I uploaded these photos days ago, but have yet to figure out what I want to write pertaining to them. Or if I even really wanted to post about this at all. But I realize the reason that I took these photos at Christmas a year and a half ago was because I knew my grandparents wouldn’t be around forever. And what is photography but a way to freeze time to remember the good times and the people you love?

Anyway, my grandfather died last week. It wasn’t something that came out of left field; he was old and my dad didn’t think he was going to make it to Thanksgiving (almost half a year ago). But he did, and the general consensus was that he did so because of my grandmother. Who he was married to for 57 years.

57 years is more than twice my age. I can’t even imagine being that old, let alone being with someone for that amount of time. It’s certainly something that I aspire to. In fact, on my way back to the city I calculated that if I get married at the age of 30 and neither of us dies until I’m 80, then I’ll at least get a golden anniversary. I think that is a pretty good deal. That is, providing neither of us kills each other before then, which isn’t something that I’m necessarily ruling out. Spending 50 years with me would certainly deserve a gold metal. And probably a lot of prescription pills.

But my grandparents didn’t kill each other and as far as I know, their only prescriptions were for high blood pressure (read: physical, not mental illnesses). They loved each other very much; my cousin and I often compare them to Noah and Allie in The Notebook. I’m sure a big part of my grandmother died with him.

I’ve only included this last photograph because my grandfather is the only one who doesn’t look awkward (sorry Sarah). And his beer glass is empty. Congratulations, Grandpa, you’ve raised a family that knows their values: finish what you start.

This is Eddie. He was given to me for Christmas a few years ago when I was in college. Now, at the time I brought him back to school for the sole purpose of making my parents feel as if they had done good in the gift giving department. But I was in college for christ sake. I didn’t need a teddy bear to snuggle with anymore.

Little did I know how wonderfully cuddly this little man is. He was my little spoon for the rest of college. Right now he is actually in the house that I grew up in. And I have no idea why. I think my reasoning was that he wouldn’t match the bedroom decor of my current apartment.

So now I’m stuck trying to sleep next to a hot pink stuffed flamingo that I have dubbed as Fagmingo. He is not lovable. He is a cross dressing, fringe-boot wearing drag queen. He thinks he’s the shit and sometimes I have to smack him around to put him in his place. I miss Eddie.

This was also taken on my very drunk day at Chris’s last Saturday. I guess this is what a gutter in New York looks like: cigarette butts, bottle caps, and dirt. If this were my apartment and not a boys (which I did point out to them), I would make myself a little herb or flower garden in there and have lovely fresh aromas waft out of it all day. But alas, it is not mine to do with as I please. So it will remain cigarette butts and bottle caps.

This girl is stuck in the corner of my mirror and reminds me every morning to be fab and pretend that I’m not a short, awkward, hot ghetto mess. I swear, in another lifetime, I’ll be 5′11″ and a supermodel. Until then, I’ll photograph them.

As a prequel to this bit of conversation, I have to head upstate tomorrow for a family thing. Sarah is my cousin and roommate who is already there.

Amy : is it cold up there?

Amy : I have no idea what to pack

Sarah : it was 66 here yesterday

Amy : FAWK YEAH

Sarah : today it’s real nice, too

Amy : awesome

Sarah : Kait came over to help me find outfits

Sarah : because any event in our family is a fashion show

Amy : yeah but we don’t wear abercrombie like it’s our job

Sarah : basically it’s everyone vs Angela’s boobs

Angela, if you ever see this, I apologize. But it’s true. You’re the D-cup in a room full of A’s and B’s. What do you expect?

Last Friday night, a few of my friend’s from high school were in town and staying with my friend Chris on the upper east side. It was a lot of fun to catch up, and even more so to see that they all still party like rockstars. The next day I planned on leaving and running errands through the city. However, I stuck around, drank the day away on his deck since it was beautiful out, and snapped a couple hundred photos so I would feel at least slightly productive.

