Jason got a new toy from his Grandma for his birthday: a kitchen set. He loves it, and has been super excited to play with it ever since it magically appeared by the dining table one morning. This is him on that morning, putting two cups, a salt shaker, and two bowls into the oven. He's not doing that anymore, but for whatever reason, he thinks the phone goes in the microwave, and his wind-up dolphin toy ("MY NEW DOLPHIN!") goes in the fridge. He refuses to entertain any notions to the contrary.

The self-portraiture phase is kind of a big cliché for photographers, I know. I have to get it out of my system eventually, though, right?

I figured as long as I'm engaging in clichés, I might as well really dive in, hence the "here's half of my face" composition, the faux-Andrzej Dragan texture and tone, and the boring expression.

Maybe I'll remember to shave before the next one.

I like lifting Jason over my head and making noises at him. He likes it, too. Sunday, in the park, I wanted to see if I could still pick him up with one hand. Turns out I can. For now.

Jason likes cake. Can you tell?

I know that when you go to SeaWorld you're supposed to take pictures of dolphins and orcas, and I did. All of those ones came out boring, though, and this one--one of the performers in the new "Blue Horizons" show--was one of the few interesting shots I got all day.

"Daddy, beads! Necklace!"

"Yes, that's a very nice necklace, Jason."

My mom and stepdad had a whole bunch of photos and paintings of doors when I was growing up. I think that must be why I like to take pictures of doors so much. Juliette took one look at this one and said, "I bet your mom will like that."

I was walking through the cemetary during Saturday's group shoot when a bit of yellow caught my eye. I looked, and then looked again, then again, and then I was fighting back tears.

It's startlingly easy for me to imagine this boy's parents, and to imagine myself in their shoes. To know what it's like to hold an angel in my arms, and to realize that, yes, I would still be bringing him toys to play with, eleven years after he died.

Is it selfish of me to have taken this picture? Is it wrong? I've been wrestling with these questions for the past couple of days, and I don't really have an answer. All I know is that the moment was profoundly affecting for me, and I hope that by capturing it and sharing it I might be doing something good.

Saturday morning I was in Oceanside at the Mission San Luis Rey for the SDDSLR monthly group shoot. Unfortunately, it was overcast the whole morning, which meant no wide or landscape shots. On the other hand, it was pretty good lighting for close-in work.

Shortly before I took this picture, my friend James was laughing at me because I was lying on my belly in the dirt to try to get a good angle on another shot. I stood up, brushed myself off and said, "You think that's funny, just wait. I'm about to go lie down on the train tracks."

Juliette, aghast, cried "No you're not! You're going to get hit by a train!"

I pointed out that I'd be right by the train crossing, and the bells would give me plenty of warning, aside from which I'd be able to hear the train from a ways off. James said something like "Won't you feel dumb when this is like the one time out of a million that the arm doesn't come down? Well, not for very long, I guess." Which helped a lot. (Thanks, James.)

"I'm just going to take a few snaps. It'll only take a minute or two, and besides, a train just went by like ten minutes ago so there probably won't be another one for a while."

Juliette relented, and about a minute later I was down on my belly next to the crossing, trying to get a good angle on the shot. As I was lining up this one, I heard a little boy behind me ask "Daddy, why is that man lying on the train tracks?"

"I don't know," the dad responded, "but leave him alone."

So I guess I'm the weirdo that lies down on train tracks now.