Of all the discussions that Oona and I have had on our walks home from "school" (daycare), probably the most animated revolve around the physical properties of ghosts. In her mind, a ghost is almost completely defined by the absence of arms and legs. So when I suggest that her cousins are ghosts, or her mommy is a ghost, or perhaps even she is a ghost, she will instantly refute this by pointing out the presence of appendages. No, she'll say, No, I'm not a ghost. I have arms. Look, daddy. LOOK. I HAVE ARMS. I HAVE ARMS AND LEGS! At which point I remind her that it is not polite to yell in the street. And then we turn the conversation to whether or not ghosts can eat. They *do* have mouths, I point out, and watch her brain explode.
C is friends with the fashion stylist Rebekah Roy (left in both pics above) ... one of those people who personify calm and smiling success. On her blog she presents glamour in this very sincere, straightforward way ... whether she's taking pictures of people on the street , talking about stain removers , her favourite videos , or attending some glittering party . One minute she's ruminating on hair extensions, and in the next she reveals how she's been featured on the Vogue UK site. A real disarmer and charmer (and this without meeting her yet, although I feel like I know her because we both did our time in Winnipeg). * * * * * Coming home from Russia, we did many bad things. ; mixed media on canvas, 10 x 10 inches. In my own life, the glamour is wholly imagined. * * * * * witches, smoke ; mixed media on canvas, 10 x 10 inches. My second go at this one, and for some reason I'm painting a lot of smoke lately (note to self: tell C that I want to be cremated). *
Oh my gosh. You are a good Daddy!!
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