Pocket Aces

Digging deep.

I know it's not Tuesday, but I leave you with this bit of ridiculousness:

You're welcome. Have a great weekend! (Mine is starting early. I hope it doesn't end with me wearing another Keystone Light hat.)

At least I'm not wearing a silly yellow vest.

 

Old Photo Tuesday! What has it been, two months? I suck.

Anyway. This is a silly little photo taken back in 2002, I think, in Stingray City off Grand Cayman Island. I had so much fun with those stingrays. I had no idea, at the time, that they could Steve Irwin you.

I look completely goofy above, yes, and I'm not quite sure that my eyes are open, but I found this photo notable because of what it lacks.

See? No tongue.

That's a real life, actual, honest-to-goodness smile, folks.

Halle-frickin'-lujah, yes?

The rest of the story.

Remember this? Many Tuesdays ago, I told the story of the time Marc and I went to some small venue show with some friends, and I got bored with the music, and this ensued:

 

Shots on the bar. A pretty typical scene from those days, really. As I looked at this photo, I recalled certain events of the night... who was playing and where we were, and who was taking the photo (hi, Becky!). But I may have extrapolated a few scenes that were hazy - such as those involving that girl with her back to the camera in the photo, who I imagined was not happy with my attempts at fun-raising.

Turns out I was wrong.

I stumbled across another photo - this one:

  

She was totally cool, and a fun girl. I remember now. Sorry I smeared you on the Internet, random fun girl who worked at the bar that night.

In other news, want to know who was playing that night? Whose music was so boring it drove me out to the bar?

 

Wait, who's that?

 

Oh, hai, Jimmy Buffett. Sorry I was bored that night at your show. I saw lots of your other shows, so we're cool, right? Call me! 

Ahem.

Anyway. Now the story is straight. Everyone there was happy, nobody was a bitch, and I had a very shiny face. And I'm pretty sure Jimmy never missed me at all. That bastard.

 

The End.

 

His turn.

 

Boulder Canyon, 1996

Since I missed Old Photo Tuesday yesterday (and last week!) and get a big old FAIL anyway, I thought I'd mix things up and post an old photo of Marc today.

During his Cosby Sweater Phase.

Not so old.

 

Look! It's me. I promise. Taken just two days ago. Not a foot in sight. 

So, yes. Today I declare it NEW PHOTO TUESDAY. And all the people in all the lands rejoiced. The End. 

(OPT will be back next week.) 

38

 

Today is Marc's birthday. This photo of him was taken not on his birthday, but on the birthday of his first baby - March 18, 2005. It's one of my favorites.

Tonight? His favorite meal - pot roast, mashed potatoes, corn, gravy. Yellow cake with chocolate frosting. Meltdown at dinner, then sighing and shaking our heads because isn't that just life, and don't we just love it anyways? We do. Like we all love him.

Watching Chuck, which has my undying love. And then Heroes, at which I am frowning. Reading in bed. A good night, a good year. All good.

Happy Birthday, baby.

The Tongue Chronicles: Part III

 

Seriously, what is wrong with me? Am I physically incapable of keeping my tongue in my mouth when there is a camera in front of my face? Why has nobody told me before that fishface is not my best look?

This was taken on our honeymoon in Negril, Jamaica - June 1999. Uh, except that guy's not my husband, as any of you who have been paying attention are likely to notice. He was just a guy that was a part of a number of couples that we met and had a great time with while we were there. I am just going to assume that Marc was behind the camera. Or the couple-swapping had started for the evening, and I was left behind. With... that guy. (Oh, I KID.)

Oh, and for the record, this was taken back when I considered myself relatively skinny, despite what that bizarre dress I am wearing seems to indicate.

Let's tally: Unflattering face? Check. Unflattering shirt/dress/braless wonder-thing? Check.

My work here is done.

Because sometimes I'm not sure.

 

Here it is - proof that I was once a baby. This is the earliest known photo of me. At least I think it is - that sorta mostly looks like my mom, so I'm led to believe that's me she's feeding. Huh. Maybe this isn't really proof of anything. Maybe I really WAS dropped off here at the age of 4 by benevolent aliens.

Naaaahh. Look how cute my little crossed feet are. That's totally me.

Yes we're going to a party party.

 

My eighth, or ninth, birthday. Look, nobody was very excited on that one, either.

To all of those who wished me a Happy Birthday, I offer ten million thank yous and my endless love (sorry, Lionel Ritchie) and I might offer to have some of your babies but HELL NO to going down that road again. Besides, take a good look at that kid up there. Do you really want my DNA?

Now, I couldn't help but notice that I had some visitors who, for whatever lame ass reason they care to concoct, did NOT leave me birthday wishes. You know who you are, people, and so do I. I know where to find you, and I am in fact watching you on satellite right this minute (don't ask questions - I am just that awesome, ok?). I'd tell you to watch your backs, but frankly, I'm too lazy to come and get you. Must be your lucky day.

Oh, hey! I just learned to count, and it would appear that there are NINE candles on that cake. Now we can be pretty unconventional in the Midwest, but I think it's safe to say that I am turning nine here. Ok. Glad we cleared that up.

I TOTALLY missed my calling as a detective.

Can't a girl get a little sleep?

(I can't believe I'm posting this picture. There is something wrong with me.)

I imagine this is what I looked like at 8:00 this morning, as Marc came in to apologetically get my ass out of bed so he could go off and, oh, I dunno, support our family and do other useless things. Riley had been fed breakfast but needed clothes and lunch for school, and could I please get up and act like a mother now? Well, he was sweet about it, at least.

(In my defense, I had stumbled into bed at 3:30 AM after dealing with Mason's sickity sickness most of the night. Not that it hasn't happened other times, but at least this time I had a good reason to still be in bed. That's my story, and I'm stickin' to it.)

This gem of an old photo was taken Christmas morning, I'm thinking 1989 or 90. Probably '90. You know how it is Christmas morning - you get up crazy early, open your presents, then go back to sleep on the couch - hopefully in peace. This is me, not getting any peace.

Just like this morning. Truly, life comes full circle.