Taking Pictures the Flintstone Way

As I mentioned in an earlier post, my beloved camera Sony Cybershot finally gave up the ghost and died. Since being camera-less would bring out my more homicidal tendencies, Handyman let me borrow his Fred Flintstone camera until we could get a better one.I call this the Flintstone camera because it is roughly the size of a prehistoric dinosaur egg (think melons or basketballs), and it takes about a minute for each photo to load so I can shoot another photo. I think I could draw the image faster.

Still, the desperate cannot be choosy.

The weather this week has be unseasonably warm and beautiful. (It's Nature's way of lulling me into a false sense of security before she unleashes the full onslaught of Frigid Terror).
When my friend the Dearly Departed Flipflopping Mama left us for another region, she put out an A.P.B. that her old swingset was available to the first person who got to it. Twenty minutes after receiving the bulletin the swingset was in my back yard.

(I can move fast for free stuff.)
It's been wonderful having it, especially as we don't have any trees big enough for the kids to climb. Children aren't having fun unless they're putting themselves in harm's way. Since this is a swingset, they ignore the swings completely and monkey themselves across the top.

(If you're wondering, that pink glow is the ghost of my former camera haunting my current camera.)

Peter and The Next Door Buddies have gotten a lot of use out of this thing.
Ooops, there they go!
Peter's smart; he's the one on the top of the slide.
That's my boy!