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These days, following an event, you have the image processing for the event. I've got two shots of Cass that are worthwhile. I don't have any pictures of me because (a) I'm not the kid and (b) Lala does not get along with my camera so even when she goes to take pictures with it, they are not all they could be. I think she fights with the auto-focus thing instead of letting it help... she takes gorgeous pictures with her non-digital 35mm, so the problem is not a total lack of picture-taking ability.





This is Cass getting last minute coaching from Lala.



This is Cass in the trail class, heading towards the walkover bridge that was the first obstacle. Note the kindly expression on Chelsea's face.

I do not have any pictures of TJ (No, I haven't discussed TJ before. He's one of the horse people, a kid I've known all his life.) but the summer is young yet. I'll see what I can do. I assure you that he's grown up nicely. I should certainly not be eyeing him in any appreciative way -- he's eighteen years younger than I am. I'm pretty sure TJ is seventeen. He's had a solo driver's license since November and you can't get one of those those now until six months after passing the test. He thinks he's all that and a bag of chips and, y'know, right now he is.

I don't really *want* him, any more than I want the snackies on display at Starbucks, but just like the snackies on display at Starbucks, he looks so pretty. I also know that he won't look this way for very long. His older brother went to hell. His father went to hell. The family runs to fat after they hit about twenty-five. There's definite redneck pregnant-man in his future. However, right now, the shoulders are a mile wide and the waist is narrow and he's built like a brick shithouse with a smile that lights up the room... and he sort of knows it without being an ass about the whole thing. The general effect is cuter than a basket of kittens.

If there were a hell, I'd be going there for this sort of thing.

Also, is there any way to point out to him that he should, er, make hay while the sun shines? It'd need to be tactful and plausibly deniable so that I do not have to explain to his mother why I am telling him to go chase tail for all he's worth over the next two or three years. Maybe I should just hand him that damn poem by Herrick and hope that he gets it. It's not what you might call a subtle piece. Probably it's unsubtle enough for a seventeen year old boy. Probably. I understand that seventeen year old boys have a built-in Gather Ye Rosebuds feature, but he's pretty enough that since I can't have him, SOMEONE should be having him. He should not be wasted.
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