So, I'm spending my memorial day weekend in Chicago with my family (mostly -- more on that later). In reclaiming my room, my mom rounded up some stuff that I left behind in the midst of my move to California, and my mission this weekend is to sort through it, and determine what can be donated to charity, tossed, or what I'm going to force them to keep for me. One of the found items is a scrapbook that was given to me, which contains a number of really good pictures.
So, I've been jamming on the scanner and photoshop today, trying to digitize these memories for presentation. Some of them I'm just going to e-mail out, but others I'm going to blog about -- if I can remember the story behind the pictures.
And in order to do this thing right, we've got to start out with a bang:
One year (I think maybe after my Sophomore), my dad and Sara came out to pick me (and my stuff) up from school. I think that they actually stayed a few days, and we did the whole Rock and Roll Hall of Fame thing, as well. Anyways, my dad brought his handtruck with him (which he uses to take out the garbage cans, btw) in order to make the moving process somewhat easier. He brought it over on the first day, and left it in Storrs with me that night, while he and Sara stayed in a hotel.
Well of course, if something like that is left within reach of Chris and Steve -- you know that wackiness is going to ensue. I believe that we all took turns ferrying each other around, but I can't remember if we did stairs or not. At one point though, we did try to determine how many magazines it would take in order to balance Steve on the thing:
(my count: 25)
The point of this post: sometimes, I miss my days at Case. Especially when I come across memories like these.