This past Monday night my mother invited my husband and me over for homemade country-fried steak, biscuits, gravy and mashed potatoes, the exact meal I will request as my last meal when the state of Utah finally decides to execute me for all my evil doing. After dinner we sat around the living room going through boxes and boxes of old photos my mother was trying to clean out of her attic. There were photos of my mother’s marriage to my step-father in 1986, of me and my soccer team in 1985, of my sister at prom in 1988 with her date, my cousin William (we’re Southern, so that type of thing is perfectly normal, if not required). Jon endured over two grueling hours of these photos without once complaining, even though the pictorial record of hair in my family is grounds enough to annul our marriage.

My mom let me take several of these photos home to keep in my own attic, and I’ve chosen a few of them to showcase here in this week’s photo collection. There are hundreds of these photos, so I’ll probably break out some more in the coming months. Also featured is a photo of my belly at 21 weeks which you’re going to think has been totally photoshopped because the jump from last week to this week is totally inhuman. Jon and I were walking around the neighborhood last Friday evening and all of a sudden, BOOM, my belly started poking out, JUST LIKE THAT. One second it wasn’t there, and the next second my pants ripped and an appendage appeared, kinda like an Incredible Hulk Belly. You won’t like it when it’s angry.

Launch From the Attic.