Watertown, MA. May, 2013

When I posted these chairs for sale on Craig’s List, there was immediate interest. One woman emailed asking if she could stop by on her way through my neighborhood to take a look at them between 4:00-4:15 that afternoon. Fine. At 4:00pm, a car pulled up, so full of stuff that you couldn’t see into any of the windows. A man got out and said to me, “I want the chairs.” I explained that a woman was coming to look at them in a few minutes and suggested that he wait. “She’s going to want them,” he said as we walked to the patio. “I really want them,” he said. Then he offered me double the price I had been asking. WWJD?

Watertown, MA. May, 2012

Look at this wall of symbols here at The Plumbing Museum in my hometown. My friend John always told me that the task of the graphic designer is “making language visible.” Take a look at some of this language, most of it plumbing-related.

Watertown, MA. May, 2012

Not sure why, but I love this odd pairing from my town’s Memorial Day Parade. Hidden behind their instruments, opposing physiques, completely out of step, nowhere near the others in their band. No wonder I race to attend the parade each year.

Watertown, MA. July, 2011

Is there anything better in this world than good friends? I don’t think so. And I’ve been blessed, my whole life, with the greatest. Seen here in my backyard, the delightful Carasik Sisters, flower girl Georgia and Diane, two of the best.

Watertown, MA. February, 2013

Just when people are starting to complain about the heat, a reminder of the alternative. I like snow. When it’s decorative. When it’s inconvenient, not so much. This winter, though the big white seemed to stay away until February, it made up for lost time, showing up what seemed like every weekend thereafter. Blizzards with names like Nemo and booster shots like Saturn & Co. The only good thing about late-winter snow, I think, is that the end is within reach. Crocus pushing through one day. Fourteen inches of snow the next. Enough already.

Watertown, MA. April, 2013

Evidently this jogger didn’t receive the “request” for citizens to remain indoors while armed soldiers, SWAT teams, state and local police, snipers et al. patrolled the sleepy streets of my town. From my window I watched as he was forced to the pavement, detained and questioned by dozens of law-enforcement officials for an hour before being allowed to walk the block back to his home. Of course, it couldn’t have helped that he was a young man with dark eyes and dark curly hair, just like the Boston Marathon bombing suspect the manhunt was seeking that tense afternoon a month ago.

Watertown, MA. April, 2013

Good morning! It’s not every day I look out into my backyard and see snipers. But then again, April 19, 2013 wasn’t every day. One month has passed since SWAT teams filled my neighborhood, looking for the Boston Marathon bombing suspects. The psychic undertow (my friend Karen’s wonderful term) diminishes slowly.