A few afternoons ago I did something I’ve never done before. I went for a trail run. Shirtless. Now don’t get twisted on me, I had a sports bra on. This isn’t the south of France (although I’m completely on board with that movement– why do women have to strap in while men’s nipples feel … Continue reading Shirtless in Santa Rosa.
From Both of Us: At any given time as kids there were at least three or four “classic” cars spread around our property, a beautiful land of rolling oaks and manzanita serenaded by rhythmic river sounds. Soon the scene was littered with a ’57 Bel Air, a ’64 Impala, a something-something Chevy step-side, blah blah … Continue reading Junkyard Blues.
By The Brother Monica and I met with our amazing friend, T8 (don’t ask) for some appetizers at The Lazy Dog in Folsom. The brussel sprouts were tossed with capers, and the cauliflower buffalo wings were delicious on the palate! While stuffing our faces with tasty treats, we discussed futures, goals, and life in general. As … Continue reading In Vision.
A couple of days ago I stood in the Bangladeshi sun surrounded as far as the eye could see with hills covered in makeshift shelters. Bright orange and blue tarps blanketed the scene, staggered with UNHCR tents and freshly cut roads, all evidence of the vigorous struggle to make room for nearly one million refugees … Continue reading Sow Wisely.
When you’re looking at the wreckage of a wildfire, you have to rest your eyes to be able to see details. It’s almost like one of those paintings that looks like nothing but scribbled lines… until you get patient and an image emerges. I was never very good at those. Now I’m looking at a … Continue reading wild. fire.
Every once in a while I wake up with a sense of sorrow so deep I just want to fall back asleep and try again. Today was that way. I love how the ocean fog that’s rolled in overnight dissipates so slowly on these quiet mornings, giving me time to adjust to the rising summer … Continue reading Morning Fog.
By the Brother: Our plane touches down on the runway at the Tacoma airport in Seattle. As the pilots park us at our designated terminal, the seatbelt signs turn off and the sound of metal unclipping floods the cabin. We are seated in the rear of the plane and wait patiently as the passengers ahead … Continue reading Unchecked Baggage