In ancient times before digital cameras and blogs, I used to drop my film off at Wal-Mart to be developed. A week later I’d go pick up my pictures. Then I’d sit on my living room floor and sort the photos. I always got triple prints, so one stack was “North,” one stack was “South,” and one stack was “Mine.” I’d spend the next hour writing captions on the back, bundling them into envelopes, and addressing them to be sent to DJ’s parents in Nova Scotia and my mom in Mississippi.
I did this at least once a month.
Then came digital cameras, and it became increasingly easier to upload pictures. And also came more babies, and it became increasingly difficult to find the time to sort and caption.
But I still do it, I’ve realized. It’s just that now I use my blog, and I distribute the pictures all over the place. And kids can’t make off with my good pens before I can write the captions.
So here’s the latest batch.
Bookgirl and Sparkler go around looking like demure, conservative homeschool girls from the back…
… but in reality they’re wearing custom-styled, duct-taped, billow-out-the-back capes.
I’m not convinced this is high fashion, but it’s certainly not conventional.
More conventionally, Sparkler got her birthday gift of pierced ears, with only a slight freakout between Piercing #1 and Piercing #2. She’s wearing sparkly pink butterflies, which I think everyone would agree was the obvious choice.
But when sparkly pink butterflies aren’t available, you can hang locust shells from your earlobes. It’s the all-natural, earth-conscious fashion choice.
In other news, DJ recently took a day off work. The night before, he handed me a written invitation: “Would you like to go out to lunch with me?” Ooh, yes! But the next day, a good night’s sleep wasn’t gotten (by zombies) so schoolwork was freaked out over (by zombies). DJ and I couldn’t leave the house while tantrums were being thrown (by zombies). So our lunch date was ruined.
So we were mad at… zombies… which we handled by getting mad at each other. I went back to the bedroom to be miserable, while DJ stayed in the kitchen to do whatever obsessively productive thing he was doing to prove that he wasn’t upset. I was hungry but too disappointed to figure out what to eat, since I’d banked on having my food cooked and served to me. What a rotten morning.
Then DJ showed up in the bedroom with an apology in the form of a custom (cobbled-together) lunch.
It wasn’t the most gourmet meal I’d ever eaten, but somehow tasted pretty darn good.
Recently, our friends invited us to go apple-picking at the nearby farmer’s market. It’s called Carver-Keller, but DJ can’t ever get the names right. We generally refer to it as “Carter-Killer, Marker-Cellar, Magic-Marker, whatever.” It was a great time and we ended up with way too many apples. I’ve already baked apple bread and apple pie. DJ isn’t seeing a problem here.
Anyway, a good time was had by all. Even the zombies.