The second roll of fisheye developed. Still nothing to write home about, but at least there were 19 on this roll, instead of 10. I determined that you pretty much have to use the flash for every single photo, even on a sunny day. Makes perfect sense. I guess I will continue to shoot the camera, but only because seeing film makes me fuzzy.
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Her dad gave her orange slices for dessert, so when I was rocking her to sleep, I could smell orange oil on her hands and lavender oil in her hair and it was delicious.
When Lucy was still Cletus the Fetus, we visited rural Pennsylvania for an Amish & Mennonite family reunion and were able to stop into an Amish General Store. I picked up a traditional outfit, reasoning that even if I had a boy, it would be ok to dress him up for a photo op. It’s probably a better thing that I had a girl. I have been waiting patiently for her to grow, pulling the outfit out of the bottom drawer periodically to see if it fits her. Finally… she fits. And in fact, nearly grew OUT of the dress because I wasn’t paying close enough attention. I realized it fit her and then also realized it was the middle of winter (cold outside) and also I could not think of anywhere indoors or nearby that could serve as a proper backdrop for the dress. Concrete, metal, fences… where could I photograph an Amish baby in Chicago? Then it hit 50 degrees, and 60 degrees in January… and I thought, what about the natural prairie over at Montrose Beach? So today we went and walked through the prairie preserve in the nice tall grasses and the dead winter trees. Poor babe is still a little sickly and was not too happy to be out there. But thankfully she let me get a few photos, or I would have really been kicking myself if she outgrew this outfit and I never got a photo! And thank goodness for the strangely warm weather, now the blizzards can come.
“Outen the light, mama.”
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“It wonders me.”
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“I don’t want to plow a field!”
“Am I on the set of an M. Night Shaymalan movie?”
“But I want electricity!”
“There’s cake back yet.”
“Yah, well. My daddy is hurrieder than your daddy.”
This one reminds me of a painting.
Somebody has a fever. No illness, just fever, which I am hoping means nothing worse than teething. We had a bath and when I was doing my hair, I decided to put some of the curl conditioner in her hair that I use. It was all perfectly curly and adorable. She took a ridiculously long nap, an hour and a half, and when she woke up she was all out of sorts with lines on her face and severe bedhead.
From tossing and turning, it suddenly sprouted into a massive, voluptuous thicket of HERR. Like a couple of beautiful robin’s wings.
“Hello? Daddy? Are you there?”
If I didn’t know better I’d say she just stepped out of a hipster salon on Wicker Park!
This is a fever face, with tired droopy eyes, and the frustrated head rub. We went out on an errand and she carried Dolly the whole time. She doesn’t know it yet, but we got some special pictures framed for her. Hint: Super Grover and Lucy Van Pelt!
