It might be kind of weird for a blogger and avid scrapbooker to admit this, but sometimes when you are experiencing an amazing life moment that you want to remember forever- taking photos is completely the wrong choice.

This Spring I was lucky enough to go to The Grand Canyon with some of my favorite people in the world.  We barely made it there before sunset (full story another day, I promise).  When we got there, one of my friends pointed out that everyone there was so busy taking photos that they weren’t actually experiencing it themselves.  You know what? He was right.  I took some really fun photos (coming soon to a Christmas Card near you) but I don’t really remember much about actually being there.  I remember what I was thinking, but I don’t remember what it felt like to be there.

When I drover up to Bend, Oregon with three awesome ladies last week, I didn’t take a single photo.

As we drove up I-5, lightening lit up the sky from Shasta, over the border, and all along that strip incredibly straight road that is so monotonous it makes me want to kill myself, and in to Bend.  Sometimes it came down just as you would expect lightening to- in a lovely zig-zag that makes you think that Zeus might be partially responsible for Harry Potter’s scar.  Sometimes it lit up the whole sky by bursting along a cloud line.  All the time, I was crocheting stars with chunky, sequined white yarn, and having a great discussion about adventures, relationships, and womanhood.

I remember every moment of it.