Months have passed since the last time I picked up my camera and walked around with it all weekend, snapping photos of my coffee and the street and all the things we eat and drink and do from Friday night to Sunday afternoon, so this weekend I announced that I was going to take pictures of everything, because it had been too long.
It was one of those weekends that just slowly unfolds--we had tickets to an oyster roast at one of our favorite breweries in the neighborhood, so our plan was to walk to the grocery store for a crab cracker and/or an oyster knife first. On our way to Publix we passed the new Anthropologie location which always lures me in "just to smell the candles;" so we made our rounds and checked on all the dresses that were 25% off even though the clothes there are very rarely my thing. Christmas decorations were out in full force and it made me forget that I'm generally anti-Christmas-before-Thanksgiving (although we will most likely be decorating our apartment sometime in the next 48 hours because hey, it's the most wonderful time of the year).
We walked out of Anthro and Rob said, "Do you want a coffee?" which is cute because I always want a coffee. We stopped by the Not Just Coffee at Atherton Mill and ordered one iced latte and one cold brew because it's almost Thanksgiving but down here it can feel like spring in the sunshine.
On Sunday I woke up early with Ender, walked around outside with him, drank a cup of coffee, and went to barre at 9:00. I came home and Rob was still in bed, so I ate leftover frittata from the day before and cleaned my desk. We walked the dog and came home to lounge and got in one of those arguments that come out of nowhere and I watched Grey's Anatomy and cried even though I'd seen it before.
The sun began to set and I made a quick dinner of steaks and broccoli and we ate at the coffee table like we always do, and after we ate, we cleaned the kitchen and returned to the couch where I sat with my head on Rob's shoulder and felt that deep, profound happiness that I think we all must dream about at some point or another. I keep saying that we aren't going home for Thanksgiving this year, which is a first; but what I really should be saying is that we are staying home for Thanksgiving this year, because that's finally what this feels like.
As I got in bed, I realized I still didn't pick up my camera even once.
Photos or not, these are the days I'll always remember.
Photo by Joshua Vasko for Freckled Italian.