Callie’s first train ride

We took the train to Philly back in May. Trains will forever and always be better than cars. I love Kodak Tri-X.

still wondering who has time to blog every damn day (pt 2 — kind of)

I love Lancaster in the autumn. The air is cold and in the mornings, I roll my windows down and turn the heat way up. It’s wonderfully blessed. Sometimes I wonder why I don’t make more time to picture take & write about the things that mean the most to me. I’m trying to do that when I have five free minutes but it’s hard. Yesterday I took some family pictures — I want to remember these days so badly and it seems our culture is intent on destroying memories by the methods we use to preserve them (or make instant new ones via Facebook or Twitter).

I love this photo of my Dad. I got lucky with the light & smoke pouring through:

—

Later today, I’ll pick up Meg at the intersection of Fruitville & Route 30. We’ll watch Steeler football & drive back to Philly. This weekend has been nice. I’ve put drywall & painting out of my mind for  a few days and it’s been nice to recharge a bit out of the city. The city can be really suffocating sometimes…

I love being away from the city during the fall/winter season. It’s more inviting to live in the country. The chilly autumn air and the warm winter (indoor) heat via a coal stove are so inviting during these six months of the year. And honestly, can you enjoy autumn in the city as much as you can in the country? Let me tell you bluntly — No.

Can I fall/winter in Lancaster and spring/summer in Philly?

Oh,… perchance to dream…!

21 days

It’s been 21 days since our first date. But was it even a date? She now admits she was ultra nervous and so was I. Ironically, the restaurant I picked was directly across the street from her apartment. I met her out front and my mind went blank. This is the worst possible thing to happen — I had nothing to say… I mumbled something about my friend Josh loving this restaurant and somehow that put her at ease. Conversation at the table quickly turned easy — the server had to come to us four times before we were ready to order.

Dinner was over all too quickly and we walked awkwardly back to my car. I wanted to see her more, but I didn’t wanna push things. I had no idea what she was thinking, but I did know that I wanted ice cream and that I wanted to keep talking to her on this beautiful late-June night.

Ice cream at Franklin Fountain it is! We walked to the river and talked for who-knows-how-long on Penn’s Landing.

(She has the most beautiful green eyes!!!)

—

Almost three weeks later she tells me she went home and told her roommate that our date (or whatever-you-wanna-call-it was) was horrible — that she talked too much and that she didn’t expect to hear back from me until we saw each other Sunday at church. I loved every second of that night and against my better judgment, texted her within the hour of walking her home. She kindly obliged and I knew this was headed in the right direction.

—

Apparently, she noticed me the very first week she came to church (April 10th). She asked the only two people she knew there who I was and she’s wanted to talk to me ever since.

This.
Blows.
My.
Mind.

Two weeks later (Easter), I noticed her. We shared a long glance, a look-away, and another long glance before the service started. I never talk to girls I don’t know, but on that day, I knew I had to. I was ready to go say “hello” during Passing the Peace and much to my dismay, I looked back and another young suitor had beaten me to her. Frustration itched inside of me and I kicked myself for not introducing myself sooner. Two days later, I wrote Paul an email about how I thought for sure she’d wanted me to go say “hi” but that I’d missed my chance…

In the following weeks, she was introduced to our group by the other suitor and it seemed they were clicking. Little did I know that all along she was hoping to get to talk to me.

There was the night that Chad and I devised the phrase “up to bat” to describe all the guys going after her and how ludicrous it was. That night, she and I shared a few looks, laughs and eye rolls that got me wondering what exactly might be simmering between us. I couldn’t think it was much of anything, but that if I ever wanted to talk to her down the road I’d need to keep a low profile now.

That was early May.

Two months later, I call her my girlfriend (this is still something that despite the reality of it all, isn’t connecting inside of my brain). We push the borders of delirium while staying up til four, five or six a.m. after hours of dancing. I’ve learned the bus routes to her house and spent untold dollars on cab rides home.

She loves spending time with me and I with her.

I can’t get over the surrealty of this all. And for now, I don’t want to. Where-ever this journey may head is anyone’s guess, but for now, I’ll take her hand and simply enjoy her remarkable company.

alright, alright, just dance.

