Recently, as we were heading into a three day weekend, I decided that I wasn’t going to worry about getting the pictures this time. I was going to truly relax, and be totally present and focus on the conversations with my friends.
(Okay, so I know I just send out a plea for people to take more photos, but, you see, I work full time editing and printing other people’s photographs. Sometimes I think I need a break.)
So as we’re heading out of town (to Chico, for a bike event), I take out my phone and snap a picture because I love the way the rain droplets look against the colors of the high desert background.
Then, later, after a miserable drive with snow and ice (and, ahem, California drivers), we finally relax at a brewery for a late dinner. And the color of the beer looks so beautiful with the lights twinkling overhead. So I take a picture of that…
Back at the fairgrounds where we are camping, they have set up a backdrop with props!
Where am I going with all this?
Memories. So alright, I can’t stop taking pictures apparently. (Even when I make a conscious effort not to.) I guess I already knew that. My friends definitely know that.
I want to remember the fun times, and the accomplishments. And I want to print them out for display and make photo albums. Why? Because that truly makes me happy.
Was I honestly thinking that I wasn’t going to document my first organized bike ride? We’re talking 30 miles here.