I’ve been light on the writing lately to focus more on work and family. And the little problem of our economy imploding before our eyes has been a minor diversion (except for when Michael is yelling from the living room that I need to see history in the making as another talking head jabbers about a plan for recovery).

Today was a nice break. A little picnic in the park with family and friends. It was a balmy 82 degrees, a welcome respite from the heat and humidity.

I took the opportunity to shoot photos of my nephew and niece’s son. They live out of state, and this was my first chance to meet him. Can you imagine the willpower and restraint I showed not to scoop this child up and shower him with kisses? But I remember how overwhelming that was for Jake at that age, and multiplied by 25, well, you can imagine. So I hung back and took pictures.

Of all the photos I took today, this is one of my favorites. Four generations of our family: my brother, his grandson, his son, and our dad. All together for one picture. And I got it (and about a gazillion others). Made my weekend.