My grandmother makes a prime rib every year for Christmas dinner, a tradition we've continued when we do the holidays at our own house. This year I was in charge of the roast; I made a bit of a mess in the prep.

Baby girl, why are you under the table? Are you hiding, out of fear or fun? Are you kneeling in prayer? Are you resting your head, weary from the exertions of being a one-year-old? Or perhaps you're taking cover from an earthquake or Mayan apocalypse.

Ah, I see. No, you're just getting your feet set so you can stand. You're on your way up.

I don't know exactly where or when Jason learned the word "fortress." It's possible that little boys are just born with it imprinted on their chromosomes.

I'm finally going through the pile of photos from my trip home last month. This one popped out at me immediately. I don't think it's right to say that I love my kids more when they're asleep, but there's certainly something compelling about seeing them so peaceful.

I apologize for the long delay. I've been a bit under the weather, but I seem to be getting better. While I've been away, Eva has decided that it's time for her to start using utensils.

One of the exhibits at the New Children's Museum involves a big, jungle-gym-ish sculpture, a large funhouse mirror, and "beastly" costumes that the kids can put on. I'm not sure exactly what the lesson is in terms of art or environmentalism (the two big themes at the museum) but, anyway, Jason liked it.

One of the comments I got at the Medium Festival portfolio reviews was that the reviewer felt like she wanted to see me try to make some "less perfect" images. This one is pretty outside my usual style, with the harsh lighting and looser composition. It's not as traditionally "beautiful" as what I usually do. I kind of like it, but I'm not sure it feels like me.

It's funny how a silly little moment--filling up a squirt toy in the bath--can yield images that feel calm and contemplative. It really wasn't like that at all.

I know it's not Thanksgiving yet. But if it's OK for the Hallmark Channel to start playing Christmas movies, then it's OK for me to post this. Harrumph.

Four years ago, Juliette and I walked to the end of our block to go vote, pushing our stroller and our three-month-old baby boy all the way. It started raining while we marked our ballots, and we were soaked by the time we got home--thankfully, the stroller had a canopy, so Jason stayed dry.

This time around we had two kids in tow and we had to walk a bit further, but the sun was shining. It turned out to be a pretty good day.