Picture Perfect

Your Mom and I had Mimi and Pops over for dinner last night. Using ingredients from our garden, we made Thai basil fried rice and a Thai beef salad. Your Mother ate leftover spaghetti. The nausea is gone, but the aversions continue! In fact, the salad "smelled too much like salad" while we were sitting at the dining room table (which is currently living in the room which is going to be your nursery). Needless to say, I moved the salad bowl away from your Mom's general area, which seemed to help. But, she still was pleasant enough to say that the meal we prepared "stunk" and "made the whole house smell like stink"-- but at least she was nice about it! You definitely are making her senses go crazy!

But, the meal was hardly the coolest part of Mimi and Pops' visit, and isn't even close to being the main point of my entry today.

My Dad (your Pops) has invested in having about 20 years worth of slides converted into viewable, digital pictures. Not the fun kind of slides you're thinking of.

Fun Slide.

These types of slides were a major Pyramid Scheme propogated in the late 20th century. People would take pictures on their analog cameras, and instead of having the pictures developed (like being printed out), they would have them put on to tiny, translucent, white-cardboard-bound slides.

Less Fun Slide.

These slides could then be presented at a "slideshow" (which computers now use, I guess ironically, to describe a streaming display of pictures). Back in the day, people would set up a portable screen and slide projector and then be forced to gather round and be bored to death while looking at somebody else's pictures. Tons of people were duped into participating in this slide scam; and, because he falls quite easily for scams (ask him about the property in Waterwood or the "original" painting of some Eastern European castle he bought from a door-to-door salesman), Pops fell for the slide scam too.


So, about 20 years (or more) of family photos were developed into slides, put in metal boxes and never seen ever again. That is, until Mimi and Pops decided to pay some poor joe to convert over 10,000 slides one at a time into digital photographs.


For the first time in my life, last night, I saw photos of my infancy beyond the dozen or so I'd seen before. In fact, I saw pictures of me being removed from Mimi's belly (it was a Caserian). I saw pictures of my first moments on earth. I saw pictures of me being held and loved on by your Aunt Deborah and Uncles Taff and Dana when they were just kids.







I saw pictures of your Aunt Rebekka- who was just 2 - not trying to kill me. Although I may have been trying to eat her face.


And I saw tons of pictures of Mimi and Pops holding me, making silly faces, and looking altogether 80s-tastic with gigantic glasses and laughable hairstyles.

Now, the good news for you is that your Mom, seeing these new-found pictures of me as a baby, admitted that I was "mostly cute." But, the bad news is that from other angles I kind of looked like a turtle who had fallen out of his shell.

Turtle baby?

And those were the good pictures. In the rest I looked a bit like a wormy polyp. But, I had my moments. I wouldn't worry too much: hopefully your Mom's "cute genes" will outweigh my amphibious ones. And if not, you will have what they call "character" (which has served me reasonably well...afterall, I did manage to get your mom to marry me!)

Cuter Baby?

We also noted that I had gigantic ears. It's a well-known fact that your Mom did too. So, judging from the photos that we saw last night, your chances of not being blessed with dinner-plate-ears are slim to none.


But looking at these pictures from my infancy made me nostalgic for a time I don't remember and pre-nostalgic for the times that are fast-approaching your mother and me. And don't worry, I shoot exclusively on digital-- no slides here. Except for maybe one in the backyard.