The New Twenty-Nine
I don’t wanna grow up.
The Opposite of Africa
This is how you know you are in Africa—when the houses, roads, the tires on your car, and even the soles of your feet become stained red-orange from the iron-rich soil that covers so much of this great continent. Wearing sunglasses heightens the red color so that the land just seems to glow like a …
Thank You
Dear Readers, I have Elton John on the radio and a really good cup of coffee. On the stove top, there’s a big pot of peeled potatoes waiting for their transition to mash and in the oven, so it’s protected from errant drafts, a batch of sourdough that I hope will rise. The weekend ahead …
Pictures from the Bike
My hands hurt from the cold. To get to the flat part of the trail, I drop nearly 800 feet to the waterfront and then, turn north. That drop is fast, so the wind runs right through me, my eyes tear up and my fingertips ache inside my gloves. It doesn’t seem to matter how …
Saturday, Seattle
Pie and glass. What a fine afternoon out.
Two Photos from San Antonio, Texas
More than once during my time in San Antonio, I felt vaguely like I’d fallen through a wormhole into another time. The top photo is Alamo Records inside the antique mall, the lower is Paris Hatters where I bought a gorgeous pair of red cowboy boots.