Last Saturday was kind of epic. It was one of those days, where you wake up and the sky is gray and hazy and it’s been raining long before you get out of bed, so the streets glazed with little shiny puddles when you open the front door. There are two ways to look at mornings like this: gross and muggy and awful because the humidity makes your skin sticky and your hair huge, OR beautiful for what they are – quiet and calm like the morning was just taking a little nap.
After running a few errands, I went antiquing with my parents who were in town for the weekend. I found some treasures at one of the stores. The kinds of things, where the person doesn’t really know what you’re buying, and you don’t either, but why can’t it be a skirt? Then we wandered the streets of downtown Havana, which for how small it is, is kind of adorable and buzzing with people spending their afternoons the same way. At this point the sun came out, and it was one of those glorious January days not too hot, not too cold, and it makes you just want to spin around in circles with the sunshine dancing across your face.
We peaked in the windows of a taxidermy shop, and met an adorable yellow lab who was so full of love. We ate ice cream at a soda fountain, and giggled at the instrumental versions of Simon and Garfunkel and Elton John blaring as we walked the aisles. My dad, as he often does, apologized for me “being born in the wrong era.”
When we ventured over back to Tallahassee, we went to this Curbside BBQ place, which ended up being pretty “normal” as far as our dining experiences seem to go. It was just…an experience. Who’d expect anything less?
Then we finally made a stop in at RetroFit Records on Gaines Street, which I’d read an article about the other day, and had been anxious to visit. Gold mine of oldies, reasonably priced, and they have listening stations set up in the back. Plus, I had one of those fabulous moments that make me want to write a whole book surrounding. I was flipping through some records, rambling on about how there are certain ones in the used sections that everyone seems get rid of all the time. Bonnie Rait, Linda Ronstadt, Saturday Night Fever. Then this guy, dark hair, glasses, blue button down, flipping through the other side of the display with a similar enthusiasm looked up, amusement flickering in his eyes (he’d obviously been listening to my ramble,) and finished with “Streisand.” We both laughed. Such a small moment, but exactly the kind of interaction my over active imagination seeks out in my days.
I felt like I could hear Penny Lane narrating my life:
I always tell the girls, never take it seriously, if ya never take it seriously, ya never get hurt, ya never get hurt, ya always have fun, and if you ever get lonely, just go to the record store and visit your friends.
(The bold part, being my favorite.)
We concluded this lovely day eating a variety of Krispy Kreme donuts, listening to Jackson Browne, Simon and Garfunkel, and Elliott Smith, and crafting (melting crayons.) Seriously: perfect Saturday.