i think steven said it best...
"All these lines on my face gettin' clearer...."
So I've been 37 for about 5 days. Not a fan, really. Granted, it's not really anything different, i just hate being closer to 40. A few years back, I started taking a self portrait with each birthday. I probably should have thought ahead and make them all a straight-on shot, but oh well. Here we go:
33: This was in 2004. The Boston Red Sox would soon win the World Series, and I had a few months in of growin' my hair out again.
34: 2005. On this day, Mrs. Sully-to-be and I went to meet with someone about buying a house. No way in hell did I think it would work out. It did. We were pretty damn freaked out. A few days later, we started house hunting and checking out home builders. A month later, we decided (on the first place we visited). Then came six months of "oh-this-is-so-cool-we-can-afford-this-right?" over and over.
35: 2006. We'd been in the new house a little over six months at this time, I'd been working for T-mo for three, and married for 20 days. Lappy took this pic for me. Thanks, lappy!
36: Fucking horrible day. RIP Charlie, my girl. It's one thing to have to put a pet to sleep. It's another to have to do that on your own freekin' birthday. That week, I'd noticed that Charlie had been limping a bit, so I took her to get an xray on the 28th. A few hours later, I learned that she had bone cancer. I could have opted to amputate, but it had spread into her chest. There was no hope. The plan was to bring her home, and try to spend as much time with her through the weekend, and bring her to the vet on Monday and put her to sleep. She had a cast on her leg to keep it from breaking, and we tried as best as we could to have a quiet weekend with her. She was pretty doped up and didn't really move from one of her beds in the living room. Charlie slept in our room, but since she didn't really want to get off of her bed, I decided to bring a mattress into the living room, and I put it next to her, and I tried to sleep. Of course, I woke up whenever I heard her collar jingle, but I was with her. The next morning (the 29th), it was clear that she was ready to go. I called the vet, and brought her at 2pm. It was easily one of the hardest things I've ever had to do. I held her and told her what a good girl she was, and that I loved her very, very much. Even a year later, it's damn near devastating to relive.
I had planned to scatter her ashes in the baseball field that she and I would play in (before we moved down to Texas), but when the time came, I couldn't do it. It's still too hard.
Anyway, Lappy took this one before I broke down completely.
...and 37: Lappy took the first one. Sadly, there was a lot of light, and when that happens, lappy tends to take grainy pictures. Thankfully, Photoshop came to the rescue. The second pic was taken with my point-and-shoot. I messed with it a bit in PS as well. I kinda like it.
