October 2008

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alex's life book

  • In early 2006, I began creating a life book for my daughter, Alex. Click here for links to articles describing my experience.
  • And for those of you who are more digitally inclined, in late 2006, I recreated key pages of Alex's lifebook for an article I wrote for AlphaMom, using Scrapblog.

    You can see the final digital result (and leave comments, if you'd like!) here.

what's been on my nikon lately

  • And you can view my favourites here.

if i'm not here, i'm here

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Comments

Adrienne

I always love your photography. Something about that vendor on the beach shot just makes me want to rush back to Trinidad. :)

Kim

Looks like what I imagine Heaven will be like!

Marilyn

This post nearly brought tears to my eyes...I was instantly transported back to our neighborhood beach, which was St. Thomas' busiest. Oh, how I loved it on my daily walks after work when most of the tourists had left and we locals had it to ourselves...or very early on weekend mornings when I'd look down its mile-long expanse while walking ankle-deep in the surf and feel like I was the luckiest person alive. There was so much that I disliked about being trapped on that little rock...but those moments at that beach were nothing short of joy for me. When people ask if we'll ever go back, we always know the answer is yes...for different reasons it calls to us...but there's no way I can live the rest of my life without ever setting foot on 'my' beach again...

tina

The musician's name is Peter. Chris and his family know him and his family from way back when. This man has had a hard life and plays at Maracas for donations - good thing he's got some talent. I have a picture of our encounter with him from our trip last year. What a coinkidink!

Mmmmmmm. Maracas Bay. I can feel the sweaty glass of Old Oak and coconut water in my hand and I can hear the tinkling of the ice in my glass as I raise it to my lips, my beverage joining the bake-and-shark snack in my belly. I can hear the thump-thump of music in the distance and the squeals of my children running from the waves, mixing nicely with the sound of palm branches in the wind. I have sand in my crack, sunscreen in my eyes and I'm burned to a crisp, but I don't care. Mmmmmmmm. Maracas Bay.

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