First, you have to greet the day in your Ottawa Senators Jammies by blowing big, hearty kisses
at your Auntie, who insists upon spending the whole weekend following you around with her camera. And really, Princess, I am sorry that I barged in on you and Mommy and Daddy whileyou were having quiet family time in bed, but I totally think that the shots I got of you cuddling up between them are too priceless to have missed out on.
Then, you haul out a bottle of Denmark's finest Akvavit and get ready to eat some scary Danish
Delicacies in the company of all your favorite people. At any rate, once the bottle is opened, a grand time is sure to be had by all who partake. It's Danish Potato Liquor, after all, and who wouldn't have a grand time ingesting that?
Then, you pose beside your mother with a look on your face that says "What? Me? Drinking all
the Akvavit? Nevah!" This is possibly the first photo my mother and I have seen where we resemble each other. As SuperNan likes to say "Well, I thought you always looked like his
side of the family." (With an accusatory finger pointed at SuperDad, of course).
Before The Princess is torn out of your arms by her mother, who is now desperately fleeing the
crazy Auntie --WHO WILL NOT STOP TAKING PICTURES MY GOD WHAT IS WRONG WITH HER --you capture one last precious photo of her giving you a perfunctory handshake. Can you imagine that one day, she might inherit my family's gene for having abnormally oversized manhands? But for right now, she just has pudgy little digits that you could eat right up without even dipping in sauce first?
And then, you have to be gazed at mournfully by a beagle who will do anything -- except learn a
cool trick like how to roll over -- to just keep her place on the couch she's been banned from. And when this beagle-y little face looks up at you from the cushions, how could you bear to tear her away? I mean, really, look at those eyes. My little Muppy, who I love!
Of course, once you've run out of other subjects to photograph, anywhere a six year old boy
exists, you'll find a subject. Typically, subjects that come in the form of six year old boys are more than willing to make a funny face for the camera, but only if you let them giggle incessantly while they observe their wit and charm on the screen immediately thereafter.
And then, once you're done menacing everyone you can think of with your camera, you return to the city after a successful day of bra shopping to sit down for eight consecutive hours to write an essay.
And that, Dear Internet, is how you have a successful weekend away.
Labels: Drinking, Life, The Ranch