I don't know why Walker's mom and my mom feel the urge to send stuff home with us when we visit. They say they don't have room in their houses for it. Pppfft!! I've seen their closets, they have room. Lots of room.
For instance, my old bedroom - the very same bedroom I came home to as a baby - has some very nice built in cabinets that I know for a fact have room for my old albums
and collection books about my middle school idol
and trapper keepers from my sixth grade language arts class
back when I was a RAINBOW Lover!
And Walker's mom has three extra bedrooms in which she could surely store the middle school yearbooks that she sent home with him last Sunday.
This is Walker, circa 1987.
He thinks he looks quite gorgeous and studly. I said he looked a little, well, feminine. Like he could decorate a fabulous living room. Walker was so appalled by my estimation of his pubescent beauty that he put this photo on facebook and asked for a vote from his 391 friends.
Macho-ness is in the eye of the beholder.
As for his disbelief that he was and is anything less than a Greek god, what can you expect from a man who constantly poses for photos like this?
And if I ever leave my camera out, when I download the pictures there is always a slew of Self Portraits of Walker.
Just, standing by the breakfast table. Ever so pensively.
Here is his introverted brooding artist look.
Ho ho ho, oh McNeil-Leher, ho ho ho, you're so funny, you old dog, you.
He does this every. time.
My husband has a very, very healthy self-image.
I think it might stem from 1987. Because inside his eighth grade year book was a note from Jen. Click on it so you can read her middle school handwriting up close.
She's not trying to 'hype him into liking anybody'. I'm sure he was all torn up about her walking away when he walked into the room. What I really wonder is, did they keep it a 'silent war rather than a bloody one'?
Oh, middle school angst. Ya think ole Jen is over Walker yet? Perhaps if I sent her this picture it would ease the pain.
Better not. One look at that stache would probably just 'hurt a little, actually a lot', all over again.