So my Dad lived in this little log cabin until he was 7:
It's in Winston County, Alabama.
South of somewhere and north of nowhere.
The first time they had electricity in the house he was six years old.
My nineteen month old knows how to turn my IPhone on and he didn't have electricity 'til he was six.
Crazy.
It was just a cabin in the woods.
My Granddad grew cotton, my Grandmom kept her things cool by putting them in a stream.
Wagons and the like got them places.
Unfathomable to think of how different things are now.
Billy and I went down that way for our anniversary a few years ago.
Just us.
We played in the rafters:
Billy played the guitar.
We took silly pictures
And tooled around in the Jeep.
That night we went into Jasper for a fancy meal at the Brangus Steakhouse.
It wasn't actually fancy.
Just fancy for Jasper, Alabama.
Mainly we just relaxed and goofed off
Hold that thought!
Good grief.
Is that another picture of my feet?
What is my deal!?
Why do I take so many pictures of my feet?
Lets count shall we:
One
Two
Three.
It is three but I have a totally good explanation for this one.
I looked down at my feet and there was one lonely little cheeto sitting there.
I leaned over to Billy and said:
"Ya think that cheeto has been there since the Native Americans lived here?"
I mean, it was kinda funny to see a cheeto there.
So I had a perfectly good excuse for that one.
But this one and the others?
No clue.
Hi, My name is Paula and I take pictures of my feet.
Hello, Paula.
I bet my ancestors who lived in that log cabin wouldn't have taken foot pictures.
I've said it before:
Clearly, I need help.