Actually, I know exactly what we were thinking. We were thinking we were going to be big stars. See, we had this tape of these two sisters singing. They were about our age (we were in junior high) and we knew that we were way more talented than they were. I mean, we’d been singing with Mom since we were three! Clearly the two young ladies on the recording made their mark on the music industry since I have no idea what their names even were. But that doesn’t matter. What mattered was, we were going to be big stars. We were going to have cool clothes, and cool hair, and we were going to get up in front of screaming fans and sing into microphones. We were going to be hot.
So we did what any two self-respecting future music divas would do. We created a most amazing recording of us singing, expertly created on a recorder that was most significantly older than we were. A Capella. Of course when we were famous we’d learn to play the electric guitar, but at that point our instrumental ability consisted of a snazzy version of “Camptown Races” played on a recorder. So we recorded our soon-to-be-famous voices, and had Grandma take pictures of our soon-to-be-famous selves to send to the music execs. On a 110 camera.
This actually is not the funniest picture of the bunch. That would probably be the one of me sitting in Grandma’s old chair, staring dreamily (so I thought) into space, my sister at my feet staring dreamily (so she thought) at a point also in space but not at the same point in space at which I was so intently gazing. You can see how oddly-shaped her nose is, which is especially cute. But this picture is my favorite. I mean, check out that most amazing backdrop. Grandma’s oriental rug and the nice striped couch. We have our backs to the window, with our feet warmly lit by the rays of sunlight. And speaking of feet – check out Laura’s socks. That’s the best part (apart from the glare on my glasses, caused by the flash which was of course necessary because the sun was behind us). I absolutely crack up every time I see those horribly dirty socks. I have no idea where that dirt even came from – certainly not Grandma’s immaculate house!
There we are, in all our early-90’s junior-high hotness. It’s amazing those music execs never called us back . . .