Boneyard Romp
Even though we’re being graced by an Indian summer and it was nearly eighty degrees yesterday, it was still a perfect day for taking some photos of Blake and Chooch: autumn edition.
My only intention was to stuff a preppy sweater vest on my small child, dump him in a mound of leaves, and have him behave accordingly for the camera. Except my small child doesn’t behave accordingly for the camera. He doesn’t ever stop moving. So instead I took a thousand photos of Henry’s large child playing in the leaves. Blake managed to wrestle him down for one or two shots at least.
I always keep the animal masks in the trunk of the car, because you just never know when the urge might arise to hold up the corner porn shop as a giraffe.
But I’ve used them so many times now in photos that I wasn’t planning on utilizing them yesterday. Then I turned around and saw this pint-sized horror stumbling toward me.
It’s almost like the masks were swirling around my face, whispering, “Don’t deny us.” So then I was like, “Ok fine, it doesn’t ever get old.
Let’s do this shit.”
Christina said, “I like this one because the background looks so happy.” I considered that opinion for a fleeting second and then countered with, “Really?
Because I feel like a little girl was murdered in that greenhouse in the background, seventy years ago. And that’s why I like it.”
One of the cemetery groundsmen took a time out and perched on a tombstone to watch how this would unravel. It kind of made me have stagefright. Until I remembered that I wasn’t on a stage.
This is actually an improvement upon Christina’s natural look. I bought her that necklace by the way because true friends encourage suicide.
He’s late, obviously.
Blake has cool hair. For a rabbit.
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