It's true; Instagram is my new best friend. It's is to photography what Twitter is to blogging.
Microscopic.
But more manageable, in my opinion.
There are three things I never, ever leave the house without:
My Epipen.
My iPod.
Kissing my peeps.
I'll always have Instagram at my fingertips; and in my daughter's face.
The drive on my way into town; this is where the horses roam, too. On sunny days, when they're loose, the lil' dude's grin is as big as their fences.
Putting together Daddy's retro puzzle in record-breaking time, this one hoards recognizable pieces so she can finish on her own terms. Remind me to tell you how her great-Grandma D. did this very same thing last fall, while recuperating at a nursing home. It's in her genes ...
My favorite photo of the weekend. This medium-ish dog will contort himself into all sorts of crazy positions to soak up any and all sun spots in the house.
Plastic horse love.
I want her to express her individuality anyway she wishes. With orange paint in her hair? Sure.
I water-colored for the first time since 1988. I definitely did not hate it.
Sunday School's lesson for the week: have a servant's heart. Which, she already does. That girl loves to dust, throw things away, and run the lint roller along the edges of the furniture where the Beagle rests his ample haunches.
As an infant, she was always so calm, mellow, and unflappable.
Unless you took her into a carwash.
Hell. Broke. Loose.
It still does.
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