I have been smiting the picture backlog. When I posted my catch-up plan, I had a physical album in which the most recent pictures dated from March of 2011, and the very beginnings of an electronic album with pictures from March of 2013. I had decided to nibble away at the backlog from both ends because I was so discouraged about the size of it. But in the last three days I have been taking big sloppy chomping bites. Like a great white shark, with double-stick tape. I have all the pictures from 2013 in a Snapfish picture book, and I am up to September of 2011.
You know how people quote that writer who said he hated writing but loved having written? I've seen more than one source for that quote and I'm too lazy to track down the real story at this moment, but the point is: I don't feel that way about writing. I often enjoy writing-- the satisfaction of pulling out a word that says exactly what I mean, the physical act of moving thoughts out of my head and onto screen or paper. I like writing, more often than not. But pictures? I hate dealing with pictures-- hate the whole process. I love having dealt with pictures, but the process causes me much hand-wringing. If it were 30 minutes earlier I would dig up some archived posts about hating pictures, but I was too busy uploading and arranging 30 minutes ago.
When I picked up the most recent batch of pictures from Walgreens I decided to stop and get a bottle of Kahlua. This is a purchase I make approximately every three years, in part because of my husband's scorn for girly drinks, but I've been doing a lot of a task I hate and I had some cream in the fridge (left over from July Fourth red/white/blue shortcakes) and I was going to buy some Kahlua, dang it. The checkout guy asked me for my ID and I said, "Dude, are you carding me? I am 42 years old. I've been legal for so long that my legality is of legal drinking age." He said hastily, "Okay, never mind, I believe you; you look like an honest person." I muttered, "I look like an old person."
And with that cheerful thought I am going to pour myself another Kahlua + cream and work on the December 2012 pictures.
Oh, wait, I forgot the whole point of this post. (Blame the previous installment of Kahlua + cream.) I was going to tell you that my pictures are weird. I almost always forget the camera when we go somewhere and so 99% of the pictures are taken in our house or yard. They usually involve (a) dessert, often with candles, (b) funny use of costumes (modeling a costume as it was meant to be worn will never get you in the family album, but put that skirt on your head and you're golden), (c) kids reading books (I have a zillion (I almost said "a literal zillion" but I haven't drunk that much Kahlua) pictures of Stella poring over Shakespeare, which she loves to do for some mysterious reason and which for some equally mysterious reason I still love to photograph), and (d) people getting ready to go to a location where I will fail to take the camera (school dance, school concert, soccer game, etc.). I told Elwood that this illustrates perfectly my true self: a homebody and a hardcore reader whose tombstone will read "Baking = Love."