I'm a Southern girl with no accent living in the DC burbs. I love coffee in the morning, wine in the evening and Pinkberry whenever I can get it. I love my camera. I love lenses. I love Instagram. My favorite food is ranch dressing. I love texting, Ann Arbor, family gatherings, weekends with friends, North Carolina, red wine, political discussions, beach vacations, brand new mascara, shopping for presents, telephone convos with my mom, spending hours in a bookstore, wool sweaters, the color green, my DVR, the first chill of fall, and red hair. I do NOT love people with I'm-not-being-funny-this-is-my-real-hair mullets, ignorance, small airplanes, budgets, the day the music died or mustard.
On weekends, I take my camera to the streets and moonlight as a photographer with my business Peanut Butter and Jenny Photography.
And this is the husband who makes all things possible. Some people call him Mike. I don't. And never have. He goes by "Babe", "Baby", "Honey", or whatever pet name I'm feeling at the time. We both look at each other funny, like "what did you just say?", if I call him Mike on accident.
He's cute, right? I think so. In addition to being devastatingly handsome, he's smart, a good dad, great at everything he does and he will totally do the dishes for me because I hate doing them. Swoon! He's also really funny. Not everyone knows how funny he is because it's totally subtle, clever and witty. He's a total catch.
I just noticed he's wearing the same Polo shirt in all three of these very different Instagram shots. This also makes him practical. Since I'm likely to float into the clouds if left to my own devices, he keeps me grounded this way.
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