I'm taking apart the first album of the Mama's. Not her first one ever, but the first in a long line of albums. Sigh.
What's with the so-called "acid-free/archival" pages in this album? The cellophane breaks apart when I take out the photos. So much for trying to use my hands with delicateness and refinement.
For some reason-yet-to-be-identified, I'm saving the 3x5 pieces of paper (with a single punched hole) that were used as dividers between photos. The how-can-I-repurpose-this part of me has prevailed.
I don't know what to do with the photos after I've scanned them. For that matter, what am I going to do with the scanned photos. May be why there are long intervals between scanning sessions. And, for a session to happen, I need to play my era of Rock & Roll and Latin music so I can wiggle and waggle in my chair, as I do this rather sad and joyful exercise of remembering stuff in photos. For instance: the rainy wedding day of a cousin; our yellow house with the lucky (kind of) 711 address; the Daddy's 71st birthday party; the Mama's afternoon of modeling for the camera; and the Older Brother, high school football and track athlete. Sigh.
Here I go, back down the rabbit hole.