"You are really shitty at this." - Jamie.
I suck at taking great photos of my wife. The only reason I know this is because she has told me many times. She is fearless with her feedback and critiques. I need to work on lining things up the way she envisioned it, as well as my use of the rule of thirds. I also take forever to take a photo. We will have everything lined up, and I wait until I think I have found the perfect moment where she is smiling, or not, at the right time. I believe there is an art to the pause, but she seems to disagree. I honestly don't think I am that bad at it, but whenever I take a shot I think is tasteful, she reassures me I am awful at it, especially when it comes to taking great photos of her.
Recently we were out for a sunny Sunday lunch. We gassed up our old VW van, Big Red II, and took a drive south along the coast until we got hungry. Typically we like to stick to pub food and happy hours on our weekend days off together. Brews and pub food keeps the day easy. You know what you are getting. We get such little time together we like to keep it comfortable with a burger and fries. We found a brewery on the water. What else could you ask for? Craft brews and lunch overlooking the Pacific sounds incredible, so we grabbed a round of beers and found some seats on one of the brewery's outside patios. It's time to take in the sun.
After the alcohol hit the bloodstream, it was time to bust out the iPhones and start snapping photos. It's like clockwork. We suddenly find ourselves to be portrait photographers the instant we get a buzz. As if we were photographers all along, but were caged by our sober alternate personalities. "The sun is giving off some perfect lighting right now." Jamie said, "And don't take forever, just take the god damn picture." Classic me, always taking forever to take a photo. This is strike one. Jamie held up her beer and smiled. Like usual, I paused and then took the picture. Strike two. "Jesus, what the hell is wrong with you? You have to get better at this, I love you, but get your shit together." Jamie told me. I tried again and failed miserably, taking a blurry photo of the table as the phone fell out of my hand clanking down. Everyone looked over at us as Jamie turned to me and said, "You're a moron, you know that?" Strike three. I love my wife.
We continued about our day, got another round of beers, and forgot all about how I dropped her iPhone on the table causing a scene. We moved on, and I took another billion photos of her sitting in a chair holding her beer and grinning ear to ear while she moved her head around, tried different poses, and maneuvering facial features. My wife can be the shyest woman I know or the most photogenic person I have met. It all depends on the blood alcohol level, and at the perfect amount, she can strut a runway.