me: How do you attend a barn wedding and post only one photo?

Stephen: There was too much to photograph, I didn't know where to point my camera. It was like Pinterest threw up on the farm.

It never ends!

Oh hi, pristine white tshirt!
Meet coffee, chocolate mousse, and black beans!
(angry Muttley muttering)

Side note, super quadrillion points and my eternal love if you can identify the movie from which this blog post hails its title. I'll give you a hint: MetaHans. 

Send me an angel. Right now.

ahhhh shiiiittttt, guess what I'm going to be rocking during tomorrow's commute?
Who am I kidding? Guess what I'm rocking RIGHT NOW.
Ah the 80s menfolk with their tumbling locks. Tryin' to run my fingers through that hotness. Shoot.
This song came out the year I was born. Excellent.

vinstagram: Christian Bale and MacGyver'ed backdrops

We rode a water taxi with a bag of Cheetos so she could take this photo. Giant want Cheetos!  

Couldn't stop saying “I'm Batman!” in gruff Christian Bale voice for the rest of the day. 

Sexy. Ass. Blueberries. 

Stairwell at City Museum in St. Louis. Somewhere between floors eight and five. 

I am not a fancy photographer. MacGyver that shit.  

A St. Louis wedding preview and rationalizing an obscene amount of driving to South Carolina.

So very honored to photograph these two moments after they were declared man & wife. It was a beautiful day. Photos soon. I keep promising blog deluges and delivering slow trickles. You know the deal, life gets in the way. Side note, I'm debating if I want to drive close to sixteen hours (or more) to attend Monica and Russell (affectionally known as Mussell)'s South Carolina wedding. 

a. Oh, the food. Whole roast pig, fried chicken, shrimp & grits, mac and cheese - be still my heart. There will probably be bourbon. Bourbon is my jam. 

b. All the shots I missed in St. Louis - ring, shoes, dinner - those could happen in SC. 

c. Put on a pretty dress and photograph some more. Come on, I'm all about that life. 

d. Charleston is but a short drive away. I. adore. Charleston. I could drive down Saturday morning, attend the wedding, spend Saturday night & Sunday afternoon in Charleston (hello, Hominy Grill and Husk), and drive home Sunday evening or Monday morning. It could be done. It would be a bitch, but the juice would be worth the squeeze. I love the south. I love road trips. I'm leaning 70/30 at this point. 

e: This ties into b., but my wedding gift to Mussell is a book of the photos I took/take at their wedding(s). It's ok, I can tell you, neither one of them reads Lemonade Lists. The book would probably be more special if I included photos from each wedding celebration. Ugh, 80/20. 

d. I happen to be turning the dirty thirty the week prior. Happy potential birthday road trip to me!

collarbone

St. Louis was amazing. Be prepared for a deluge of photos.

Early flight tomorrow. Haven't prepared my gear, haven't packed any clothes. Full day of work, and I still need to get a guestbook for the wedding. I suppose I should stop watching Captain America, get out of bed, and get dressed. Today's going to be a doozy. 

LET'S DO THIS. 

Photo via Shahir Zag

don't pay heed to temptation.

So, don't eat cookies at midnight? Come on, Tom Waits. I give into temptation more than half of the time.
98% if we're discussing food. 100% if we're talkin' ice cream or peaches.
Peaches WITH ice cream? 1,000%.

Monday evening

sounds like: Lost in Frank's Ocean. Ghosts with Eddie Murphy. Elvis Presley, don't. 

tastes like: Curd Nerd made me pimento & turkey sandwich on baguette before I left the Fair. I then forgot to eat for about nine hours. That spicy Thai coconut soup was the best thing in my life for about twenty minutes, like “where am I, this tastes so good” status. 

feels like: I'd like to go to sleep but am waiting for details and information for a very last minute project. Maybe I'll go to bed now and wake up early for it. I don't see them emailing me before midnight. Speaking of projects, I have way too many on my mind and not enough hours in the day to accomplish them. Side note, I enjoy misspelling hours to horus. Fast typing taking me to Egyptian falcon sky gods, baller. 

smells like: Bourbon, vanilla, and apples. Begrudgingly the beginnings of autumn. 

photo via A Note On Design

Hit me with your eyes so sweetly.