I asked my friend Wendy to please choose 2 numbers between 1 and 32, and she chose:
Email me your addresses, will you? And I’ll get you a RAK in the mail! :D
Saturday and Sunday
Rowen dyed eggs. No fancy stuff here - just that Paas stuff from the grocery store, plus vinegar for brightness. They turned out.. colored! (I say there is some stuff that just has to be - in the words of Ali - good enough.)
Elliott finds the first egg of the day in the backyard hunt. He’s still got his church clothes on under the sweatshirt. :)
It was a day with sharp but cool light, so I have very shadowy photos as the kids moved in and out of the trees to find the eggs. But this was also the first egg hunt this little family has had, and so it was a great success, bad photos or no! :)
Do you ever have those software programs that you use ALL the time, and you start to trust them, get a rhythm going with them, leave things up to them that you wouldn’t if you trusted them less? That’s been Gmail for me. I’ve had this email account for about 3 years now, and all of a sudden, I’m starting to experience strange occurrences. I keep a lot of data there, lots of data in Google Docs, too.
Anyway, I’ve been informed that I’m inexplicably on some kind of lockdown right now. I can read messages but can’t reply. So if you don’t hear from me - that’s why. If it’s not fixed by tomorrow morning, I’ll give other contact info here. But I must say, this whole thing just makes me very sad. And kind of angry too, for this girl who has major issues with feeling trapped. Email is one of the links to that grand old outside world, which I rarely see, but the thought of which keeps me from hyperventilating or eating 15 mini Snickers bars and/or sitting on the floor in the middle of the room in my underwear sobbing uncontrollably. Sometimes this happens anyway. Just sayin.
But you know, if I were going to go on a holiday from email for a couple of days, and basically sit around on the couch and watch soaps and eat cold cereal morning noon and night (which would actually be Elliott’s idea of the perfect heaven - him and his ‘wheat-wheats’), I would probably make up a story like this. Locked out! *shrug* Don’t know why. Don’t know for how long. I mean, you can’t really argue with an excuse like that, can you? Except I’m a better storyteller than that, and this is a crappy story.
If you’re waiting for email from me, though, I’ll get this resolved, one way or another (she says with a Clint Eastwood-like squint and clenching of jaw). One way or another.