Remember? The Pic Party?


Here’s the deal Friends, Readers, People of all inclinations –

Whether you are a picture taker or not, our little photo party is turning out to be just me and a lovely reader named Jennifer.

Can you all just take one pic today?

Just one, and zip it on over?

Otherwise, me and Jennifer are going to be standing around in cyber-space, awkwardly twiddling our thumbs and making conversation about:

  1. her photo
  2. my photo

I don’t think it will be too awkward. I’m pretty sure we can find things to talk about. I’ll grab myself a cup of coffee, she can grab hers, and I’m sure our chit-chat will be delightful.

But honestly guys, I’m going to call you out by name – because I know you take pictures – and ask you to participate. Ready?

  • Jenni
  • Alli
  • Lara
  • Mamacita
  • Danguole
  • Elizabeth
  • Eliza
  • Lisa ( I bet you do, anyway!)
  • Kristi
  • Bonnie
  • Anna
  • Amy
  • And so many more of you who I know stop by regularly, but I don’t know you well enough yet to call you out and make you feel guilty. (See how fun friendship with me can be??)
  • And so many even more of you who I know and love, but just don’t know if you use your camera regularly. . . .

C’mon now, folks.

Help a sister out.

Otherwise, Jennifer? I’m totally pumped about our one on one pic party on Sunday. . . like, tomorrow. . . .

And that photo up above? See? It doesn’t have to be anything spectacular. But that there snippity snapshot is one of my faves.

It says so much.

It says my little guy almost always chooses pants over shorts. It says my little gal loves to pick whatever she darn well pleases to wear to the park. Tennis shoes with tulle? No problema. She’s got it covered. And the baggies in their hands? Yep. That’s a park survival pack. The little guy decided they needed a snack (cereal) and a favorite toy (his: a matchbox car, hers: Cadence the purple unicorn), and that those toys best be packed in the same sandwich bag as the snack.

It says once in a while Dad gets home from work in time to march on over to the little park, and the kiddos can take the time to get their fingers, legs, faces, and any other exposed skin, black from recycled tire “gravel”.

It says, these are the days we are going to remember when we say, “I miss the days when. . .”

It says even though thing X and thing Y are stretching me to the limits and stressing me out, we still get evenings like this that make my heart do a little jig.

So tell me, tell me now: What poor quality photo do you have just speaking to you?

I know you have them.

C’mon now, don’t be shy.

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