Flashback

Secret of Life #1. Prom.

Or maybe this secret of life should be Memories, which includes you dear Prom, but memories definitely are more qualitative as a designated secret of life. Don't get me wrong, you were a lot of fun and gave me an opportunity to dress up to the nines, but I tend to produce a haze over high school years, as they were certainly not my golden days. But that's another story.

Anyway, it was four years ago when I was donning my Salmon colored gown (borrowed from a friend, Martha Darger; now Mrs. Martha Darger Carrington) and my white strappy heels, to attend you-my Junior prom, with Drew Anderson as my date. Lovely dress, lovely hair (thank you Heidi Weed), lovely date, had a lovely time. And one year later, the process repeated, except in an avocado green dress this round (which I drastically overpaid for a one time wear with my own dough), with my first love and boyfriend at the time, Derek Erstad. Tons of pictures, classy dinner at Mortimers in downtown Boise, and even a legitimate 'party bus,' decked with flashing neon lights and surround sound speakers. Oh, the prommenade memories are just flooding back to me.

Such memories were reincarnated last weekend, but in the form of my younger brother, Madison and in a sharp black tuxedo, not technicolor dresses. Earlier that week, I helped him select his penguin attire for the dance and brainstorm ideas for fun (and sober, such a good kid that boy) pre- and post- dance activities. I accompanied him to his date's house for the Red Carpet photos, but with myself behind the camera (usually), who's pointer finger captured the moments. He looked so handsome.

Madison and his date, Amanda

Proud Sister

Funny story- I, ME, one who is not even remotely involved in a high-class event for the evening, am putting on my make-up to later take pictures with my brother. After noticing Madison's tux still hanging from the doorway, I run downstairs and find him fast asleep, with fifteen minutes before game time. Needless to say, he showers, deodorizes, colognes and gels.. in fifteen minutes. And.. How many hours did I spend beautifying for school dances? So unfair.

And approximately 8 hours later.. Our car came home with a rear bumper dent and an $880 dollar repair. And at the repair shop, the clearly biased repairman took one look at the car and asked my dad, "Teenage daughter?" Psssh! How dare he? Whatever. Those days are in the past. ;)