Last night, while falling asleep with my darling and wonderful girlfriend, I could have sworn it was early Tuesday morning, after a difficult Monday at work that left me wondering where all my coffee went, and why my head hurt so badly.
Let me explain:
First, we've been out of readily edible (I love those two words together, I just discovered!) food in the house for about a week now. We've gone shopping in that time at least twice, and both times had to juggle bags in our arms between the two of us to get in the apartment. It wasn't a problem of having nothing to eat, but stuff that actually went together in a better fashion than dark chocolate gelato with vodka sauce and sweet pickles. I will admit, I have not tried that combination, but the pickles may just pull it all together.
So we've been scrounging and finally improving our technique on the Julia Child method of French omelettes, but my tolerance, nay, my propensity for butter and eggs can only be satiated for so long before I want to chew on un-cooked lasagna noodles and drink gallons of water to get away from the delicious richness of it all. We have been scrounging and improvising. We've been eating less at home, and usually driving somewhere having our sit-down meal of the day together on the freeway at 65mph.
Secondly, we make it to the photoshoot scheduled at Lake Hodges after running around all morning on errands and missions, and promptly lose the keys to the car in the beautiful grass, or somewhere on the trail, or wherever it might have gone. So the shoot went well, until we realized we had lost the keys, and we lost more light than I liked in looking for them and freaking out a bit, but I feel we did quite well overall. Working on being personable and talking through the camera, which I keep making excuses about why I'm terrible at it. Chelse is a huge help here, she picks up right when I start thinking too much about the images or potential issues with the gear.
What follows, to finish the day, is a 50 square mile loop to a friend's house, in-depth conversation with a 3-year-old, and then drinks to forget the rest of the mess.
It's time to get serious, so serious we shall be: