Photography Lesson

Last night, Dez, Heidi and I went to see Chris Tomlin and Israel Houghton and The New Breed.




See that bag turned just so -- that's what you call "product placement." Heidi's the one with the bag and is the awesome photographer I rave about all the time -- she sells those photo purses now and those are her adorable kids. And that other chiquita banana is Dez. If you think they look happy to sit down, you're right -- we'd been standing outside since 5:40 and it was about 6:45 before they opened the doors, I think. The concert started at 7:30. It was a great concert, but I feel the need to point out the difference between a good photographer and a, shall we say, not so good photographer. Here is a picture Heidi took of Chris Tomlin at the concert:

Note how Heidi takes advantage of the jumbotron screen to show you what Chris actually looks like since his head was the size of a pea from where we were sitting. Here's another:



It didn't even occur to me to take advantage of the jumbotron. Here's my best photo from the concert:



But for Heidi, I might have no decent (i.e. in focus and with the appropriate lighting) memories recorded to film.

We should go back to Dez for a minute, though. She really loves Chris Tomlin. Really. A lot. But don't you think for someone who really loves Chris Tomlin she looks a little peaked in this photo?



A little tired, a little spent, a little woozy even. I have to give her credit, though, because she made it through the entire concert, standing up pretty much the whole time, with her hands in the air, and even all the way up to being dropped off at her car without admitting she felt like she might vomit, which she probably did as soon as she got home. I got a text from her this morning saying she'd had a rough night and had gotten the virus that my family gave her.

I am ashamed to remind you that this is not the first time that my family has spread incredibly nasty retching germs to Dez and her daughter, sweet Kari. You'll recall that back in January sometime, Dez actually caught Mace's vomit in her hands at the dinner table and quickly succumbed herself to the nastiness. (But really -- if your first instinct is to catch a toddler's vomit, you're going to suffer the consequences. Am I right?) This time I felt particularly bad, though, because we thought Mace and Joe's sickness at the beginning of the week was a bout of food poisoning because Casey didn't catch it within the typical 24 hours. I gave the all clear too soon and Dez and sweet Kari came over for dinner Wednesday night. Grandma got sick right before bed Wednesday night; Casey got sick in the wee hours Thursday morning, with me getting struck down about an hour or two later. Sweet Kari was sick by Friday and Dez clearly was fighting it at the concert. I've learned my lesson, though -- do not sound the all clear until every last person has thrown up for the last time and is back on solid foods. If there is still someone in the house who hasn't started throwing up, the quarantine is still in effect -- no one in, no one out.

I was trying to figure out where Mace caught it -- and I was assuming he had caught it at church on Sunday morning (where we pick up all our viruses -- instead of our regular tithe this month we're going to donate many cases of clorox wipes to the church), but then I remembered that we had gone to play putt-putt at Congo River Golf Sunday evening and on the way home I caught Mace licking his shoe. I'm not a germ freak, so my kids will be the ones at the park who drop their french fries on the park bench, or even (if I'm distracted enough so as not to really process what they're doing even though I happen to be watching them) on the ground, and then pick it up and eat it without me making a peep. But even I draw the line at the children licking the soles of their shoes. That's just gross. So I'm blaming a week's worth of sickness for the Flamingos on an unknown kid who puked on the 7th hole a few hours before we got to Congo River Golf and that's all I'm going to say.