Fit for a king.

We stopped by a neighbor's yard sale this weekend. Of all of the things that could have caught his eye (toy motorcycles, a bicycle, a kid-sized car), he made sure we were not leaving without this:


He pulled it out of the box of toys and squealed with delight - with its golden wheels, purple plastic faceted beads, and tulle flourish, can you blame him? It's been his favorite all weekend.


I secretly hope it lasts.

"In all the world,

never has there been before,

and never will there be again,

another like him."

(Photos taken 02.25.10. - in celebration of turning one.)

Home

Wanted: Charm. Age. In need of a little elbow grease (yes: paint, refinishing; no: sledge hammers, shingles, serious cash). Big enough. Bug-tight. Dishwasher and sink sprayer. Room for a baby, dog, and (perhaps) a few chickens to roam. Piano nook. Places for muddy shoes and an ironing board.

Let the hunt begin.

365 days

1 day.



1 year.


We are celebrating this beautiful boy and all that he is.

While in Minnesota I had this great idea that I would set up a little photo shoot with my favorite subject in honor of Valentine's Day. Really, what else is there to do once the snow has been shoveled?

What does every photo shoot need? Props! Given that I'm not so big on cutesy (top hat, baby tuxedo, and red roses?), I decided I would sew a simple heart pillow. (Remember, the snow was shoveled.)

Of course the best time to start a project, especially sewing, is late at night. It was around 11:45pm when I was 3/4 of the way done that I realized perhaps I could have picked a simpler method, like, oh I don't know... a heart cut from red construction paper?

The following day I waited for some good light, set the scene, dressed Anders, and handed him the heart... which he wanted absolutely nothing to do with.





Lesson learned? Simple is usually better.

Merry Christmas to you and yours.
(Holiday cards to follow.)

P.S. Rumor has it someone is ten months-old today. Ten months is far too close to twelve months for my liking.

Windchill

In a few days we will be on a plane heading East, ready to share in some merriment with the ones we love. There will be stories to tell, a baby to gush over, wine to share, too much food to eat, presents to exchange, and many-a-photo to take.

Unfortunately, there will also be this:

(Minnesota - December 2007)

It's a package deal. Albeit a cold, bitter package.