Today (nature day) we all took a walk south 2 blocks to the egret’s nest, an especially beautiful drainage ditch. There, on the edge of the pond, is a tree that has a small opening in the bottom. We all like to pretend that Nicholas, a small bunny, lives there with his family. Today when we visited but Nicholas was away. We left him a little piece of brownie. Then, as we used to do, Art asked to hear a story about Nicholas. I have fun making up some fun thing that involves Art and Nicholas together. Today they found a magic leaf that, if they held it, would make them fly. Art gets entirely wrapped up in the stories imagining him and Nicholas together. Today he asked with intensity, “Papa, is Nicholas real or not?”

Jessica took this nice photo of Art and Lew sitting on the frozen pond listening to a story.

And Art soaring from the top of a big pile of snow:

Jessica wisely suggested I photograph Netta’s gloved foot:

Lewis was upset today during naptime. He was refusing to get in his bed, insisted he didn’t want to take nap and was crying plenty. He was just really tired and grumpy. And then Art had the brilliant idea that he could sleep in Lewis’ bed with him and that that would make him feel better. And it did. Lewis agreed instantly and that’s where they slept for the next hour and a half.

A very uneventful 4-month checkup today. Girls are very healthy and growing nicely.

Netta: 12lb 13oz, in the 27th percentile
Bailey: 13lb even, in the 31st percentile

that's what jessica just said. –sent from my handheld device–

This is my grandfather, Harold Parker. He was my dad’s dad, whom I never got to meet. Look at this stunning photograph! I cant keep my eyes off it! So much style! So much verve! It makes me imagine a man with a lot of intention in his life. A man who invests his full energy into things. That’s the kind of man my dad was.

Here’s what my uncle Dick wrote about the picture:

“Hey, here’s a photo Dad had taken at a St.Paul dance joint. I’m almost certain it was in the 1930s, maybe as early as 1934, when (by my calculations) he came to St. Paul to work for Swift at age 21. No, he did not hookup with gangsters — respectable men all dressed that way. Dad told me in 1971 or spring 1972 that he was glad to have his own business and sorry he had worfed for the same company (Swift) for 28 years — 1934, I reckon, until he left in 1962. By the 1970s he was ill with chronic leukemia but still running his insurance agency. He made that mention of his career as we were headed (in Mom’s Mustang convertible) for a pizza place that had the best in the area. Dad was feeling pretty good that day. He died July 1, 1972.”

Bubbe came over today and made brownies.

Lewis always likes to get really really close to a baby and say something like “Hello little baby wadya doing lil’ baby!?”

I’m working the photo desk tonight at work and put together a gallery of some of the best photos over the past two weeks from Egypt. The people of Egypt have inspired me, as have these brave photographers who were there as our witness.

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