Thursday, October 6, 2011
30 Day Photography Challenge - Not We Are The World
When he was little, he would lay his chubby, baby-soft hands on my cheeks and say "I look like Mama" in his gravely voice. When he was about two, I put a real baseball into his outstretched hand and in return he gave me a black eye with it. Now I watch his hands steer the wheel of the car with ease. Almost a man. I see him absentmindedly pet a cat who's taken up residence on his lap as he watches Top Gear and get a glimpse of how tenderly he might treat his own child some day.
May that day be far far off. I'm just putting that out there because there's a condom on his dresser in plain sight. Better that he has one, I tell myself. It does, however, beg the question - should I ask him if he needs it every time he leaves the house? A recent search of old Ann Landers' columns holds no clues. Useless, Ann.
The house is loud when they're around. There's no mistaking it when they offer commentary for everything on the television. No one is safe from their razor sharp tongues. Not Anthony Bourdain, not arod or is it A Rod? Whatever. If they think you're doing something wrong - and there's lots of wrong being done in this world - they're going to point and laugh and holla. With the volume cranked up to eleven.
Guys, let me take some photos of your hands.
Not like that! That's too We Are the World!
What's the statement you're trying to make, Mom?
Do a handshake.
A white guy handshake or a black guy handshake?
There's a difference?
Pay no attention to her, Torezz. She doesn't know what she's talking about.
You can't do a black guy handshake right.
Do this. No this. This. Wait. Let's do this.
Are those gang symbols?
We won't throw gang symbols on your blog. Jeez.
And when it was done, they took their show into the kitchen and used those hands to grate potatoes to make themselves hash browns to go with their frozen waffles and half a gallon of syrup.
Randal does a cover up.
Geoffrey on what makes us - us.
Summer and the little artist.