Ol' Blue Eyed Heartbreaker


I hinted at this in my last post, but I'm super behind on processing photos. A decade ago, before I knew jack about photography, I enjoyed the process. Part of this was ignorance; part of it was a different time. iPhoto was a really handy way for an amateur to set up a workflow, and I was still running CS2, through which I'd purchased and/or downloaded access to a bunch of handy actions—not knowing, of course, that this was a pretty Basic Bitch move, but at the time, it seemed kicky and fun.

Anyway, these days it's less fun, and working fifty hours a week publishing a magazine that features some of the best photographers around is a good reminder of my own shortcomings. I no longer carry a DSLR camera with me everywhere—though I may change this habit. 

But you guys. Look at these photos from my niece's first birthday party this past August. I MEAN LOOK AT HER, YOU GUYS. 







She's one year old, and I'm 100 percent enchanted by her. I spent an enormous amount of time processing these photos, because my uncle heart is entirely in love, and I wanted to get them just right. I'm excited to see the girl and the woman she's going to become. I'm only thirty-seven, but my awareness of the passage of time seems to get more acute every day. It's started to sting, watching Greer and her brother get bigger, for their abilities and vocabulary and fine motor skills to grow. It's the most exquisite kind of pain, watching a child you love get bigger and bigger. 

So super belated Happy Birthday, my blue-eyed heartbreaker. Twenty more years, I promise to teach you all about bourbon and hold your hair when it all goes horribly, horribly wrong.