Last night, I was watching the season finale of Lost. Em runs in and tells me that I must come immediately to see what was happening with The Pea, who was supposed to be asleep in her room.

Me: I'll come on a commercial.
Em: You need to come now. This is worth it. Trust me.
Me: Better than Lost? I find myself doubting your objectivity in this matter.
Em: Just come look. Check out where The Pea is sleeping.

I slowly open the door and go into the room, stepping over toys and other articles strewn on the floor. The blankets are messed up, so I move in for a closer look, still unable to see exactly how Chie was able to secret herself so completely in the bed.

"You're going to step on her!" my wife blurts.

I look down at my feet. There, in the middle of the room, is my daughter. She is curled up, lying on her side, fast asleep on the floor.

I ran and got my camera and snapped a few pictures using the flash before Em returned her to her bed. I'll post the pictures a little later.

Today is Em's birthday. Em was actually born in December, but has celebrated her birthday in April for a number of years. The story about why is somewhat involved and I don't really feel the need to tell it again. If you're interested in why, best to hear the story directly from Em anyway.

Happy birthday, love. Hope you're sleeping in still.

Em and I have started up a photo-a-day project on thereversedlens. We're on Day 2 and we're switching back and forth who does it. At some point, we may have two separate journals for it, but we're just not there yet.

I think this might be just the project I needed to get myself thinking about art photography again. I need a lensbaby.

You can find today's post here.

[somewhere i have never travelled]


somewhere i have never travelled,gladly beyond
any experience,your eyes have their silence:
in your most frail gesture are things which enclose me,
or which i cannot touch because they are too near

your slightest look easily will unclose me
though i have closed myself as fingers,
you open always petal by petal myself as Spring opens
(touching skilfully,mysteriously) her first rose

or if your wish be to close me,i and
my life will shut very beautifully, suddenly,
as when the heart of this flower imagines
the snow carefully everywhere descending;

nothing which we are to perceive in this world equals
the power of your intense fragility: whose texture
compels me with the color of its countries,
rendering death and forever with each breathing

(i do not know what it is about you that closes
and opens; only something in me understands
the voice of your eyes is deeper than all roses)
nobody,not even the rain, has such small hands

My wife just wiped the baby's mouth, thinking that The Pea was spitting out some of the Frosty we'd been feeding her. She used her fingers and then promptly licked them off.

It was not Frosty. It was baby puke.

That's right. My wife just ate some of my daughter's spit up.