Living a life worth scrapbooking....

foam bananas and technology..a great afternoon!

I'm a bit fickle about scrapbooking; I recognise it's to capture for all time the memories of our lives and to create some sort of sentimental legacy for my only child and blahdy blahdy blah.  But I don't like using the photos that pre-date my arriving at the scrapbook hobby. I'm a bit of a here and now scrapper and particularly like to record everyday stuff that might otherwise be forgotten. I use the 'old' photos when I'm completely out of mojo or new stuff.   I know, it doesn't make me  a 'different' scrapbooker, or earn me a title as some sort of renegade, but as I don't have my own style (I faithfully reproduce every lovely idea I ever see), it's a sort of comfort to me to know that I fit into some category or genre.  I like to conform.  So here's this week's scrapbooking moment.  Be patient, I need to set the scene.

Miss Dunnit, our only child, our beloved daughter, is 18 and a half.  We live in fear that her ambition is to be a perpetual student.  'We' being her parents.  Anyway.  She's currently enjoying a third year at sixth form College.  She didn't want a year out, but didn't want to go to Uni.  We're OK with that.  We love having her at home, when she's here. You know.  And...I'm digressing again.  So, yesterday.  She volunteered to help with the  Tesco Grand Prix.  She's a lovely gal.  She helped and I rewarded her with some hooch for a party. It may have been her motive, but I don't suspect that and actually I don't care...she was a help and great company. Once home and sorted, I started on a laundry related chore upstairs.  She joined me; throwing herself on my freshly changed, newly made bed.  Argh.....after years of not being allowed to sit on our made beds at boarding school, it makes me freak out a little bit...so to get my own back, I did a running jump type of move to throw myself on HER. Lots of screaming and groaning, huge dramatics and possibly some tickling.  Then some chatting and begging, and even a little threatening.  The I gave in.  As I 'climbed' off her, I noticed that she still had her teeny earphones around her neck and was a bit concerned that they may have been tugged and broken.  But for the life of me, I couldn't could not remember what they were called.  And I ended up asking if her 'micro ear defenders for music thingies' were OK.  She looked me in the eye and said :  'Yes mama, they're fine.  And it's OK, I understood, because I can speak old.'

And that's what will make it onto a scrapbook page in her album.  See, my memory may be troubling me, but I never forget an insult, however loving! Just off to fashion another blue tack effigy...

Have a great weekend!