…with lips like these. Sigh. No…he's not wearing lipstick in this shot, taken in 1991. True, the little tuft of nose hair could go. But still…I look at pictures like this and I remember why my loins were drawn to him. Like a magnet.
I'm scanning some old pics of Dan, because I want to do a layout about, well…stuff I forget about him. The early days. Why I ended up sticking around. That sort of thing. I realize, there are so many stories. Forget—and I'm serious when i say this—forget about the boxes of photos. It's the stories I'm worried about. Worried that I'll forget.
Every single day things happen. I'm not being very good at keeping track. Every single day. Like a few weeks ago…we're in the car. Cole tells a joke. No one seems to laugh, or even hear him. His reply? "Tough crowd."
It's stuff like that. Good stuff. Every single day that I don't want to forget.
My lovely friend Stacy has said it best: it's SO not about the photos. Don't get me wrong. It certainly can be. Because there's no written laws for scrapbooking. Thank God.
At the same time, when you come across a photo that prompts some memories—memories of a time when you were trying so hard just to figure out whose toothbruth got to go in what space in the medicine cabinet—then those are things you need to address.
And the photo? It's getting second billing. Plain and simple.
With really hot luscious lips, mind you.