Watch Your Step
As an adult, I can still be jump-scared, but instead of acting frightened I just get aggravated. What an inconvenience to be reminded that I still have half a lizard brain, which interprets ordinary creatures as boogeymen when they come at me without warning.
Weekly Journal 5.25.26
Hikes, beans, and feeding Phil
An Object of Affection
My little boy has written me more love notes than all my beaux combined. They end up buried in piles of stuff on my bedside table, or the top of my dresser where I plop half-worn clothes, or the side of the desk where I work. I don't think I've ever discarded one.
Weekly Journal 5.18.26
Tragic stories, death-based comedy, and hiking
A Spring in Our Steps
We've leaned hard into the habit of driving to school; it always felt necessary amid a pattern of rushed mornings, when I don't even have time to make coffee until butts are in classroom seats. But I've realized just how easy a jaunt it is.