I struggle, at times, with making this blog wedding-related. Because let’s be honest: my life is not an all-weddings-all-the-time proposition. Sometimes, for example, I go to work. At other times I play music. Still other times I eat dinner, or on occasion, breakfast or even lunch. Then there’s sleeping, and using the bathroom, and exercise. Staring at the wall. Having a beer. Cursing the guy who dribbled a basketball outside our bedroom for hours late last night and only took one actual shot. None of that really is wedding-related, despite how hard I might try.
It’s something I’ve known for a while. I’m sure you other wedding bloggers – heck, anyone who blogs on a certain topic – can identify with, I’m sure. But it’s not until recently that I’ve felt I should embrace it. I have ideas for blogs all the time; I mean ALL the time. I’ve started a lot of them, and then left them for dead after a brief flurry of excitement. I almost started a separate blog for this idea, but then, for once, nipped that in the bud and decided to do it on my wedding blog.
So this one idea I’ve had rumbling around in my brain for a long time is to go back through my photos, in albums and boxes and tacked onto bulletin boards and crammed into folders and on the ground behind my desk, and to tell a little story about them. No real length requirements – perhaps as short as a couple sentences, and as long as a few paragraphs. I even started a little notebook of these, before I ever knew what a blog was, and got a few photos into it before abandoning it for another project.
But now it seems to be an ideal use of the blogging platform – scan a photo (or use a relatively recent digital one), and tell its story. They might even be wedding-related sometimes, though usually they won’t. I might do this when I’m feeling low on weddingspiration, as filler, as a Friday Fun Post, or during random occasions when I don’t even have a reason. Because hey, it’s the 90s – who needs a reason for anything?*
*Drew started saying “Hey, it’s the 90s!” recently – once the clock struck 2010 – during situations where, in the 90s, one might have said that. I love it, and use it all the time. People generally react with blank stares. I can’t blame them.
So, in honor of everyone’s least favorite day of the week, except the Cult of Monday that is even more secretive than Scientology, I will go forth with my very first Stories About Photos post, and as a bonus, kick it off with TWO of them.
Hope you like ’em.
I don’t remember either cat’s name, but according to Larissa – my Russian host mom for a summer in Saint Petersburg – they both translate loosely to “Blockhead,” which was one of about 5 English words she knew. Back then I didn’t have the same Must-Pick-Them-Up relationship with cats, but they still keep me good company. One of them, the orange Blockhead, helped me out by eating mosquitos in my room. In the wall outlet, Larissa had plugged in a small device that emitted a high frequency noise that humans can’t hear but that supposedly annoys mosquitos. It didn’t work at all, and plus I could hear it when everything else was quiet.
I slept in two beds joined together and about once a week they would separate and I’d fall through in the middle of the night.
The pelicans were hanging out on the beach without much guidance, so Andy suggested I get up onto a rock and lead them. And so it was that for an afternoon that I became The Lord Of The Pelicans Of Puerto Vallarta. With my left hand I pointed toward the buildings – civilization – and with my right I pointed to the ocean – freedom. I offered the pelicans a choice. As you can see, they remained confused and undecided on the beach, squawking amongst themselves, unwilling to listen, doomed to an eternity of quiet chaos.
I stepped off the rock and returned to the cruise ship. I had failed.