The first time I went to Europe I apparently really liked to point at things.
I found our pictures from the first time I went to Europe and...
I was pointing at something in pretty much every photo.
I don't know why.
It must have been a phase.
Oh, look.
It's a hamburger.
I think.
I think.
Oh, look.
It's a sign that warns people about pickpockets.
I had actually been pick pocketed earlier that day.
So that one makes sense.
I was standing outside the Coliseum in Rome and this group of grubby little children ran up and shoved a newspaper in my face.
As I was disentangling myself I felt them slip everything out of my pockets.
I lost:
A postcard to my Grandparents.
A disposable camera.
A few lire.
So, I kinda felt bad for them.
Not a good haul from the American tourist.
This picture...
"Don't point. Don't point. For goodness sake don't point."
I think I had realized what I was doing and was trying to hold down the impulse to point.
Maybe my friend Leslie had told me.
I'd now like to point out the only picture I own of myself dancing that doesn't look absolutely horrible occurred on this trip:
See. It's not terrible.
Hmmm...on second inspection it's pretty bad too.
It's something to do with my knees.
A few years later this picture was taken:
Yep, it's the knees.
I do something weird to them when I dance.
I've blogged about my lack of dancing ability before:
and
How did I miss out on the dancing gene?
My Mom is a great dancer.
Oh, well.
That was totally a rabbit trail.
So back to the pointing.
Even in the pictures from that trip that I'm not clearly pointing I'm inadvertently pointing.
For instance:
In this picture I'm giving the old 'thumbs up' sign.
Who knows?
I was thirteen.
Maybe it's just an early teen thing to do odd things to the camera.
My fourteen year old nephew is in a phase where he does this every time someone points a camera at him.
Even my Dad has now started getting in on it:
Yep, it must be a teenager thing.
I'll take that excuse.