About a quarter of the way in, I decided that the albums should be individualized. I began working in earnest on the project, spending my free time sorting and printing.
About half way through I decided to scan old pictures and add them to the mix. I wanted the albums to be a surprise, so borrowing the photos from my dad’s house involved covert activity. I went through the pictures while dad was sleeping in his lounge chair and Mike was at work. I snuck into my dad's room to root around in his dresser drawers while he was in the shower. I considered buying night vision goggles so I could do my deed while everyone was sleeping but I didn't think the turn around time on amazon.com would be fast enough for me to finish by "Christmas". 
About three quarters of the way into the project, I realized that there was no way I could finish in time. I started staying up until the wee hours, sorting, scanning, printing...printing, sorting, scanning...sprinting, scorting, panning. On the rare occasions that I did sleep, my dreams were filled with paper jams and empty ink cartridges.
My entire family was starting to worry about me. The cats were tired of the incessant noise of the printer and my brother was suspicious because I kept calling him at work to chat at 2 am. My co-workers made more than a few comments about the satchels under my eyes and HWDDD shook his head every morning when he saw me with my mega-tanker coffee cup staggering to the shower.Finally, the night before my son flew in, I finished. I was tired and crabby, but the albums were done. I wrapped them and loaded them in the car.
Was it all worth it? You bet.
My dad went through each and every one of the pages. One at a time. Then later that night, he went through them again.
My son had the world’s biggest smile on his face when he opened the package. He also went through every page, at least once.
My uncle was thrilled too. He kept touching the pages as if he couldn't believe what he was seeing.
It’s funny. I had no idea how much it would mean to them, I just knew that I wanted to do it. I also had no idea how much it would mean to me. Not only the giving of the gift, but the process of making it. By sorting through all of the photos, and organizing them, I was reminded of the circumstances under which they were taken. The wonderful walks at Buck Creek, the Woodbine adventure, the time Uncle John, Mike, Shasta and I went out to survey damage from the Derby Fire, the priceless photos of my mom and son, the river trips, and the visits to Denver.
Before, they were just pictures, images on a screen or sheet of paper. Afterward, they were our lives.
