So, we're taking the Cave Troll to the State Fair today after work--he has to tumble across mats with a puzzled look on his face proving, once and for all, that kids think the world is random and adults have done nothing to change their minds. His and Chicken's dance/gym teacher get the kids into the fair every year--this year, the two kids are performing on separate days. It would actually be kind of neat, if it wasn't shaping up to 105 degrees today--we'll be able to meet at the fair with just the little kids and look around, and then watch the Cave Troll get thrown around on gym mats on a stage and then look around again. And then go home soon, because the hot, sticky, tired children will be making us crazy and we all have work/daycare tomorrow. But I'll get to go around to the knitting/crocheting exhibits and go, "I could never do that..." and that's always good for the old morale!!!
Speaking of which...Floyd (aka Tabitha) the guy who reviewed VULNERABLE on his blog is doing an author interview--and I was feeling pretty good about it. His questions were fun and I didn't feel like too much of a big ol' doophus... and then he hit me with the kicker. A photo. I need a freakin' photo...and really, the only time I let myself be near a camera aimed in my direction is when I'm with the children who helped me grace myself with the body I bear like a grizzly! I mean...it would be fun and all, to just show me, engulfed by children, surrounded by my pretty ones...but the article is on me, and not my funky little demons--but who am I going to get to stand in front of me and hide my double chin?
Is this a woman thing only? I've got to wonder... I know that pretty people seem to have an attraction to cameras...but is it only mid-year model women with a few spare tires and junk in the trunk who scorn the camera like a Luddite who thinks it's after our souls? I mean, are our punky little insecurities keeping us from the glamour shots we neither want nor think we deserve?
I don't know. I do know that after the fair, and after washing the children who go to the fair and tossing them into bed like a goofy salad, I am going to have to search my photo archives for a picture of me that doesn't make me yack.
It's a good thing we don't take the little kids on the rides--my stomach is bound to be weak.