How I love thee.
Rockin' cute boots, with a four inch heel. I so could not have survived this footwear thirty-five pounds ago. Last night, 'No-Amy' assisted me in power-shopping for new jeans, a coat, and these bad boys. I wore them all day with no ill effects. In other happy news, my pants size no longer begins with a two.
Playing catch-up with the snow people: this dishy little dude is a plate...
and this one is another faux-cookie, complete with gum drop accents.
On second thought, I will. It's not like it didn't go down just like this, so, unless you're faint-hearted, read on...
2000 was coming to a close. We'd spent the past ten months having our home built... I'd gotten a basement 'hole' as a thirtieth birthday present, and it was nearing completion. All the struggling with our builder was about to pay off, and as I had wretched morning sickness with our fourth child on the way, all I wanted was the keys to a finished haus. The moving was going to be a hassle, as we knew we'd be on our own, but we've always moved ourselves. We'd manage. We had the whole holiday to get it done, and on December nineteenth, our builders packed it up and called it 'done'.
Unbeknownst to me, murmurings had been going on about a 'family photo' to be taken over the Christmas holiday. Herr Becher's family is big on the mug shots, but we were hoping to get off the hook this time. Three kids, a pregnant frau, and moving in the dead of winter trumped having to drive in foul weather up to Milwaukee for a group photo, or so I thought. I begged the man not to make us, but my pleas fell on deaf ears, for the Giant Catholic Guilt Trip card had already been played. With only three days to attempt to get 'settled' in our home, we had a deadline to make in Milwaukee. Off we went.
Now, this story gets better if I point out that Herr Becher's #3 sister has kids who are perpetually sick... I've never seen them without snotty noses and coughs, and they all come with a built-in shriek alarm so you know they're still breathing. Sister #4 was in the middle of separating with her spouse (not at all awkward in a small house), and #1 sister looked like she was continually on the verge of tears. It also adds to the charm of the tale if I point out that MIL did not actually have an appointment at a photo studio. The Grand Plan was to go to Sears Portrait Studio the day before Christmas, with her spouse, seven children (one pregnant), five in-laws (one pregnant), and (at the time) nine existing grandchildren... the mall, the day before Christmas, did I mention the twenty-three people in this package?
It finally shook out that a family friend and amateur shutter bug came to their house and snapped a few dozen photos. We actually did buy one of the photos. It's a peaceful little vignette of my in-laws surrounded by their grandchildren. Melissa, the eldest grandchild, looks beautiful, Lillian is asleep, Maddie has a shy smile, and Mitch is peering out of the frame, looking ready to bolt at any moment. Everyone else is screaming and tear-streaked.
My sentiments exactly.