My kingdom for a good headshot.

As promised, Mr. Husband and I stopped and took one-handed headshots where we block-the-scenery-but-you-get-the-general-idea of what we’re doing. They are fun, full of life, and almost always contain a giggle or two. We crack ourselves up over and over while taking these silly photos. But, as most couples know, these silly photos that capture only the neck and the head of a couple while one member of the couple extends hand to snap photo, are essentially the lifeblood of all good relationships.

That’s right—without these couples-in-headshot photos—a relationship lacks the robustness of coupledom. I’m not one to philosophize blow-hardedly or discuss at Kilimanjaro-hiking-to-the-top-of-the-mountain length my ideas about strategery, but I am one to point out finer points of a situation that need to stay relevant. What I mean here, what I mean to say—what I’m trying to sing from the rooftops is … long live the obnoxious-smiling-couple-neck-up shots.

There are two things that I believe essential to a relationship that when they start to fade from a relationship, you might as well make an appointment to visit a lawyer: 1) going to the grocery store together is romantic, and 2) headshots taken by yourselves from various locations on earth are a sign that your romance is still on track. God save the absurd headshots where we block out the scenery—the photos where only you and him or her and you know where you were, what you were doing, and why you were so bloody giddy. They are personal memories (that often torture friends and family). Everyone wants to see your smile and his smile over and over and over from every possible corner on earth (not that it’s possible to tell what corner of the earth is currently involved).

So, you see, we carry this little philosophy along with us on every vacation,
adventure, walk in the park, or grocery store trip. We probably take more headshots than three couples combined. And we flaunt them to the world with blind assumptions that you care—you want to see us smiling in Florida, in Georgia, and occasionally in Tennessee. You can’t get enough of jazz hands. You wonder which arm will Mr. Husband use? You long to know if Mr. Husband will cut off most of my face with a camera held too high or if the photo will simply be nostrils and noses and nothing else. And we understand.

It is true that we are blessed with a gift: Mr. Husband’s enormously long arms, that do not drag the ground but float quite high above it, offer the wonderful advantage of often capturing a slightly bit more than our heads. Sometimes you can see a shoulder! Sometimes you can just barely make out where we are. Sometimes you can pretend that you can see more.

Ah, headshots, how I love thee! We got some premium headshots out of this last vacation. A whole eleven days of headshots. Amazing. I can’t wait to show all my friends and our families. Everyone will just love them. They’ll ask for more. They’ll make up places in their heads for us to visit and put us in their very own imaginary headshot photo. I’m sure of it. We’ll be on fridges and corkboards all over the world. People will write us letters asking, no begging, for more headshots.

My favorite headshots are the ones where we are laughing. The headshot-taking ritual has become quite the humorous event. It is sacred and peppered with laughter. It is ours. And we’re going to share it with you … because we know, are absolutely certain, and are without a smidgkin of doubt that you want to see. And now you know exactly what we did on vacation: we took headshots.