My oldest son ran into my office yesterday and said, “Dad, get your camera. The sunset is amazing.”

Tonight, my middle son did the same thing. My kids seem to love the fact that I love sunsets. They’ve come to understand how important it is to me and they take joy in alerting me.

I love that my kids get me.

Rocky and I both attended our High School reunions this year.

We flew to Beavercreek, Ohio for my reunion. We had wondered whether the expense was really worth it, but after my reunion she shared with me how much fun she had watching me interact with old friends. A small part of me thought she was just making me feel good. A much larger part of me knew that Rocky doesn’t play that game. So, it should not have been a surprise when I found myself smiling from the inside out while watching her interact with her old friends.

From a technical standpoint, this is not a great photo. It was a poorly lit room and all I had was my iPhone. But I love it anyway. It has captured joy and frozen one of those “old friend” moments that made me smile.

And some things are not. This morning, after sleeping only three hours, I obeyed the alarm and walked outside to this amazing sight.

What’s amazing is that when you encounter one of these things that are worth losing sleep over, like this sunrise at Miami Beach, it makes all of the little things that you’ve been losing sleep over seem utterly insignificant.

Every day is a new day.

Photos are amazing. I was looking for something else today and stumbled on this photo of one of my sons playing in the ocean. I am not sure I was living in the moment captured in this photo, but I am quite sure he was. And right now, I am not living in this moment either. I am living in the memory of this photo.

I’ll get back to today in a little bit.

It’s been a long time since I’ve posted a photo here. Way too long. And it’s not because I’ve not had anything good to share. It’s because I’ve had too much.

This has been an exceptionally great summer with the kids. We’ve been to six National Parks and seen some views that are simply unable to be captured properly on film. And we’ve made some great memories. Last night at the Citrus Classic Balloon Festival, I’m sure we made a few more.

My three oldest boys ran, jumped, rolled, stared, laughed, sang and danced themselves into a state of pure joy. There’s not much better.

My 8-year-old son has been running around with one of our digital cameras lately. He’s shooting photos of random objects, brothers, sisters, friends. And the floor sometimes. This photo was taken while he as supposed to be in a time out in his room. Clearly he found a way to keep himself busy.

I exported the files from that camera today and saw a world that is unfamiliar to me. The photos were all from a perspective I can’t see. Everything was a bit skewed. There are photos of people who appear to be larger than they are and images taken at angles I would never think to use. And images shot through window screens.

What strikes me is that I could us a bit more of this childlike perspective in my life.

Every once in a while fate delivers a nice surprise. I flew into Denver early for REBarcamp Denver. It would probably have been my preference to get in a bit later in the day, since the conference wasn’t until the next day. But the flights were cheaper earlier in the day, so I grabbed the cheapest flight, thinking, “I’ll figure out some way to spend my time.” The day before the trip, Christian Sterner sent me a message on Facebook asking if I wanted to go on a hike in the Flatirons. It wasn’t hard to figure out this is why I had flown in early.

Thanks, Christian. And thanks to Kori Covrigaru and Chad Gagnon who joined us. It was a great hike.

Yesterday, my wife helped me clean my office. And it wasn’t just the surfaces that got attention. She went deep into the bowels of the book shelves and filing cabinets. It wasn’t pretty. In the process, she uncovered a folder full of old poems that I had feared were lost forever. I lauged when I looked at the typewritten pages, now disocolored by time.

The poems will make their way to the web soon .

When Rocky heads to Africa on one of her charitable journeys, she is gone for several weeks. So, part of her ritual with the kids is that she leaves note all over the walls of the house saying, “I love you.’ She leaves notes with dates on them that are to be read at specific times. They hold clues to hidden treasures. And she leaves behind a “thank you for” for each day she is gone.

We each take turns picking the thank you fors out of the bucket and reading it during her turn at dinner. Thank you fors are a ritual here in the Turner house. We each say what we’re thankful for as we eat our dinner.

Tonight, it was my turn to pick one out of the jar. As fate would have it, this was the one I got to read. I’m thankful for the laughter that ensued.

“I’m sorry, we don’t have anything left but pizza,” the owner, Joe Azzolino, said. “We’ve been closed since midnight.”

It was 12:37am. It was pretty busy for a closed pizza place. There was only standing room for about five people in the front of the counter and I counted seven. I replied, “Well, we’re both in luck then, ’cause all I want is that slice of pepperoni and sausage pizza right there. And, by the way, you sure don’t look closed.” Joe let out a little laugh and said, “I may be tired, but I’m not stupid. If you know what I mean.” Yeah, I do.

Joe deserves a plug.

Patzeria, 233 W. 46th Street
Between Broadway & 8th Avenue
New York, NY 10036