A last-minute change in vacation plans led our family to western Maine for a mineral/rockhound vacation. I sat in a hole in the wall in a mine and observed (and complained.)

I wrote about what it's like to shack up with someone who dedicates their life to doing something you're quite afraid of. In this case: snakes.

False starts, allergic reactions to stealth bug bites, life after quitting, and more

May Day is for quitting. StoryCorps' One Small Step brings us closer. I yell about batteries and bandaids.

A new puppy leads to the loss of a diamond, Aloysius says I have a ghost of a chance (of finding it).

In which I place my body in a spot I dreamt about and discover I have "no mystique."

Some news about the earth's core, we affix tags to things to help us remember, Bronislaw Malinowski gave Wilhelm Reich a staff, what happens to our stories when we die, I want to make a museum 4U.

Want to drink prosecco and stack wood with me? If not, would you like to read some reflections and numbers from the year 2022?

There is only so much light.

Collective grieving rituals, pine trees, roses, scratches, late-stage capitalism, backpack evangelism, the Yeah Yeah Yeahs, and sacrifice.