We spent two nights on the Moshulu within a week. Both were DJ DeeJay parties and while most wouldn’t consider him the best of DJ’s, he picks a lineup that is hard to beat and we’re gluttons for the boat dancing punishment. There’s another one in under two weeks now, and we’ll certainly be there.

Davey Keips' Summer Bash

Summer nights are the best nights and they keep getting later and later. 5am is now an acceptable bedtime — weekend or work-night. 7 hours of sleep will get us through two weekend nights and maybe just a little more during the work-week.

She’s started drinking coffee now.

—

I can’t get over this. Two months ago, me and Chad were joking about all the dudes who were “up to bat”. Slowly, they got demoted to the Minors and one off the cuff comment about lucid dreaming on Memorial Day lead to an email a month later which lead to more emails which lead to a dinner in Olde City which lead to… this.

The surrealty of it all has me wondering if this is really my life.

Yes it is.

—

I sent her the photo above and made the comment that it made sense that the first photo of us was dancing. She corrected me and said it wasn’t the first photo of us. She sent me a picture from a cookout a few months prior and while she was technically correct, it still wasn’t the first photo of us.

The party, while a really good time, wasn’t what we’d expected. Last time it was an all out dance-war and that never materialized. Midnight had rolled around and people were chatting rather than dancing even though Beat Masta J was spinnin’ beats.

“You wanna go find a club if this doesn’t pick up by midnight?”

“Do you even have to ask?”

“Okay. 700 Club it is.”

“Perfect.”

A little after midnight, we slide out the side door so as not to catch hell for leaving early, catch a cab on Moyamensing, drop Maggie in Olde City and carry on to Northern Libs. Our cabbie is the first non-immigrant cabbie I’ve ever had in Philadelphia and he complains about then navigates deftly around the Greek Picnic. $17 later we arrive at the corner of 2nd & Fairmount and head upstairs into the faux-living room. It’s under-crowded for a Friday. Fine by us. It’s Motown night and every song is killer. I grab her hand and twirl her, pull her close to me and kiss her right on the dance floor. Did that really happen? Yes, it did.  Ninety minutes pass while feeling like only ninety seconds. The music stops and we head out into the warm summer air. The walk back to her apartment is shorter than expected and we sit in the park on the corner of Front & Chestnut. I wrap my arm around her and we just talk. Two hours and an $11.91 cab ride back to Fitzwater has me in bed, exhausted but not.

What a night.

…and there’s many more to come.

Happy Fourth, 44 minute walks and $12 Cab Rides

I take her hand to walk her through the monster crowd on the parkway. It’s not the first time but it feels so good for her fingers to interlock with mine. Our palms are sweaty and we loosen our grip to re-adjust. I squeeze hand tighter and pull her through the crowd. I look back to make sure she’s okay. She is and she smiles and we keep going. I love every second of this.

The light is beautiful around Logan Circle. The sky is a gradient of dark blue to light pink, spotted with orange clouds. The warm summer light reflects off the white pebbles around the circle and makes her face glow. She looks beautiful and we walk aimlessly around the circle, paying attention to nothing other than what the other has to say.

A little over two hours later we sprawl out with some friends along Kelly Drive. The fireworks explode overhead and we lock hands again. The weather is perfect and this night is amazing.

Happy Birthday, America.

—

The Moshulu party is winding down and everyone’s bailed on us. Zeke’s around somewhere but who knows where he’s gone after that four-loco. She needs a water and we head to the bar. She drinks it in about three seconds and we hit the floor together. I take her hand and spin her. The music slows and I wrap my arms around her waist. We put our foreheads together and soak in the music and breathe the hot summer air. I wouldn’t wanna be anywhere else.

We walk back to her apartment and find Zeke a cab. There’s a park caddy corner to her block and we head there and lie in the grass. Exhaustion overtakes us and we barely say a word. We don’t need to. The night has spoken for itself.

—

It’s 3am now and I walk her home. Fourty-four minutes later I end up on my doorstep. The sun’ll be up in under an hour. Sleep hard. The morning comes fast.

summer > everything

Did I really just spend $58 on four glasses of wine?

Did i really just stay up til 4.14 and wake up at 7.18 on a weekend work night?

Yes.

Yes.

…smile.