Boyce and I don't have any pictures together because basically our entire friendship plays out online. I had to get a little creative (sorry Jess).

My favorite interaction with Boyce Upholt, the guy who created land that I live with me, happened eight years ago at a movie theater in Connecticut. It was the summer after my freshman year of college, and I was with…

Boyce and I are catching up on our blogging after a little time away for other projects, and here’s a great study to file under “real life science that actually proves some of this fluffy theoretical stuff we babble about…

Breaking Badlands

Having grown up in the country, perhaps it was the rural setting of Breaking Bad that first addicted me to the show. The desert and scrubland around Albuquerque, where Breaking Bad occurs, are a far cry from the Midwestern forests…

"Down to the Sea." Photo courtesy Wikimedia Commons.

“Truly I loved that little world, Monhegan.  Small, sea-girt island that it was, a seeming floating speck in the infinitude of the sea and sky, one was as though driven to seek refuge from the impendent cosmic immensity in a…

The Gherkin in London

February 1 I am now booked for four domestic and international trips over the next two months: Seattle, India, Boston, England. Some for work, some for pleasure, some for both. Lately, my life has seemed like a train on the…

Photo by Wednesday Elf - Mountainside Crochet

[Be sure to read parts 1, 2, 3, and 4 first. – Editors] “I see great things in baseball. It’s our game–the American game. It will take our people out-of-doors, fill them with oxygen, give them a larger physical stoicism….

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“It’s like riding a bike.” I’ve heard this expression countless times, but I don’t know what it means.

Photo by ER Post

A few minutes into the new Star Trek movie, I had to stifle a giggle. Jim Kirk, captain of a space vessel capable of blipping straight across the galaxy, pulls out his “communicator,” a far-future version of the cell phone. And it…

A SoCal Summer

The best time to surf is always now. There is never time unless it is stolen, or constructed–saved. The calendar carves it up and serves it to the coyotes scavenging around the fringes for scraps of moments that can never…

Dayton Under Construction

Sunday night, holed up in the Tumbleweed, waiting for the late-spring blizzard-of-’13 that wasn’t. A ratty stuffed coyote yawns above me, next to a raven and a bighorn sheep wearing mardi gras beads, and another coyote. Across the horseshoe bar…