In attempts to make his very first instagram post, my husband texted to inquire about our old photo hosting accounts (he was determined to make it a #tbt). After several attempts to login we were disappointed to find that most of our myspace photos had been deleted in their revamp a la Justin Timberlake (ohhhhh Myspace! I triple dog dare you to login and not be mortified) and in a recent acquisition all old webshots photos were M.I.A. In a desperate attempt to salvage what I could from the dying internet platforms I ran across several images that made me smile. A picture of us acting a fool. A photo of his college baseball ring alongside a pair of Oakley's atop my dresser--the same one we have today. Chocolate chip pancakes for breakfast. Our first camping trip where we said "I love you" later that night during a thunderstorm and a collapsed tent debacle to be followed by "I'm not a happy camper" (hahah, best story ever). A few images that could seem like nothing, but brought back a million and one memories. I saved each digital file into a folder titled 'to print' and thanked myself for being a crazy picture taker back then. I relish those small, somewhat insignificant and technically 'boring' images because they document the start of us. Photos our children can run across and together marvel at how young we looked, or how blonde I was. I've slated a slew of personal goals for 2014, but none are as important as my desire to take more personal photos. Seemingly random pictures. Our house. The Christmas Decorations. The pups on the beach. Marshall eating tako (he loves the stuff!) And, to get a pretty box to store all the prints.
Here's to you, boo. Don't kill me for this, k? xo
(ps: the hoops! OHHHH the hoops. I just may bring um back)