Remind me to tell you about how I changed the spelling of my name in High School.

*yawn*

I’m so out of shape.

I have been rotating ice and heat on my upper thighs to relieve the pain.  Sitting is great. Standing is fine. It’s the in between of each that makes me sound and feel like a 88 year old man.
The first time I sat down to go pee my legs gave out mid way down and I fell INTO the toilet.  The second attempt of going to the bathroom required me to use a stool, yoga ball and my robe strap.  It didn’t work and I went crashing into the toilet mid way down.   The embarrassment of asking my husband to hoist me down to the toilet is beyond words.  I found that if I just fall off the toilet when getting off works better than trying to pull myself up.

This weekend was okay, I had help with the baby.  Today was the first day that it was just him and I.  He was going easy on me until he found that if he crawled up on my lap that Auntie Koo-Koo made funny noises and her face would contort into positions that would make him giggle.  The little bastard found a new game he likes too, it’s called clapping and then slamming his head into my lap.  I put the laptop on top of my legs to protect me and he figured it would be a good drum he could slam with his hand and dig the battery right into my throbbing legs.

It’s getting easier to lower myself and get up.  I realized that the next wedding I am shooting I am going to wear comfortable shoes, not jump up and down from a chair to get pictures and certainly not insisting on dancing with the old man in the corner who looks like he hadn’t danced in years…because he could dance. And spin. And dip.  I can’t blame the pain on Gwen Stephani. This is all my fault.  The vicoden gave me a false sense of security in my active duties for the evening.  Or it might have been the apple martinis.  The fun weddings always hurt the worse.

On the way to the wedding I called my mom. I told her I knew my father would forget to call.  He did. My brother who is closest to him called me and told me not to let it get to me because he even forgets my brother’s birthday.
SORRY. Not getting off that easy. He forgot to call his daughter AND his grand-daughter on her birthday…FOR YEARS. Shaun’s parents ALWAYS remember to give her a call, a card and a gift. SHAUN’S PARENTS!  Not Dan’s mom and step dad. Not his Dad and step mom.  MY NEW HUSBAND’S PARENTS!
My mother and sister always send cards and gifts and call her to make her feel special.
My dad, the man who I called ‘Daddy’ for twenty something years…didn’t call me. Didn’t call his grand-daughter.
Which made me decide. Fuck that shit. He’s buying her a Nikon D50 for high school.  She took photography for all her electives for her whole duration of high school.

A bit harsh, but screw it.

Oh, that reminds me…SPF for next Friday:  BEHIND

(don’t ask…)