Yup, spring is in the air. I've been shamed into shaving me shins again, and in to donning a frock (I won't ruin that image by mentioning the band-aid's I'm now currently sporting).
My eldest daughter attended her first ever Spring Ball last night. I cried. Not because I was overcome by the occasion, no. I felt cut to the bone, the selfish moo refused to allow me to get my camera out. I was only allowed ONE lousy shot of her and her mates before the off, and even then, it had to be taken on the boyfriend's miserable compact.
Here's the grainy, apology of an offering I'm left with, and if she thinks I'm about to waste my time and effort over Photo shopping this poor excuse for an image, she's even more deluded than a shed-load of ugly sisters sitting,waiting for Prince Charming to come whisk them away.
The words, "Silk Purse" and "Pig's Ear" springs to mind (er, not of the girls, but the photo). They wouldn't even let me pose them. And for a girl so fond of her spiky heels, I wish she wouldn't crouch so hard to shrink better down to her pals height! The sooner she comes to terms with she comes from a family of giants, the better..
(Next year, she can pay for her own bloody dress..)
Come Friday, it's my youngest's turn at the school's annual "Spring-Fling" dance. I've been dumb enough to be volunteered into hosting the after-party, inviting her whole year to tip up at the house (in fairness, I guess I should qualify that by adding, since there are only 250 pupils in the entire school, her year isn't exactly humongous). Still, it's sad really, isn't it, the depths I have to sink to, just in the hope of snapping the odd decent photo or two?
The eldest returns from Uni for his spring break, on Saturday, just in time for Mothering Sunday (smile). I like to pretend to myself he planned it that way. I'm not supposed to know it, but Sweet Sam tells me we're all booked out on the day, for lunch at my favourite place.
'Course, spring is the traditional time for the housing market to swing into action, but this year I'm truly starting to get a complex - I note both my immediate neighbours have just put their houses up for sale. Hope it was nothing we said? Seriously, living next to us might prove a bit of a hard sell, what with us having so many teenager's and their friends running around rampant. Sure, think maybe I should clean our windows over the next few days just as a gesture of goodwill? Ach, stop worrying, I'm only jesting, 'tis true, yes, they ARE both moving, but both have their own good reasons, and we've lived cheek by jowl (taking into count, we are all separated by being surrounded within our own substantial acred gardens) side by side, for going on around 11yrs together now, sharing the odd cup of tea, and with never a cross word exchanged between any of us.
Hey, ho, well it's time for me to start the Sunday roast, it's chicken this week. I've recently acquired a new microwave, that boasts it doubles up for an oven. A spare oven is a very handy thing to have. As ever, Hubby is sceptically very suspicious, but I want to give it a go, nonetheless. Like I said to him, the worst is we end up with a Chinese take-away, for my troubles. (The kids, having no faith, are already hunting down the chop-sticks.)
Wish me luck!