Tag Archives: photos

lavender by the Side of the Road

I am a huge fan of fragrant shrubbery.

rather than the same old same old bushes that tend to line parking lots and walkways, I love a plant where I can run my hand through as  I walk by, the leaves providing enough traction to slow my pace to a stroll, and I inhale the scent on my fingers.

I still remember the breath of heaven bush I loved to park by at my local community college, my hands stripping fragrance, sweet and lemoney, as I trudged up the hill toward class.

The lavender growing by our bank seems to bloom constantly- small spikes of color that somehow rise above the heavily trimmed lines that keep the large plants from invading the sidewalk.

I tried taking a picture a couple of weeks ago, my hands unsteady with fatigue, my right hand unable to do the work it needed capturing my little piece of heaven next to a crowded street.

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So I let it go.

I got to go to the bank again (yippee, right?) and I tried again on my way back to the car, this time getting to aim for more than one bud, that being the change that helped focus my phone better. The street still showing, but no cars in frame as I hoped would zip by in my ten seconds of indulgent herbal portraiture.

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A little crooked, but better.
I really got to try this from the other direction so my main hand can do the work.
 

 

So we went bowling…

We took Wonder Boy bowling for the first time last weekend.
This was actually a Really Big Deal because my husband loves to league bowl and I have spent time beside him in the lanes on Friday nights.
My low average and high handicap made me a secret weapon.
So my clown ball made it alongside my husband’s fancy scented one and a rented green one on the lanes.
Yeah, did you know if you buy a bowling ball they’re scented? Mr. Wonder’s smells like Luden’s cherry cough drops.

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Yes, my husband uses a glove when he bowls. He also throws it with a mean arc because he palms the ball, not putting his thumb in a hole.
It’s a trip to watch.
I just throw straight, point my toe a little like in ballet and hope.
Proof that my son beat me in his first game of bowling. To be fair, I hadn’t bowled in a whole and next game I was back to my above a hundred average.
Yeah, I’m good like that.
Get me pissed off, though, and I’ll cream ya (true story- I have the badge and pin for my scores that night Mr.Wonder got me mad to show for it).
Oops, getting off topic…

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Our lanes allow you to only have bumpers up when you need them, so between that and a ramp Wonder Boy rolls a mean ball.
He’s also the love of my husband’s team right now, he’s a good cheerleader and high fives with the best.

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And then he almost dropped it on his foot. Luckily my husband caught most of it with his hand.
Also- those little quarter toy machine thingies have some cool prizes at our local lanes.

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do you like to go bowling?

Changing direction a little

I have been having a busy life the last couple of weeks.
Not as busy as other people, I’m sure, but plenty busy for me.
So here is a little glimpse into my life lately…

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Well, it’s a glimpse of Wonder Boy’s life.
So this next week, I’m hoping to take more me pictures, not just ones to send to Mr. Wonder for work.
Taking the focus off of someone else just a little and putting it on me this next week.
It’s a lesson that gets repeated often in my life.
Being a stay-at-home parent and the caretaker of the home means that other people are high on my list of priorities.
It’s not a change in direction to taking pictures for me that will be the only difference.
Thursday I shoved every last fruit and vegetable into my fridge and I will have a meal plan done today for the next week.
Because I had spent two weeks cleaning out the fridge for a party and then finishing the giant pan of macaroni salad from the party.
I always seem to give my son the great good while I nibble on leftovers, so this next week is also a chance to restart my commitment to eating a lot of vegetables and focusing on what went in my body.
When was the last time you made a commitment to focus on yourself, even for a short period of time?
What did you change?

Photos with the Easter bunny

Today I took Wonder Boy to go see the Easter bunny, guilt finally winning after seeing a million Instagram pictures with cute happy kids.

He had only been as a baby the last time he saw our local white rabbit but that look of indignant tolerance had me skipping last year’s portrait session in favor of peaceful ignorant bliss.

We got dressed, he in the outfit I got that almost made the cut for Easter day and myself in something reqsonable.

He immediately went outside to dig in the dirt with his faded Lightning McQueen trowel while Daisy led the excavation expedition.

So I dusted him off, threw his shoes on and ran to the mall with my mom to engage in an Easter tradition, the first one of this year (and today is the day before, no less.)

He had a choice, as we peeked past the photographer and as the bunny waved back he said he would like to go see him.

I always give him a choice in the beginning, because then I could skip the never-ending line and say he didn’t want to. But he was happy and smiling and willing to stand by the white picket fence and stare at fading silk flowers.

Little trips to and fro to different stores on errands as my mom waited in line. Ever the patient one that holds a place so he won’t be cranky for his big moment.

Then his big moment came and he balked, screaming for me as the bunny waved to him with that friendly frozen face and a tie worthy or a mad hatter’s nightmare while my mom tried to lure him into looking at the freakishly large, bespectacled rabbit.

I walked over, remembering the little girl who had just wailed as her mother struggled to get her to sit next to her impatient sister and asked if he would like me to sit next to him.

That had been the way Santa was able to hold a conversation at Disneyland, and with situations like this it’s easier to go straight for the kill than toy mercilessly with a toddler’s emotions.

And here is the result. Thank goodness I wore a decent shirt and earrings.

 

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