You may have seen some of the artistic collaborations of artist Tom Curtis and his young sons, Dom and Al. Maybe you don’t know their names, but their stuff is all over social media; they’ve got an Instagram account (@thingsihavedrawn);…
A few weeks ago, I wrote about a yard sign supposedly translated from Chinese, with the tranquil and evocative message: “Do Not Disturb: Tiny Grass is Dreaming.” I got a lot of positive feedback on that piece. Thanks, friends! A…
Earlier this week, Travis and I were biking home on a perfect summer evening. We had been out at a downtown brewpub. Our discussion had covered a lot of wild territory, all over the place — politics, the pandemic,…
A few weeks ago several of us were waiting on Zoom for the rest of the team to join us for our monthly Board meeting, and the casual conversation was going something like this: “How are you doing?” “Well… I’m…
A lawn sign appeared a few years ago, becoming popular across the internet: Chinese characters with the quaint English rendering — “Do Not Disturb: Tiny Grass is Dreaming.” I really don’t know if the translation is accurate. I read an…
Sometimes it seems like everything has changed and nothing will ever be the same. From another angle, though, it looks to me like things are pretty much the same as they’ve always been — amped up, for sure, but basically…
I don't remember why, but for some reason, I was looking up the arbitrary standards by which non-metric measurements were established. For example: an inch, originally, was determined to be the width of a man’s thumb. In a number…
Our one-year-old kitty, Danny, was a skinny little guy when he joined our family six months ago. His Instagram handle is “Little Danny Cat,” in fact, because he seemed so bitty compared to his mature sister-aunties, Val and Flo. That…
There’s a bothersome paradox at the heart of the Science of Mind philosophy. Well, honestly, it’s not just in the Science of Mind, and there’s not just one. Regarding ambiguities and contradictions, I am kind of like a pig…
My first memory is of my father. It was a little over a month before my third birthday. He woke me in the middle of the night, with an air of hushed excitement, and carried me across the street to…