“Hope” is the thing with feathers - That perches in the soul - And sings the tune without the words - And never stops - at all - And sweetest - in the Gale - is heard - And sore must be the storm - That could abash the little Bird That kept so many warm - I’ve heard it in the chillest land - And on the strangest Sea - Yet - never - in Extremity, It asked a crumb - of me. ~Emily Dickinson I love a new notebook: lined or gridded, sketchbook, or thick watercolor paper, a planner or just fresh, blank pages. I do a lot of writing, and a new notebook and a good pen is always the best part of a project. Together the pen and notebook represent the launch of something new; the anticipation of success. In fact I love new notebooks so much that I bought too many and now I am not allowed to buy any more. This is my own rule and I have only myself to blame. I get really excited about the new thing, but my enthusiasm wanes and the notebooks sit abandoned with only a f...
Okay, if I comment, will you post again?
ReplyDeleteSeriously, though, I love this picture. The concentration, the cooperation, the men cooking... It's the sort of notion you have in your head of what a perfect Sunday afternoon will look like some day in the future when your kids are old enough not to just swipe everything off the table.
And yet, it still doesn't happen in my house. I must be doing something wrong. Again.
It's hard to post when you keep making sandwiches and spaghetti. I'm fairly sure no one wants to read about my spaghetti. Plus I'm adapting to a new camera and all of my pictures are weird. I finally decided I'd rather post weird pictures than none at all.
ReplyDeleteDoes B. cook at all? If not, that might explain why he and Monkey don't cook together. Perhaps B. can teach Monkey about washing up. Certainly Monkey will find that skill useful later.
Next time you think you're doing something wrong, come over and look at the state of my floors. You'll feel better about yourself instantly.