Nobody Can't Sing Like Me: A Birthday Story

Jamison walks up Jen's driveway before we go out to celebrate his birth.


At the Italian restaurant Colatina Exit in Bradford, Peter contemplates his 27th year, and his previous 26, over a flaming piece of cheesecake.


Peter nods off on the way home. The celebration was a success.

Hats

An outtake from a bishop installation a few years ago.

Relax

This is what I found when I walked into Jen's house for dinner a few weeks ago.

Nippon Princesses

When I was in Bulgaria I befriended Mari and Shiho. They are from Japan, and they are fearless. They assimilated better then any of us other foreigners.

This picture is from a restaurant where would each order half a chicken. I ate well that fall.

Fetch

Kerry/Edwards

I found this frame buried in an assignment from the 2004 presidential campaign season.

Barack Obama

Barbara didn't go to Barack's campaign event in her apartment building because she doesn't deal well with crowds. So, it was a surprise when she saw the presidential candidate in the lobby.

"I just came down to get my mail," Barbara said. "I came down at the right time."

Old School

Rob got his 4x5 camera in the mail yesterday.

I asked him to take my society portrait.

Black Dog, Brown Snow

We're on the cusp of mud season. This could be the hardest part of the winter. The snow is no longer pretty, and it's not melting nearly as fast as one might hope. And after the past few 50 degree days, we can expect snow this weekend.

I need help. I can't do this alone.

Mango Lassi

Jen tastes to make sure her mango lassis have the right mango/yogurt ratio as Peter cleans up dishes behind her.

Button Up

Brooke gets ready to depart for our big Sunday afternoon in town.

The Documented v. The Documenter

I told Brooke a while ago if she kept complaining about me taking pictures of her we would break up. Bold, I know. I'm lucky she didn't break up with me. It can be difficult when one's needs intersect with another's.

I think we're in a good photographic place now.

The Planners

Brooke is a planner. And in an attempt to be a better boyfriend, I too will become a planner.

Yesterday we went to dinner to do some serious planning. It was a 4:00 p.m. dinner because my plans for us to take a Mexican tamales workshop fell through and left us without lunch for the day. Brooke appreciated my planning efforts though.

At dinner we did some long-term planning (careers and destinations) as well as short-term planning (chocolate brownie sunday after dinner). Brooke brought her calendar for us to write in. We have a lot to juggle this summer and into the fall: Four weddings (hopefully no funerals), trips to Michigan, Jersey, the Cape, North Carolina . . .

My conclusion is that planning isn't so bad. I found it especially nice to look forward to summer as winter's death grip is only now beginning to loosen.

Jamison Covers Democracy

Peter reports about the goings-on at the Strafford town meeting today. Democracy in action.

Middle East Vermont

Jen flips her Moussaka on Sunday night. She used John O'Brien's lamb. They say it's the best lamb around. That's no lie. I saw him today at the Tunbridge town meeting and thanked him.


I'm still trying to wrap my head around Jen's baklava. This sounds ridiculus, but it rivaled some of the baklava I had in Turkey. This isn't to be taken lightly, I know.