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Tuesday, Mar. 19, 2002 - 8:19 p.m. - Photos, Photos Everywhere!
Well, the “Baby Room” looks worse today than it did yesterday. That’s because I opened up the two big boxes that were in the room. I thought they contained photographs and I was correct. I was also correct about the disorganized disaster my photos are in. No joke. Pictures from high school mixed with pictures from college, mixed with pictures of my nephews, mixed with pictures from Germany (numerous trips), mixed with pictures of my trip to San Francisco after I graduated from college, mixed with pictures of my classrooms and classes (I’m embarrassed to admit I don’t remember half the kids names that were in my class!! How awful is THAT. I remember all the kids, but not their names.), mixed with pictures of the little boy I nannied, etc. You get the idea. It’s such a big disaster I’m not even sure where to start. What’s worse, I’m not sure where to store all these photographs as the closet we were moving things to (putting both Michael and my things) is full. On top of that, the photographs are heavy, so putting them on the top shelf of our closet is probably out. Some of the other photo albums that I put together as a teen are in those crappy magnetic albums which are, first of all, really bad for your photographs, and secondly, they are so old they are no longer “magnetic” and all the pictures slide out when you pick up the album. Since they are already arranged, it wouldn’t take much to simply put them into a good album (forget decorating the pages and such), but again, that will take time and will have to wait. So I’m in bit of a pickle with all my photographs. And yet, I love looking at them. They take me back in time to times I’ve all but forgotten about with people who have long passed from my current social circle, but who figured rather prominently at different times in my life. (Robin, I found all the pictures from the trip you, Brenda and I took to California! Remember Reno and L.A. and the Silver Bullet, and cinnamon schnapps shots?!!!) I can’t throw out these photos. It’s like throwing out my past and my memories. Michael doesn’t understand that. His family has never been big into photos and he has maybe a handful of his life before I came into it. His family has a number of old slides, but I prefer photos to slides any day because you can look at them at anytime and don’t need to set up a projector or anything. So Michael is not very understanding or supportive of all my old photographs. Then there is the dilemma of what to do with pictures of old boyfriends. Particularly when they are of a trip someplace with, let’s say the Golden Gate Bridge in the background, or of a college dance? On the one had I want to keep them as it is a time in my life, but it seems kind of strange to have these old photos of old boyfriends at the same time. I suppose it’s only right to keep them to document that time in my life, but it still is kind of funny. I know Michael is so terribly jealous of old boyfriends though I don’t understand it. Heck, when I went to his parent’s home I was confronted with multiple pictures of his ex-wife (his sister cut her picture out of the few family pictures she has around her house – hee hee), so I don’t see why a few boyfriends should bother him so much. I found some wonderful old letters from my friend in Germany with the birth announcements of two of her children (just received the one for her most recent addition to the family a few weeks ago). Reading those letter is like stepping back in time, which is why I can’t get rid of them either. I know, I know, I can’t keep everything but I am very sentimental and like I said, reading those letters is like going back in time. It was almost as though I was jerked out of my time travel when our doorbell rang and I’m still feeling strangely nostalgic even now hours after reading them and looking at the pictures of her wedding. My poor husband married a pack rat. I’m trying to get better about it, but I still struggle with some things. I’m so darn sentimental. If I could only get it organized it wouldn’t be so bad. Well, I’ll leave you with another old photograph of me as a young ‘un. This one was taken at Christmas (obviously) the year my sister was born. She was a month old and I was always wanting to hold her. (I was a baby nut even back then – honest!) I’m 3 years old. 
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