Spent yesterday digging through my Old Photo closet. (This used to be a small linen closet just off the master bathroom, but has slowly been taken over by boxes of old pictures, so why even pretend anymore?)
No, I wasn't hit by an attack of nostalgia, though it was kind of sweet to reconnect with past experiences. Especially the kiddos at all their earlier ages. I do have exceptionally adorable children, if I do say so myself.
But it was also kind of...I dunno, discombobulating. (Does anybody but me even use that word?) Because nothing will make you realize how fast life is whizzing by like looking at tons (and tons ... and tons) of old pictures. This is why I don't do it very often, and probably why I've never, despite the purist of intentions, taken the time to organize the pics into albums.
(Not because I'm lazy. Really. Okay, maybe a little.)
The reason I went on the photographic archeological expedition was this blog. In my file of possible blog posts is an item I've labeled "Dead Pets." Nice, huh?
I'm not going to show you pictures of dead animals -- I'm not that morbid. But I have a backlog of moderately amusing stories about the pets we've had over the years, and I thought it would be nice, should I get desperate enough to use them as blog fodder, to illustrate the posts with while-they-were-still-alive (I swear!) pictures.
(Relax. No dead pets today. This is just the heads-up post.)
I did come across a few other pics while sifting for pet gold, though. You remember my post about the Blarney Stone, and how kissing it may have contributed to my potty mouth?
Well, here is the proof I actually did it! And TG, too. That's me in the first pic, TG in the second.
Yeah, I know. Our heads don't show, so how can you be sure it's really us? You'll just have to trust me. I recognize the clothes.
Oh, and here's another random pic I came across. At the bottom of this post about the importance of enunciation, I mentioned how my daughter started reading and writing at an early age. Because of her interest in writing, we got her a Suzy Scribbles doll (yes, she has a face--she's just looking down):
Suzy came with her own desk, and could really write! Animatronically, of course. Only she was possessed by demons or something, because instead of writing "Hello" like she was supposed to, she always stopped after "Hell."
Yeah, try explaining that to your four-year-old.
Toodles for now. Beware of future posts, now that I've figured out how to upload old photos. You have been warned.