Blog Archives
Thinking…
…about what to draw tonight.
Considering I’ve spent all day drawing this may take some time.
Rioja.
I have been out for a night out with Myles.
I have drunk Rioja and brandy.
Let’s hope that 6am call from Gruff is mercifully put back till 7am.
Hic. Smashing.
Goodbye 2011.
Well it’s New Year’s Eve and we’re seeing in the next one with good friends.
Let’s hope the next year brings more fun, laughs and sword fights.
Best wishes to you all.
Get Her.
Of course all the presents that Father Christmas has brought are no match for a good old cushion burial.
A Winter’s Swim.
Our winter’s walk on the beach was cut prematurely short today by Evie’s side step into a wave.
Telling the surfer that it’s a bit cold for a swim was a good come back though…
Fluffy.
Father Christmas brought Evie a new cat for Christmas.
She’s decided to call her Fluffy.
As Fluffy is only a toy and cannot speak for herself, Evie acts as the voice of Fluffy.
Endearing yet slightly disturbing at the same time.
Fluffy is watching me…..
Christmas Day.
Lego mountains and dinosaur kingdoms.
Wooden bikes and a squirrel that squeaked for five minutes before it’s insides were ripped out.
Happy Christmas.
Balls ‘n Swords
Where does one take a dog obsessed with balls and a boy obsessed with swords?
Dodging the mud and the hail showers today.
Lumberjacks.
We finally got our Christmas tree home today with the help of some ratchet straps and half and hour of fiddling while the kids and the dog sat laughing at us in the car.
Hello.
My name is Angie Stevens and today I am 38 years old. This is my blog.
I love to draw and find no better way than to tell you all about my life and my family.
Thank you for dropping by over the past year. It has opened more doors for me than I thought possible.
Here’s to getting older and more drawing to come.
If I knew you were coming…
..I’d baked a cake!
My dudes made my birthday cake today.(for my birthday tomorrow).
House Arrest.
It’s hard entertaining a dog that can’t go out for five days (torn nail, big bandage, much whimpering and lots of antibiotics).
Gruff has come up with some excellent activities to pass the time.
We have dragon slaying,
There’s car chasing,
Hide and seek (normally doesn’t take long),
And there’s staring out the cat, never ends well.
Bandages.
One more day until the bandages come off Bonnie, hang on in there or I’ll have to vacuum wrap your leg.
Snip.
Gruff went to a proper Barber’s shop today for a trim.
Maybe it was a male influence but he sat like an angel.
Grounded.
Gruff is grounded because it’s chucking it down outside and even dinosaur wellies don’t keep little toes dry with that amount of rain, mud and cold.
Bonnie is grounded because she’s torn her nail and has one of Myles’ socks on her paws to stop her nibbling the open end.
Two frustrated souls.
Miss Independence.
I waited at the top of the road with my brolly. We thought we’d let her walk up the road from school to our house on her own.
It happened to be a horrendous wet and windy day.
I’m over whelmed with guilt.
Millie wants to do it all again tomorrow.
Dancing Bears.
Bonnie, anima-tronic dancing bears are NOT real, unlike Father Christmas, who is real.
Father Christmas won’t put a bone in your stocking unless you’re a good girl you know.
Roaming.
It’s getting a bit good out of the pram now, in fact it’s much better out of the pram.
Off you go little explorer, go get ’em.
Tell me all about it.
Nothing like a good old moan after a hard day in the office, is there Millie?
Good job we have our little team of shrinks on hand to listen…
Adventures in Hoovering (continued)
This is another recent addition, the hoover is now seen as the enemy, to be defeated at all costs…
Sort it.
My little helper loves to sort out his beakers and cups.
Lucky for me he enjoys putting them back again too!
Where did you get that hat?
There may be a recession on and money may be tight but that’s not to say we can’t have style as a family.
I’ve knitted them all hats that I think suit their personality.
Sorry Gruff, you’ll grow into yours….
Braving the cold.
Dressed in nothing but a fairy dress and wellies, there goes my four year old floating up the garden.
We shan’t mention that Gruff is buried knee deep in soil and she’s off to join him..
Burlesque.
Either a Burlesque burglar scampered through my house whilst I was out or the cat has struck again.
How many feathers!
Arnie!
Saturday Morning.
Walk doggo, wet grass and litter.
Time to think?
Not bloody likely! Just time to myself.
Joyo.
Roadworks.
Right outside my house.
Huge holes currently being dug in the road for us to peer into.
Not a sniff of bloody treasure either.
New gas mains apparently so I can expect a bill for my kidneys to heat my home this winter.
Hurrah.
Birthday Riots.
Cake, dog salivating after cake, cat salivating after cake, wrapping paper, boxes, lots of little toy men with swords, a rampaging knight and a squealing princess.
I’d like to lie down for a bit now….
Sneaky.
Gruff has mastered the art of sneaking upstairs without us noticing.
So far the Scarlet Pimpernel has targeted his big sisters room at the top of the house.
