Every day we brush our teeth, so that they are all better to eat cheese with.
Brushing teeth with mucho verve cultivates a sense of togetherness and ruddy-mindedness.
Some brushes vibrate; others are static.
Mine's a manual, hers is automatic.
Every morning we get into the Deathmobile and ride around, churning up bags and bags of mud. Our thick wheels dig into the ground and are generally merciless.
I wield pencils and wear all my camouflage gear and slick my hair back and oil my chest so that it looks shiny. I look from side to side, measuring the distance between one plastic figure and the next.
Elios / Alexander Pusskin / Kit is settling in well. The same can be said of my socks, which are holier than ever.
Strange automobiles appear in the driveway. Elios asks frequently, "ahoy there, what be the nature of these carnal beasts?" We don't know how to respond without letting the poor sod down. No, Elios, they're not giant tuna-muffins, no they're not sardine-yaks from Larderland...
A while ago, we embarked on a gorgeous mission. Slowly and steadily, my young brother and I have put together an alternative, locally sourced Monopoly board. No longer does Hasbro have a monopoly on monopoly-based board games. We've thrown a lot of hard graft at this thing, and have only played it once since it was finished.
Cat King Cole.
I found a little man.
A friend of our family came to visit, and the surge of creative juices which ensued led to a glorious thing: we made a film. It's going to be a big one, so be careful.
Oysters and triumph on a blue plate.
Frosty mornings are regular. Maybe it's because of all the prunes the sky has been eating. They're stunning and just make you want to jump out of bed in the morning and go outside and frolic!!! and then go back inside to bed.
Our fabulous hound looks fabulous as ever, despite a few setbacks: lumpy ears, a tick, chewy paws, dog scabies, and confidence issues in the face of a feline friend/foe. Sharing the roost is tricky, it seems, but he certainly looks good from this angle.
Here's our pal Coose, wandering mistily among frosten leaves.
Here's Boulou sniffing where he just walked, in case of any poos or smells.
For four hours each day, the cat faces the sun and glows. This, we are led to believe, is his recharging time. Old cats have old batteries, and require more time to warm up before they can hang loose in the boudoir.
Look at that hand-knitted pullover!
You shouldn't dip your hands in tar and then in mercury. Otherwise, this will happen!!
Together we've been practising our dance moves. Just ask any of us at any time and we'll do it all for you.
We are all the angel of the north, at different times.
Dance moves grow wilder as the sun goes down. Where are the wild things? This is where the wild things are, maybe.
Aliens face south.
Boys face north.
