Heights of Humiliation

I was really sick last week, as you all know. I spent most of my days horizontal. I finally went to the doctor, relented to antibiotics, and began the slow process of healing. So Thursday I let the kids run through the sprinklers and play outside. I didn't even run a comb through Aleah's hair while it was drying because who knew when she was going to be done and I didn't have any strength to do more than survive.

Friday morning at 5:30 we woke up, hauled the sleeping kids out of their beds, and made the trip down to the Freedom Festival hot-air ballon launch. I thought I was doing well just to get down there. My readers can hardly argue.

So imagine my humiliation when a man comes up to us, identifies himself as a Salt Lake Tribune photographer, and asks for Aleah's, Dave's, and Cambry's names; he'd just taken a few shots like the one of Aleah on Dave's shoulders above and right and it may show in the paper. I could just hear my friend asking, "So running a brush through her hair, how long would that take, really?"

Ultimately, only my shot gets released by me and with my disclaimer. Phew! I love memories on my terms! It turns out this is a good one!

You see Aleah crying here because she wanted the pink pig balloon to come back. The balloon launch was a fun way to start a fun Independence Day.