I wondered, as I was walking past the man in the bow tie, what his tickets were for. A concert, I suppose, or maybe a comedy or magic show. But I didn't stop to ask, I broke my stride only long enough to snap this picture. He noticed me, then looked away when it was clear I wasn't stopping to inquire. Then I moved on, toward the barbecue booth a short ways down where Juliette and her sister had decided we'd eat. I suppose he went on standing there.

This morning, Juliette and I sat together in the living room and watched our kids playing.  She smiled and turned to me. "This is what nine years makes," she said.

Yeah.  It's a good life.

Happy Anniversary, Jules. You're the love of my life.

The paint was cold, and he shivered when the brush touched his skin. The woman holding his head, the painter, felt him tense up and backed away, thinking he was afraid.

"Are you OK, buddy?" we asked.

"Yeah," he said.

Less than a minute later I handed him a fistful of bills and he turned and handed it to her. Then we walked on, a purple unicorn adorning his left cheek.

I noticed this guy wearing an orange shirt while I was at the fair. He noticed me noticing him. Now I can't see anything else when I look at this picture, even though there's a lot going on all around.

My birthday was on Saturday, so we took the occasion to take the kids to the fair, along with Juliette's sister Noelle and brother-in-law Ricardo. It was our first time going to the fair in five or six years—the first time ever for Ricardo and the kids—and both Juliette and I noticed how much more crowded it was than we remembered. None of us were quite sure why, though I suspect it had something to do with the economy and the cheap price of entry compared to the local amusement parks.

Having been through this once before, it's no surprise to me that Eva puts everything into her mouth. It's a little surprising, though, how good she is at it. Fingers? Yep. Jason's toys? Check. Tonight she helped herself to about half of Juliette's dinner, and where Jason would have had it all over his face, chest, hands, and hair at that age, Eva managed to get the bulk of it into her mouth. With finger dexterity like that, maybe it's time to start looking into some early violin programs. They take 9-month-olds, right?

As you may have noticed, I've made some changes to the site design.  I've been wanting to do this for a while now, partially in order to better feature my photos, but also just because the old design was feeling kind of stale.  The changes are almost entirely cosmetic, but, as always, if you find that something isn't working properly, please let me know.  You can find my email address on the "About" page.

Look at her. She's just fallen on her face, trying to crawl but unable to coordinate her limbs properly, but she's not upset or frustrated. She's calm and interested, nothing more. It looks as though she just decided to take a quick break right there, and as soon as she's ready she'll be back at it. Which is, in fact, just what happened.

She's not always an angel, but she's so often so good-natured that I can't help but wonder where she gets it from. Not from me, certainly.

This photo was taken less than three weeks ago. She not only crawls well now, she's even started pulling herself up on the furniture. Still calm, interested, and happy, but I'm going to have to move a lot quicker now.

I'm not sure exactly what I was expecting that afternoon, but it wasn't a corral full of people getting makeovers from sailors, next to a stage where other, more scantily clad sailors were tap-dancing. I'm not sure if the DJ was expecting to have his picture taken by a shlubby-looking guy in worn-out jeans and scuffed New Balance sneakers, but I guess it was a day of surprises for everyone.

I still remember the excitement I felt as a kid when the chiming notes of "The Entertainer" would waft in through my bedroom window at my dad's house. It's funny, I probably only ever actually bought anything from an ice cream truck a handful of times, yet the memory of that song and that bedroom and that feeling remain in my mind. Much more than the actual treats, and certainly much more than the people driving the trucks, who were probably at least as bored as "Tammy" here.

Juliette doesn't have these memories, growing up out in the sticks as she did. Even my town, where I grew up with my mom, was too small and rural for ice cream trucks—I only ever heard them on the weekends my brother and I spent at our dad's. But now I live in a city, on a normal suburban block, and I see an ice cream truck go by every couple of days. I wonder what my own kids will think about that, thirty years from now.

I guess I'll just have to wait and see.