stories.

 We sat on that red couch and told the man our stories.  I’ve never been interviewed by a journalist.  I hope it’s not the last time.  It was wild fun.

We told him how we met, how we fought taking each other seriously.  How we got to know each other.  How we broke up.  Then how we decided to try again.  How we pulled up our socks and grew up because it mattered this time.  Our first impressions.  Our fears.  Our hopes.

He’s writing a book.  A guest book filled with our story and images of us.  A guinea pig project he’s testing on us.  We’re happy to oblige.  

"I think Mr. Gable is sweet on us."  "Keith, I think you might be right."

We love our photographer.  He’s a photojournalistic genius.  I hope we can also count him as our friend when this is all over.  I intend to work with him in the future.  I appreciate talent.  I also appreciate a good business man.  He’s professional, certainly, but he’s an artist.  Respect.

"Thanks for coming to the house. It’s just so much easier in getting the baby down for the night. I’ve never had clients over to the house before."

Our pleasure.

We’ll be doing engagement photos in a month or so.  Maybe 6 weeks from now.  When the weather’s warmer and we won’t need jackets.  Night.  City streets.  Poutine.  Me.  My man.

How did I get to be so lucky?  Sometimes I think that when I get overwhelmed by all the goodness around me.

But you know what?  Fuck it.  I did my time.  I deserve it!

This Monday ended so much better than it began.  

Back to my wonderful fluffy bed!

Heaven on Earth.