Two weeks ago, I was in my basement going over a job with a plumber. A week later, the written proposal price came in higher than his on-site estimate. I asked him about it. The price of materials like steel and copper keeps going up, he said.

A few days after that, my editor dispatched me to photograph consumers and get quotes from them regarding inflation. Outside a Boston Home Depot, I found Paul O'Toole loading WonderBoard onto his truck. Last weekend, crooks stole copper pipes from his job site. "You don't expect someone to rip it [copper] out of the walls," the astonished general contractor told me.

While attaching fresh lumber to the roof of his van, Alex Pepin explained that price spikes have hurt his profits and make estimating jobs more difficult.

Whew. The modest plumbing price increase I signed off on looks pretty good at this point.

Slogging knee-high through the river-like streets of downtown Peabody, Mass., did not bother me, as I had a change of clothes in the car.  I held an umbrella low to protect my camera from the rain.

I sought refuge in a bakery to transmit photographs back to my waiting editor.  Images sent, I retrieved my dry clothes.  Emerging from the establishment's restroom, I saw a radio reporter for Fox News, hunched over her laptop, getting ready to file her report.

Norangel Mesa runs a Colombian/Spanish restaurant named "Mi Rancho" in East Boston. 

I photographed him the day before a nationwide May Day action organized by immigrant rights advocates.  The activists urged immigrants not to show up for work or school in order to demonstrate the wide-ranging impact immigrants have on the nation's economy. 

Mr. Mesa's English morphed into Spanish as he explained why he planned to close his restaurant on May 1:  "The reason I will be closed is that I want una reforma immigrantoria mejor."

Mesa chatted with customers about their plans for May Day.  Libardo Catano (right), who works for a national restaurant chain, said that his boss told him, "If you don't work tomorrow [May 1st], don't come back."

It bothers me when counterdemonstrators get a free ride by showing up at someone else's organized rally: They get a lot of publicity without having to do any work.

Such was the case in Portland, Maine, as immigrant rights demonstrators - including a cluster of Latino teens - trickled into Monument Square for a noon rally.  They were met by two placard-wielding opponents of immigrant rights.

Suddenly, one of the teens, his face covered with a bandanna, ran up and blindsided a “go-homer," whacking him on the head with what looked like a sock full of coins, before running away. Talk about a cheap shot.

Waiting for an ambulance, Robert Gorman leaned against his sign, which reads:  “No rights for illegals.  Honk. No hate.” 

Back to the main event:  My editor wanted a shot that conveyed the wide coalition of people backing immigrant rights. This shot tested my fill-flash exposure, and was step one toward a tightly composed image.

However, the top and bottom of the frame lacked content, and the faces were not distinct.  So I moved in closer.

Better, but I wanted more faces.  I climbed up on the grassy embankment of the Civil War monument, switched to a camera mounted with a telephoto lens, and zoomed in.

My editor deemed the image worthy of leading Page 1, but asked if my subjects were the full extent of the crowd.  There were over 100 participants, I explained, reassuring him that his choice was not a cheap shot. 

I've spent hours outside courtrooms and government buildings, staked out on the hope of photographing elusive quarry.  So it was strange to drive into the parking garage here at the Monitor knowing freed hostage Jill Carroll's whereabouts and see a colleague from AP, fruitlessly waiting to catch a glimpse of her.

Carroll, along with her mom and dad and sister Katie, showed up yesterday at our offices.  Her first ever visit to the newsroom brimmed with emotion and tears as she met editors previously known only by phone.  As Carroll caught up with Middle East editor Mike Farrell (below, background), her dad embraced deputy international editor Amelia Newcomb, who had been in nearly daily contact with the family during the ordeal.

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When I finally set aside my emotional shield and met Carroll, her celebrity rendered me slightly tongue-tied.  As we hugged, I murmured, "We are so glad to see you safe." 

Monitor Washington bureau chief David Cook then went outside to tell the cluster of reporters and cameras what they had missed.  "It was strange being on the other side of the reporting equation,"  he told me.

The paper released video of Carroll's newsroom visit, and all morning we have been comparing notes on who garnered airtime.  As I write this, a photo editor, looking at the TV monitors has just exclaimed:  "Oh, oh, there we are again."

It is strange, as a member of the media, to be part of the story.  I wonder what it is like for reporter Carroll to be the story.

Scott Peterson - a Monitor writer/photographer - accompanied recently freed hostage Jill Carroll on her flight from Germany to the US.  As soon as the plane touched down in Boston, we needed a shot of Carroll to meet our print production deadline.  Peterson photographed her in the jetway, joyously greeted by top editors. (See homecoming slide show, image 09).

With prior arrangement, Peterson then gave his camera's flash card to a Lufthansa official, who cleared it through customs and delivered it to me, waiting in an airport cafe, laptop ready to transmit the photo. I felt as if I was in a movie.

Leaving the airport, the sight of the limo lot invaded by television vans caught my eye.

