Neither Here nor There

What if I don’t want to try to have a theme or point for a post? What if I want to post some random things with absolutely no rhyme or reason? Pictures mostly. Random pictures. But maybe other things too. Is that allowed?

Ha! Of course it’s allowed! It’s my blog. I sometimes forget!

So. Here we go.

Doesn’t Penny look old here? Well, not old old. Just . . . older. I keep thinking she can’t be 5 and nearly ready for Kindergarten, but this little picture made me think, “Hmm. That could be a little kindergartner coloring at her desk.”

And what about Daisy. Isn’t she cute with little braids?

And isn’t she . . . pioneer-ish too?

(She was, in fact, a little pioneer girl for her part in her 4th grade history performance).

And here Penny is. Reading. Reading and me taking advantage of her stillness to take pictures with varying degrees of exposure, etc. There are like 50 more that look almost exactly the same! How do you like that? Ha.

And, remember yesterday, when I posted those pictures of Mike helping Goldie with the bow and arrow? Afterwards he was telling me how it was startling how very little the kids seemed to “get” how to handle a bow and arrow – they’d grab it below the handle, hold it all wrong, etc. He seemed to think that any normal person should have genetic survival instincts of some sort that would allow them to be a bit more natural about things like bows and arrows. I nodded my full agreement (knowing all the while that I could easily picture myself holding the bow completely backwards as I mumbled something about “how on earth does one work this crazy contraption?”). When disease, or,  advanced apes, or warfare or some such wipes out all of civilization but a few of us, I will be quite happy to have my wagon hitched to Mike’s.

Now, how about Jesse on grandpa’s tractor:

Wait a minute. That last one wasn’t Jesse at all. Just trying to keep you on your toes. May as well throw in a few of Daisy, Goldie and cousin Claire as long as we are still talking about Grandpa’s tractor.

And, I like this picture of my Goldie-locks.

Remember when she was born? How her hair was as dark as a baby produced by Mike and me could ever possibly be? Remember how everyone would look at that dark hair and questioningly say, “Goldie?”

But I knew. I knew there was nothing but pure yellow golden sunshine bursting from every ounce of her.

There. I said this was all neither here nor there, but maybe I was wrong. Maybe it was completely here AND there. Or maybe not. Either way, I’m ready to move along for now. Farewell.