The Taxman Cometh. (My Loot List of Thanks)

Or-- if you're me-- on the Ides of April, the birthday cometh.

What a blessed birthday it was this year, too.
Our Owen family was here for the week, and Great Grandma and Uncle Ben were able to come for a birthday lunch visit, so we were steeped with family love and celebration all week long.

My birthday usually proceeds without much fanfare or earthly wealth, but this year was completely different. I am now filled to the brim and overflowing with presents enough to last for the rest of my life. That statement, just so you know, Mopsy and Dude-Mom, is not hyperbole!

John's mom took the girls to a dollar store (that really wasn't a dollar store) and told them they could pick out gifts for me, so they were bursting with excitement when they came home, speaking of mysteries in not-so-hushed voices. It was so much fun to watch them as I opened their gifts, and even though they gave me some pretty cool stuff, their faces were the best gift.

My mom gave me a granny-square sweater that she's been crocheting off and on for the last four years based on a comment I only hazily remember about liking a similar one. I've seen literally dozens of my mom's creations lying about, nearly finished, over the last four years-- easily over a hundred-- and not once did I ever see the smallest scrap of this sweater. It's lovely and makes me feel like an autumn elf, all covered with gold and green and rusty shades of red and tan. She also piled me with some quirky antiques she and my dad picked up at rummage sales, which make me feel like this house has more of my thumbprints on it, but the sweater is the shining jewel. I love buttoning her love around my shoulders.

My Heart, who can never be counted upon to give me something for the occasions when One is Required to Give Something but who always surprises me with unexpected gifts, gave me an entire dresser-top covered. Books upon books upon books to savor for the next year's worth of reading in the dark, the latest National Geographic magazine, a candy thermometer, a meat thermometer!, a pizza stone, a chocolate bar, and-- my favorite-- a frog. I'll post a picture and story sometime, but it makes me smile just to type that.

And you already know I was given a camera, so who's left? Hm. Whoever would be crazy enough to buy me a cameraS instead of a car-home? Gee, I really can't think of a single soul who'd ignore the voice of reason and indulge me with excess. Any suggestions?

Anyone?

Anyone at all??

Oh, yeah.
I suppose there is THIS lady left...

Yup, this one. The one hiding behind Annika's jubilation.

Yup, the one looking so innocent here with her cohorts-in-crime. (Sarah, I think you look like a rock star.)

On the morning of my birthday, my mom-in-law didn't even wait for me to get out of my pajamas before she gave me a package. I knew that something bad was about to happen when Sarah flashed me a grin and said, "You might want to sit down." The premonition was cemented by the fact that Dude immediately said, "I'm outta here!" and scooted for the safety of the living room. Those might not seem like signs of a breaking storm to you, but then, you're not the daughter-in-law of people who spoil you silly with over-the-top gifts, are you?

This one was the mother-lode, and I hereby declare that my much-loved Owen family should never give me another present until the end of time, amen.

The camera, for so it was, was one of the biggest shocks I've ever received. It's exactly the one for which I'd been saving, only several incarnations newer than the older, used Rebel model that I entertained thoughts of someday buying. I had NEVER told anyone what camera I hoped to eventually save enough for, except my mum's-the-word-sister, not even John, because I knew that Dudette might be tempted beyond what she was able if she knew any particulars, and since I had forbidden her (as much as I can forbid her anything, which is to say, I tried) from giving me a camera, I didn't want to place a stumbling block before her feet.

She needs no stumbling block.

She tried to reassure me by saying that it was really a gift for her because she loves to see pictures of the girls, but, as you all know, I post pictures of the girls (when I post) just as handily without a Fancy Camera. Then she tried to make me accept it as the will of God. So after I shook and trembled and stammered and mightily protested and avoided swooning for several minutes, I put the unopened camera on the tippy-top of the bookshelf.

It was at this point that she (You Know Who) casually handed me a small box and said, "Oh, yeah, and this one's for your purse." WHAT?!?!???!!!!

The brazenness!

I forbid her from giving me a camera, so she gives me a cameraS!

I was able to open this one, though, and hoped that my immediate enjoyment of it would allow me to convince her to return the Fancy One. I tried, but she's a Brick Wall of Spoiling Love.

Two and a half days later, I finally took the Fancy Camera off the tippy-top of the bookcase and opened it. An hour after that, with the girls laughing at my dazed exclamations of "This is INCREDIBLE!" as I tried out the camera, I was hooked.

After the first week of using aperture priority, I've been snap-shotting with full manual settings, and LOVING it, though I've only just dipped my toes in the water. I can't wait to learn how to utilize this magical machine more fully!
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I end this post with random pictures I took with the "small" camera-- you know, the one "for my purse." I didn't read the manual or change any settings before I took pictures, so the first few are in wide-angle mode and stamped with the date. Who knew the small camera could do that? Obviously, not me.

The girls drink juice when company's here. (Yup. This is a treat.)

Here's a hen. She's red. She's a little, red hen.

Susannah hunted for eggs with a fervor.

I took a dorky picture of myself wearing my birthday sweater ON my birthday.

Pip was coddled by Aunt Sarah.

At this point, I discovered that I'd been taking snapshots in wide-angle mode. Fixed it!

My Mildred.

My dad.

My niece Aponi in this year's play. (She's mostly blocked by a grinning Patrick. I don't know why it looks like he's grinning directly at my camera, because he couldn't see it, but there you have it.)

My favorite part of the play was this beard. The play featured many Confederate and Union soldiers, and when this girl-man strode onto the stage, Piper said (SO loudly), "BLACKBEARD! Him is Blackbeard! Him's a PIRATE! Him is MEAN!"

For the duration of the play, at any given point, Piper could be counted upon to repeat the same.
Later, when asked what her favorite part of the play was, she replied, "The pirates fightin'. And Blackbeard. Him mean. Him my friend."

Ah, there's nothing like the certainty of educating your children well.

Unless it's a blurry picture of a petrified toddler.

THE END.