Intervention

Despite the fact that TLC wants to do the rest of this month’s posts about me, I feel I must intervene! YIKES—twenty-four pictures of me in your My Sweet ELC post? That’s about twenty-three more than I'd have liked, Dearest Darling Daughter-o’-Mine. (Of course, I do so appreciate the way you came up with that number. Yes. Yes, I am intrigued by Numerology and am proud that I’m a “Life Path 6.”)

I can honestly say I don’t enjoy being the subject of photographs. I think this started when I was in 5^th grade when, upon seeing my “school” pictures, I realized I looked like a frog. Seriously. I had too, too many awkward years of development and I think I was permanently traumatized by that difficult year. Well, okay. There were other iffy ages. Thirteen. Eighteen. Forty. Fifty. Sigh.

We can’t escape people with cameras. Or, now, cellphones that have cameras. And video capabilities. In fact, I remind all of my loved ones, quite often, that we should assume we’re being photographed or videoed. Everywhere. Always. Although I’ve come to accept TLC is going to force me to “SMILE!”, I pray these moments are tres limited. As few and as far-between as possible.

The first picture on your post, TLC? My calves and ankles look atrocious. The one where I’ve fallen asleep with Little Leighton in the rocking chair? Lovely. Simply beautiful. (At least my mouth wasn’t open, right?)

I’ve decided, on this Spring-Is-Almost-Here! Sunday in North Central Texas, I’ll embrace your enthusiasm with my some of my own and that I’ll count myself lucky you didn’t decide to do SIXTY pictures of moi…Lordy.

Sixty. It’s getting closer and closer by the day…

Gotta scoot. Need to take some deep, cleansing breaths...

smooches...