Cut my face twice shaving this past week. Put in a new blade, began swiping beneath my nose, and… dagnabit! Took a giant nick right out of the side of my nose. Bled like a stuck pig for half an hour.

Two days later, shaving in roughly the same place, and ouch! Sliced off a large swatch of skin directly beneath my right nostril. Bled like a stuck pig for half an hour.

Before that I hadn’t cut myself shaving in years. What could it mean?

I’ll tell you what it meant. It meant we were having our family picture taken this past Sunday, and the God of Family Pictures clearly wanted some kind of blood sacrifice in the photo.

What’s that? It couldn’t have meant that because there is no God of Family Pictures, and even if there was he (she? It?) doesn’t do the blood sacrifice thing in this day and age?

Shows what little you know.

The family picture session went startling well. The girls were behaved, the weather cooperated (it was outside), and the photographer was delighted with the results. Obviously the God of Family Pictures was pleased with my self-inflicted multiple stab wounds to the face, which can easily be photoshopped out.

What’s that? Have we seen the results of the family picture yet? Well no…

But I’m sure they’re just fine.

How do I know?

Because I left that kind of vanity behind me long, long ago. (Last Thursday, if I recall.)

As long as one of my eyes is at least half open in the picture, I’ll be ecstatic.