More corners here at Francesca’s and more red and white in my flickr set.

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Og bilar og vindeygu aftur í dag… /More cars and windows today…

Beiggin hevði hoyrt at hon hevði frí úr skúlanum, so hann slapp við til eygakonuna (sum er skoytiterapeutur og arbeiðir hjá eygnalæknanum). Eygað var verri aftur, tí hesaferð høvdu vit ikki verið so røsk at taka okkum av tí, sum vit plaga. Aftur at klistra uppá glasið, so dovna eyga sleppur at arbeiða, so fer tað nokk skjótt uppá páss aftur. Góða eygað var gott; í brillunum 1.0.

The little boy heard that his sister was taking the day off, to go see the eye-lady (the orthoptist at the ophthalmologists clinic that the big girl has been seing since she was around 18 months). The lazy eye was worse again, over the summer we had not been as good at keeping upp with the treatment as we usually are. We will just have to remember to scotch tape the glass on the good side again, and it should be fine. The good eye was good, though, the glasses are a perfect match.

Á veg heim aftur hugdu vit inn til Fru Hurup. The og sjokoláta og kakupynt og kaffi – sum har altíð luktar væl. Drongurin helt at tað var nokkso damusligt og mest fyri gentur. Ein svipp inn til grannan eisini, toyhandilin við túsund ymiskum sløgum av mynstrutum bummulstoyi til patchwork og alt annað gott. Tá segði drongurin at hann fór bara út at bíða tí hesin handilin var alt ov damisligur. Og út fór hann, í hettutroyggju og posutum kowboybuksum, slitnir converse-líknandi skógvar og hárið eitt sindur ov sítt. Hendur í lumma og avgjørdur, allir 99 sentimetrarnir.

On our way back home, we stopped by Fru Hurup’s to enjoy the lovely smells of teas, coffe, chocolate and cake toppings. The little boy thought it was a pretty girly shop, but we liked it. Then we went next door, craft supplies and specialist fabrics for quilting and patchwork, hundreds of them. That was too much, and the little kid declared that he would be waiting outside, because this store  was too girly. So in his hooded sweatshirt, baggy jeans, worn out converse style shoes and in bad need of a haircut, he left, all 99 centimeters of him. 

Heima fekk gentan aftur klistur á brillurnar, men vit avtalaðu at í morgin skuldi hon sleppa frá, tí tá skipar frítíðarskúlin fyri rolluspæli.

When we got home, we covered the good eye, to make the lazy one work harder, but we agreed on tomorrow being special. The after scool program she goes to has arranged a live action role-playing game, and for that kind of event, she will need the good eye.

Hon man ikki vera tann einasta sum rýmir viðhvørt. Men eg veit ikki um eg skal hugsa at tað er gott við ævintýrum áðrenn skúlatíð ella at onkur roynir at lumpa hana…

She is probably not the only one who gets lost in glossy images sometimes. But I’m undecided, do I praise a healthy dose of fiction before school or rant on about advertising and pinkification.

Sometimes superpowers are indispensable

Other corners converge here.

It wasn’t even a very busy morning.

Eg lurtaði aftur eftir Ellen Davis og Wendell Berry; hon um mold meðan hann lesur um at vera skald. Tað ljóðar næstan sum tað øvugta av at vera bloggari.

Listened to Ellen Davis and Wendell Berry. Again. He makes being a poet sound like the opposite of being a blogger.

Eg arvaði telefonina hjá svigarinnuni. Eri annars ikki so ljósareyð, men ein grísur og ein heimagjørdur ringitóni, so var á góðari leið. Aftaná amagermyndirnar bleiv eg púra bitin av hesum.  Havi lisið Habit leingi, so eg hermi bara eitt sindur, taki mynd og skrivi stutt. Viðhvørt havi eg hug at halda, at avmarkingar gera tað lættari, at brúka tað sum er.

My sister-in-law put her old phone in the mail, when I lost mine. I’m not really a very rosy person, but with the pig and a diy snort ringtone, it grew on me. Since the beach photos two weeks ago I have been snapping away on this thing. Inspired by the Habit blog, making tiny diary entries.

“innidagur, morgunbreyð, bók, fakta (tí alt hitt var stongt, tá vit endiliga komu frá húsum), og pingvinstengur á veg heim.”

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“og líka nógvar hinumegin vegin. ongantíd vid máta.”

*

“zoo, paparazzi og pannukøkur.”

*

“Someone bought it as an investment”, one of the neighbours told me. I suppose some investments in real estate have turned out like this lately. But this was neglect.

Og sig mær so, kann eg fara inn aftur eftir speglinum, ella er tað at stjala?

I can’t decide if going back for the mirror would be stealing…

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Letting little people play with phones and snap some images really is a great idea. Going back to see what the world looks like from their perspective can be a mixed experience, though. They really are little…

Kanska eg skuldi heldur farið í kjóla…

…and this would look better in a skirt.

Here is a small change from yesterday:

Other posts on change here.

Sometimes it almost seems like a distraction, all this runing around and documenting every move…

But sometimes I think it looks like passion…

…and sometimes it captures passion…

The grownups in this house seem to be better at taking their time when taking pictures. It tends to make them stop worrying about when they may have done enough playground to qualify as responsible parents.

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Corner View. More here.