All Right, Simmer Down

I have received a great many complaints recently about the lack of updates on the blog. To which I say: bah. Most of you update your blogs so infrequently that it is quite sad, really, if you even have blogs at all, and I do have two young children and one of them is growing teeth like a piranha and the other one has developed some anti-sisterly feelings lately that require constant vigilance, and Lost has been really good this season, so I have been busy. Plus, our camera is currently having battery issues, and our last batch of pictures was of highly questionable quality, so I have been content-challenged, as well. Demand being what it is, however, I bow to public pressure and bring you the pictures from my friend Sarah's recent visit, which was much lovelier than the pictures make it seem.

Sarah and I are that kind of friends that has lasted so long and survived so much adolescent turbulence that we are really more like family. This bond, while keenly felt by both of us, does not manifest itself biologically, and I was amused by Sarah whenever she held Max or Maggie. Sarah, as you can see, is quite small, which Max and Maggie are not. Sarah almost looked like she was holding a whole different species of being. More importantly, however, you should note:

Maggie and Sarah's matching Uggs.

This was the best picture we got all weekend, and I think we can agree that none of us come off looking, you know, awesome. Ian looks like he's trying to simultaneously sell the photographer something and avoid touching anyone else on the couch, I look like I am trying to maintain my hold on a slippery baby while smiling cheerfully (which is not a deceptive look -- Maggie was slippery), Sarah looks like someone is goosing her, and Sarah's boyfriend Brian appears to have fallen asleep. Only Max comes out looking snazzy in this shot, and even he might be somewhat embarrassed by the fact that he is wearing rather snug-fitting footy pajamas that make him look like a wayward sprite in an improv dance interpretation of A Midsummer Night's Dream.

I saved the very worst for last, though, and I posted it so that you could see and understand why I have spent a week with bloggy writer's block. And this is post-photoshop. It's actually almost impressive. You know how, every now and then, you happen to capture the perfect, tenderest, most beautiful moment in a picture, with the best lighting and the most flattering angle and the most symmetrical framing? This is the exact opposite of that.