We were so busy, you see, doing basically nothing, and yet keeping busy all day, flying by the seat of our pants.
We went out, made new friends, borrowed cowboys hats, line danced, visited multiple malls and got emergency evacuated from one, got pedicures, ran into old friends, played darts badly, played in the Apple store for way too long, drooled over an ipad, ate the best pizza I've ever had in my life, drove around a lot, stayed in a seedy motel, slept in late, tried a buttery burger for the first and last time, boogied on the dance floor, and basically had a blast.
We went to the marina with the kids and ate in tiny local hole in the wall restaurants. Keith hung out making friends with the Safety Harbor locals while I ran around at work like a chicken with my head cut off. We talked each other's ears off, he gave the kids a hundred shoulder rides, and was referred to as Evany's dad at least three times. Naturally. Her blue eyes and blond hair are even more surprising considering her apparent african american heritage, yes?
It was an amazing weekend. And we knew, living it, that when we tried to put it into words they would fall short. That we might sound kind of lame because we didn't go parasailing or to Orlando. Most people would make fun of us for visiting two malls in one day. On vacation. What can I say, we're mallrats. We didn't hit any tourist attractions, not a one. No beach, no theme parks (it rained, but we ended up having more fun, anyway). Keith totally spoiled me rotten and we had an amazing time. We laughed so hard my abs are killing me. It was a classic weekend, and the company was perfect.
And as much as I love documenting my life, I love that my weekend exists only in my memories and not on paper, that the details are already fading into the background of just one great time. I love that I took time to live my life instead of tweeting it, instead of texting it. It was much needed and extremely relaxing and exhilarating and exhausting all at once.
Oh, and also? I'm making Keith move here post haste.
