Off duty

The Sandlot

In a near complete reversal of last year's score (10-5 Benedicts), the Stoltzfuses beat the Benedicts 11-4 behind three home runs from Scott, the unanimous MVP, (middle of third picture, red shorts and hat). The Benedicts were completely outclassed, and one of the few redeeming qualities about our game came in Alex's beautiful catch against the boardwalk, thus denying at least one Stoltzfus home run. His side bears witness to his effort. Yours truly had a forgettable game, grounding out numerous times, striking out once (yes - striking out in whiffle ball; quite a feat), and reaching base on fielders choices and errors. There's always next year.

Mother

While cruising down our street, after driving 760 miles from Michigan to New Jersey, I spotted her in her beach digs coming in from an undoubtedly rough afternoon by the ocean, where a soothing breeze likely floated in off the water under a sapphire sky and she lost herself in an engaging book with her toes buried in the sand.

Derrick and Amanda

Despite the heat - and the drizzle at the ceremony - I had an absolute blast photographing your wedding. And mostly because you are both such fun, laid-back people. Thanks for inviting me to be a part of it all.

Vitality

"You just watch yourself. You live right, and you'll be playing golf when you're 90." - Francis Harry

Peeps

Abbey dutifully reminded me recently of the time she cut Drew's hair, and that I hadn't posted any pictures yet. My apologies. My roommate has thus far somehow evaded the land of curiosity picture patrol. No more. Nathan and Kelly came over for a visit the other night, and after bravely stomaching some spaghetti with me, we sat on the porch and chatted away before crowning the night with Into the Wild and cheesecake and ice cream.

Meet Virginia

The front doors at Virginia Dent's home don't exactly look like front doors. I dodge to my left and look at the doorbell next to a side door, but there are cobwebs on it. Home security stickers peer at me from various spots along her stoop. I return to the real front doors and ring the doorbell. A minute. No response. I ring it again. No response. So I pull out my assignment sheet and give Virginia a call. I hear the phone ring inside. The voicemail comes on. I leave a message. Maybe she's already started her violin lesson and she can't hear the noises I'm making, I muse to myself. Just then a woman and her son - Virginia's 3 o'clock student - pull into the driveway, and voila! The door opens, and there stands Virginia, sporting a bright yellow shirt and ruby-red lipstick. The next day I'm hanging out with two old timers on a golf course and Virginia gives me a call. She tells me who she is, I say hello, and then I pause. You left me a message to call you, she says. Yes, I reply, that was yesterday when I was standing at your front door.