If the girl can’t go to Paris, Paris will come to the girl.
(Still futzing with themes. I’ve decided I’m a theme slut.)
I recently completed a questionnaire for Mrs. G because she has it in her head to publish a recipe I sent her—and to those of you who know me, I say QUIT LAUGHING! I can totally cook a mean cocktail! At any rate, this questionnaire will allow Mrs. G. to write a proper disclaimer introduction.
One of the questions required a description of my Perfect Sunday Morning and describe it, I did. What I did not describe, however, was my Perfect Thursday Afternoon. I did not describe this because a) she didn’t ask me to do so, and b) I had no idea what my Perfect Thursday Afternoon was until yesterday.
After my morning beat down at the gym, I grabbed my laptop and my camera gear and headed out the door. I took myself over to George’s Camera & Video Exchange to use a gift certificate I received for my birthday last summer and I finally, finally made a most desired and very necessary love connection with one of their employees.
I haven’t been super thrilled with the service I’ve received there in the past, service that ranged from wholly disinterested—s’why I bought my 10-22mm lens at B&H—to blatantly patronizing. The latter included hands-on instruction on precisely how to remove my lens cap, a tutorial that was followed with a wink and a “Ciao, babe” as I left the store. Then again, I am only a girl. And a delicate flower of one at that.
But after convincingly discussing aperture priority and long exposures yesterday with the George’s expert, I’ve concluded that the days of uninspired service are in the past. This time, I was taken seriously by Lens Master Steve, who’s super nice, super knowledgeable and cute. See? I am just a girl. (If you’re local and need to go to George’s, make sure to ask for him.)
After further postponing Lens Master Steve’s lunch hour by carefully measuring our six degrees of separation, I decided to skip the write-in-a-coffee-shop afternoon for something a little more extravagant.
Having recalled seeing someone working on a laptop there during the holidays, I took myself directly to my most favorite restaurant in this city, Café Chloe. I found a table by the window, sat just behind of a ray of sunlight and ordered myself a pinot noir and their moan-inducing pomme frites.
The wireless connection was irrelevant because I immediately pulled out my camera and my brand new macro filters, and—while waiting for my food—attempted to capture my happiness, my contentment, my nowness, my zen through the eye of my lens. I think I got it.
(I happen to be digging these macro filters.)
I added a smoked salmon and apple salad to my order. And then, I just sat for 45 minutes. By myself. Me. Alone. Watching the world go by outside the window. Sipping my wine, eating my frites. It was as heavenly as heaven with an L-Y at the end, and then perhaps even a little more heavenly than that. Like fresh cracked pepper heavenly.
There was only one way to improve upon the afternoon, following—of course—the precious alone time.
And that was to be joined by the handsome man who today, is sitting on a bag of peas. Which is more manly than man with an L-Y at the end of it. Story to follow shortly.
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