One abnormally large spoon + the city of love and lights + a camera= One fabulous weekend.

I mean who doesn't like spooning?

We were sitting in the cafeteria staring at this enormous spoon. 

Sarah had picked it up when standing in the dinner line.

"Jenn check out this huge spoon."

"Wow that's one big ass spoon.  It looks like a serving spoon.  You should totally take it and eat dinner with it."

"I think I want to keep it."

We took our trays and headed upstairs.  I wasn't having anything but a bowl of plain cornflakes and a banana.  The food at the Richmond's Kensington campus was notoriously disgusting, so I stuck with things they didn't prepare.

Our group sat upstairs by ourselves because we had a tendency (myself and Sarah G.) to get really loud.  Everyone was sitting there when Sarah and I arrived and plopped down at the table.  As she sat down she pulled the spoon out of her back pocket and presented it to us the way a new mother presents her newborn baby to her family.

"I think I love him."

"Him."

"Yes, I've named him spooney."

We just stared at her and continued on with dinner.  We were chatting about our day and about the upcoming Paris trip the school was having for the stabs (study abroad students).  It was going to be Sarah, Heather, Amy, Adrienne and I causing international incidents and messing with the french. 

As we discussed all the things we wanted to see in the three days we were going to be there Sarah started bopping Heather on the head with the spoon.

"Spoon."

Bop.

"Spoon."

Bop.

"Spoon."

Heather grabbed the spoon and started hitting her back.

"I hate this spoon.  I'm going to give it back," she told Sarah.  "Or even better I'm going to bend it and throw it out!"

Before Heather could do anything Sarah ripped it out of her hands and held it protectively behind her back. 

"You know what we should do with the spoon," I said.  They all turned to look at me and at that moment Heather took the opportunity to try and get the spoon back, but Sarah was too fast for her.  She shoved the spoon down her shirt.

"What should we do with it?" She asked.

"I think we should take it to Paris with us!"  I announced grandiously. "And we'll take a picture of the spoon at all the famous sights!"  Sarah's eyes sparkled at the idea.

"Yes!"  She shouted.  "We're taking the Spoon to Paris!  We're going to Spoon Paris!!!"  She shouted joyously as I started laughing like a loud lunatic.  Another reminder of the reason why we weren't aloud to sit downstairs with all the other people.  Because right at that moment there would be a huge crowd of people staring at us.

"Yes," I agreed between laughs, "we are sooo going to spoon Paris."

The morning we were suppose to leave I was unceremoniously woken up by my roommate Amy climbing into my bed and telling me to get up.

As I got dressed I heard a knock on the door.  I opened it and saw an out of breath Sarah standing on our threshold.

"You know I only climb up five flights of stairs because I love you."

I let her in and told her to sit on my bed.

"Did you bring the spoon?" I asked.  She pulled it out of her backpack.

We were ready to go.

Check out the Spoon's adventures.

Phone.  Left hand pocket.  Wallet.  In the bag.  Keys.  In my hand.  Book.  In the bag.  Camera?  Also, in the bag.

Essentials.  It’s all about the essentials.  Phone, my connection to the world.  Wallet, even though there’s hardly ever any money in there, it’s still has my I.D. should someone have any doubt about my identity…oh and my bus card is in there.  Keys, definitely don’t want to be locked outside my house…again.  Book, I’ve carried a book with me everywhere since I was a kid, old habits are hard to break.  Camera?  That’s a more recent habit.

Lately it’s been a series of cheap disposable cameras I buy in packs at walgreens or target.  I’m a fan of Kodak and Polaroid, I tend to go for whatever’s cheapest.  Although I really like Kodak fun savers the best.  I used to have an awesome digital camera, the kind that actually made people go, “ooh.”  But as is my tendency I lost it while on vacation this past January when I got off the night bus—and it didn’t.  Sadly it was the second camera I had lost in a year.  The first was a clunky digital camera.  2.0 megapixels, no zoom, a ridiculous flash, but it was still a Kodak.  I loved it in spite of itself.

I don’t know when I became obsessed with taking photographs, it was as if one day I woke up with this need to document my life and the lives of the people around me.  Not just taking snapshots of drunken escapades and uncomfortable posed pictures, but something more than that.  I wanted to capture moments.  Little pieces of time on 35 mm film.

I tend to forget things.  I tend to lose things.  I tend to forget my cell phone at home if I don’t remember to check for it on my way out.  I’ll be halfway to school or work and it’ll still be in the same spot I left it the night before.  Charging by my closet door.  I’ll remember that I left it there and I get mad at myself for forgetting.  But that’s just me.  I forget.  I forget umbrellas on a rainy day, I forget what I went to the store for, I forget where I left my lip gloss, I forget to pack a lunch.  I forget, I forget, I forget.

So I guess I don’t want to forget.  I don’t want to forget the things I did and the things I saw.  I don’t want to be that person who doesn’t remember the silliness of her youth.  The places I went and the people I met.  I notice though, that those are the things that I rarely forget.  The big things, the important things, the special things.  I don’t forget.  I just want to make sure that it never happens.  That the possibility to forget isn’t there.  The possibility to not remember an experience.

So I take pictures.

Even of the drunken escapades and the uncomfortable poses.

They’re still moments in time.  Moments that I treasure.