Remember the wedding we shot at the fairgrounds eight years ago? As the bride was walking up the aisle with her father, there was a lovely giant dumpster behind her, which would be in the photos. We were working with bare-bones equipment, zoom lenses on our 35mm bodies – in direct sun – no way to pull in depth of field. It was over 100 degrees and my clothes were already soaked through with sweat. As soon as we got into the reception hall – damp with hot air from the swamp cooler – the cake was falling apart. There were huge wads of paper towels on the bathroom ceiling and urine on the floor. I got dizzy from dehydration and had to go into the car and blast the air conditioner to dry my clothes.
It was, in short … a nightmare.
Eight years of blood, sweat, and tears and I feel like we’ve arrived, shooting beautiful, classy weddings with amazing clients. Weddings without dumpsters in the photos. We scrimped and saved to upgrade our film cameras and lighting. We’ve spent hours shooting side-by-side, me supervising you with my OCD, making you pick up a leaf that was in a frame.
I would’ve never made it this far without you. You let me realize my dreams, even when they’re crazy. You build giant birds’ nests and photo booth props. You haul an entire room of furniture a quarter mile into the woods so I can pretend I’m Annie Leibovits. Most importantly, you never tell me something can’t be done. Well, except shooting film under water, which I plan to accomplish to prove you wrong.
You’re my best friend, my biggest cheerleader, my rock, and can always make me laugh through tears. You take me to Cold Stone after a hot day of shooting a wedding as I whine, “Are we almost there yet?” Thank you for every day of the ten years we’ve been married – for showing me who I really am, making me grow up, and teaching me to stand up for myself. I am a better person because of you.
It’s you and me forever, babe. Forever and ever. I promise to start sharing my Cold Stone Mud Pie with you. I love you THAT much.