DRY Ink

I don’t want to talk to you right now. I don’t want to talk to you because I don’t have anything nice to say, and I was taught to keep my mouth shut at times like these. I honestly believe that things will work themselves out, so why whine about something that we will put to bed shortly? Well, because I promised to. I promise to blog every damn day this month, so you are going to get the truth.

And the truth is that I just want to crawl under my kitchen table right now. I fear for the decisions my son is making, but underneath that is my mother. At the bottom of every drama is my mother. It is always my mother. I’m just gonna be honest here: my mother is bat shit crazy. I don’t care who knows it anymore. I’ve told her before, drama follows, and then she forgets it, ignores it, or what ever it is that bat shit crazy people do with information that they don’t want. I’m pretty used to it.

But there’s another part of it. I’m mad at you. Yes, everyone one of you who has a mother. A mother that you didn’t have to spend your entire life taking care of. That your earliest memories aren’t of holding her while she cried. A mother that doesn’t suck the very emotional substance from your body and then demand every last bit of your soul, only to tell you that it is not enough. A mother that doesn’t cause drama and then look at you AGAIN and ask ‘how did this happen?’ A mother that you can to turn to. No, not every second, but that you know, when the shit is hitting the fan, will stand by you, instead of you having to take care of the situation and HER. Yeah, a mother like that.

And I think everyone of you that have that suck.

I’m taking an mental health day. I’m obviously in need, as I just about went postal in two separate places of business this morning.

But I leave you with the little bastard that wakes me up every morning by scampering through the attic and chucking things at my window.

Hopefully this is the photo we will use at his/her eulogy.

After I fire bomb him/her.

So I had this anniversary recently.

Maybe you’ve heard?

And it was incredible.

Driving down to New Orleans in this

Shooting a trash the dress session ending with this

Wandering around Magazine street, shopping and snapping some of the best pictures of my life.
Like this one

Yeah, I have no idea who he is, but he had an accent.

And this one

But just when I think I have this whole photography thing down, I get the proofs from Becky and I’m blown away by real talent.

Seriously, she is incredible. Go check them all out, and oogle what I have to live up to if I ever am going to be a ‘real’ photographer.

I can’t wait to wall paper my house with them all.

I’ve tried to be patient with you. Really I have, but we are currently 8 days into your reign and I have yet to see any sign of you. I mean are you really trying to tell me five consecutive days of 90 plus degree weather is acceptable to you? I should hope not. I know your mother taught you better than this.

October, slacking is never a way to get ahead in life. Hiding from your duty is only pissing us all off and making it harder and harder to like you. Sure you have Halloween, but other than that, what do you have going for you? Can you really afford to be behaving in this manor? Honestly I don’t think it is in anyone’s best interest for you to continue to hide. The longer you do, the uglier this all going to get.

So with all that in mind, I am respectfully calling you out. I am demanding you present yourself and bring your lovely mild weather and balmy 60 degree temperatures. If these demands are not met with in the next 48 hours, I can not be held responsible for my actions, but I can almost guarantee it will involve a talk with your mother.

Sincerely,
Erika

So here are a few pix from the wedding I shot this weekend.

I had a ball, but it was exhausting. So, no, I won’t shoot your wedding. You couldn’t afford me anyway.