Patron saint of scrapbooking

My sister left Florida to go back home after helping Mom and me make huge progress in our massive photographic undertaking. I arrived a day before her and as I sorted boxes of pictures, discovered a tiny Tracy-head photo from long ago. I taped it to the wall next to the work space, wondering how long it would take my sister to notice.

Less than an hour.

But now it’s just me, Mom, and that June Cleaver-esque pinhead.

tiny-tracy

At least no one expects me to wear pearls and heels while I slog through the photos . . .

 

 

 

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The more things change, . . .

. . . the more they stay the same. (Or, for the Francophiles: plus ça change, plus c’est la même chose)

I’ve written before about elder son’s (Wildebeest) penchant for doing things the hard and harder way. I didn’t exactly believe that that rock-headed character trait would disappear as he got older, but I admit to thinking it would, um, soften. HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA.

Whew.

I really do have to laugh, though, because when I needed an image for this post, I opened a photo file and clicked at random. This is what appeared:

Dreadlock attempt (hey, that's a great name for a band!)

Dreadlock Attempt (hey, that’s a great name for a band!)

Rather than believing that the Universe is peeing-its-pants-laughing at me, I choose to believe the Universe has my back.