I don’t have any good blogging ideas today, so I’ll share a frustration, because you’re such a good listener.

There’s this picture I really want to show you, but I can’t get access.

The back story goes like this. Last month at Norway Day in Minneapolis, there was this guy hanging around with a great big camera. I’m no expert on photography, but I know the big ones with all the lenses the size of window sash weights generally indicate somebody who makes enough money taking pictures to afford big cameras with lenses the size of window sash weights

He took some pictures, but I barely paid attention to him.

This past weekend, some of us Vikings gathered at our storage location to sort stuff for the trip to Minot, which is coming sooner than I care to admit to myself.

And one of the guys brings out this photographic print, which had been brought to him by that photographer from Norway Day.

It consisted of three black and white head-to-collarbone portraits. Reading left to right, it was me, a fellow named Ron, and Ragnar.

The other guys’ portraits were good, but mine was unbelievable.

I’m in my mail shirt—you can see the top of it—but my helmet is off. My hair is mussed, and I’m smiling.

I’m not sure I’ve ever seen a picture of myself smiling before that looked at all good. I go through life with a serious expression for a reason. But in this picture, my smile looked great. I look like a guy who just won the battle of Maldon (by cheating), and feels pretty good about himself.

In other words, I didn’t look a lot like me, which is excellent.

I took down the photographer’s e-mail address, and contacted him as soon as I got home, hoping for a print at least, and possibly usage rights for promotional purposes.

He has not responded.

I can only assume that he has plans to use my image for his own obscene profit. Women everywhere will wonder who that handsome, mysterious warrior is, and he’ll keep my identity secret, so as not to have to share the proceeds.

Hey, shutterbug, you didn’t build that!