Aaahhh! Our camera is broken! I would post a picture of our broken camera except that, well, it’s broken. Plus, I guess a camera can't really take a picture of itself. . . . Which reminds me of how I always think that Vincent Vangogh is the artist who bit off his own ear, and every time that thought comes to me I think, "Wait, how could you bite off your own ear?" Then I remember he actually cut off his own ear -- which is still very disturbing, but makes much more sense. Anyway, with no camera maybe I won’t be posting so much after all (see next post) because I really like to include a little photo or two of whatever I am posting about and now . . . impossible (I always feel like saying that in a Spanishy way – im-poss-ee-blay).
Like today, when I found tell tell signs of Penny’s having been about – little people figures where my toothbrush should have been, etc. I wanted a picture of that to post. With out it, there seemed to be hardly a post at all.
This is a crummy time to break a camera. I need to take so many pictures of things I am saying goodbye to! Like the tree lined road up into our neighborhood, the pretty route I usually run, etc. This makes me feel like the kid in my Israel group who didn’t bring a camera. What??
Abe was handing the camera to me and somewhere between our hands it fell – landing in such a way that it will no longer open or shut. It simply makes a sad little grinding noise. I prefer to blame him, as he is a child and an easy target -- as we all know how clumsy kids can be. So yes, it was Abe. I’m sure I am not to blame. Never mind the fact that I have dropped and broken about 300 items in the past few months (at least there is less to pack).
I read something in one of my pregnancy books recently about loose joints and swelling etc. affecting your grasp. I immediately pointed it out to Mike so he would know that I am not a klutz and it can all be blamed on my “pregnancy hands”. He smiled and nodded in utmost agreement that I was surely right . . . just like he does when I tell him any moodiness (which is of course so contrary to my normal sweet nature) can be attributed to pregnancy hormones . . . but there is something about his readily agreeing in these matters that always makes me wonder. Me thinks he doth protest too LITTLE.