The Banshees, from last Halloween.
The ever-precocious Original Banshee said, “Look! She’s my matey!”
Smush. Squeeze. I love this photo.
Please note the scrumptious thigh fold on Baby Banshee. And the beanie is killing me.
“can’t see me!”
Oh, be prepared. Crackie’s making up fer some lost scannin’ time now that I got me a purty new one.
I don’t know why I’m talking like I’m in Oklahoma! It’s distressing.
Let’s start over.
Remember the post where I talked about running around as a toddler with random ribbons and/or trash on my head declaring to anyone who would listen, “Can’t see me!”?
Yup. Well, here’s a prime example:
It’s important that you know I am invisible.
This means that you cannot see my droopy diaper or my sausage calves or my little shoes cruelly cutting off my sausage circulation.
Shhhhhh …… can’t see me ……
whidbey island, wa
A rainy road on Whidbey Island, WA.
Every autumn when I was in college, the whole drama department went on retreat to blustery beautiful Whidbey Island. I remember this old barn. The perfect weeds.
Those trees. That rain.
Oh, my heart.
oh, dad
Dad, 16 and really tan.
I like to tease him about his general hotness.
uhm, thank you?
For the button hat? No, the totally extreme button hat? That also looks vaguely like a mushroom?
Wow. I am speechless with something like gratitude, is what I would say if that were even remotely true.
Please excuse me. I’m trying to figure out how one wears a be-buttoned woolen mushroom atop one’s head. I mean ……
Do you tilt it forward? So people in front of you can see more buttons? I mean, I don’t want people to misunderstand the point of the hat which is, obviously, that some old gammie went nuts clearing out her button drawer and in an act of both relief and passive aggression, made this hat and sent it out into the world for you to purchase and give to me, a person you claim to love. Or perhaps to re-gift to me, a person you claim to love.
Do you push it back? So people behind you can see more buttons and laugh at you behind your back but you just don’t care because they’re behind your back? This option appeals to me.
Do you try to make it flat, like a saucer of buttons atop your head? Is that what you do? And, I ask you, what girl hasn’t yearned for a saucer of buttons to adorn her head at some point her life?
You know, honestly, it’s all too much. The responsibility and mental energy this cap requires is more than I can handle. It’s truly beyond me. Plus, with that army of buttons weighing it down, the thing is just a migraine in the making. I also worry about being dive-bombed and pecked by random frightening crows searching for food.
So, again, thank you? You shouldn’t have? I am so looking forward to ….. uhm, leaving this outside on the next rainy day and — que lastima! — shrinking it to a size way too small for my giant head.
Tsk, tsk.
Unfortunate.
These things happen.
Tough break, you know?
Or ….. wait. I may have just found the new prize for The Best Thing Ever: America.
enthralled
Oooh, pray continue. I believe you were speaking of your integrity …..
one of my favorites
I’ve posted this before, but I just really like it.
Our shoes.
happy girl
What’s up, Trace? You jammin’ to the Perry Como tunes, are you, hon?
good morning, starshine
MB’s cell phone. “Look over here.”
And that’s the most you’ll get me to pose for a picture, Peaches.
sometimes when you’re losing your home ….
…. you find a bandana amongst your belongings and decide that with your blonde hair and blue eyes and paper white skin it is high time, HIGH time, yo, that you become a member of the Crips.
“I will totally bust a cap in yo ass. Totally.”
“Okay. Look at me, goobers. I srsly mean it. I have a gun. Well, I mean I own a gun and it’s somewhere around here. Just a sec, mkay?”
“Oh, whatevs, yo. I am relatively sure that I am relatively tired and cannot find the energy to bust a cap in yo ass. Besides, you seem totally nice. Wanna get a latte? Okay. Cool.”