LauraCatoe.com

While 2005 was The Year of the Move, 2007 was the year of Moving On…

With the purchase of my digital Canon SLR, I moved on from film. The last roll of film I shot was in October 2006.

Kris’ mom moved her Trussville salon, Rococo Hair Design, into a building she’s buying instead of leasing. This means when Kris visits his old workplace, it’s in a location he never actually worked.

Dad and Patsy sold the house on Scenic, moved into the same apartment complex on Turrentine as Kris’ parents (because there must always be some sort of sitcom scenario in life, right?) and by year’s end bought the house they are remodeling. They’ll probably be out of the apartment in another month or two.

Ben and Elias were born, making it no longer the Catoe and Abercrombie couples, but families.

My college pal Diana got married. Patsy’s daughter Angelina got married.

Scotty moved to Virginia.

Danny and Patti bought their first home.

Liz and Chris moved out of the duplexes, their first married home, so they could save money to start building their own home.

Jaimie and Jimmy bought the house across the street from her parents and put their ghetto-adjacent home on the market. Jaimie and Jimmy both started new jobs this year, as well.

Kris doubled the space of The Moxie Salon by moving it from 322 Locust to 340 Locust Street.

So, what was the theme of this year for you?

We’ve had the digital camera almost exactly a year now; yesterday was the first time we accidentally deleted photos before downloading them.

Yesterday. Ben’s first Christmas morning. Those were the photos that were gone.

When we realized what had happened, Kris asked for the manual. I said “Screw the manual, what we need is to talk to Nathan or Eric.” I didn’t want to bother either of them on Christmas, but after a few minutes of feeling sick at heart, I gave in and got out my phone.

Nathan understood. He told us not to take a lot more photos and bring him the camera today. And he worked his mad genius and now I have pictures of Ben and his pirate ship and Frodo sitting in the box it came in.

Thank you ever so much, FA.

I wanted to get a pic of Ben in this outfit before he outgrew it. We carted him outside and there was a huge pile of oak leaves to plop him into.

Jan (a.k.a. Kris’ mom) noticed that Ben’s gripper socks are not nearly grippy enough for his newfound love of walking, so she bought him a pair of real shoes. They’re cute as all get out (my new phrase), but when I look at them, I do not see baby shoes. I see little boy shoes. They’re size 4. Is that normal? Or stinkin’ huge for a nearly 9 month old? I do not know.

In the realm of insane thoughts, Kris and I pondered over the weekend what it would be like to make the Argyleplex into a single family residence. I think we decided cost and effort-wise, it would be just as simple to move or build a house.

Christmas is two weeks from today. I’m not understanding how that is remotely possible except that the calendar tells me so. What bizarre thing happens when you grow up that time suddenly moves so mind-bendingly fast?

We put up our Christmas tree over the Thanksgiving weekend, which is exactly when my mom used to. I glance at it sometimes but the only wonder I feel when I look at it is that wonder you get from a purchase you’re really happy with. Buying that tree was not stressful, it wasn’t too expensive, I think the color and style really fit the room… it’s the same sort of feeling I have about, say, my shower curtain or a good sweater.

But it is not the same suspended wonder that I watched the Christmas trees of my youth. Was I home more often then? Was it because my parents’ tree was next to the TV? Was it because there were gifts under the tree for me?

I loved Christmas as a girl and as I grew, the wonder was lost. I have often hoped that someday it would return, possibly when I had kids of my own. Ben is too young this year.

In fact, Ben, I confess that if your dad hadn’t had his heart stolen by a pirate ship at TJ Maxx, you wouldn’t have even had a gift under your own tree. And trust me, that’s not because I don’t love you. It’s just that we’re strapped for cash right now and I know that as long as your Christmas morning consists of a warm bottle, some bananas and rice cereal and the option to crawl around and bang hard plastics on the floors, you’re gonna be one happy kid.

Plus, I feel pretty sure you’ll rake in the goods elsewhere.