Anyone remember the Almost Home line of cookies Nabisco put out in the mid-80s? These were my favorite cookies, since they really did try to approximate home baked cookies and my mom wasn't inclined to such pursuits. She was more of the sleeping, yelling, discouraging variety a lot of the time. But I digress.
My dad played in a softball league with people from work--Nabisco, naturally--and their team was called "Almost Home," of course. Somewhere I have a picture of myself, 7 years old, thin as a rail, showing off my dad's Almost Home jersey, which fits like a large, oddly shaped dress (my dad is 6'4", so you can imagine his jersey would have been very large on me). I loved going with my dad to his sports outings when I was young. It started with basketball and progressed from there. Softball was definitely the more exciting of the two, as far as I was concerned. While basketball required that I hang out in a noisy gymnasium with my bum glued to a bleacher seat, softball was freedom and opportunity to explore the great outdoors. Whilst most of his softball playing occurred in Orange County, which generally has pathetic parks, I do recall a game in St. Louis in which I and my coworker child compatriots discovered a baby bird that had fallen from the nest. A silly boy who was a bit older and bigger than me was foolish enough to feed the bird soda. While it didn't die right before our eyes, I'm sure it did eventually. That day also brought a fantastic Midwestern thunderstorm and a muskrat out of a drainage pipe in a ditch. That was cool.
The best pictures of me are action shots from my youth. I was much more photogenic then, which is why I'm a bit at odds with myself today. I received this fun/funny e-mail from a reader, who sent pics of himself affecting various emotional states. His writing belies a fair amount of intelligence and humor, something I can definitely appreciate. So when he asked for my photos, I was immediately inclined to dig up some pictures of me pre-1990. For some reason, the photo gods stopped being kind to me around then. This is not to say that I was a cute child and am not a cute adult. I think I look just fine now, though things were a bit touch and go from age 12 to 17 or so (braces, zits, growing into my nose). However, whenever I see a photo of myself, I'm struck by the zeppelin appearance of my head and the long slope of my forehead. I realize I just described myself as a neanderthal, but I'm not trying to. I just think that photographs generally obscure the contours of my face to the point which I find myself unrecognizeable. But then again, I could be a hideous ogre, they say everyone rates their appearance above average, regardless of the opinion of the population at large.
So anyway, I was thinking maybe I'll just send this reader pictures of Mitzie, even though he's already seen many:
She's just so much more photogenic!