Here I am again, the prodigal blogger. I know there's value in these posts. There's a few of you out there who seem to enjoy my musings and, from a practical standpoint, it allegedly helps my standing in inscrutable world of search engines. Or, maybe, it's all just a narcissistic exercise or a cry for help. Whatever the motivation, at least it gets my blog-happy colleagues off my back if I post more. I wish I wasn't but I'm a procrastinator not a fighter. Whenever I finally get around to it, I do always try to cover up the time lost with lovely cover stories (See next paragraph)
I feel like there's some value to letting the images age a bit. The images are only stale by the standards of our always-on way of life. The moments here are just as authentic and the love, laughter, tears and beers just as heartfelt and refreshing as the split-second they occurred. A rationalization, perhaps, but that's my story and I'm sticking to it.
Let's start back in the summer, the wedding of Emily and Travis, Democratic Party campaign staffers in love. The air was filled with more than the usual anticipation of 2 becoming 1. This was also the weekend it became apparent that Barack Obama would lock down the presidential nomination. Emily, who worked on Obama's Iowa campaign, even received a call on the way to the ceremony from the man who would be president. A sweet gesture from a man on the brink of history to a young woman about to cross the threshold.