There will not be a toy left unturned.
Drip.
Wet feet, wet nose, wet children, wet bra, wet trousers, dripping wet.
Did I mention the rain?
Injuries.
I spent an hour last night making up my children’s faces to look horrible and they decided the look was so good they’d injure themselves for real.
Great.
Witches.
Look out, here they come.
An assortment of tiny face painted gremlins, coming to eat your sweets and cakes.
Knocking at your door, drooling at the prospect of more teeth rotting goodness.
Stuff.
Yes stuff, stuff that has been left in the dogs crate today that was not put there by the dog.
Two plastic soldiers, two building blocks and one purple feather.
Time to don my Sherlock hat, there is a mystery afoot.
Scribble.
I believe it’s time to buy the boy a sketchbook of his own. I can’t keep a crayon/chalk/pencil out of his hand.
Another one mad on drawing.
Please don’t turn out as potty as your mother.
Dragon Slayer.
Gruff has abandoned his quest for a steed and has decided to pursue his quest to slay the mighty dragon.
Mighty dragon would rather be left alone to lick his back legs and snooze.
I doubt mighty dragon will breathe fire but a swipe may be coming fair knight’s way…
Early.
It is too early to; play knights and battles, eat bananas, watch Cbeebies and have cushion fights.
Someone reset my son’s body clock please.
Fear of the Dark.
Evie’s decided she doesn’t like the dark any more. I have to leave the door open and put the cat in with her in an attempt to make her feel better.
But adding glow in the dark ponies and a torch has clinched the deal.
Suddenly the monsters disappear and the fun begins.
Show-time.
Sport.
Bonnie’s favourite sport on the beach, we have discovered, is small dog jumping.
Small dog wonders why it is in shadow and looks up to find our lovely hound sailing over it.
This is very hard to explain to a frazzled owner that it’s dog is merely a hurdle.
Wrapping the Dinoasur.
So, how does one wrap a roaring, flashing dinosaur?
With caution!
C’mon….I know you want to laugh….
Counting down.
Not long now till my little girl turns four and as usual it will be a dinosaur-tastic day.
Dear Dog.
Dear Dog,
It has been one month and eighteen days since you imposed yourself on my house.
I would like my bowl back very much, it’s the blue one that you keep dragging off the counter every morning without fail.
Yes it’s impressive you can reach up that high and swipe it down with one paw but I’ve tired of this trick.
Tonight I shall booby trap my bowl with hidden incendiary devices so should you decide that you fancy a nibble on my kibbles I would take care.
Arnie.
Flapping.
Do you flap?
I do, I am the ultimate flapper.
For example;
The classic school run flap.
This is the old lady barging in at the pie counter in Morrisons flap.
This one speaks for itself.
And this one is the sausages on fire flap.
A Decade.
Of being Married. Wow.
Where did that one go then?
Ah that’ll be the ten years of hormone driven, sleep deprivation.
Well, we’re both older and even uglier, best stick together for everyone else’s sake eh?
The Artist’s Muses.
It’s difficult to paint with this going on in the background but I imagine it will be harder once they’re all in school and the house is quiet.
I think we have a kind of symbiosis that helps me make the most of every millisecond I have to draw and paint.
It may not be the best of what I can do but I’m ticking over and and with every day, there’s more work coming.
Thanks guys for the noise.
Crouching Squirrel, Hidden Dog.
It’s squirrel mayhem here at the moment and our new Dog, Bonnie is finding them irresistible.
Bonnie, may I have my thumb back please?
Yes it’s on the end of the lead you took with you half way up a tree.
The Creeping Realisation….
…that your packet of welsh cakes will not be accompanying you with a nice cup of tea but will be residing in the belly of your dog.
Mittens.
That was the name of the little kitten that pawed at our door today.
I ignored it.
An hour later she was still outside trying to get herself killed on the road so I let her in.
Evie called her Mittens and the two of them cuddled up on the sofa.
At half past three I paraded up and down the street with her in a carrier with posters to no avail.
I took her to the vets after tea and left her there to be collected by the RSPCA. (No microchip).
I’m sorry Evie.
Made in Swansea.
My kids were, but look at the rubbish on Television.
Made in Chelsea, and The only Way is Essex. Docu-Dramas about real people.
Shoot me now…..
Peas.
Oh god not peas, anything but peas.
Don’t give Gruff peas.
He has an odd fascination with squeezing every single one of them and launching them into the cosmos for good measure…
Behind the cushions.
It’s always the best place to be when watching Doctor Who. Not normally letting the younger ones watch but carrot cake held my interest for far too long….
Penny Sweets.
Apparently in this country 50 per cent of the population in this country earn more than £35,000 a year.
Between that 50 per cent, they make up 93 per cent of the income of the United Kingdom.
(Source. UK Revenue and Customs). http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Income_in_the_United_Kingdom
Or put it another way, the other 50 per cent earn just 7 per cent of the country’s income.
Penny sweets anyone?
Doodlemum 