Without A Trace

I have done a good deal of searching -- of both the physical and soul varieties -- and I absolutely cannot for the life of me find more than a small handful of my honeymoon pictures.

I am bereft, I tell you. Positively beside myself.

I have approximately eleventy bajillion pictures in this house. Assorted albums, half a hard drive, two giant Longaberger baskets. I found multiple rolls of pictures from vacations, day trips, weddings, funerals even, but I just cannot find pictures of one of the most awesome weeks of my life.

I MEAN, COME ON: I found pictures of no fewer than five ex-boyfriends (no I am not joking), three foreign countries, bridal showers for people have been divorced more than once, birthday parties that I don't remember, birthday parties that I don't WANT to remember, even pictures from when I was in "Li'l Abner" IN THE NINTH GRADE, but the honeymoon pictures I found are not actually identifiable as actual pictures of my honeymoon. I only know that they are because as far as I remember, I've only attempted to take pictures of myself in a hammock that one time.

Where does this stuff go? Have they disappeared to the Land of the Lost with the missing socks that never come back out of the dryer? God, I hope not. I really hope they're not in the basement, because I'll never find them again.

I am an acknowledged, unrepentant pack rat. I still have journals from middle school. I still have receipts from trips that I took a decade ago. I still have a filing cabinet drawer filled with letters and cards and random tchotchkes that people sent me when I was in college. I still have service records and the owner's manual from a car that was totalled in an accident sixteen years ago.

But I can't find the photos of the first trip that we took as husband and wife. Poof. They're gone. Disappeared without a trace.

I am more upset about this than maybe I ought to be, but it's hard to remember without the visuals. It's difficult to make the hard sell for another trip to Disney when I didn't take proper care of the mementos of the last one. I need to find these pictures, so I can convince my husband that it's time we went again.

Saint Anthony, please come around -- something's lost and can't be found.

And bring Saint Jude with you, because this one might be a lost cause.


  1. you'll find them keep praying.maybe i have them with your longenberger stuff. I'll look tonight love mom

  2. DUDE. Do you even *remember* your honeymoon?!? (Just guessing that might be the problem...)

  3. I remember my honeymoon. We went to Disney World and stayed at the Caribbean Beach Resort and went to the Hoop-De-Doo Musical Revue and the single best thing I had to eat or drink the entire time was fresh watermelon juice at the Cantina de San Angel at the Mexico pavilion at EPCOT. We stayed up on our wedding night counting the cash from the dollar dance so we could make sure we'd have enough money to eat while we were away. It was stinking hot and it was in the middle of a 3-month drought and one afternoon, Tuesday or Wednesday, it rained bats and frogs and we sat at a little wrought-iron table under a teeny thatched awning outside the Pirates of the Caribbean ride and we laughed about it for hours. My cousin and her future husband lived in Orlando at the time and they took us to Pleasure Island for dinner and drinks and a comedy show. We had the best French toast I have ever had in my life at the Crystal Palace on our last day when we went to a character breakfast with the gang from Winnie-the-Pooh. We even went on the It's A Small World ride, even though I hate that stupid thing due to PTSD from an earlier trip to Disney involving my youngest sister and a neon pink leg cast.


  4. It's kinda sad that you can't remember any of the details, though...