John says we get four shots. That's how many Gabby's Mom got. Debi and I argue with him around the yard all the way to the place where she saw there'd be the most light. It is about five thirty and the sun has decided to focus all of it's energy into that one spot.
For those of you not there, we hope you made it okay through the eclipse. We're sorry for taking all the light.
This is important. John is Debi's fifth and last child. It is his senior year and this night is prom, the Oscars of high school without the naked man statues or Joan Rivers. Tonight is the night to get all gussied up and pose for the paparazzi. John is putting up with us, and I'm bouncing around trying to get that one shot where he is not posed and where I don't have to fight light. No way I am going to do that in four shots. I didn't even check out the place before we got here. Bad, bad photographer, always scope the scene beforehand. You knew that.
I don't know who the designer is but Gabby is definitely sporting the dress. She is having fun, chewing gum and seems to be the perfect date. I developed an allergy to the word taffeta because of my high school prom dress, but Gabby seems to claim what she's wearing as if it is jeans and a t-shirt.
Go, Gabby. You have my respect.
Though after I left Debi may have followed him to the prom.
The one thing that stood out to me yesterday after the shoot was how much I now like prom.
It's funny how I am beginning to appreciate things because of a camera and my fancy photography duds.
I am grateful for a new perspective and how it makes me want to see more.