An age old tag, fulfilled...

Two posts in one day. I know, it's madness. Well, I was reading my lovely friend Skip's blog earlier, and I clicked on the label "happiness", as you do, and found this post. Seems I was tagged, and quite some time ago, and I never even knew it.

Here’s what to do:

1. Open the first (oldest) photo folder on your computer

2. Scroll to the 10th photo

3. Post the photo and the story behind it

4. Tag 5 or more people to continue the thread

I wasn't going to do anything about it, thinking it's a bit like realising you never paid your library fines, and that it's a bit late now, so the best thing to do is simply never to go back to the library again, but then I opened iPhoto, and I found the 10th photo in the first folder, and I thought again:

It's not one of the ten oldest photos on my computer, so I don't know how it snuck into that spot, somehow hoodwinking my computer and its grasp of chronology, but I'm kind of glad that it did. This is my Dad, and the picture was taken a couple of years ago, when Ruby was about five months old, on holiday in Cyprus.

I keep writing and rewriting this, going into the backstory and and the now-story, but all I really want to say is that I love my Dad more than I can say. He is the most generous, loving, brave and inspiring man I have ever met, even if he does hide it pretty well sometimes behind the fact that he's from Yorkshire.

This picture sums him up for me. It is how I think of him. He's the best dad I could ever have hoped for, and I wouldn't trade him for the world. I wouldn't even swap him for Bill Nighy.

Coincidentally, that was also the week my little baby girl first stood up, sat up, crawled, and grew her first two teeth. Busy holiday for her, that was.

Don't feel in any way obligated to take up my out of date tagging, but here are my five taggees:

1. Pixie at I'll be Francoise

2. Robyn at Rose Lullaby Dolls

3. JK at West of the Pennines

4. David at Things I Don't Understand

5. Kat at Slugs on the Refrigerator

So, take it or leave it my lovelies, but I found something rather special doing this, so it might just be worth a shot. A big belated thank you to lovely Skip for that little nugget of love.

Jet lag: the mother of industry

I was up until nearly 5am last night. I completely buggered up the sleep management side of things by having a power nap at 6pm which lasted for, ahem, five hours, hence – abracadabra! – wide awake in the wee small hours. So, with the small one (equally strung out) sitting catatonically in front of Charlie and Lola, I did the obvious thing, sidestepped the six months' worth of luggage staring at me begging to be unpacked, and decided instead to reunite myself with my fabric stash. Two hot cross buns, four cups of tea and a lot of folding and sorting later, I was the proud mama of this little bundle of glory...

But that is not all – oh no – that is not all.

Check out this lot. I didn't know it was possible to be this frickin' excited about buttons, thread and elastic (fold over elastic, no less), but I have been seriously roughing it in haberdashery terms for quite some time now, so forgive me while I go "Ooh, ooh, oooooh!"

One more for luck? Go on, say it with me: "Ooooooooh, scissors..."

Not to mention the bias tape maker. Hell yeah. No more fiddling with hair straighteners for me.

Not satisfied with sorting alone, not anywhere near sleepy, and evidently not willing even to contemplate unpacking things – shame on you for suggesting it – I decided to revamp Ruby's manky old doll's pram. Well, what else is one supposed do at three in the morning when the melatonin that was purchased with such forethought was left safely tucked away in the bread bin on the wrong side of the Atlantic?

I forgot to take the before pictures, so this is the point where you have to imagine the old blue hood with holes and scrapes and stains, and then marvel appropriately at the spanky new deckchair-striped hood and mattress.....

..... complete with matching pillow and duvet.

And, just to top things off, I snuck onto Amazon and very self-indulgently ordered myself a rotary cutter and mat before gathering up my girlie and sleeping the sleep of the truly exhausted. Happy days.

Things to remember

The smells of coffee, smoke, fried onions and flowers. Chocolate milk and green juice. Frozen yoghurt and chocolate-covered pretzels. Blossom and dust. Bee Liquors, Alphabet Cafe, the Drop Off Service. The woman in the deli across the road who gives Ruby sweets and me credit. 9th Street Espresso and B Cup Cafe. Peanut butter cookies and iced coffee. The ongoing hunt for fresh fruit and vegetables. Third floor with groceries. Bikes chained to railings. The ministry of funny runs. Yellow cabs and traffic lights. Hey, Red. Pigeons on the fire escape. Listening to the neighbours' baby cry. Ruby's plastic storage tub bath. Where the Wild things Are, and The Tiger Who Came to Tea, every day, off by heart. Margaritas and pizza slices. Subway stairs with a stroller. Snow and tears. Have a nice day. Big dogs in tiny apartments. Tiny dogs in jackets and bootees. Street-rescued sewing machines and thrift store t-shirts. Snow boots and flip flips. Umbrella carcasses under bare trees. Blue skies, grey skies, rain and wind and sun. Finding out who you are. Making somewhere your home, and then handing it back. I know where you are, I'll see you around. New York, I love you. x