In case you didn't know

Today, in addition to continuing the 25th anniversary of Jeff Nemetz Photography, we are celebrating 55 years of the man himself, my dad. As I think the only thing people have heard from me lately is how much it annoys me to spend 5 days a week or more sharing an office with him, I'm going to take the chance to say something nice about him (albiet in a place he will likely never see it).

He was described by someone just yesterday as "jolly," which was a new one. Kind of in the same vein as most descriptions, "goofy" and "weird" being a bit more common. I was also told that I seem to have inherited the same type of smile, which I suppose I should take as a compliment, because no one has yet described my dad as "that mean old bastard."

As just about everyone knows, I came back to Abbeville at the end of 2007 to help out with the studio. The fact that this was equal parts supporting my family and not having a clue what else I was going to do is, of course, immaterial. I like to tell him it was all because I couldn't stand the idea of him working himself to death all alone. It's also because I don't want to have to say that after so many years one of the most recognized figures in our small community had to admit failure because of something as silly as failing health and a bad economy. It's vain, and perhaps really misplaced pride, but we're a community of prideful people, in Abbeville and in Vermilion parish in general, and I spent too many years at Vermilion Catholic to be naive about the things people would say if it happened.

There are times I certainly feel like my actions and my attitude about what is really just one of approximately 6.9 billion photography studios in this area have trapped me in a place I never intended to be. I used to think that staying in Louisiana would be tantamount to giving up on life and all goodness in the world, but my year and a bit working here have started to change my outlook on that and several other things. I never had a "job" I wanted to do with any great conviction. I want to write, to photograph, to create, and none of that is for the monetary benefit of it. Here I have the chance to do all of that and more on a daily basis, I have a supportive community of people who know me and my family (and for once I don't see that as a bad thing), and, most importantly, I have the chance to work with one of my closest friends. I earn enough money to keep my bills paid, and if there is something I want to do, like my summer trip, I have the freedom and the ability to do it.

Freedom for my dad was always being able to control his own life, and unlike many people he saw his opportunity and ran with it, and he's held onto it ever since. I always thought he was trying to trap me into something he would never have stood for himself, dragging me out on weekends to teach me composition and lighting, and insisting that I work off my money for going out in high school by being at the studio after school. It really wasn't true, though. Because of the skills I learned from him, the experience I've had, and the respect I've always had for him, I can help him keep his dream going and have the chance to figure out what the hell mine is. It's the best job in the whole world.

We're off in a couple hours to take him out to dinner, where I will not tell him a word of this. No sense in getting all maudlin. I might, however, be a little nicer to him the rest of the week...until he does something to annoy me again, of course.

Of Shoes, and Ships...and Ceiling-Wax, perhaps

I think this is what "normal" is like. I'm at home on a Sunday evening, wrapping up conversations and updates to friends, getting ready for a week of work, and remembering what was really a very nice weekend. I didn't spend two days in front of my computer, editing weddings or schools or frantically trying to figure out where someone's order went so I can avoid their shouting at me on the phone. I didn't spend two nights watching TV reruns because I was too tired to track down live people to spend time with.

I fulfilled one of my goals for the month and participated in the Race for the Cure. I was outside, in the sunshine, doing something with other members of my community. Beautiful. Bring on the MDA bowl-a-thon, I say.

I drove to Baton Rouge and spent the evening with my sister and her friends, grilling hamburgers, drinking, discussing iPhone applications...a whole group of computer nerds, that's what we are. Don't you judge. I, Lord help me, participated in the conversations around me instead of just sitting back and listening. And I enjoyed it.

I spoke to a good friend for more than an hour, and avoided pesky international calling rates. With any luck I shall be able to decipher the thorniest of accents again by July. Small talk is so much easier on the phone than via written messages; I was sorely missing out on petty gossip.

I listened to all three games of the LSU/South Carolina baseball series. I shouted happily at the teams, the umpires, and the announcers, and have the great satisfaction of knowing that my team rocks.

I made a new friend. Note that when I say "made" I mean that we're talking online. Don't judge me for that either. I have every intention of meeting him in person one of these days. And it was nice, to be something other than Amy the photographer or Amy the old friend or Amy the sister. It's an Amy I haven't had the chance to be for quite a while now. And you know what? She rocks, too.