Jury duty is officially over

My two-week jury duty is officially over (hence my latest nickname, "second-weeker") and I'm ecstatic to be returning to my mundane (but legal) existence. Don't get me wrong, I enjoyed fulfilling my civic duty while it lasted but I also love not having to drive downtown at 8:00am, find a parking space, walk over to the courthouse, and plunk myself down in a chair in the jury pool room for the day. I got my shot at a trial in Week One and I'm all the better for the experience. I just hope I never find myself on either end of the law any time soon...I know too much now.

Dadhood

Yes, it's true that moms are usually the ones who set up the photo sessions with me but dads deserve some serious credit, too, for showing up all showered, shaved, and ready for some family time in the front of the camera. And, even though I might not hear the men of the house admit it out loud, I always seem to be able to capture some of the love they feel inside for their kids, no matter what age their "kids" are.

The two fathers I've featured here are in different stages of "dadhood" but there's no denying how much it means to them.

It doesn't matter who my father was; it matters who I remember he was. Anne Sexton

First-weeker

I received my first-ever summons to serve on jury duty in The Common Pleas Court of Franklin County, OH about a month ago. First reaction - yikes, two whole weeks gone out of my life-you've got to be kidding me! Second reaction - yikes, I really have no good excuse not to go!

Fast-forward to today, June 12th. I'm happy to report that I survived and actually enjoyed/appreciated the whole experience. I'm now affectionately known by the jury commission girls as a "first-weeker." I've been oriented, sent up to a courtroom, questioned by attorneys, selected by same attorneys, served on their criminal case, deliberated said case, determined a verdict, delivered a verdict to a defendant, and then released back to the jury pool to do it all over again next week, when I then become affectionately known as a "second-weeker." (yikes, my brain hurts from all the legalize!)

A couple of the things I've learned:
Jurors don't get to hear the whole story in a case, just the parts that the judge and attorneys think you should hear.
I've learned to differentiate between fact and heresay.
I've learned that taking an oath doesn't necessarily mean the person is telling the truth.
I've learned that 12 complete strangers can indeed come together, review the evidence, and make a determination that will impact another complete stranger's life.

As a second-weeker, I hope to do it all over again starting next Monday. In my book, that's affectionately known as "my civil duty."

Ben, my Super Hero

I have a little friend who is turning seven in a few days. His name is Ben, he now lives in Denver, and he is cancer free after being diagnosed with neuroblastoma, a very aggressive form of childhood cancer, when he was two. Ben has been through more than most children his age but has come out victorious since his first "all clear" diagnosis three years ago.

(Put on by Neiman Marcus and the wives of the Colorado Avalanche hockey players and coaches, this fashion show was a benefit for Children’s Hospital.)

OK, here's the deal...Ben undergoes a series of scans every six months to determine his health status and, like clockwork, his parents have requested prayers that Ben will remain cancer-free. Ben's next set of scans will take place mid-June. Please begin praying for them and for No Evidence of Disease! Thank you all on their behalf.

Luke Dude

In honor of the Luke Dude's birthday (thanks, Natalie, for suggesting I post some photos of us - photographers never have photos of themselves so I'm tickled pink that I've got these)...

Stopping in Vegas to get Lucas, before catching a flight to Honolulu

Free-style cruisin' on the Pride of America

Lifeboat drill

What's Hawaii without getting lei-d?

Luke and Dad having a cold one

Indulging his mother, Lucas opted for a pedicure while Becky chose the manicure

Snorkeling off the coast of Kona

Like mother, like son...

It's funny how life has a way of repeating itself...

My son, Lucas, who will turn 29 in just a few days, is a wonderful photographer in his own right.

But just like me at that age, photography is on the back burner while he focuses on other priorities.

Lucas was born on Maui but we left there and moved to Columbus (where I grew up) when he was almost four years old. Last December, our family took a cruise around the Hawaiian Islands.

It was a dream come true for both of us to return there together; to explore the place where he was born, to revisit some relatives and all the life-altering emotions that came with it, and to seek some inner peace in the amazing beauty that is found only on those volcanic rocks in the middle of the Pacific Ocean.

Needless to say, we went crazy with our point & shoots and I'm happy to report that I just received a little gift in the mail - Lucas sent me a CD filled with photos from his own perspective. I feel like I'm the one having a birthday.

Golf, corn, golf, corn...trees!

I love golf. I used to play golf until about 6 years ago when my back went out. My husband is a golfer, my dad taught golf lessons, and my brothers both play golf. Our good friend, Olin Browne, is a PGA tour player (we went to our very first Masters tournament in 1998 to watch him play). So, when the Memorial Tournament comes to town, you'd think I'd be the first fan to walk through the gates to grab a beer and follow my favorite player around the most beautiful golf course in the world (well, besides Augusta and Pebble Beach). Not anymore. I mean, I still love golf, but when Olin isn't playing I could care less about the other golfers teeing it up. I would rather catch a few hours of the leaders on TV and spend the rest of my beautiful spring day with my beloved Canon. This year, I ended up at the "corn field" off Frantz Road in Dublin. And, yes, all those corn statues standing straight up on their cobs are a little weird but I'm an artist (of sorts) so I kind of get it.

As I was busy shooting cobs, I couldn't help but notice a stand of tall trees with little plaques in the ground in front of them. It seems these graceful giants have been around since the 1880's and served as boundaries between farm properties. Who knew? As usual, my right brain ventured closer to the trees and the bark just seemed to speak to me. I left there thinking, this was way more fun than spending five hours watching someone else hit a little white ball into a really small hole.