I finished the page I made for The Boy's scrapbook. Lots of transfers and transparencies, and a few Mexican lotería cards too. I know that "El Catrín" means "guy" or "dandy", and that it has nothing to do with Hurricane Katrina, but I added it anyway. Elsewhere on the page, there's a transparency of The Boy over a pierced-heart lotería card... but it shows his face. (And when was the last time you saw an unblocked picture of The Boy? Not never. Right.)The Boy was just over six months old when Hurricane Katrina hit New Orleans. (This satellite picture is printed on white rice paper with a swirl pattern.)
I kept up with the devastation only through listening to the radio in the mornings. Katrina hit not long after I left reporting, so I had some professional interest in the coverage. But I couldn't bring myself to watch on TV. Yes, The Boy was far too young to be watching any TV with me, let alone disaster coverage. But I have to admit I was too much of a chickenshit to expose myself to the misery of children.
Here I was, safe and sound, big ol' Costco boxes of baby diapers at hand whenever I needed them, and there babies were blistering in the heat and diaper rash, lucky to get anything they could digest.At the time, I wasn't working, and The Husband was working exclusively on his websites, so more money was going out than coming into our household. We did send a donation to the American Red Cross, but I still felt guilty for not doing more. This is why I now take unused diapers to our local YWCA, since they take in battered women and children.
The page is probably a little, um, dark for a scrapbook about a child... but that's how I roll.
On the lighter side, The Boy wandered over to see what I was doing as I finished the page, and asked if he could play. So I helped him make his first ATCs with textured paper scraps. We used matte medium as a glue and sealer.
No shopping involved, minimal mess, and he got to play with Mommy's art supplies. Then he "signed" them on the back with a red Tombo marker. 
He was very reluctant to give up the pen, but Mommy insisted. (He should count himself lucky. Mommy's been very territorial ever since her brother used to break her crayons as a kid.)Must start on the next postcard for Tally, and the fatbook page I promised my Artfest dorm buddy Kristie.