storytelling son

Poor Young Indiana has an ear infection, so I was snuggling with him last night he suddenly pressed up and proclaimed, “When magic begins!” Then he snuggled back down, saying, “A story about when magic begins afwwfl s fllfh sllghh,” and went back to sleep, leaving me lying there going, “NO, WAIT, STOP, I WANT TO HEAR THIS ONE!!!”

This morning, hopefully, I asked him if he could tell me a story about when magic begins, but he just laughed at me. :)

He got about 8 hours of sleep last night and I got 4 or 5. We’re both pretty obliterated. My ambitions today have been scratched in favour, apparently, of sitting tiredly on the couch and going through hundreds of photographs as part of the Great Photographic Archival Project.

It is sheerly amazing how many out-of-focus pictures of high school crushes that I felt it was necessary to keep, and how few of them I still think are cute. OTOH, there are a handful of pictures of hot-bodied young men in Speedos (I was on the swim team) which, although I have no earthly use for all except one of them, they’re lovely to look at. :) Also, there are an inordinante number of pictures of people at whom I look and go “yeah, okay, I knew that person once, but I have *no idea* who they are…”

One of the envelopes had what was possibly the only bottle of perfume I’ve ever owned spilled on it several decades ago. I can tell, because it still smells of it. I still think it’s a nice sweet flowery perfume. :) (Also, amazingly enough, only the very top photo was ruined, in that stack.)

Anyway, I’ve thrown out far, *far* more pictures than I’ve kept, and what’s left can no doubt stand another cull, but I still have thousands left to go through in this first round before I have to think about that.

God I know how to have fun. :)