As drivers waiting for their clients looked on, Christoph Noelting, a reporter for AP television in Germany, did a standup outlining his efforts to interview Carroll, which including buying a ticket so that he could be on her flight.

Noelting wrote a note requesting an interview and asked a flight attendant to hand it to Carroll.  Dan Murphy, another Monitor staffer on the flight, came back from first class and told him just to relax and enjoy the inflight movie, as there would be no interviews.

Noelting reported that the nonjournalist passengers on the flight were unaware of Carroll's presence until they saw their plane landing on CNN.  I asked Noelting if he would be on the next plane back to Germany.  He told me he favored that option over spending the night in a Boston hotel.

I spent a recent evening at the Bangor airport photographing the Maine Troop Greeters.  These volunteers meet troops - en route to, or returning from, Iraq - with handshakes, hugs, and words of encouragement.  For this shot, I walked along with members of the US Army as they strode between rows of greeters.

The hardy greeters have been on self-appointed duty since May 2003, welcoming over 1,400 flights ferrying some 260,000 troops.  They have a room stocked with candy, cookies, and cellphones for the troops to use to make free calls. 

I often write about connections, but this shoot left me vaguely discomfited.  Unlike many of the greeters, I am not a veteran.  Speaking to soldiers bound for Iraq, I found it hard to fathom their professed nonchalance.  Marine Sgt. Jerry Bray (above, left) and Cpl. Jamar Washington spoke to their wives.  Corporal Washington told me that leaving for Iraq this second time was not as hard as the first, and that God had more ways in store for him to grow.  I had vocabulary issues, as I kept saying "trip" instead of "tour," when asking about sojourns to Iraq. 

However, what a compelling intersection of stories:  the anytime-of-day-or-night troop greeters welcoming soldiers facing the consequences of war, whether going home or into battle.

These wartime strands meshed as Sharon Stephens, of the Air National Guard, spoke with her husband.  Bound for Iraq, she became emotional telling him about the warm welcome her unit received from the Maine Troop Greeters. 

The self-portrait is a genre practiced by many artists.  The portrayal of self can take many forms.  With photography, mirrors can play a role, as can the photographer's shadow.  As a photojournalist, I try to avoid such obvious traces of myself in images.

Shooting into the sun while photographing the Desert Storm Veterans Memorial bridge in Bridgewater, Mass., I held out my hand to minimize lens flare.  Just for fun, I snapped this image that includes my hand.  A self-portrait of sorts.

The next day I photographed Alicia Genna (left) and Eric Baumann (right) leaving a Best Buy in Boston clutching their highly prized Xbox video games, as a bystander looked on.  The two "investors" waited in line all night in the rain to buy the season's hottest item in order to sell it on eBay.

Mr. Baumann was happy about his purchase, but I think he smiled broadly because I took repeated pictures as he walked out of the store.  Ms. Genna was focused on me.  The commotion captured a passersby's interest.  My flash brightly reflected off of the store's doorframe.  Could this be a self-portrait, too? 

With their kids in tow, Raymond and Tabitha Gendreau, along with other employees from Otis Air  Base, rallied against the planned shut down of their workplace.  The rally was prior to testimony by the Massachusetts congressional delegation at the Base Realignment and Closure Commission hearings, held July 7th at the Boston Convention and Exhibition Center.

This is the photo you would expect.  What would you think about the event if you saw only this one?

Two-year-old Leesha, in Dad's arms, had just shouted "yeah" when the speaker from the podium mentioned firefighters.  She brought the house down.

Senator Ted Kennedy then fired up the crowed.  He infused hope with references to the Red Sox being down by three games against the Yankees and prevailing.

I wondered how he still does it.  Maybe like the Rolling Stones giving life to "Jumping Jack Flash" for the 3,000th time.

Governor Mitt Romney looked positively presidential.

Later, at the hearings, I struggled with telling the story with one image, given the distance between the supplicant elected officials and the commissioners.  I decided to risk censure and got on stage behind the panel.

I shot a series of "Hail Mary" photos, as I held my camera at arms length above my head and prayed that the scene would be framed correctly.  A digital camera aids this process, as the instant feedback helps refine camera position.  Hardly an unobtrusive venture.  Eventually, an organizer let me know it was time to get off stage.

With the chants of affordable-housing advocates echoing in my thoughts, I sped along Interstate 95 back to Boston.  The barren post-construction median strip of the highway was littered with bushes and trees sitting above ground with rootballs exposed, waiting to be planted.

"That's great," I thought, "after tearing up the earth, they are planting some trees."  But then my thoughts returned to the People to End Homelessness, who had demonstrated at the State House in Providence, Rhode Island.  How can you tell someone without a home that planting a tree along a highway is more important than their having a place to live?

Outside the State House, after delivering written pleas urging increased appropriations for supportive housing - a program that combines support services with permanent housing - the activists finished up their action with a unity clap.

"It's a tradition we learned from the Chicano movement in the Southwest,"  Duff Morton later told me via e-mail. "The sound symbolizes the heartbeat of the group when the group is acting together."