Last night our family trekked across the frozen tundra of NEPA to get our pictures taken for the directory that is currently being put together at my church. None of us (save hubs), take a good picture, so as you can imagine why we were not too giddy about this appointment. We primped, we fussed beforehand and then we went, but dang, we were not happy. It showed in the pictures taken of my mom.
Mom would not, absolutely would NOT smile for the photographer. And the photographer was not picking up what she was putting down, so she took about a gazillion snap shots of mom–wayyyy more than was taken of any of the rest of us. That poor woman. Mom was not working for the camera last night, and the lens told the story of her displeasure at every snap of the shutter. I don’t know why in the world the woman kept at it. It wasn’t like there weren’t other families waiting to have their time in the makeshift studio. Hubris raises its ugly head at weird times, I spose, and that is the explanation for why this woman continued on with the lengthy and unproductive photo session with mom.
Man, it was tough to watch.
At one point the photographer said, “Let’s say something to gramma to make her smile.” We all just stood there like stone statues. None of us were going to touch that with a ten foot pole. When gramma ain’t happy, ain’t nobody happy! I think we all secretly resented the photographer a lil bit for even suggesting we be brought into her drama. No wayyyyy! It wasn’t happening.
The saving grace for our family is my husband. That guy…nothing phases him. He is in love with the world, and he is the biggest ham and jokester you ever met. He loves to have a good time and he loves to laugh, and the best thing of all is that the camera loves him! I mean it really loves him. Every angle, every facial expression, his salt and pepper mustache…that bald head, even, the camera loves it all. While the rest of us take pictures that could be used as posters for those producing rat poison–to scare away rodents, ya know–he takes the most amazing photographs. Of course, we all hate him for that and never more so than last night when one picture after another showed him looking dapper and amazingly photogenic.
We all felt so inferior!
Our younger son, who consented to having a picture with us as a group, was determined that he wasn’t going to cooperate either. The stars were not lining up for us last night, as I kept thinking, “we need to lighten up here and have some fun with this.” “M” wanted one shot of him. One. No more, no less, just the bare minimum to meet the requirements for the directory. The photographer started to argue with him about it. He was nice the first time she told him they had to take a series of shots–three at least. The third time she pressed him he told her, “No, I don’t have to do any of this. I can exercise my option to leave.”
Yep, was my response. Not a good one, cuz it causes wrinkles to appear on the face, which I already have aplenty. Hubs to the rescue…
My husband. Seriously, this dud is such a blessing to our family. He was in a playful mood as we took our turn sitting before the lens of doom. Frankly, by that time, I was sick of the lemonade we were handing out too, so I went with it. It was So. Much. Fun.
My hubs makes life fun!
We got some great pics of us, and we spent $160 on them. So what! We aren’t getting any younger, and the pics were good (save for my hair, which I am not liking right now), and hubs pics were stupendous, and he’s so handsome, and the photographer suggested our marriage date as a tag line for our triptik: Est. 19….
No, I am not telling you the year of our marriage. We are old enough, without making that the focus of this post.
Why I really wanted to post today was to tell you that although I had to skip supper time last night in order to meet our photography session deadline, I did not starve to death! Amazing, hunh? Not only did I not starve to death, I didn’t even feel hungry. We had a late and light dinner at 9:30pm (I know, I know), but it was all good.
That kinda thing is a miracle for me–waiting that long between lunch and dinner and not stuffing my face full of whatever. I didn’t do that, and I’m so proud of myself.
So my hair looked weird in my professional photographs. So, my jacket was cockeyed in one picture. So my mom was grumpy gram, and my son was direct and confrontational with strangers last night. So I ate late. I did not binge and that is HUGE! I’m happy with how I handled a tense situation and that I did not sooth with food. That’s progress!
What progress are you making in your food journeying today? When did you take the best picture ever, and what were the circumstances which preceded that great snapshot of you?