My other big task for the day was to fix the wedding portrait of my maternal grandparents. I'd gone to Walgreens in Duluth a few weeks ago to get it enlarged, and it came out extremely dark. It was my last stop after a long day of shopping so I didn't want to wait to have the photo tech lighten it.
Instead I went to the Walgreens near my apartment on Friday and asked the photo guy if he could monkey with my scanned copy. His manager swooped in like a hawk and barked that doing so would be a violation of copyright and they weren't interested. I countered that it wasn't an original, that the photo was taken 60 years ago and that both my grandparents and the photographer were dead, and that the photography studio in all likelihood no longer exists AND DO YOU HAVE ANY IDEA WHAT EMOTIONAL STATE I'M IN? Already moving on to another task, the manager shook his head no and left me shaking with Wedding Crazies rage. On the walk home I imagined siccing my army of favor boxes on him.
A post on the 'Book about the sitch garnered me many offers of scanners and suggestions of places that might not have the level of moral code demonstrated by Monsieur Jerkfacehead. I traipsed over to the home of my dear buddy McSamalama's mom and she generously scanned the pic and commiserated with me over the Joy of Weddings (her son is getting nupped on the same day as moi). I then took the newly scanned and edited photo to Tarzhay Boutique, where they printed it off no sweat. It made me proud to be an American.
All that's left, chickadees, is finalizing and printing the programs, cutting wine corks to hold our escort cards, making gift bags for our out-of-town guests, and two or three (or five) more emotional breakdowns. It shall be done! I swear it... it shall be done.
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