Hey, Mr Ploos, quit scarin' away the coostomers. . . Ain't nobody died from me moon rivers yet. . . though there are thems what would 'ave me oop on charges, challenge to the digestive sensibilities what they are. . . 'ence the pronounced discount.
Nice drawin's and paintin's, lad.
-------
@ Alexandra: Nice to meet yer clan, lass. When I bought a video camera a good while back I needed to video something and sat me mum with an old family album, filled with pictures of old relatives from a photography studio in Glasgow. It was so funny because nobody living had a clue who they were, and my mom started assigning to them random stories she'd heard about her bygone relatives, no matter if they were the correct one's pictured. Made for quite a lively narrative.
And did ye know through some quirk of fate that we're related to Queen Victoria. Must be the God's 'onest truth because her pic was right there on a page alongside all me presumed oddly whiskered relations. So we cling to the knowledge that at least one of the family did alright. The Balmoral of the story is as you look into your family history, when in doubt, take the highest story point ye can swing without given on yer lyin' through yer teeth. Make oos proud, lassie.
Cute little girl ye got in yer arms, by the way -- actually the both of ya, and that's no exaggeration. The fact that neither of you have whiskers like my family album is replete with, it only adds to your guys' cuteness. Count your blessin's.
"Not a bit is wasted and the best is yet to come. . ." -- remembered from a dream