the things found in closets

Oh my goodness.

I cleaned the linen closet and our room, and the car trunk is full again for the Good Will.

This however, is in the trash instead, but not before taking a picture. This heating pad was our aunt's, still in the box.

But look at this guy. Some friends and I had the conversation a few weeks ago about how nobody in photos has body hair now, but back in the 70s, they DID.

Where this leaves real, normal guys who are not posing for ads?

I...I don't know.

See for yourself:

Sigh.  No comments to make, just the observation.  Those are curtain rods under the box. The curtains were washed too.

And I found this.  I bought it for a few dollars at an antique shop years ago, and here it was in the bookcase.

I don't know who he is, but he's captivating, about the age of my parents now.  He looks familiar, like family, and when I dusted this his lovely face held me again for long seconds.  I can see why I bought it. 

I slipped him back in the bookcase again.

We had kids here today, and it was a great day of baby stunts and babies running wild.

b.g. loves Moo Jr.s. He calls them, "Moo-June-June." They melt down his hand about halfway through, so we toss it in the trash and get another, so he eats two halves.

Alicia was here to pick him up a couple hours later than Dan does, and he was jumping around in the kitchen yelling for Yo-J while we cooked supper, felt almost like one of our own wild two-year-olds.

On Sunday I held a friend's baby for the first time. He's gorgeous, bright and friendly, warm, with shiny blue eyes, and long feet in striped socks.

Today when I cuddled b.g. to sleep for his nap, all his tiny bird bones tucked against my chest, cornsilk hair against my face, I thought of our friend's baby and smiled.

What a fine Tuesday this has been. Apparently some true cold air is upon us for the morning, but what do we care? That's the good part of homeschool. Those kids will be asleep in their big beds full of pillow pets, not catching any buses.

Life is beyond good. love, Val