We're about to leave to go to visit with my dad at my sister's for his last day in town. So I leave you with a post from Feb. 2004. Lisa has mentioned this story in a couple of comments lately so I thought I'd rerun it so I could humiliate myself for the enjoyment of any and all new viewers. Here goes...and click on the pictures...if you dare.
Lisa says I have more stories than anyone she knows. Well get ready to hear one now. I didn't start this blog til August of 2001, and by then Jon and I had been married 5 months. So I haven't documented all of our pre-marital escapades. I thought with Valentine's day coming up it's a perfect time to tell you all about how my newly engaged excitement almost got me banned from Target.
Jon proposed in August of 1999. Waaaay before we had a digital camera. A friend who lives in another state wanted to see my ring. So I took my regular camera and turned my left hand toward me and took a picture. I took the film to Target and went back a couple hours later to pick it up. I rifled through my pictures and couldn't find the ring picture, or the index print. So I called the photo dude over and asked where it was. He checked my name and looked at me with squinty eyes and said "We don't develop those kinds of pictures." I was all confused. I said "You don't develop pictures of jewelry?" Now he was confused. So he went to his Offensive Photo Drawer and pulled out my missing prints.
**Now is when I need to describe to you something you may not have given much thought to. With a traditional camera, the viewfinder is just a few millimeters off from the lens. So anything you take a picture of is just ever so slightly off from what you saw in the viewfinder. Especially close up shots. And you don't know how the picture turns out until you pick them up from the developer. Back to the story.
Photo Dude lays my prints down on the counter. This is what I was going for (sort of- I had to recreate the scene for you since I don't have the original pictures. Photo Dude wouldn't let me have them):
But what I ended up with was what you get when your camera takes a picture of your short, chubby fingers instead of your ring: .
Our friends loved hearing about this later that night and one gave me the oh so glam nickname of Ass Hands. I had to hear about that one for quite a while!