Weekly Journal 6.1.26
BoJack, sausages, and warmth
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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.
Weekly Journal 5.10.26
Gardens, omelets, and Jon Batiste
My New Toy With a Combustion Engine
I still think rampant consumerism is a scourge, but here I am with a new 2021 car in my driveway, having traded up from a 2020 version of a similar model. This probably wasn't a financially wise choice.
Weekly Journal 5.3.26
Prada, orzo, and the never-ending cold
Perfect Northwest Moments
Ferries and sailboats went about their business. Fish-and-chip shops beckoned with their smell. Happy tourists and families crowded the boardwalk, so many of them holding ice cream cones that I noticed one of the shops had a sign explicitly forbidding ice cream in the store.