The Once Lost Camera

March 26, 2009

This was the title Aaron insisted we use for this, our first post, on fraîche foods.

The story starts over a year ago when Aaron and I began dating–and began our shared love affair with food. Once a week we prepared a researched and well plotted meal. We loved flaunting the fruits of our labor in the break room on Monday, striking jealousy in the hearts of all our coworkers. I can’t speak for Aaron, but it was not uncommon for me to have a small crowd assemble around my table in the break room as I pulled out my leftovers.  Proudly, gloatingly, I would fix my plate, place my napkin over my lap, and let the festivities begin. I drew so much pleasure from explaining the new methods I learned in preparing the dish, or the unique ingredients it contained. It was a fettish, it was an obsession…it was boarder line obnoxious, and needed an outlet.

I began posting little quips and remarks on my myspace detailing our various menu line-ups. In no time, this evolved into full length blogs. However, pictureless blogs. Vivid, mouth watering descriptions, lengthy recipe critiques, and thoughtful tips–all a moot point with out a decent picture to accompany it.  I attempted taking photos with my trusty macbook’s built in camera. The results were less than impressive. Something had to be done.


Can you smell them caramelizing?

For months we researched camera companies, read consumer ratings, and ran from electronic store to electronic store to test and compare their optical zooms, ISO, mega-pixels, and what have you. Not a common practice for me, but essential for Aaron’s peace of mind when investing in a new piece of equipment.  And thanks to his diligence and extensive investigating, four months later (FOUR MONTHS!!) we had exactly the camera we wanted.

I quickly chose a blogging site, drummed up a name and address, and created a juicy profile. Ready to blog? You would think so.  But somewhere along the way, I got engaged, planned a wedding, moved twice, and was married. Eight months after finding the ideal camera for my blog, I finally decided to buckle down and pound out some posts.n1617484248_46404_5378

This brings us to last week.  Aaron had a few meetings in my home town last monday, and we decided to make a day of it together since I was off work. We thought we could grab a latte at one of our favorite local coffee shops and squeeze in lunch with my sister while we were in town. I thought it would make good blog fodder, so I packed the camera in my purse, and off we went. But, when we got to Ames and the lunch site, the camera was no where to be found. I figured I must have just neglected to pack it in my haste to get out of the house on time. I shrugged it off, a little bummed, but not too concerned.  Once we got home, I began searching, but it was in none of the common locations. I then began searching EVERYWHERE: the silverware drawer, the pantry, the refrigerator, under the couches, my sock drawer…our fantastic little camera was lost!

Aaron joined me in the hopeless camera search by scouring the car, his office, all our coat pockets, and calling his meeting locations to see if a digital camera had turned up.

No dice. A dismal and gloomy reality began to settle in. She was gone (note how the camera takes on a human and soulful quality in retrospect), our first purchase together as a couple; the first manmade, material product of relationship was gone. Back to square one.

I wandered around under a dark little cloud as Aaron, never losing hope, continued to ask questions such as, “Did you leave it in the toilet?” “Is it in the garbage can–or the mailbox!?” “Do you think it attached itself to the undercarriage of the car?”  His questions weren’t THAT horrible, not really, though they felt that arbitrary to me–I who THOUGHT I stuck it in the bottom of my Mary Poppins purse before hitting the road that fateful day.

A few days later, Aaron and I were about to set out on another outing but needed to run to the bank first. We zipped over to our local branch, parked the car and headed into the building.  And this is where the “Ah ha!” moment hit me like a mac truck on a two-lane highway. As I walked through the front door and was blown back by that pressurized gale that often greets you when entering a well-to-do office building, I realized something: we went to the bank Monday before heading out of town! Of course! And that frightening woman with tourette’s kept creeping so close to me that i could smell the watermelon dum dum sucker on her breath!

I burst through the second set of doors and ripped Aaron past the “get your transactions in order” counter, straight up to the first available teller. Aaron edged in between the teller and me to get his check deposit moving forward before I could interrogate the hapless man before me. But as soon as his lazy tipp-a-tapping on his 10 key was complete, I urgently arrested his attention, “Has anyone turned in a digital camera,” I nearly begged.

“Pardon,” he sized me up over the top of his reading glasses and down the full length of his hook nose, “A camera? Hmm, yes, I think one was turned in on monday.”

Ten minutes (and a full description of all photos on the camera) later, the misplaced camera was again resting in the bottom of my purse (discovered, apparently, on the “get your transactions in order” counter by the woman with tourette’s.)

Bank shotC

Camera home safe.


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