Everything's Pretty

The weather in Beach Town, USA has been gorgeous lately - perfect for strolling and soaking up some gentle rays of sunshine.  As I ready myself for today's ambling, the Big Guy decides to accompany me.  This also seems the ideal time to further familiarize myself with the  beloved new camera, so I make sure to grab it as we head out the door.

After the fourth or fifth shutterbug moment, he stops me. "Honey, you can't just take pictures of people's houses and property and stuff."

"Why not?  Is it illegal?"

"I don't know, but it makes you look like a spy...or a perv."

"Well I'm obviously neither of those things," I protest indignantly. "If I were, don't you think I'd be more covert instead of standing here on the sidewalk in my sneakers and turquoise running shorts with a big shiny camera dangling  from my neck?"

The Big Guy laughs uncomfortably.  He is often both repulsed by and attracted to my strangeness (which I more positively refer to as zest for life).  It has kept him on his toes for many years now.

"Besides," I explain patiently, "I like to take pictures of pretty things."

"But at the rate you're snapping photos it would seem you think EVERYTHING is pretty."

I tilt my head and smile up at him.  The sun is glinting off his sunglasses and I contemplate taking his picture right now.

"Everything is."

With Love,