So here are my friends. At least the ones that were left over and made it through all day Saturday. This is Chris A.

This is Chris B.

They are literally Chris A and B because of their last names. Pretty cool, huh? This is the $10 all-you-can-drink-mimosa brunch we hit up.

And this is Chris A’s building (on the right) from outside on his deck. His deck that overlooks 78th street and 1st avenue. Not a balcony, not a fire escape. A deck. Jealous? Only a tad.

That just about sums it up. There were actually - shockingly enough - quite a few more good shots that came out of this drunken photo shoot. If I don’t get too lazy, they may show up on my Flickr account. We shall see.

Amy : I’m an insatiable beast these days

Christina : me too

Christina : I dont know whats wrong with me

Christina : I’m always hungry

Amy : me too

Christina : how do I fight these evil urges?

Amy : I know what my problem is

Amy : I’m eating away my sex drive

Amy : trying to at least

Christina : hey, thats a good idea

Amy : no it’s not

Christina : cause if I eat an entire batch of brownies…I won’t wanna have sex cause I’ll feel like a whale

Amy : but see, I’d much rather be having sex

Amy : but that’s probably because I haven’t had any recently

Christina : me too, who am I kidding?

Amy : who ARE you kidding?

Amy : please bitch

Christina : but sex is right up there with eating

Christina : scarily equivalent

She might kill me for posting this photo of her, but the shirt is so good that I don’t care. This is my most awesome friend, Christina. I lived with her freshman year of college, though I tend to forget it was only the second semester after we kicked out our respectively weird/crazy roommates. That first semester we both just try to block out of our memories for reasons that shall go unnamed. Mainly because I’d rather not dredge up the ridiculous roommate experiences that you always hear about, but could never actually happen in real life. Warn your kids people: their first roommate, regardless of where they go to school, is going to be someone that might as well be from another planet. With a third eyeball and antennae.

Amy : my god, I wish I could like, post our IM conversations somewhere

Amy : maybe I will on my blog

Christina : I love our convos

Amy : they make my day so much better

Christina : it’s insight on female interaction

Amy : it is

Christina : guys could learn a lot

Amy : sometimes they’re a little out there though

Amy : I’ll have to edit them

Christina : yeah, you don’t want people getting scared

Amy : exactly

And there you have it. A new addition to my blog. Stay tuned.

This photo was also taken in January 2007 right after I got my telephoto lens. Just thinking about that day makes me shiver because it was so cold, but when the sun is out, it’s difficult to stay inside regardless of the minus sign in the forecast. If I ever get frostbite and my fingers turn black and fall off, I’m blaming my parents for making me play outside all day every day growing up. Damn you for giving me an appreciation of nature.

However, please never invite me camping, unless your version of “camping” involves staying in a sort of place like the Lake Placid Lodge. I had my fair share of camping in high school when my friends and I would take off for the weekend to camp (read: drink). Sleeping on the ground was basically a step up from passing out at someone’s house or trying to sneak back into your own because you had your own sleeping bag, pillow, and tent without any worries of being caught. Except, of course, when the state park cops came and dished out tickets for underage drinking.

And while I’m on the subject, I might as well revert back to my earliest years spent at summer camp. Ah, the good old 4-H Camp Wabasso. We had bunk beds there! And mosquito infested cabins. The girls were uphill, the boys downhill. But naturally that didn’t stop the boys from climbing the unnaturally steep and somewhat dangerous hill to sneak into our cabins and stay up well past “lights out.” Though one time we took it too far when we all decided to venture out on the 3 mile long nature trail, first stopping to eat all the younger campers cookie dough out of the walk-in fridge. 2 am, 3 flashlights, and 7 or 8 people. Safe? Not exactly. Exciting? For a 13 year old adolescent, absolutely. Though it wasn’t so exciting when we got caught and had to clean the entire campgrounds the next day.

Needless to say, my years at summer camp soon expired after that incident.