store today to procure a torch. Because I finally devised an application for it that really would take no substitution in the form of non-gaslit roasting. I'm kind of terrified by and in ecstatic about it all at once.

Bear's birthday. I whipped out that tutu, lickety split, in extra-long, so long that she trips and stumbles over it as it slides down her overly clothed body. Turning two today, she's still so clueless about the concept of birthdays and gifts that clothes still afford a happy reception. And every time a new sweater or shirt emerged, it went directly on over whatever else she had put on last. The final layer, being a shimmery, shiny tutu that she clutched around her waist as she stumbled around the yard picking flowers.

Quest for the perfect kid and kid shot continues. Sometimes the moment presents itself, and I arrive to the scene with the wrong lens in and the wrong shutter speed set, and it makes for a deletion-worthy attempt. Other times, I keep and love the shot anyway.

Back when The Boy turned two we were packing up the house and preparing to move halfway across the country. Not having the time for proper birthday festivity and festoonery, we made do with a trip to the hipster toystore for a few easily packable gifts. Friday is Bear's second birthday. We have no good excuse for why we've made no preparations for gifts or celebration. But I've decided to put that still-in-the-works father's day gifts aside, heaped up next to that quilt (yes, still with the quilt), and take up with some of that chiffon and organza and whip up a little tutu for my favorite little girl.

I'm sure any number of clever-seeming infomercial products could have prevented that weed from taking hold in the gutter above the front door. The Mr. says it's embarrassing. I think it's kind of cute.